Overheard From the Backseat

Sunday evening my entire family was in the van, traveling to have dinner with the extended entire family. As we drove, I enjoyed listening to my kids banter back and forth and share stories about life.
And there was one story, in particular, which delighted me beyond all the others.
That is, one of my children (who shall remain nameless - to protect the innocent!) was complaining about roommate challenges.
Seems this child's roommate doesn't like to do dishes, or clean up messes, or much of anything else which resembles being responsible for one's living space. And this child of mine is getting tired of it. To the extent that this child recently said to Messy Roommate, "Before you go to bed tonight, will you please clean up x, y, and/or z?" And, apparently, Messy replied with some element of drama and said my child was taking Messy back to moments with Messy's parents.
In other words, my child sounds like Messy's mom.
Which on the one hand made me laugh out loud with a certain sense of satisfaction - knowing my child has an inkling of the agony I experienced over years of saying the same kind of thing.
And which - on the other hand - made me grin with pride at the notion that my child was paying enough attention all those years to not only care about cleanliness, but also to remember how to motivate a person to action.
I mean, I don't know if Messy actually fulfilled the clean-up request (Because, goodness knows, my child(ren) didn't always respond to my requests - even when I tried the non-demanding, nag-free, sound-as-relaxed-as-possible "before you go to bed" approach.) but it delights me to no end that my years of attempted training are producing some results. And, yeah, it's fun to see my child learning to navigate the pathways of adulting.

Late-40s Wisdom

I couldn't help myself.
Matthew came into the house bemoaning the fact that he'd forgotten to stop by the tire store to get his tire pressure checked. "I was going to do it," he said, "but I drove right by. Forgot all about it!"
And I really understood his pain. Because my very-less-than-stellar memory often sees me forgetting to do the things I was sure I'd remember to do.
Often.
Waaaaay too often.
Which is why I was so eager to share my hard-earned wisdom with my son.
I said, "I've learned a strategy to remember when I need to do something out of the ordinary. It really helps. I do something out of the ordinary right away, which I'll see later. So when I see it later I'll remember there was something I needed to do, and I do it!"
For example, Monday I needed to stop by the bread store after I got groceries.
I wrote that need on my grocery list, but I knew by the time I put the groceries on the belt, paid for everything, got out of the store and had my bags loaded into the van - I would not be thinking about that one remaining item on my list. Sooooo, when I was getting out of the van to go into the store - when I picked up the list and saw "bread store" on it, I thought, Aha! Time to use my memory strategy!
I reached down, picked up the snow brush, and placed it on my seat as I got out.
Because when I finished shopping and put the groceries in the back of the van, then came around to get in and go home - well, I'd have to move the brush out of my way.
Which would be unusual.
Which would cause me to wonder why I had put it there.
Which would remind me that I needed to do something out of the ordinary.
Which would cause me to recall that unusual thing.
Which - of course - was: go to the bread store!
So I went, and *Voila!* now my guys have yummy bread to eat with dinner.

Truth be told, I am not sure how inspiring my tale of wisdom was for Matthew.
I mean, I really hope he tries my strategy and finds it helpful.
But I realize he may think it's silly, and he may never benefit from utilize my idea.
And that's his loss okay, I guess. At least I tried to help him!
Just, please, do me one favor: If you ever pass by my van and see the snow brush on the driver's seat, don't put it away for me. Chances are there's something out of the ordinary I'm trying to remember! *grin*

The Current Contents of my Bathroom Cabinet

My husband and I have a running joke about "making Grandma Hossink proud."
That is, Brian's grandmother was known for her dutch-ness.
For being frugal.
For using every last drop of a thing before throwing it away.
Thus, when I refuse to dispose of an item because I am convinced there is at least one more serving or portion or usage or bit in it, I joyfully defend myself declare, "Grandma Hossink would be so proud!"

And those were precisely the words which went through my mind as I noticed the extent to which I was *ahem* honoring her with my toiletries. Check this out:

This is my current deodorant container. I mean, I have a new bottle, but I'm still using this one because - clearly - it still contains product. Granted, I have to use a cotton swab to extract the product, and my finger to apply it. But this stuff isn't cheap (And I am!!!) and I don't want to throw any of it away. So I'll keep on being thrifty until the last of it is used.

This bottle is my moisturizer. A week or so ago it seemd to be empty, but when I put it away upside down I proved to myself that it wasn't. Actually, both last night and this morning I truly thought I had gotten the last of it. Yet here it still sits, because I have a feeling I can squeeze one more usage out of it.

And finally, there's this. (Which, technically, is from a drawer and not my cabinet. But who's being technical???) Do you see in the lower left corner, the one remaining bit of blush? I could have thrown this make-up away weeks ago when I bought its replacement, but that would have made Grandma sad. And I would much rather make her proud. Which I'm sure I did by crushing that little bit of blush with my tweezers, and capturing the crumbs on my blush brush - to apply one last time to my cheeks.

Ah, yes.
I never had the opportunity to meet Grandma Hossink. She passed many years before I even met Brian. But I'm sure we would have been fast friends, as we compared notes on being frugal, and encouraged one another on in our efforts to use every last drop. *wink*

Laughter is Good Medicine

So, I "might" have spent too much time Sunday afteroon reading old blog posts while I was searaching for the one I shared yesterday.
Maybe.
But so many of them made me laugh, I just couldn't stop!
And the two which follow are quick reads. So I hope you'll enjoy a laugh with me today. *grin*

From May 7, 2007:
Matthew is my youngest child. He'll be seven in less than two weeks. YIKES!!! That's hard to believe.
When he was a toddler and my husband and I were introducing him to someone new, it was not uncommon for Matthew to approach the person and climb right up onto their lap or give them a big hug. Brian and I would usually smile and say something like, "He's really shy. We're trying to work with him on that!" He is such an outgoing little guy, and that is one of the things I love about him.

I have recently noticed another area in which I think Matthew is excelling. Let me describe the situation and see if you agree with me.
When I pick the kids up from school, Matthew is usually the first to get to the van. Since Elizabeth is the oldest (and somewhat bossy when it comes to things like seating in the van) she has eternal dibs on the front seat. However, since Matthew gets there first he usually climbs in front with me until Elizabeth arrives. With the weather being so nice recently I often have the windows rolled down, and this situation has prompted Matthew to display his self-confidence.
This is how it goes:
Matthew hops in the van and kisses me. I ask how his day was, he says, "Good!" and jumps into the front seat. Then it is as if he doesn't notice me anymore because he gets nose-to-nose with himself in the side mirror and starts saying, "Hi, Handsome! You're handsome! Wow! Look at you, Handsome!" And today he added a new one. "There isn't even one speck of un-handsome in you!"
So, tell me. Do you think I need to work with him on developiing his self-esteem???

From September 24, 2015:
Me: (as Matthew is picking up the fruit bowl for a second serving) Uh, make sure you leave enough for Josh to have some.
Matthew: (groaning) But he isn't here.
Me: Leave enough for Josh.
Matthew: He doesn't even have to know we had any.
Me: Matthew, if you were the one at work and Josh was going for the rest of the fruit, wouldn't you want me to stick up for you?
Brian: Yeah, Matthew. What would Jesus do?
Matthew: (shrugging) Make more fruit?

Bless My Heart

I made a new recipe last night.
It was basically a hunk of meat surrounded by vegetables and covered in a balsamic marinade.
But neither my husband nor my son thought there was anything "basic" about it.
That is, both of them made quite a fuss over how it looked. To the extent that when I was getting ready to transfer it from the pan to the serving dish and bowl, Matthew screamed, "Wait!" asked me to wait.
Then he got out his phone to take a picture and post it on Instagram.

I don't know how many "likes" he's gotten. But at least one of his followers wanted to come for dinner.
***Awwww, shucks!***

For the Boys

Yesterday I washed the sheets and towels.
(Which I always do on Wednesdays.)
And I included the boys' sheets in the chore.
That is, I stripped their beds for them in order to wash their sheets, too.
(And I don't always do this.)
That is, my habit with Matthew is to remind him that it's Wednesday and I'm washing sheets - and if he wants his sheets washed, he should take them off his bed and bring them downstairs.
Except, yesterday Matthew was at work when I got home from work in the afternoon, so it was too late for me to remind him. At first I was tempted to reason, He knows it's Wednesday, and if he wanted his sheets washed he could have stripped his bed. But then I thought about the fact that I had left him a note in the morning asking him to order something for me with his Amazon Prime account. And when I got out of work, there was his text: the deed is done. And I reasoned further, Yeah. He knows it's Wednesday. He could have stripped his bed. But he did me a favor for me - which allowed me to not have to go shopping. I can do this favor for him.
So I laundered and folded his sheets and took them to his room.
But what about Josh?
Well, regarding Josh I simply reasoned, He's been living the bachelor life since January. Heaven only knows when the last time was these sheets got washed! And I immediately stripped his bed and loaded the washing machine. #OnceAMomAlwaysAMom

He Got Me

I remember when my children were babies and we had frequent back-and-forth moments when they cried to be picked up, then - after what felt like mere seconds in my arms - they wiggled and cried because they wanted to be put back down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Finally, with a sense of exasperation, I would say, "Child! Do you want to be up or down???"

Then they turned into toddlers who would grunt and point at objects which I would pick up and put into their pudgy little hands. In the blink of an eye that toddler would throw the desired object onto the floor, and grunt and point. So I'd retrieve it again and give it back, only to watch it be thrown down again.
And, surely, the grunts would follow.
Eventually I got tired of the game and I would ask, "Alright. Do you want it, or not?"

When they became small children with more autonomy I was cut out of the game, but the yo-yo nature of things continued. However, this time the offense was the slamming door (If it got closed at all.) and the stream of snow or leaves or cut grass or mud - depending on the season.
You know what I'm talking about, right?
The contsant running in and out of the house by children who can't decide which location is more fun, who keep remembering new things they "NEED" to have with them, or who simply can't sit still in one spot for more than five minutes.
And I (After the hundredth time the door got slammed and the floor got more dirty.) moaned loudly, "Either you're in, or you're out. Make a decision!"

Then those children became teenagers and a different door was constantly opening and closing.
The refrigerator door. (And this was particularly true with the boys.)
I cannot count the times I would witness them opening the refrigerator door, looking inside for several moments, then closing the door with a sigh and walking away. But it almost never failed that they would return to the kitchen less than 15 minutes later, and repeat the process.
Open refrigerator. Look inside. For a while. Sigh. Close refrigerator. Walk away.
Repeat, ad nauseam.
Until I finally put my foot down and declared, "New options are not going to magically appear in the refrigerator. Are you going to eat what's in there, or not???"

So, why am I thinking about these moments?
Well, because yesterday I was doing my workout downstairs while Matthew was in the kitchen.
For one of my exercises I ran up the stairs, skipping every other step.
Ten times.
Which means while Matthew was eating breakfast he heard clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp. Then he saw me appear in the doorway, turn around, and go back down.
And on rep number seven he met me at the top of the steps and asked, "Are you staying up or down?"
On my way back down the stairs I said, "I'll be up three more times!"
And I thought, Well played, son. You got me!

Like Father, Like Son

Sunday night I was getting ready for bed when my phone rang.
My first thought was, Gee. It's late. Who would be calling me at this hour? What if it's an emergency?? Oh, dear!!!
So I quickly dropped what I was doing and went to answer my phone.
As I picked it up, I saw that it was my son. And I thought again, Oh, no. What's happened?
So, as cheerfully as I could I said, "Hello!" and waited in anticipation.
Then I heard his voice. "Uh, yeah. I'm at Meijer and I'm looking for refried beans like you use when you make burritos..."
Relieved that there was no emergency, my mind immediately searched for that recipe - assuming Josh was going to make them for himself and was calling to ask about the rest of the ingredients.
But my mind was wrong.
Because the rest of his sentence went like this, "...but all I see are baked beans and black beans. Where are the refried beans?" I chuckled inside as I instructed him to move a couple aisles closer to the front of the store where the tomatoes and tomato sauces are.
"You'll find them in that aisle," I said.
"OK. Thanks. Bye," were his parting words.
Then I hung up the phone, shaking my head as I recalled the many times his father has done the exact same thing. Because, apparently it's easier to call me than it is to find a store employee when one needs help locating an elusive item.
Guess I should be honored that they think I know so much. *wink*

Yes, Dear. That's What It Means.

I was sitting in Panera yesterday between appointments when my phone rang.
It was Matthew.
He said, "Uh, you know the fruit in the refrigerator in the plastic bag?"
I was well aware of the item to which he was referring. And I added, "You mean the bag with two knots tied on the top?"
"Yeah," he said. "Is that something you're saving that you don't want us to eat?"
"Yes, Matthew. You are correct. The two knots tied on the bag were meant to communicate that the fruit is being saved for something and you are not to eat it at will. You understood my message."
At my confirmation Matthew let out a disappointed sigh, and I let out a chuckle. Even as I promised he would be enjoying the fruit with dinner in the near future.
"OK. Good-bye," he said.
"Good-bye. Thanks for checking!"

Sometimes I write a note, but this time I decided to invite my hungry men to use their intuition and common sense. Glad it worked!

Speaking My Language

So, Matthew went to the store yesterday to buy himself some new shorts.
And when we were both back home later in the day I asked if his trip had been successful.
He smiled, patted a bag sitting beside him, and said, "Yes!"
Then our conversation went something like this:
Matthew: Oh, and you'll like this! I mean, I don't know how you'll feel about this part. That is, I liked the shorts so I decided to get them, but they were $25 and I thought that was kind of a lot for shorts. But I was going to get them anyway. Then when I was paying for them, they were only $13!
Me: That's awesome. Good job!
Matthew: I know! I mean, I looked all over but didn't see a SALE sign, so I didn't expect them to be on sale. But they were. And I decided it was better not to ask questions.
Me: Yep! Never ask questions when something is nearly 50% off.
*fist bump*

Serious About Bible Study

I am not sure what matter of discussion in Ezekiel 33 or 34 caused me to make such a silly face, but one of my co-leaders caught me with this expression yesterday. And it made me laugh.

So, for what it's worth - welcome to Precepts. Where we love God and His Word.
And sometimes get a little goofy. *wink*

Warning: Objects in Conversation...

Another "Sea Day" scheduled today, making our way back to Florida and then home to Michigan.
While the oceans over which I'll be sailing are deep, this post? Not so much.
I hope you enjoy a laugh!

...are more shallow than they appear.

The other night I was in the kitchen making dinner, and Elizabeth was in the dining room working on a school project. She paused for a moment and asked me, "Mom? Have you ever had a friend you needed, and they knew you needed them, so they could be mean to you because they knew you would never leave them?"
It took me a minute to process Elizabeth's question and I was wondering why she was asking - perhaps looking for some advice, or maybe just needing to unload?
As I thought it over, I recalled an unhealthy relationship I'd had in junior high. Yeah, it was a "friend" I "needed" and she knew it. Only it wasn't really a friendship, rather she was popular and I wanted to be accepted by her so I did what she wanted and she treated me like, well, *ahem* like that, and I just took it.
Because I wanted to feel accepted.
And if she was paying attention to me - even if it wasn't nice - I felt accepted.
In a pathetic sort of way.

I shared my little story with Elizabeth in hopes my vulnerability might open some doors to good conversation. Perhaps help her through whatever she was facing.
When I had finished speaking she smiled and said, "Yeah. That's like me and hot glue."
Elizabeth was using hot glue for her project and was frustrated because she kept burning herself. This "friend" she needed was being mean to her, but she couldn't leave it because of her need.

Uh, yeah. Not quite the deep conversation I was anticipating. *wink*

Senior Moment Alert

Yesterday a friend of mine asked my opinion about a recent sermon. I didn't recall the specifics of what she was asking and told her I would check it out and get back with her on it.
So I did.
As I was getting other work done, I listened to the sermon online and paid extra attention to the parts she needed addressed. Then I sent off a text message, telling her I thought the message was 'right on'.
Her response confused me, though.
She said, and I quote, "Wondering why you think I needed this but it was already on my list of things to do. Were we talking about it?" I think I read her words five or six times - trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic and playing with me (We do that to each other sometimes!) or if she was genuinely confused. I mean, it hadn't even been two hours since we'd seen each other.
Part of me felt embarrassed for her.
How could she forget so quickly that she'd asked me to do this thing?
So after some thought on how to address her situation I replied, "Yes. This is Karen Hossink. You asked me in Precepts today to watch it and let you know what I thought." For a minute I supposed she might think she was texting with a different "Karen". I decided to do my best to graciously set her straight. And when she responded moments later I became confident that she was, in fact, straight in her thinking.
She said, "I'm sorry Karen, but I'm sure that wasn't me. The only time I talked to you was to ask you if you were cold."
My mind quickly went back to that conversation about being cold. And that's when I realized - she was right. It was a different friend who had asked me about the sermon! Nevermind being cold anymore. The blood rushing to my face in a show of complete embarrassment took care of that problem right away. I laughed out loud and quickly sent another text confessing my mix-up and humiliation. And I asked if she thought I was too young to be having a "senior moment".
Fortunately, I have very gracious friends - and this one laughed right along with me, and made me feel less foolish for my error. Although, it would have been OK with me if she hadn't agreed that I am not too young for a senior moment.

There's an App for That!

"There's an app for that."

How many times have you heard this statement made by someone who is eagerly trying to help you solve a problem?

I want to keep track of how many steps I take each day. There's an app for that.
I need to plan meals for my family and not repeat things more than once a month. There's an app for that.
My quiet times are lagging. I wish I could be more disciplined in finding time and content to go deeper with Jesus. There's an app for that.
Wow! It's almost Christmas, and I have no idea what sort of gifts to buy for my various family memebers. There's an app for that.
I'd really like to get some variety in my work-outs. Doing the same routines each week is boring me to tears. There's an app for that.
If I could figure out how to do my laundry while also cleaning the house and making dinner, boy, I could really save time in a day. There's an app for that.
Whew! Now that I know my steps, have my meals planned, got my quiet times going, gifts purchased, work-outs arranged, and chores done, I am exhausted! There's A NAP for that!!!
(Hee hee! Sorry, I couldn't resist throwing that in there.)

Ahhh, but it seems the real problem I have is having an app that is getting too much into my business. That is to say, I have a calendar on my phone for my personal things. You know, appointments and reminders and work schedules and incidentals.
I also have a calendar on my website for speaking events.
My phone is associated with one gmail account, and my website with another. But yesterday after I entered a couple of new speaking dates, I looked at the schedule on my website and saw ALL my personal things on there, too. And I'm all, Wait a minute! Who needs to know when I'm getting my hair cut, when I'm visiting Mary, when Mindy needs her heart-worm pill, when I have to be at work, or when I pray for the safety of our troops??? This stuff doesn't belong on my website calendar!
I quickly searched for a way to delete the nobody's-business-items. (Glad to have discovered it, as technically-challeneged as I am!)
Once that situation was remedied, I started looking for a different calendar to use on my phone. And I found one. Even entered a "test" event to see if it would show up on my website, and... it didn't.
However, now I'm concerned that my appointments and reminders might start migrating again in the future, and I may - once again - be putting a bunch of information out there that no one really needs to know. (But without which I'll be completely lost if I don't make a record of it somewhere!)
That is, I'm troubled with the idea that my apps may start talking to each other again and getting all up in my business where I don't want them to go.
And I'm wondering, Is there an app for that???

The Tale of the Missing Shoes: A True Story with a Real Lesson

It was Saturday, October 13 at 8:45 in the morning. (I know, because I just checked my phone!)
I was at the church, ironing a bride's maid dress, thinking all was right with the world.
Then my phone rang.
It was one of my sons, calling to ask if I knew where my other son's shoes were. And I'm all, "I don't know! Ask him. They're his shoes..." But, as it was further explained to me, the reason for the calling son's call was because the other son had no idea where said shoes were to be found. And he thought I might know. My only response was, I hadn't seen them since we bought them. (Remember the really great story about the amazing deal I got on the boys' suits? Well, that was the last time I had laid eyes on the shoes. I figured they went to my son's room with him when we got home.)
And with that, our phone call was over.
The next half hour involved three more calls (from the son-missing-shoes) wanting to know if I was sure I didn't know where they were, and what should he do if he couldn't find them? I held back on my desire to ask why this son had waited until the morning of the wedding to get his things together, but I did manage to offer an answer he didn't like, anyway. When he asked, "What do I wear???" and I said, "I dunno. Tennis shoes?" he, uh, hung up on me.

In the end, he showed up to the church looking great. The gray tennis shoes were hardly even noticeable in contrast to his nice suit and amazing good looks. *wink* And the rest of the day went off without a hitch. (OK, the photographer lost an SD card which contained all the pictures taken before the ceremony, but apparently that has been located. So, it's all good.)
HOWEVER, we still had the unanswered question of where those shoes were located. I admit, when I got home I began looking for them, too. And continued with the alertness for days. Eventually, I determined that in the middle of the busynes of buying suits and ties and stuff - and considering we were checking out as the store was closing (so there was a bit of an added hustle) - we must have inadvertantly left behind the package with the shoes in it. Oops!!!
So, the other day I finally got around to calling the store to ask if they *might* have an extra pair of shoes in their inventory. Ya know, like the shoes somebody bought four weeks ago, but didn't miss until TWO weeks ago, so they got put back on the shelf, maybe? The manager with whom I was speaking told me to just bring in the receipt sometime (Because I couldn't decipher the codes to tell her over the phone what item number went with the shoes in question.) and they would "take care of it". I didn't know how they would do it, but if bringing in the receipt would solve my problem, I was all for it.
And that night I took in the receipt, and my embarassing little story of not realizing for two weeks that we didn't bring home everything we purchased.

The rest of the story goes like this: The manager on duty graciously listened to my tale of woe, and proceeded to enter each item number on my receipt into the computer - to find out if the missing shoes were in the store somewhere. And, when he got to the end of the list we discovered the shoes weren't on the receipt at all!
Apparently, in the hustle to get us through check-out and out of the store that fateful night, the shoes in question never got scanned, bagged, or paid for. And since a certain son of mine didn't care to care for his packages that night (or any time between then and the wedding...) the missing (never-purchased) shoes went completely unnoticed.
Probably got re-shelved the next morning. *exasperated sigh*

Annnnd, the moral of the story is, uh, two-fold, really.
1. Always check your bags.
2. Don't wait until the last minute to get your stuff together.

Speaking of Career Paths...

Yesterday I was looking for something in my blog archives.
I never did find it.
And I can't imagine what hapened to it because I KNOW it was here, once upon a time.
The good news is - in my seach for that, I came upon this.
And since I just posted about Phil beginning his new career, I thought it appropriate to anticipate Elizabeth's career. From my perspective 11+ years ago.

Ever since she could talk, Elizabeth has expressed kindness and compassion with her words. In a journal I'm keeping for her, I often note the sweet things she says and does. Like the time I was feeling low and when I went to bed there was a note on my pillow which she'd written. She told me she loved me, God loved me, and she hoped I was feeling better soon. Elizabeth is such a sweetheart!
When it comes to her brothers, however, she can take on a very different attitude. She doesn't like them to get into her stuff. I understand that desire, and support her in it. It has become her standard, though, that they aren't even allowed to set foot in her room uninvited. I understand that desire, too, and agree the boys shouldn't go into her room when she isn't in there. But sometimes she goes a little overboard. Even when she is in her room, Elizabeth will get totally bent out of shape if one of her brothers enters without her invitation. It is because of Elizabeth's rantings and ravings about her brothers' need to stay out of her room that I got a BIG laugh Saturday, and determined I know her future career.

We were getting ready for Elizabeth's birthday party. She had invited several girlfriends over for the afternoon and we were busy putting up decorations, cutting out pictures, blowing up balloons, and sorting out prizes. Elizabeth was sure she had some stuffed animals in her toybox in her bedroom that would add nicely to the decorations, but we were both quite engrossed in our current duties and were a bit pressed for time.
Previously, we had tried to solicit help from the boys, but since they weren't going to be participating in the party they weren't particularly interested in helping with preparations.
Understandable.
So as I was standing there cutting up pieces of paper, I almost lost a finger when I started laughing at the exchange that took place between my kids. Elizabeth put on her sweetest face. The look itself almost said, "You're the luckiest little boy in the world for what I'm about to offer you!" She then said, "Matthew, how would you like to go rummaging through my room?" He immediately stopped what he was doing (I don't remember what it was. He was probably getting ready to pop a balloon or something.) and looked at her. Just as quickly, Joshua popped out from around the corner and said, "I will!" With that, Elizabeth sent the boys up to her room on a hunt for the animals she was sure were hiding there somewhere.

I stood there marveling at Elizabeth's skill to get these boys to do what she wanted them to do - something they had previously made clear they did not want to do. She didn't ask them again to "help get ready for the party". She gave them permission to rummage through her room. By putting a slightly different spin on the activity, Elizabeth got the boys to help. Besides that, she made it fun for them!
Within minutes they had returned with the animals in question.

I'm telling you, that girl ought to be in sales. I didn't ask her how she thought about her approach, and I don't know how long she'd been working on it. But she came up with it, and it worked.

My only thought now?
Beware, Phil. Your bride-to-be has a way with words! *wink*

When I Impressed My Son

Are you familiar with this dance? I mean, I can't do it. But I know what it is.
The first and second graders in my VBS class this summer got me all educated on the "Floss".

So, anyway, the other day Josh was telling me about a fishing technique (of which he does not approve...) called "Flossing". Part-way through the explanation Josh realized he had previously told me about this approach and stopped mid-sentence. He said, "Oh, you know what flossing is, don't you?"
I smiled and said, "Yes," as I gave a half-hearted attempt at the dance.
Josh rolled his eyes at me first. But then he said, "Actually, Mom, I'm impressed you know that."

And I did a little happy dance inside.
(Not the "Floss" though. I just can't get the timing down. Even in my imagination. *wink*)

Respecting Systems *ahem*

Ahhhh, systems.
They're so useful.
When they work.
That is, when people follow them. They always work if people follow them!
I know this for a fact, because I have a great system in place for keeping us from running out of essentials. It's easy, really. If you use the last of something (toilet paper, honey, soap, napkins, mayo, whatever!) write it on the list which is on the refrigerator so that I know to buy it the next time I go grocery shopping. Totally simple, and oh - so effective.
But not fool-proof.
It must be followed by everyone in order to work! (And sometimes it isn't. And I *might* get a little irritatated when the system isn't followed.)

So, with that bakground you certainly understand my respect for not messing with or misusing somebody's system. Right?
OK, then. You'll be with me on this one.
When it comes to laundry around here, whenever I do it I check in each person's hamper for dirty clothes. And, if they're in there? I include them in the wash I'm doing. Most often, though, when I go into Matthew's room his hamper is empty but there are lots of clothes laying in various places on the floor. And I don't touch them. Cuz, they aren't in the hamper and, well, that's my system. *wink*
On more than one occasion he has come home to find me folding clothes and he lets out a sigh, expressing disappointment in having missed 'laundry day'.
And we typically have the following conversation.
Me: If your clothes had been in your hamper, I would have washed them.
Matthew: But I never know when you're going to do the laundry, so I don't know when to put my clothes in there.
Me: How 'bout you put them in the hamper after you take them off your body, instead of just throwing them on the floor?
Matthew: Because they might not need to be washed. So they don't need to go in the hamper.
Me: Ahhhh. Then why don't you fold them and put them away, rather than just throwing them on the floor? (Have you noticed my theme?)
The last time we had this conversation, Matthew said for the first time: Oh, Mom. I have a system. You wouldn't understand.
Me: *grin* OK.

So, yesterday I was gathering dirty clothes to put through the washer and, as is the usual, there were only a few items in Matthew's hamper. But, oh, there was quite a bit laying near the hamper, and by the bed. And under his desk, too, I think.
Which is where they all remained.
Alas, later in the afternoon when I brought a singular pair of shorts to Matthew's room from the load I had just finished he said, "Aw, man. You know what's funny?" (Only, he didn't mean 'funny' like something to laugh about. I think he meant 'funny' like ironic.) "I was just thinking about figuring out what clothes needed to go in the wash, so I could do a load." At that moment I acknowlegded the piles of clothes on the floor and said, "Yeah. I figured these were dirty. I could have included them in the wash I did today. But I didn't want to ruin your system." And I smiled, and offered my best you-should-have-listened-to-mom-and-put-your-dirty-clothes-in-the-hamper look.
I still haven't determined whether his response in the form of a timid laugh was because of conviction or contempt. *wink*

I Got a Raise!

So, I went grocery shopping yesterday.
And everything was going along very well.
Until check-out.
Seems the credit card of the nice old couple in front of me wasn't working. She swiped it, he swiped it, the cashier swiped it, they even tried the trick cashiers sometimes do where you put the card inside a plastic bag and swipe it that way. But nothing was working.
Thankfully, a supervisor came to the rescue. Took the couple and their groceries and their suspended transaction to another lane and got it figured out.

Now it was my turn.
And when the cashier started scanning my groceries, we discovered the problem wasn't with the other couple's card. There was something wacky going on with her register. So she called for help and SUPERvisor came to the rescue again. My groceries were scanned and bagged, my transaction suspended and taken to another register, and SUPER cashed me out there. In the midst of it she said, "I'm giving you $5 off for your inconvenience. Thanks for being so patient through all of this."
I thought, Well, that's a nice gesture. I mean it really wasn't a big deal. Only set me back about 10 minutes. And I understand - sometimes technology messes up. But, hey, it's five bucks. I'll take it.
And I said, "Wow. OK. Thanks!"

Then, when I got home and was recounting the event to my daughter (Because I have a habit of re-telling stories of saving money...) I realized the equivalent of the kind gesture SUPER had made: If spending 10 minutes extra in line earned me $5, that's like making $30 and hour.
And I usually go shopping for free.
So the way I see it, I just got a huge raise!!!

Re-writing the Story

I heard a funny story several years ago - which I think I enjoyed so much because of how true it is.
It goes like this:

There was a job to do, and four people available to do it. Their names were Anybody, Everybody, Somebody, and Nobody. Anybody could have done the job and Everybody thought Somebody took care of it. But, actually, Nobody did the work.
And in the end - Everybody was mad at Somebody, because Nobody did what Anybody could have.

Are you recalling times these four people have gotten involved in the jobs around your home???
Ohhhh, they came over to my place yesterday, and I was so ready to be Everybody. Know what I mean?
I walked into the kitchen in the morning and saw that the dishes hadn't been done Tuesday night.
And, OK, we didn't eat dinner as a family because Brian and I went out for our anniversary - so I know activities didn't feel "normal". But we all used dishes throughout the day, and they weren't going to "do" themselves. Somebody ought to have done them, I thought, even though we didn't "eat dinner".
And, as the story goes - Anybody could have done it.
In my moment of I-have-failed-as-a-mother-because-the-dishes-are-undone nonsense, I allowed myself to fear that Nobody was going to get the dishes done before it was time for me to make dinner Wednesday night. Then either 1)I was going to stomp around the kitchen cleaning up the mess that Somebody should have already managed, or 2)I was going to have to follow through on the vow I made years ago when the kids took over doing dishes:
If the kitchen is a mess when it's time for me to make dinner, I'm NOT making dinner!
Neither one of those options was appealing to me. But I also didn't want to nag Somebody into doing what Anybody could have done. So I carried on with my morning activities and decided to let the chips fall where they may.

Then, the unexpected happened!

I walked into the house in the afternoon and heard the dishwasher running. I looked at the counter and - it was clean!!! I asked around and found out, Matthew did the dishes! Without being nagged asked. Without me complaining. Without letting the chore fall on Nobody.
Matthew re-wrote the story.
And this momma's heart was so glad!!!