Multi-Tasking

Moms can do a lot, but they cannot add more hours to the day. That's why God gave Moms the awesome ability to multi-task. However, with great power, comes great responsibility. I have discovered that it can be taken to a ridiculous extreme. I'll digress....

I often wash dishes while I prepare dinner.

I sort and put away clean laundry while clearing out my DVR.

I listen to audiobooks while driving or running.

But I suspect that those aren't uncommon. Try these on for size...

When using the bathroom the other evening, I realized I was "holding it" until I had picked up the trash and toys on the floor. While I was sitting on the toilet. Hmmmm...

When showering, I frequently use the scrub brush to clean the grout and the window shade (yes, I know, the window shade. That's a whole other "Anal Retentive and Me" post).

I will frequently talk while I'm multi-tasking and say completely the wrong word in completely the wrong place. I told McKenna the other day, "No, you may not have another piece of shoe." She was wanting candy. I was looking at shoes on eBay. Although that may not be multi-tasking so much as my brain not doing a great job of keeping up.

So for all those moms out there trying to squeeze just one more task into your day, think of this. Try taking a deep breath and giving yourself a pat on the back. God gave you the ability to multi-task so you could be productive. Not so you could kill yourself and then beat yourself up for not doing enough!

The Misadventures of Amy and Katie

A lot of people tell me that I'm funny and my blog is hilarious. As my family would be quick to tell you, I'm not inherently funny. I rank only 4 out of 6 in the scheme of things. My blog is merely a means for me to relay the hilarious things that just happen to me. Like out of the blue. Here is one such day...

My sister has convinced me to run a half marathon with her this fall. Neither of us were runners before 2011. The jury is still out on whether we're runners yet.

Our training now includes longer runs. I've decided that we should run these together (physically, not over the phone) in order to actually complete these runs!

There is a 14 mile trail near Katie that is perfect because you don't have to contend with broken sidewalks and horrific Johnson County suburbia hills. Ugh

In order to make things a little more intriguing, we left my truck at the end of the trail and drove Katie's car to the trailhead. That way we would have a long, scenic 10 mile stretch ahead of us to enjoy. I'd been reading on the website that you should lock away your valuables when you park your car, as predators troll the trail parking lots. So I carefully stowed everything in the glove compartment and we headed out.

Two miles into the trail, Katie discovered that she needed a bathroom. We'd passed the porta-potty at the beginning and the one-mile-marker. And neither of us thought to put Kleenex in our pockets. So, I was still jogging the appropriate intervals, Katie was just trying to make it to the porta-potty that was supposed to be located at four miles. It wasn't. And the cramps kept on a-comin'.

At this point, I jogged ahead slightly and found the next shelter at four and a half miles. Not only did it have a bathroom, it had toilet paper! I've never been so happy to see a glorified porta-potty in my life!

And yes, we did stuff our pockets with toilet paper. And later when I blew my nose, it smelled like the porta-potty. Gross.

So, Katie's colon is cleansed, we should be good, right? We get back into our rhythm of running and do a darn good job (if I do say so myself!). We breeze past mile-marker five and we're visiting, running, talking to our mom on the phone (conference, of course). Just before mile-marker six, a sudden realization hits me.

Those valuables I stowed away in my glove compartment? Included my keys.

My truck, at the end of the trail, was locked up tight.

I just stopped running, bent over, and started laughing. Katie looked at me like I had gone insane. I was laughing a little like I had. I think they call that "punch drunk".

With no other choice, we turned around and began the six miles back to Katie's car. Which we did have the keys for. Katie was less than pleased. I was still laughing. (Honestly, it still makes me giggle)

We gave it a good effort, but with four miles to go, Katie's phone died and I decided to quit using my iPod in order to save battery. It was the kind of day where something horrible would happen only when both phones died. I was trying to avoid that.

The lack of music, tired muscles from the Zoo Run the day before, the porta-potty adventures, the never ending phlegm from our head colds and all-round fatigue conspired against us. We walked the rest of the way back. Or limped. I entered it into my calorie-burning calculator as walking. That's what I'm sticking with.

Things we discovered on this run:
~Katie is very possibly lactose intolerant.
~You do use your abs to run.
~Racing day is racing day. No matter how short the race, don't run the next day!
~Holes in your shoes are a badge of determination. Badges will not help you run a half marathon.
~You really should give yourself time to get over a cold before resuming training. It only gets worse. True story.

This blog does a poor, poor job of conveying the hilarity of that day. But it does help me relive the memory! :)

The Life and Times of Marek Lee

Marek is a third child. As such, he is not spoiled, pampered, or fussed over, in short; he's a survivor.

His sisters love him desperately and love to be in his face and space. They have taught him that a personal bubble of space is not necessary. I shudder at future lessons...

And although I joke that Marek is a third child and we pay slightly less attention to him, it's just that we have streamlined our parenting style. Yeah, we'll go with that.

Anyway, today, I saved Marek's life.

I'll let that sink in.

Maybe I'm exaggerating slightly. Maybe not. I'll let you decide.

I went to Hobby Lobby this morning with Marek, Teagen and McKenna while Madelynn was in school. I put Teagen in a cart and then Marek in a cart. For the record, both babies were buckled in. McKenna was in charge of pushing Marek's cart, but actually, I was pushing Teagen and pulling/guiding Marek. We selected all of the bolts of fabric I needed, thirteen in total, and we waited patiently while the lady cut two yards of each. All was going well until the clerk commented, "Your children are so well behaved."

NOOOOOOO!!!!!

C'mon lady! While I appreciate the compliment, everyone knows that you don't say things like that until you're walking out of the store and the potential for damage/harm is at zero! But she jinxed me.

Not two minutes later, McKenna decided she was done watching her cut fabric patiently and was hanging off the side of Marek's cart. Not the stout, sturdy Walmart cart, but the tall, plastic Hobby Lobby cart.

You guessed it. She pulled the cart over on it's side. Yes Marek was still buckled in his seat.

I saw this whole thing happen in slow motion. I slowly reached over and grabbed the front handle with one hand and used my other hand to grab Marek by his armpit. By sheer luck or God's grace, I caught him just as his head grazed the floor and was able to right the cart. I can still see the picture of him hanging upside down, buckled into that seat with me holding him by the armpit. And while I'll never forget that image, let's hope that experience doesn't stick with him for long.

So you decide. Saved a life. Saved a head from a bump. The real question is, would this have happened when Madelynn or even McKenna was his age?

Kindergarten

Today was the first day of Kindergarten. For my daughter. That's right, I am the mother of a grade schooler. Wow.

Here's how our morning went...

Sadly, we were not all happy to be awake. But I'm not brave enough to give Marek coffee yet. It might be a tough week.

McKenna, looking fabulous as always. Thank you, Nana, for the wonderful socks! They're our favorite.

Almost time to go!

Don't forget the back pack!

The walk to school. Yes, that backpack is almost as big as she is. Yes, it made me a little teary.

I do recall specifing that no toys join us on our walk to school. Marek must not consider Shrek a toy.

Waiting at the Kindergarten table for the teacher to gather us up. No worries. There were other parents gathered along the wall. I didn't embarass Madelynn. Too much.

This is the Big Girl project that McKenna got to do while sister was at school. She colored, cut and glued the pieces on the puzzle grid! What an artist!

At pick-up. I confess, I was one of the moms that was there early. Ridiculously early. When Madelynn saw me, she raised her hand. When the teacher made eye contact with me, Madelynn was allowed to leave.

And leave she did! I'd like to say that she was SO excited to see me and tell me about her day. But I was standing with Aunt Jessica and we were getting ready to go to the Kansas City Zoo. The first words out of her mouth were, "Where's Tobin?"

So, I have a daughter in Kindergarten. I don't feel that much different. I think Madelynn has always acted so much older that this seems a natural progression.

Now, McKenna's first day of Kindergarten might be a different story...



Spankings

Branden and I spank our kids. There, now you know. It's an involved process, with a lot of warnings, talking and hugging afterwards.

One afternoon, McKenna hit her sister and I sent her to the bathroom. We discussed the wrong-ness of her actions and she got a spanking. She cried, I hugged her and she went outside to play. As the screen door was closing behind her, I heard her tell her friends that she just got a spanking. I just shook my head and didn't think anything more about it.

A few afternoons later, Madelynn committed a spanking offense and was sent to the bathroom. She stood very still and quiet while we discussed what she'd done wrong. I thought this was strange, because she's usually freaking out by this point. When the time came, she put her hands straight up over her head, dove across my lap and took a deep breath. I spanked her. Nothing. Again, strange because Madelynn is a little dramatic when it comes to spankings. (Very hard to imagine, I'm sure!) I gave her a hug and sent her on her way.

Later that evening, we were driving to dinner and Madelynn told her Daddy, "I don't cry anymore when I get a spanking." Which I confirmed.
"Why not, Madelynn?" Daddy asked
"My friend (from next door) told me that if I hold my breath while I get a spanking, it won't even hurt."

Ah hah.

The Family that Cleans Together...

We have come to the end of care free summer days. Our neighbor friends are no longer home during the day, yet Madelynn is not yet in school with a routine and things to do. Therefore, we are...

BORED!

I think that's the most dreaded word a mom can hear. It's awful. Especially when accompanied by whining. And fussy babies (that's right, plural).

Ok, ok, enough of the yuck. This is suppose to be the lighthearted part of your day!

Here's how we spent our afternoon, to rise from the doldrums.

First, I should explain that the only person that wears socks from April to September is Branden. We are a flip flop family. Or Crocs for a heavy duty activity. So they get pretty nasty.

That's right. I fill up a scrub bucket (good ole Dawn) and a rinse bucket. Everyone gets there own scrub brush and away we go!

As McKenna is demonstrating, there's no need to not look fabulous!

Madelynn has not yet mastered the art of "acting natural". We'll work on that.

She's a good little cleaner, though! Her mama's proud of that!

Teach them to clean young, that's what I always say.

Truthfully, I couldn't have kept him away if I'd put a fence up. That boy loves playing in the water.

At least the Croc is clean, right?

Pick your battles, moms. Pick your battles.

Only a true anal-retentive can look at this picture and feel a peace inside.

I will sleep well tonight.

Amy Connelly ~ Woman of Leisure

As I am free of the restraints of a time clock, I've often referred to myself as a Woman of Leisure. After some discussion with friends, I think that title needs further inspection.

According to http://www.dictionary.com/ (a staple for all you college students!), leisure can be pronounced "lee-zher" or "lezh-er". You know, like Target vs. Tarjay or JCPenny vs. Jacques Pennwa. I prefer "lezh-er", but that's just when I'm trying to sound fancy-schmancy.

Here's some definitions:

~freedom from the demands of work or duty: Well, that's a wash. I guess there's no demands that I work, but it's awful tough for me to go to bed with dirty dishes in the sink. Of course, a whiny three year old can be pretty demanding. And a fussy toddler. And a bossy princess...

~time free from the demands of work or duty, when one can rest, enjoy hobbies or sports, etc.: This is interesting. I do carve out time during the week for me to pursue my new sport. Running. This is time free of the demands of my household duties. But it's only an hour, people!

~unhurried ease: OK, anyone that knows me, knows that this does NOT describe me in the slightest. Not the least little bit. Let's just put it this way. I met Branden in July, we married in February, Madelynn was born in September. Not unhurried.

Hmmmmm..........

So I may have to rethink this idea of describing myself as a woman of leisure. Based on those definitions, the picture that comes to mind is Goldie Hawn in Overboard, when she first meets Kurt Russell on her yacht.

If you cannot bring this picture to mind, stop everything you're doing. Run to the nearest video store you can find (You may have to Google this as they're hard to find these days) and rent the movie Overboard. I command you. Your life will not be complete until you have accomplished this.

Even better, watch this at a time where you are "free of the demands of work to pursure hobbies and rest" and you will be able to claim you were a Person of Leisure, if even for a short time.

Please leave any life-changing stories in my comments area. If you are interviewed on the news, I'd appreciate a shout-out.

We Need Great Clips!

With a daughter that cuts her own hair (please reference yesterday's post) and a son that could be nicknamed Shaggy Dog, apparently the Connelly family needs Great Clips!

Here's some before pictures:

See? Cute, but shaggy.

Here he is pictured with a selection of his peers to show the abnormal growth rate of his hair.

Although this is his third haircut, this was his first time sitting in the chair all by himself!

He did a great job and LOVED the sucker!

While brother was getting his hair cut, so were his sisters. McKenna wanted to go, and I had an extra coupon, so I got her hair cut too.

She's a pro.

Or, she knew there was a sucker at the end.

She's so darn cute!

And now for the pictures you've been waiting for, the personal hair cut.

(see, it wasn't so bad)

When the stylist asked Madelynn why she was there, she said, "I cut my own hair last night, so I need you to make it look better."

And she sure did! My baby's all grown up!

WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

(excuse me, sniff)

So, the Connelly family is all trimmed up and acceptable looking.

For now.

Who needs Great Clips?

It was bound to happen. And of course it was bound to happen while I was out of the house and Daddy was in charge.

Madelynn cut her own hair.

Let's back up a little. I ran to Walgreens to pick up a prescription and some ice. I came home and Branden met me in the driveway. Without saying a word, he opened his clutched fingers and showed me a fistful of hair. "You're daughter cut her own hair. In the front. It's horrible."

I bit back a smile. C'mon, everybody does it. At least we've got three weeks til school and a whole 48 hours til the birthday parties this weekend!

But Daddy was terribly upset, so I put on a frown and prepared for the worst.

It wasn't so bad. She basically gave herself bangs. However, I gave her the "We don't cut our own hair because it's very hard to do correctly and it isn't safe!" speech and then I made her dump her coin jar (from doing her chores) into a baggie to pay for the "hair cut place" to fix it.

I don't think they'll have to do much. And I so desperately wanted to post a picture, but I thought that might be sending the wrong message:

"What you did was wrong. Now, say cheese!"

Musing and Running

For those of you living under a rock, I've recently (well, since Easter) started training for a half-marathon. Why? Because I'm a sucker. My sister told me to, and I said ok. Seriously. That's all it took.

So, three nights a week, I hit the sidewalks in an ever-widening route around my house and try to improve my endurance and pace. I have an app on my iPhone that tells me when to run and walk, and I listen to my iTunes for upbeat music or an intriguing book. But sometimes, I am ill-prepared and my battery dies prematurely. Which sucks. So my mind wanders.

My route meanders through Overland Park and Prairie Village. Now, Overland Park used to be THE place to live. That distinction has now drifted east and north to Prairie Village. And no one's really interested in taking the title back.

Don't get me wrong, Overland Park is an excellent neighborhood. It's safe and clean and pleasant. Here's the difference. I saw a sign that proudly proclaimed:

Prairie Village Homes' Assoc

HOME OF THE

MONTH

Wow. And my first thought was, "I bet they've had that honor a few months in a row. Heh, heh, heh." But then I looked around. And that neighborhood was pristine. Like, they would kick us and our unruly children out. Swimsuits on the clothesline? I think not! Bikes on the patio? Disgusting! Grass not mowed four times a week in a rotating pattern with a highly maintained machine? The horror! I sped up a little. I was nowhere near dressed appropriately to be running through Prairie Village that evening.

My favorite night to run on? Trash night. I just love dodging ginormous trash cans, swarming with flies and sucking in that smell that can only come from a trash can. Love it. One time, I almost threw up. Speaking of smells, there's that house that you can tell is cleaned obsessively, as it smells like fresh laundry. From the sidewalk. Poor woman.

Then there's the house with the overgrown yard, no landscaping to speak of and no personality. And there in the driveway is a shiny, new truck that you know is someone's baby. That's a young homeowner.

The house with a perfectly manicured lawn, nurtured landscaping and artful additions to the house. Haphazardly parked in the driveway is a land boat that is no one's baby. That's an old homeowner.

With all this judgement, I wonder, what do people think of me based on my house? With it's overgrown lawn, toys strewn about, unwashed vehicles and overgrown landscaping. Hopefully, they see a family with active, little ones and therefore no spare time. They see a Daddy that spends time playing with his kiddos instead of obsessing over the lawn. They see......

Ok, ok. We need to spend a little more time in the yard.

I'll get Branden right on that.

World Trade Center

Through the steam of my coffee this morning, I heard the news anchor mention the fire station at 75th and Conser. That's right around the corner from my house, so I perked up and paid attention. They went on to report that an I-beam from the World Trade Center would be making it's way from the fire station at 75th and Conser down Metcalf Ave to the Sprint Campus for a ceremony before being memorialized in a fire training center. I thought that might be neat to see. Plus, it was on the news, so it was kind of important, maybe someone would want to interview me and my adorable children!

Alas, I did not have time to shower, but I did freshen my makeup. (I realized the foolishness of this when I stepped out into the 90 degree heat, but it never hurts to be prepared. I'm always surprised at the people that don't take the time for that. There was a shooting? Comb your hair! Witness a robbery? Put on a nicer shirt! Anyway, it turned out to be a moot point.)

Since it would pass by on Metcalf, a mere half-block away, I loaded the babies in the wagon and made sure everyone had a water. We made our way up the street, found a nice shady spot, and waited. And waited. And waited. I should have taken into account that I was going to be following the schedule of firefighters. They must have taken a call. Fortunately, the kids did pretty well.

And no, there was no one that wanted to interview us. In fact, there was no one there waiting to see this piece of history drive by. I'm sure I looked like a fool. (And for those of you not in the loop, I still only have three children! The little girl with no hair-and therefore not a Connelly- is my darling niece, Teagen!)

Finally, the procession topped the hill. First came the motorcycle escort.

This most impressed McKenna. After she got over the fact that we were NOT going to McDonald's!

The motorcycles were followed by the firetruck. I wish it had turned it's sirens on. Or it's lights. Something. But Madelynn thought it was cool. She waved-very enthusiastically. Nothing.

And finally, the semi.

It was a quick, little moment. And I admit, I got a little choked up.

I lived on the east coast, in Baltimore during September 2001. My friend worked near the Pentagon and I was downtown that day. I'd been to New York City for shopping and sightseeing several times and knew a few people that lived there. So, this terrible event in history was far more personal for me than a lot of my neighbors here in the midwest.

I am thankful that I got the chance to stand on the side of the road, looking like a fool and pay my respects to that hunk of steel as it made it's way slowly past.

Recapturing My Youth

I'm throwing my reputation to the wind. I'm announcing to the world, in the face of potential criticism, that I am in fact, a Backstreet Boys fan. A fan that has attended many concerts and purchased all their albums. I even have a playlist of my favorites on my iPhone right now. It makes great running music. Except when you try to recreate their dance moves. While you're running. Not graceful.

Imagine my excitement when I discovered that NKOTBSB (New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys) would be in concert in Kansas City! My mother, sister and I promptly bought tickets. Months in advance.

We planned our evening meticulously. We met for dinner beforehand and enjoyed a pitcher of sangria. This only served to make myself more hilarious. The buzz totally wore off before the concert. Which made parking interesting.

As we made our way to the Sprint Center, along with thousands of other soccer moms, I was amazed at the shirts I saw. New Kids bedsheets made into skirts, offers of free physicals for members of the band and even bachelorette parties offering the "boys" a last chance!

Up the hideously long escalator we went. Found our section and row (only two away from the back of the stadium!) and settled in for the fun. But settling in carefully was in order. The top section at the Sprint Center is not for everyone. It is so steep that when you lean back in your seat, you can look straight down to the stage. No leaning forward necessary. Did I mention it was steep? Well, it was too steep for mom. So I accompanied her to Guest Services and we explained. They must be used to hearing this, because she handed over two lower seat tickets without much more explanation. Which was awesome for mom and I, but sucked for the remaining 4 in our party. Which included my sister.

After walking around the entire Sprint Center, we realized that there were no down escalators and had to take the stairs. Whoops. So Mom and I sat and enjoyed our seats (only 3 rows up from the floor and we had CUP HOLDERS, people!) I did not look around and want to throw up from the vertigo associated with the heights. But the guilt finally got me. So we trudged back up to Guest Services to beg for four more tickets to the lower section. On our way up to the window, I coached my mom.

"Make sure you thank them for the new seats. Gratitude goes a long way in softening hard hearts. And tell them you're seperated from your daughter. Use tears if necessary!" And she did great! The lady looked at her for a minute, and then started shuffling through her stacks of tickets. Done, deal!

So we moved everyone down to the lower section where we had the whole row to spread out and enjoy! It was awesome!

This is a picture from our new, better seats. Doesn't Mom look thrilled?!?! That would be our previous seats up there above the word "advised". All the way to the top. Scary, huh?

This is how thrilled we were to be together. Ok, that's a lie. We're just really stoked for the concert! It's almost time, baby!

And so it begins. The stage was pretty elaborate. And awesome. I screamed like a teenage girl.

Here's my boys! I don't care what you say, if Branden wore a white suit, I'd pretty much be at his beck and call. Or I'd melt.

At every concert, the Backstreet Boys always pick girls from the crowd and serenade them. Brian Littrell (the guy in front) picked two little girls to sing to. Probably because he's a daddy now. It was pretty cute.

I've always admired the composure of these girls that are chosen. I think I'd be so overwhelmed, that I would cry hysterically and just ruin the song.

They finished the serenade in classic style. Again with the melting. I know, I'm pathetic. It was wonderful!

And finally, a still picture of the dancing. I can get down with the dancing. Wish I could do the dancing, but I've tried that route. It isn't pretty. Perhaps that's why I admire such talent. Because I have none.

 And so, another Backstreet Boys concert is in the books. But here's a thought for you. At the finale, when the confetti cannons went off and everyone was screaming, my first thought was, "Man, that's gonna suck to clean up." Hmmm...

I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb when I muse that recapturing my youth is fun for an evening, but I kinda like where I've ended up. It was nice to come home and gush to my hubby and kiss my babies good night.

But don't count me out for the next tour! Backstreet's Back!

Special Time with Mommy

To create a stronger bond with my daughters, I have created "Special Time with Mommy". Every Tuesday evening, one of the girls and I leave Daddy with the other two children and go shopping. Then, the following week, roles reverse. We have dinner together and then get groceries. It's usually fast food, but we always go in and sit down to eat and talk about things. I've discovered that without the influence of their sister, the girls' individual personalities just shine. It just makes grocery shopping a lot more fun and a lot less of a chore!

Tonight's adventure is most certainly worth sharing.

Madelynn and I headed out with our reusable shopping bags and grocery money in hand. We stopped at Aldi's first, where Madelynn was in charge of driving the shopping cart. It was entertaining watching her steer and drive a metal cart that was 6" taller than her!
"But, what if I crash into something, Mom?" she asked.
"Well, you'll be done pushing the cart." I told her.
The next aisle over, there were two college girls debating over shells and cheese or macaroni and cheese. Really? They were right in Madelynn's path.
"Mom, what if I crash into that lady?"
"You will apologize and definitely be done pushing the cart."
She very slowly, and very carefully manoeuvred around the girls. I was kind of hoping she'd nick one of 'em.

After Aldi's, we loaded up (Madelynn got to keep the quarter!) and headed to McDonald's. We went in and ordered, with Madelynn bravely telling the cashier which toy she wanted. When we sat down to eat, I asked Madelynn if she wanted to pray. She serenely folded her hands and sang (to the tune of Frerre Jacques):
"God our Father, God our Father
Once again, once again
We shall ask your blessing
We shall ask your blessing
Amen Amen"
Now, if you've never heard Madelynn's "beautiful voice", this won't seem like a big deal. Oh, but it is. She gets very serious and has this old-person-operatic-vibrato to her voice. It's so darn hard not to laugh. And there in McDonald's (interesting side note: every time I go to type McDonald's, my fingers default to McKenna and I have to delete and retype. Thought you'd like to know) I was indeed trying my hardest not to laugh out loud.
After dinner, which included an introduction to the deliciousness that is french fries and a vanilla milkshake, a lady from a couple tables down came over to talk to Madelynn. She complemented her on her beautiful voice and asked her if she sang in church. Madelynn looked at me like "Doesn't everyone sing in church?". This lady went on to say that one day, when Madelynn was a famous singer that she would remember she heard her sing her prayers when she was a little girl.
To finish out our evening, we went to Walmart to pick up a few more things. As we were leaving, Madelynn spied the arcade-ish room and wanted to spend her Aldi's quarter. We chose the Claw machine (Play til you win!) and guided that little claw til a prize bubble popped out. What was inside? A fake mustache. Yep. She wore it with pride!

Love,
A

It's the Thought that Counts!

It was a busy morning. Too busy for me to get in the shower. Well, that's pretty much every morning. For some reason, I put off the shower until I have to, unless we're going somewhere. Which means I'm usually surprised, make that mortified, when unexpected visitors show up. The poor UPS guy. But that's another post.

On the morning in question, I had dressed the girls and sent them outside to play. I was doing chores when I heard two little soprano voices yelling, "Mommy, we picked you some flowers!" These bouquets often consist of a raggly-taggly bunch of wildflowers, with the clods of dirt still hanging precariously from their roots. So I pasted a thankful smile on my face and mentally searched for an appropriate container to put them in water. I looked and the door and gasped in horror.

These are the flowers they picked.

That's right. NOT wildflowers. These are groomed, very meticulously I might add, in the backyard adjacent to our backyard. I often see the elderly woman out weeding, pruning and basically loving these plants. She even covers them at the threat of frost!

But my daughters loved me so much, they thrust their little hands through her chain-link fence and picked me a flower. It makes my heart melt.

But we did discuss boundaries that day.

And I'm still waiting for the knock on my door from that little old lady.

Planting Trees with the Expert

At the cabin in Newkirk, Poppy James is the resident expert on all things green. Except boogers. When it comes to planting, he is a genius. This land of plenty is where all things wonderful and canned come from. In addition to a traditional garden, Poppy James grows and grafts fruit trees. Who better than this to help the girls plant their free trees they received from Lowe's on "Free Tree Day"? Not me. I managed to kill the live money tree that was at our wedding reception at this same cabin. I'm pretty sure that killing a money tree is just unforgivable. But, I digress. We managed to talk Poppy James in to planting these three little saplings. The girls helped. Or, just got in the way. You decide.

Look how hard we're working! (OK, It's a little scary how McKenna has worked out this cheese-factor)

OK, we'll let Poppy James do the hard part.

No, Poppy, I think you should dig the hole over here.

Again with the cheesin' for the camera. Sheesh.

Now, I ask you. How helpful can one child be when she's standing on the spot Poppy James is trying to dig up?

Whew. That was hard work. It's a good thing Granny keeps plenty of Coke around.

Amen, sister. I'm beat.

Easter Weekend

We are privileged enough to have a cabin in Branden's family that is available for our use. Down in Newkirk, OK sits a little two-bedroom cabin that Nana and Poppy James Langley keep fully stocked, clean and ready for whoever wants to get away for the weekend. Traditionally, we spend Easter weekend at this cabin with everyone. This year was no exception.

In my sister-in-law, Lydia, I have found a kindred spirit. We're planners. We're caretakers (both of young and old). We're bossy. We're efficient. And when you get five families together for a holiday weekend, planning and efficiency are required. Long ago, the family learned to let us do what we do best.

For this year's holiday weekend, we (and by we, I do mean myself and Lydia) decided to go to church on Saturday evening instead of rushing around Sunday morning. This was a FANTASTIC idea! We went to church, had a late supper and put the kids to bed at a reasonable hour. Then, Sunday morning, we were able to have an Easter basket scavenger hunt since we weren't running off to church. Here is a small sampling of the fun that ensued.

The first clue from the Easter Bunny. Adysan has taken the time to get dressed and fix her hair. My girls couldn't be bothered.

The next clue is discovered out by the Outhouse. The working outhouse. You'd think that the Easter Bunny would have better taste than that.

Headed to the big red barn.

Read it, read it!

You can see that Daddy/Uncle Blake and Daddy/Uncle Branden chose not to get dressed either. Seems Adysan is the only one that's got it together.

Next clue!

Whoo hoo! Found it in Poppy James's garden.

I really hope nothing was unintentionally unearthed in their excitement. The Easter Bunny (Mommy) might be in some real trouble.

Whew! This is a tough hunt. I need a ride!

The Loot!

The idea of the Scavenger Hunt was originally met with skepticism. However, based on the fun these guys had, I think this is a new tradition!