Letterman style, here are the top five ways you might know you are the fourth child

I think I might need to start a new blog.
One just for all of my “traditions”.
I’m running out of witty ways to say “every year we…”
But, I just can’t help myself.
If it is fun once, surely it will be fun EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. 
(oh wait, i’ve said that before, too.  shoot.)

Sooooooo, we have a new tradition.
Some might say it was born out of laziness.
I call it survival.
And F-U-N!

We seem to always have this random collection of coupons and giftcards around our house.  Some are random credits left from stores, some random kids meals earned as rewards at school (mostly by KJ), etc.  They never get used by our family.  They are located in any one of approximately 15 locations around our home and vehicles.  I’m sure there is some really creative and organized way I could keep up with them all.  But I’m feeling good to get all of the laundry put away so I’m going to ask you to spare me getting stuck on that part of the story. 

Monday

His favorite ride was the one on which we got soaked. I scored some major mom points for being willing to ride it twice. We were DRENCHED. but this face made it totally worth it.

Turns out it wasn’t the last stop because the last leg of the awaited flight was delayed.  So I drove that direction anway, out of giftcards and out of plans, ready to have my family together.  The kids fell asleep in the van and I parked in a Sbucks parking lot to steal WiFi.  But then I felt badly about stealing WiFi so I drove through the drivethrough to get a drink.  Either the barista was just feeling nice, or I really looked that bad (quite possibly the 2nd).  Either way, I scored a free drink without even telling him about RGCW or about my hubby’s delayed flight.  I did thank him profusely, reparked in the lot, and used the WiFi to post about missing RRL.

And indeed, we did miss those guys.
But we also loved this newly created tradition. 
(maybe at least mostly because I cooked exactly 2 times in the whole 8 days).
Random Gift Card Week 2014. We are ready for you!
ABL

It is late.  I’m exhausted. But I can’t go to sleep without writing this.

I’ve been waiting on a miracle.

Like nothing before in my life, I’ve been waiting on this miracle.

A miracle that even my children pray for, very specifically, every time they bow their heads.
A miracle that for years, our family has invested into with our time, energy, hope, money, love.
But mostly we’ve just waited.

In the last couple of weeks the Lord has gently been showing me that the waiting, the waiting for this specific miracle, has grown my heart very calloused,  a little hard, quite cynical.
Because it just doesn’t seem possible. 
Yesterday He started unwinding something in me.  He started giving me words for my deepest fears. Words through a picture.
Maybe you, too, are waiting on a miracle.  And maybe you, too, have grown calloused in the waiting.  If so.  This picture is for you, too.  I wish I could paint or draw or otherwise give real light to the vibrant colors of this picture in my head.  But, instead, you’ll have to stumble through the avenue the Lord has given me to share.  Words.

I’m waiting for the parade to begin.  And if we are going to do this, this parade watching, we are going to do it BIG.  I’m decked out in my red, white and blue.  I’m READY.  My family is ready.  We’ve reserved our seats, but we barely sit we are so excited.  We invite others to join us.  We stare expectantly down the road.  Waiting with great anticipation.  Knowing it will be even better than the last.  Knowing it will be amazing.

But we wait.  The parade doesn’t begin.  Not when I believed it should.  Not hours after I thought it would.  It didn’t come at all like I expected.  But I still waited.  At first I found ways to pass the time, I dreamed about how great it would be, I held onto the hope of this parade. 
Slowly my jumping for joy turned into a quiet seated posture
then more slowly into an elbows on the knees slump. 
I still looked down the street, I wasnt giving up because I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted it to be over now so I could go home.  As others joined me in waiting, I would bite my tongue not to remind them how long I’d already been waiting.  How far past due this parade was.  How they really shouldn’t bother setting up their chairs at all.  It might not even come.

But behind me.  Just past where my slumped eyes could see.  I was missing it. 
I was missing a shop owner washing the windows of the business he loved.   
I was missing the painter covering over the graffiti on a wall.
I was missing the aromas of a baker creating goodness to share with weary travelers. 
I was missing the older man talking to passersby as he filled the cracks in the sidewalk.
I was missing the quiet glow of the streetlights coming on as the sun set.
I was missing the families around me laughing and working together and creating memories.
I was missing the preparations of the town and the gathering of the crowd.
The town behind me was coming alive.  Slowly slowly slowly, coming awake.
And I was missing it.
Because I was watching for the parade.

The parade was so very important.  The parade gave the town something to prepare for.  Something to look forward to, a reason to come ALIVE.  But it wasn’t the miracle.  The miracle was in the preparations.
And I missed it.
Because I was so sure that the parade was coming.

I know I’ve said it before.  The thing about miracles is that they don’t ever look like what you expect.  That’s the very thing that makes them miraculous.  I’m no theologian, so you can’t quote me on this.  I don’t know the Greek/Hebrew/whatever language definition.  But I’m coming to believe “miracle” should be defined as “but Jesus…”.  When you read “but Jesus…” in the Gospels you know He is about to do something no one else expected.

Just like in Mark 9.  A man comes to Jesus and asks that Jesus rescue his son- his son was possessed by an evil spirit.   vs 25-27 from the Message:
“Seeing that the crowd was forming fast, Jesus gave the vile spirit its marching orders: ‘Dumb and deaf spirit, I command you—Out of him, and stay out!’ Screaming, and with much thrashing about, it left. The boy was pale as a corpse, so people started saying, ‘He’s dead.’ But Jesus, taking his hand, raised him. The boy stood up.”

Did you see it? “BUT JESUS…” The people, they saw the spirit come out of him, but they also believed the miracle didn’t work…”He’s DEAD” they exclaimed.  What did the boy’s father think?  In that instant was he tempted to believe it didn’t come true- the miracle of healing wasn’t his to be had?  It certainly didn’t look like he expected, this miracle.  His son was free of the spirit.  But his son was dead.
And then.
And then it happens, his miracle.  Otherwise known as his “BUT JESUS…”.

“But Jesus, taking his hand, RAISED HIM.”
The miracle didn’t look like anyone expected.
But Jesus…

And the same is true for each of us.

We ask boldly for babies. And learn it won’t be so.
We ask for marriages to be healed.  And they crumble.
We ask for quick healing. And people die.
We ask for change of heart.  And much time passes.
We ask for freedom from addiction.  And the darkness continues.

We wait on the miracles.   And our hope seems disappointed.
BUT JESUS.

But Jesus brings a child into a family through adoption.
But Jesus brings a boy out of a broken family and leads him to counsel teenagers toward hope.
But Jesus provides a path for families to turn their grief into encouragement for others
But Jesus changes our own hearts while we wait.
But Jesus provides a path out of darkness and back into the light.

But Jesus, taking our hand, raises us up.
This miracle I’ve been waiting on was never mine to define.  I wasn’t asking for a miracle.  I was asking to have “it” done my way.  My frustration in not seeing it come to pass has nothing to do with whether He can make it so.  It has everything to do with my heart and my ability to see the miracles all around me.

But Jesus…
He is indeed miraculous.  His power is present.  He is at work.  Transformation is at hand.  Windows are being washed, walls are being painted, the aroma of goodness is drifiting down the street, the cracks are being slowly filled.  The parade is coming.  HE is coming.  And while we wait, lets not miss the incredible opportunity He has given us to experience the miracles all around us. 

Because if we miss the changes in our own hearts, if we miss the lives changing around us and we miss the opportunities to partner in the transformation, we’ve missed the very point. 

Why else would we still be waiting?
Be blessed in the waiting.
Believe in miracles.

ABL

Our sweet princess turned four last week.  For the second year in a row we were out of pocket for her big day.  This has been hard for me because I so love making a big deal out of my kiddos’ birthdays.  And after her heart-breaking declaration last year of “all I wanted was some cake on a princess plate” as she went to sleep disappointed on her birthday…I (with the awesome help of my Momma) was determined to not let her down this year.  Never fear.  She was certainly celebrated.

I’m going to choose to continue my practice of honoring my husband on this blog.  And NOT even go there on how much he looked for the perfect bike for his princess.  I’ll give him credit, he found this (usually quite expensive) one used.  But in comparison to the length of time and effort we put into searching for the boys’ first bikes….um like I said…I better not go there.  Let’s just leave it at- she certainly has her Daddy wrapped around her finger.  Love you, Babe.

Then when she got home, she got to have more fun with more favorite people- family at Grammy’s house.  Another great celebration.

She got princesses, babydoll clothes, sparkly pink shoes and cake.  She was one happy four-year-old princess.  And I was so thankful that those who love her worked so hard to make her feel special.  THANK YOU!

Sweet princess girl–

One other thing I love about you right now is your flare for the dramatic.  This sometimes comes out in very positve ways like “This is the best (fill in the blank) IN THE WHOLE WIDE WUHLD”.  But sometimes it also presents itself as what we affectionatly refer to as “Lou ailments”.  Things that hurt or ache or are frustrating are absolutely the end of the “whole wide wuhld”.  And OH WOW when you see a dog coming.  I’m pretty sure our neighbors in ALASKA can hear you scream.  Oh you make us laugh.

But while most of the times these characteristics are quite endearing.  Sometimes.  Well, sometimes they aren’t.  Mostly because I just want you to know its ok to just be FOUR.  I pray so often that I’ll be able to mold and shape this confidence and perceptiveness and maturity you have in a way that doesn’t squash it but just directs it.  Honestly, I’m at a loss most of the time as to how to do that.  Thank you so much that you don’t seem to notice this huge gap in my parenting.  Thank you for teaching me that on my worst days you think I’m “the sweetest” and thank you for teaching me to seek the Lord in parenting in so many new ways.  Really, thank you.

And this year that is my prayer for you.  That our relationship as the two girls (or “guhls”) of the house will continue to florish in a way that teaches us both.  That teaches us about being female, that teaches us about confidence, that teaches us about having an zeal for life that is disporportionate to our true circumstance.  And mostly, that our relationship will continue to grow in a way that brings glory to the one who made us each, down to the tiniest detail, and placed us in this family together.  To learn.  To grow.  To love.

I absolutely love you.  More than the stars. 

And more than anything in the whole wide world.

You are my very favorite princess!

Momma

I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it.  Probably not. 
I.HATE.CHANGE. 
Except we don’t say HATE at our house…
I.SINCERELY.REALLY.TRULY.DISLIKE.CHANGE.

Which is why my cell phone looks like this

*Don’t be fooled by this stock photo.  Mine is way more “loved” as evidenced by the scratches.  AND i have no idea how to get to a map.  I’m sure I’m not paying for that.

Some call it outdated.  I call it vintage. 
Reliable (at least reliably unreliable). Not too many buttons.  Not too connected. Perfect. 
And I plan to keep it (or its replacement which will be obtained for free from a facebook friend who has considered it trash after upgrading to a smart phone) until AT&T calls me personally and tells me that my vintage phone can no longer be supported by their hi-tech-convoluted-market-controlling-network.  But I don’t have a very strong opinion about it.

I also really liked Google Reader.
Until they took it away.
Or made plans to.

Google Reader was my answer to keep myself from clicking mindlessly from one blog to another and just being able to follow the ones that I really wanted to read.  I could keep them all in a nice neat list.  That I could check off.  My happy place.

If you are looking for an alternative to Google Reader (you should be, it will be officially extinct on July 1st) or if you haven’t ever used a reader to follow the blogs you like, try this one- Bloglovin. While I actually prefer the clean lines of Feedly, I didn’t find it especially user friendly.  It didn’t offer me as many options, especially since I do more reading and writing from my PC (reference vintage phone discussion above and then picture my laptop).

I don’t know if anyone else actually cares about this, but just thought I’d tell you what my (less than one hour) extensive research yielded – I’ll be using Bloglovin’ as my new reader.  Try it out and let me know what you think and while you are there you can Follow deeprollingrightfield with Bloglovin to keep up with the cutest blonds on the planet. 

You.Are.Welcome!
ABL

One campus of our church host’s a summer sports camp.  The camp takes tons of volunteers in each of the areas: cheerleading, art, karate, soccer, drums and basketball.  They need so many volunteers, in fact, they’ll pretty much take anyone.  Wanna know how I’m so sure of that fact?
I emailed the volunteer coordinator two days before camp started and offered to help.  Minutes later (on a weekend), she emailed back, asked zero questions about my “skills” and said “YES, we do still need helpers.” Then promptly assigned me to

KARATE.

Ok, I’m exaggerating.  She asked very nicely and acutally she gave me a choice:
cheerleading, art, karate.

let me think about that.
Cheerleading- screaming girls learning “stunts”. no, thank you.
Art- need I remind you?  I’m an accountant.  An accountant who was not always a welcome sight in my childhood camp’s craft cabin.  The very idea of all that thinking outside the box stresses me out.  So, no, but thank you.
Which leaves Karate.
Or should I say

“KAH- RAH-TAY
THANK YOU, SIR.”

Here’s a little recap of my week:

Night 1:
Headed out the door, I asked KJ “Do I look like a Karate coach?” He responds “Um, mom, you know nothing about karate.  No, you don’t.”  He was absolutely right. 

I arrived to find that there were actually 5 girls signed up to do Karate.  Turns out, none of them knew anything about karate either.  Awesome, I’ll play the encouraging “empathizer” and we’ll all learn together.  This is going to be easy.
However, after one of my empathizees met me she snuck out and switched to “drums” before our first lessons even started.
Fail.

As class began there was some good news for me- there is one Karate instructor, who stands at the front leading class. The rest of us just stand on the edges, try to follow along in case anyone happens to be watching us instead of the really cool guy at the front and we help maintain some sort of crowd control.

I learned a couple of blocks, punches and kicks.  But I did have one major roadblock to being a successful demonstrator at any of these things.  Apparently it is quite necessary to know your right from your left to do Karate.
Fail.

Finally, on night one, I learned that while no particular equipment or protective gear was required to attend this Karate class…if you have had four babies and are going to try to do many jumping jacks, you’re going to need something.  We’ll leave that there.

Night 2:
I came better, um, prepared for jumping jacks.

And I figured out if I just listened to the instructor and didn’t try to watch him I got less confused about right from left.

I think I might be getting sore.  And I didn’t even do the sit ups.

“Cheryut!” means “Attention!” And it works.  Might start using that one at my house.

I learned that the first rule of Karate is always “Take no action” and that it is braver to stop a fight than start one.  I was telling KJ about this on our way home, and even showed him my fancy “STOP” hand position.  To which he responded:
K : “You learned that in Karate”
Me: (beaming with pride) “Yes”
K: “Do you realize that you actually just took both hands off the steering wheel? I’m not sure that is safe”
Me: (deflated) “Right”

I absolutely did not practice “blocks” in the mirror before bed.

Night 3:
It’s undeniable now.  I’m sore, like really sore.  And after subtly asking the other “coaches” about it, I’m starting to realize it is not from how hard I’ve been working, but how wrong I’ve been working. 

I’m also wondering how wrong it would be to forget the whole “take no action” thing and use my new moves on a couple of the boys in Karate class.  Seriously, I can absolutely wait for my boys to be in the range of 8-10.  I can wait a long time.

Tonight I learned my ace-in-the-hole with KJ, the flying kick.  Although I actually didn’t practice it in class and I’m 100% sure that my best efforts were far short of the goal (and you’ll never see any picture or video evidence of those efforts), he was very impressed.  And asked me to teach him.  Score.

Night 4
It’s “show-off night” for my Karate darlings which = no major exercise for me tonight.  My body thanks me.  I did have the opportunity to practice my jumping kicks again (or flying kicks as I’ve taken to calling them).  Which is more fun than I’ll admit here.

They did their demonstration and I was like a glowing teacher (as if I had anything to do with their successes).  I told a couple of the girls (my “empathizees”) how proud I was and even hugged one of the boys that I earlier wanted to try some Karate blocks on.

The end.

In summary
I realize I’ve just written way too many words about my (short-lived) profession as a Karate coach.  Trust me, if you’d been there you would see the humor.  Then again, if you know me well, it won’t take much stretching of your imagination to picture it.

The theme for the camp week was “It’s Your Turn”.  Your turn to be confident.  Your turn to make good choices.  Your turn to be fearless.  And your turn to be forgiven.  It was a great series for sports camp!

But apparently it was my turn to try something new.  And I believe that I was exactly where I needed to be this week.  If for no other reason, it was great exercise.  And I met some fun new friends (Cyndi-shout-out). And I have to admit that a good “hi-yah” is some awesome stress relief.

I’m not sure how helpful I actually was to our real Karate instructor (who was awesome with these kiddos, by the way).  But, at the beginning of the week I made a choice.  If I was assigned to Karate, I was all in.  One thing I hope to always teach my kids is that the sidelines sure are comfortable, but I’ve never regretted leaving them behind to jump into the game.  Even when, at times, it means failing miserably.

And even then, it makes for a great story.

ABL

Its’ true.  As of yesterday, we have a seven-year-old.  And I’m not quite sure how it happened.  In some ways the grey hairs I’m starting to get and the memory bank that seems to diminish daily, are great indicators that I’ve lived a lot of life- plenty enough to fill seven years.  But in other ways, it seems that I blinked and he went from being tucked safely in my arms to waving goodbye to me in front of his “big school”.
HOW.DID.THAT.HAPPEN?
I dunno, but so far, I LOVE seven.  KJ is at an age where he’s big.  But not too big.  Just Perfect. 

You’ve changed and learned so much this year, I’m not sure I can even sum it up.  Academically, you are brilliant – I’m your mom, I get to say that :).  You read way above your grade level, you are mastering math and you have retained so many facts about science and social studies.  I love that when you get in the car with me you love to do the car trivia question cards that I got a garage sale.  Together we are learning facts about different states and famous U.S. people.  You love to teach others, too, and I often find you sharing your knowledge with your brothers and sister.  We continue to work on how to share in an encouraging way, and I’ve seen you come so far in that area this year.

Don’t get me wrong, you LOVE to have fun.   You and Cbug would chase each other and scream and laugh at high volumes all day if you could and wrestling privaleges are pretty much your favorite thing EVER.  You love to zoom around on two wheel with your new bike riding skills AND on your new birthday-present-scooter.  I love that in these areas you are more fearless than cautious.  And that it seems to have brought great confidence to you.  We take every opportunity we can to head over to “the cul-de-sac” to ride.  Even there, when you are having a blast, you take time to encourage your brother (who is just learning to ride) and check on your sister and baby brother.  Seriously, what would I do without you.

May you lead others on a narrow path. 
May you continue to look for ways to teach others and encourage many. 
To bring the LORD great glory.
And in all things, may you be one who, like your name means, is fully devoted to God. 

I love you so much.  My heart could just explode thinking about the blessing you are to our family.  You are, indeed, my VERY favorite seven-year-old!

Happy 7th Birthday!
Love,
Momma

ABL

We are wearing Red, White and Blue today!

Today was KJ’s birthday and birthdays are a big deal around these parts.  I have a few thing to say to him/about him.  And I can’t wait to share about his paper airplane bash in the park.

But I really feel like I would be remiss to gloss over the real significance of today.
KJ, of course was thrilled that school was canceled on his birthday.  But even on a day filled with celebration, we definitely made sure our kiddos knew the significance of today.

We’ve had the great privalege of welcoming back from deployments some we love deeply.  I remember the first time my brother came home from overseas.  Even knowing that he was on his way, and even knowing the minimal risk he was facing for his return flight, I was on pins and needles until I knew he had safely landed on American soil.  And oh the tears when the texts starting rolling in that he was home.  My baby brother, my hero brother, was home.

With those homecomings in mind, our family is especially grateful to the families who did not celebrate a homecoming. The sacrifice you made while you waited at home, and the ultimate sacrifice you continue to make as you grieve, is one we can’t even fathom. Thank you for what your loved one has done for our country. And thank you for the way you supported them then and honor them now.

Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough to say.
But we mean it so very sincerely.

ABL

If I could make a button, which would repeat a key phrase to prevent me from uttering it ONE.MORE.TIME
the button would either say
“Please use your walking feet”
or
“Please tell Mommy if you need to go potty.”

I really can’t decide which one I say more often, but each are somewhere in the neighborhood of 1295766252 times a day.

Shortly followed by:
Please don’t throw/bounce/kick that in the house.
Please use your big boy/girl voice.
Please wash your hands.
Please go get a Kleenex
Please do not put that in your mouth.
and
Please give the baby some room to breathe.

I would like to eliminate some of this repetition.  I know some of you agree because we’ve given each other that knowing look on more than one occasion.  And not just because I’m tired of hearing my own voice.  At least partly because I bet THEY are tired of hearing my own voice, too.  Especially if that voice is in an octave usually reserved for phrases that I’ve already repeated 10395863 times that day. 

Nearly.

I feel like you are going to want to write this down.  I did when someone suggested it to me. 

I’m all for consistency.  Really, I have a whole soap-box about that.  But sometimes my consistency of the lessons gets confused with my consistency of the methods.  And when the method isn’t working, I’ve gotta learn to PULL THAT PLUG ASAP and regroup on the strategy.  Most of the things I repeat 23098575625 times a day can be linked back to a lesson I’m trying to be consistent about.

  The key is to figure out what the original lesson was.  With washing their hands/not putting them in their mouths it is really about taking care of their health.  With not throwing/kicking/bouncing in the house it may be about taking care of the blessings we have in our toys and our home.  With wrestling, the real lesson is teaching the boys that there is a time and place for having fun together.  The method (which was not working) was constantly reminding them of all the places that were NOT appropriate to wrestle.  So instead of abandoning the LESSON,  I abandoned the METHOD.  And it worked (for now).

So now I’m on a quest. 
Which broken-record-phrase can I conquer, um I mean redirect, next?
Watch out, team,. this coach has a new strategy.

ABL

and just in case any of you other “coaches” are tempted to believe that I am exaggerating our wrestling problems…in none of the pictures in this post, dating back as much as FOUR YEARS AGO, are the boys “hugging”.

We have a tradition.
If you’ve been around DRRF for very long, I know the thought of ME having a TRADITION completely SHOCKS you (wink).
My general mantra is- If it was fun once, it will surely be more fun to do it every.single.year.  ALWAYS.

We ALWAYS go to Chick Fil A on “Dress Like A Cow Day”.  I ALWAYS go to Abilene alone in the fall.  We ALWAYS watch our wedding video on our anniversary.  We ALWAYS have our pumpkin patch pictures taken by the same sweet friends.

AND we ALWAYS go to Ennis (the official bluebonnet capital) for the Annual Bluebonnet Festival.

Unless we don’t. Because when you have many small children, sometimes you won’t.  And sometimes even the most-tradition-loving-type-A-accountant-mom has to let go a little.  Which is why last year we went to Ennis, but not on festival weekend (which would have been a few days before C’s due date). And why we didn’t go the year before when our house was full of extra little ones. Which means, we’ve technically only been to the festival once before.  The year we started the tradition.

But this year.  We resumed this ALWAYS tradition.
It didn’t make a whole lot of sense because we’ve just been so stinkin busy.  It seemed silly to pack everyone up and head-out for a getaway that would be sandwiched between events.  I seriously debated the merit of it the night before.  But my sweet husband.  My sweet patient, hair-brained-idea-supporting husband.  He knows me so well.  He loves me.  He cares that I’m happy.   And he knows that this ALWAYS tradition is important to me.  He knows that there is an NPR-listening-piece-of-me, that fits in best with those that are about twice my own age.  Of which there is a PLETHORA in Ennis this time of year.  So maybe the sum of all of that is why he encouraged us to go.

I’m so glad we did.
Our adventure ALWAYS start with a quick stop to visit my precious friends at the garden club tent (who sweetly mark out the best routes to take for bluebonnet sightings while calling you “sugar” and “dear” to your heart’s content).

And then we were off.  We had the very best time just being together,

Or maybe I actually DID lose my patience, checked at the door with my sanity.

I can’t be quite sure.  I’m already a little fuzzy on the details.  Denial has begun in preparation for doing exactly the same thing next year.  When the tradition, whose sweetness far outweighed its sweatiness, will surely continue.  And when I’ll once again declare
The Annual Bluebonnet Festival is my very favorite tradition of spring.

Unless we don’t.
Because sometimes when you have many small children, you won’t.
But we’ll call it an Always Tradition.  Anyway.