If We Can Avoid the Crazy Saints Fans, It’s Gonna Be Awesome!

This weekend is the Brad Paisley concert on the Gulf Coast.

This is my third time to go, and I’m so excited. I love his newest album, and all the other ones too, so I plan on singing along and having a wonderful time.

I just have to decide what to wear.

If you’ll remember last year, we had seats by the catwalk, and I grabbed the dude’s ankle. Here’s proof:

That’s my weird looking limb and the top corner of my head. This is brilliant camera-phone work, people.

You can read about the concert here.

The only thing I’m worried about is this: this is Super Bowl weekend, and there are a lot of Saints fans on the coast. I’m personally nothing close to resembling a Saints fan, so I really hope we don’t have to encounter massive groups of people dressed in black and gold. However, if we do, in the spirit of country music, I’ll be nice.

And rest assured that if anything remotely funny happens regarding Saints fans or anything else, you’ll read it here first. (Actually, this is probably the only place you’ll read it, because I tend to laugh at things nobody else thinks are funny.)

So anyway…my wardrobe options: black/grey sweater dress, leggings and boots OR brown sweater, green skirt, tights and boots OR blue dress, boots and find some tights on the way down there OR….it goes on and on.

Moving on…

The kids have been better this week. Aidan and I have had some great conversations. Paisley is working her way toward being potty trained. Molly is in a whiney phase that is driving us crazy, but she’s still fun to be around. Tonight we all sat and watched our wedding video. I have no idea why we are just now showing it to them, but we pulled it out of storage and took a look. The video is not in good shape, it makes a helicopter sound in the background. But you can still hear everything and it was so much fun to watch. I’ve recapped my wedding multiple times on the blog, so I will spare you, but I have to tell you this:

I have about three tapes of the wedding. Two different men made the videos and each gave me their original. Then there was the tape where they edited the two videos together so I could see different camera angles. These two men are very special to me, and have videotaped most of the highlights of my adolescence, so I was so thankful that they agreed to tape my special day. ANYWAY…we watched the edited film tonight. To be honest, I had never seen it. I’ve just seen the other two tapes, each one from a different perspective. The edited one was great. The tape is aging, and I need to have it put on DVD very soon, but it was so much fun to watch with the kids and get their thoughts and laugh at what they thought was funny.

Here’s the kicker: at the end of the tape, after we ran through the rose petals and drove off into the sunset, there were clips of people wishing us well. I saw some good friends. I saw many, many people who have passed on, and that broke my heart a little bit. I saw people I haven’t seen since that day.

Then I saw my Mamaw. My friend with the camera asked her to say something to us, and she said, “Congratulations, Anne and Michael. I love you both and wish you the best. I pray you’ll always be as happy as you are today. Most of all, I pray you’re as happy as your papaw and I are.”

She looked wonderful. This was way before she got sick and couldn’t get around well. These words do not suffice, but it was awesome to see her again.

The weird thing is, I have never seen that part of the video until tonight. It was not on the copy that I always watched, so I had no idea. Then there she was, in my living room, with her sparkly blue eyes and pretty smile. I think God was saving that for me. I have really been missing her, and there she was. It would have been special if I had seen that clip years ago, but I’m glad it was today.

Then there was a clip of my dad cleaning up after the reception in his bright orange Tasmanian Devil tshirt and shorts that needed to be about 3 inches longer. Molly took one look and said, “What is G wearing???!!!”

It was outfits like that that caused me to get married without hesitation and LEAVE the nest.

Now let’s just hope whatever I pick to wear this weekend won’t cause my children to want to do the same.

You Would Think I’d Get the Hang of This by Now.

I am a bad mother. Maybe. I don’t know.

I love my kids, really I do, but they make me furious. The demands, the complaining, the whining, it’s all just getting to be a bit much.

I have spent the last six years wondering what the formula is to get them to calm down. Now, let me say this: I love that they’re high spirited. I love that they think for themselves. I love that they are funny and creative and honest. My kids are mostly happy and fun to be around.

But I am around other kids who don’t seem to whine quite as much. Or is it just that I only hear and am bugged by my kids?

Or is the problem that I compare them to others, when they are just being who they are?

Or am I not strict enough?

Or am I too strict and they’re rebelling?

I have no idea. All I know is that I love them, and I tell them that many, many times every day. I tell them that God loves them and that Jesus came because God loves them so much. Some days, it’s the best I can do. I tell them that they are special and unique and that they are created in God’s image and that he has a plan just for them.

I just can’t get them to stop climbing on things or rolling around in the floor in public places. They are so comfortable wherever they go, that they think the world is a playground, made just for them.

So it’s hard to teach them that no, they can’t behave like that, while at the same time teaching them to be confident in who they are, and not scared of everything. More than anything, I don’t want to break their spirits.

It’s so hard.

I have no answers.

I guess we could just stay in our house all the time. But then I’d go crazy and have to be put away.

Am I normal here? I mean, I know I’m not normal…I’ve accepted that. But surely others deal with this. Is there a solution that I’ve missed out on somewhere? I don’t know that I want advice, because I probably won’t take it. I just want some validation that I’m not crazy.

And if you don’t have advice, or validation to offer…then does anybody have a cabin in the mountains where I can go for a week or so by myself? Thanks.

And How Was Your Day?

Mine was fine, thanks.

I have been a blog slacker. I do not like this, not one little bit. But the honest-to-goodness truth is that I have had much to say, but haven’t known how to say it.

And being a minister’s kid, I know as well as anybody that delivery is as important as content.

I have about five posts right now in my drafts folder. There are things I want to say, but don’t feel like they would be well received. I live for being well received, so I write those posts and then save them away, knowing no one will ever read them. I guess then, that my drafts folder is like my little diary of soapbox rants, which in the end, never do anybody any good anyway.

So I’ll move on to safer subject, such as this: I have just eaten ten or more Pop-Ice popsicles. One right after the other. I’m addicted, and very, very cold. So I’m typo-ing all over the place because my fingers aren’t working right now.

I’m having a bad hair day today. It’s in a ponytail, locked up safe right now, because it has looked like the end of a witch’s broom all day. On most days, I feel like the only physical attribute I have is my hair. Today, I had to wear extra mascara because the hair was not making a positive statement. Do you have days like that?

Last night, my daughter (the five year old) was upstairs with the other two kids and decided she wanted something off of her shelf. Her shelf is a hutch unit thing on top of a dresser. She rolled Paisley’s bed over so she could climb up (I strongly dislike the wood floors upstairs) and reached for whatever she was wanting. The shelf tipped forward. Her music box collection crashed to the floor.

Gosh, it hurts my heart so much to actually type that. But it all came crashing down, just like the career of a lead singer in an 80s hair band.

My mom has been giving Molly a music box every Christmas as a collection. Mom is big on collections. I have a snow globe collection, my brother has Nutcrackers. I have a Department 56 Snow Village, my sister in law has the Dickens Village. She loves giving us stuff like this. I personally think it’s because shopping is much faster when you’re buying in a set, but she won’t admit to that.

So anyway, the music boxes from the last 5 years all hit the floor. Except the very first one she received as a baby, thank goodness. It was devastating. Molly cried harder than I’ve ever seen. Her face broke out in splotches and she had to run out of the room. She wasn’t severely punished, because she really did punish herself. She does have to go to my parents and tell them what she did. I dread that for her, although they will be gracious as usual.

But after it was all over, the tears were dry and the glass cleaned up, we sat in the kitchen and talked about it. I was explaining to Molly that although she thinks she can do grownup things, she is not a grownup. She can’t get things off of the shelf without asking us, and so on. Michael (who is nicer than me) sat down with the kids and said, “Guys, God protected you all tonight. That shelf could have come down on your heads or your chest and we’d be at the hospital right now.”

Aidan quickly responded, “But I saved everybody! I pushed it back when it started to tip over!” (This is true, he was quick with the reflexes for the first time EVER.)

Michael told him, “Yes, you did great, but God helped you do that, Aidan. He was in the room and protected you all.”

Aidan turns to walk off, raises his hands up above his head in fists and proclaims, “God gave me the Power! I AM A HERO!”

Molly was the first to laugh, then we all got started and all of the tension from the crash, the fear of injury, the anger and frustration over the cleanup was gone.

We owe a lot to that skinny six year old with the loose front tooth. According to him, he saved two lives and then provided entertainment.

And we were worried because he’s having trouble with subtraction. Shame on us.

Out With The Old…

December was one of the hardest months I’ve ever lived through. Saying goodbye to my Mamaw, breaking my foot, a million and a half church activities, Christmas shopping while not being able to drive for three weeks, dealing with anger, frustration, and grief about things that I had no control over…it all took a major toll on my body and heart.

But there was also joy. Joy that came in moments of brightness that was so strong that it was overpowering. That kind of joy that knocks your socks off. My kids faces on Christmas morning. Singing to my Mamaw in the hospital room with my mom, brother and aunt. Having my first two non-church singing engagements and getting to work on music day and night for weeks. Seeing my Mamaw honored by well over a thousand people who came to show their love. Experiencing the body of Christ through my Sunday School class who brought me dinner for two weeks because I couldn’t walk or drive. Playing video games on a big screen at my brothers’ house while kids ran around to celebrate the New Year. Enrolling Aidan in a great school to finish out the first grade.

There was so much joy.

It was all so much to participate in and process that I had to take a break from writing about it. I had pockets of time where I could have, but to put all of that in words would have been impossible in the moment.

I try hard to live in such a way that every thing that happens is a big deal. Living like this makes for a great life, and awesome experiences, but it’s exhausting. I’m not good at just watching things happen, I want to be in the middle of the happening. That means I have to go through a “let down” after every big event in my life. I feel like I’ve been in the let down for a week or so now.

So, I’m taking it easy today. We have a Saturday with almost no plans, just a wedding to attend this evening. I’m going to clean house, play with my kids and try to stay warm. My 34th year begins on Monday, so I guess I’d better gear up for that. This year has been amazing and wonderful. I went back and read my blog posts from this year. God taught me so much. My kids grew so much. My friends and family grew to mean so much. I wish I could express half of the gratitude that I feel, but even that is too much to put into words.

So…here’s to January, and all of it’s new beginnings. May we all know and love Christ more completely, and love each other more honestly.

Home for Christmas

My mamaw went to be with Jesus today.

I miss her so much. I have never truly experienced loss to this degree before. I feel so sad, and yet I am truly happy for her.

Pray for my sweet Papaw. They were married 63 years.

Pray for my Uncle Steve, My Mama, and my Aunt Lisa.

And all the rest of us that love her with all of our hearts.

Steven Curtis Chapman sang this on his first Christmas album, and it’s on my mind today:

“Going Home for Christmas”

Her house was where the family gathered every Christmas eve;
A feast was set on the table and gifts were placed beneath the tree.
Everything was picture perfect, Grandpa would laugh and say,
That woman spends the whole year getting ready for this day.

One year the leaves began to fall and her health began to fade;
We moved her to a place where they could watch her night and day.
But she kept making plans for Christmas from her little room;
She told everyone, I’ll miss you but I’ll be leaving soon.

I’m going home for Christmas and I’m going home to stay;
I’m going home for Christmas and nothing’s gonna keep me away.
I’ll be with the ones I love to celebrate the Savior’s birth;
This gift will be worth more to me than anything on earth.
I’m going home, home for Christmas.

All the leaves outside have fallen to be covered by the snow;
The family comes with food and gifts and Grandpa comes alone.
There’s a sadness in our silence as the Christmas story’s read,
And with tears, Grandpa reminds us of the words that Grandma said.

I’m going home for Christmas and I’m going home to stay;
I’m going home for Christmas and nothing’s gonna keep me away.
She’ll be face to face with Jesus as we celebrate His birth,
And this gift will be worth more to her than anything on earth,
‘Cause she’ll be home.

And as we sing ‘Joy to the World’ I can’t help thinking
Of the joy that’s shining in her eyes right now.
And though our hearts still ache, we know that as we celebrate,
She’s singing with the herald angels and heaven’s glowing on her face.

And now she’s home for Christmas and now she’s home to stay;
She’s home for Christmas, and nothin’ could’ve kept her away.
She’ll be face to face with Jesus, as we celebrate His birth,
And this gift will be worth more to her than anything on earth.
She’s home, she’s home for Christmas.
She is home, she’s home for Christmas.

Mamaw

I’m sure there is a better title for this post. But my heart and mind are so full of her, that just her name is enough right now.

And this isn’t her name, of course. To many, she’s Lucy, Mrs. Lucy or Mrs. Rives. To some of her precious family she’s Aunt Lucille, or Lucille. To her three kids she’s Mama. To the seven of us who are lucky to call her this, she’s Mamaw.

She’s been one of the biggest parts of my life. As far as adult influence goes, after my parents, there is Mamaw.

She never missed anything. Every dance recital, piano recital, school program, ball game, before prom pictures in the yard…she was there. I always felt really sad for my friends who had to go out of town to see their grandparents. I saw Mamaw and Papaw almost every day of my childhood, and I knew they loved me. She loved being with her grandkids so much. We shopped until we dropped on countless Saturdays. If I had an event coming up, she would get me from school and we’d hit the MetroCenter. When my cousins were in town, we’d all go together, then eat a big lunch of Krystal hamburgers.

I remember going shopping with her one evening when I was in college. I was 20 years old, and planning to go to Memphis for New Year’s Eve with Michael. I wanted something cool to wear, and so I took Mamaw to Express. I tried on these faux leather (or pleather, if you will) pants and a pretty black velvet V-neck top and fell in love. I wanted this outfit, but knew I was shopping with the woman who bought what SHE liked, not necessarily the other way around. I told her, “Mamaw, I LOVE these pants and top.” She said, “I like them on you, let’s get them.” I did a double take and said, “Huh? Mamaw, I look like I want to be a rock star!” She told me they were cute and on sale and let’s get them and go to Morrison’s Cafeteria before they close.

I still wear the top, 12 years later, and wore the pants until it was just not respectable to do so, and I think of her EVERY time.

She wasn’t just present in body at all of our many functions and events. She wasn’t just a provider of awesome pleather pants. She was INVOLVED in every way. She asked me regularly, up until a few months ago, about each of my friends, and who has had babies, and who married whom, and where do they live now, and all of the crucial information she needs to know about people she has met just a handful of times.

She knew about every boy I ever went out with. She was aware of every date, and where we went, and if I got home on time or not. She immediately loved my Michael. She knew him when he was my friend, but when we became more than that, she always treated him like he was her own. He loves her like he is her own, and tells me often that I have many of her mannerisms and ways of saying things.

Lucky me!

She would get angry when friends would hurt me. She would get furious when referees called against her teams. She was fiercely loyal and stuck by her children and grandchildren, no matter what. Her expectations were high. She didn’t just want an A on a test, she wanted a 100. But with the high expectations came the knowledge that she only wanted that for us because she knew that’s what we were capable of. It took me a while to realize that. What I thought was pressure was really pride in her family. So I did whatever I could to make her proud.

She called all of the grandkids “Cats Britches”. I have no idea why.

Molly asked me tonight what kinds of things did we do at her house. When Papaw raked the leaves, we jumped in them. We would jump off of the low brick wall into the leaves. We would swing on the “big swing” which hung from a high branch in the backyard. The rope was long, so it went high. My cousins, Sarah and Jenni, and I would hide in her linen closet. It was filled 3 feet high with quilts. We would cozy up in there and talk for hours with a flashlight and a bag of peppermint candy. We dressed up in my aunts old formals. We would pack the old suitcases and pretend to be going on an adventure of some sort. We would sit on the floor with a bowl filled with water and dish soap and use Mamaw’s old manual egg beaters to make bubbles. She would let us go down to the “shop” and clean it. We would spend the night and laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Christmas was always huge. My cousins and I are about the same age, so we always got gifts that were the same, but in different colors. One year was monogrammed sweatshirts. One year was painted sweatshirts with jewels on them. I remember those, because mine was black with silver, pink and purple paint. You never forget a shirt like that.

She is getting very close to the end of her long, wonderful, love-filled life. I already miss her, because she hasn’t been who she was in a while. I miss being able to call and ask what she’s reading, because we would recommend books to each other. I miss telling her about my kids. I miss her answering the phone and hearing, “hey sugar!”

4 years ago, we moved in across the street from her. She and Papaw were gracious enough to rent us a house when we needed one. I remember her calling me and saying, “Hey Annie, would you like to live across the street from your old mamaw?” And then we both burst into tears, we were so excited.

During that year, I went over every day to read the paper and let Molly play with Mamaw’s plastic rollers. Molly would take them apart and put them back together. She was not quite one year old. She and Mamaw bonded over those rollers and now Molly still talks about them. I’m so glad we had that time. My kids are young, but I hope they will remember her, just a little bit.

I know this has gotten long, and there is so much more to say. She was more than a grandmother. She was an inspiration, a motivator, an advice giver, a hair and skin consultant (I hope my cousins smile when they read that), a teacher, a leader, a giver and a friend. She is beautiful, inside and out. She makes me proud.

She told me in high school, and I’ll never, ever forget it, when I was upset about something, “Annie, turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in his wonderful face. And the things of earth will grown strangely dim, in the light of his glory and grace.”

And now I’m falling apart. I want to sit for a while and imagine my precious Mamaw in the light of Jesus’ glory and grace. I will miss her so much, but I want her to be whole again. I want her to be able to walk and have perfect skin. I want her to run to Jesus and let him hold her. She no longer belongs here, as hard as that is to say. She belongs in heaven. She knows the only way to get there, and because of her, I do too. She will see him and her faith will become sight. I want that for her.

Everybody grieves differently. I have moments, like now, where the tears won’t stop. But I have good moments too, where I can think about other things and go about my day, because I know she is safe in God’s hands. We each process this differently. But one thing is the same for all of her family and friends: we have been in the presence for the last 85 years of a great woman. She has impacted us profoundly and things will not be the same without her.

Thanks for reading this, in all its wordiness. It’s part of the healing, I suppose. Pray for my family, for my Mamaw’s three children and all those that belong to them. Thank you. The friendship and love we receive are priceless.

“Tap, Tap, Tap…Is This Thing On?”

Every day, I look at my laptop and think, “I need to write on my blog”, and every day, I change my mind.

It’s not that I have nothing to say…I have plenty. I just am past the point of assuming that anybody gives a rip.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t do this for anybody but myself. I love to write, so I do. However, it’s hard to know what people want to read about. So that means that ultimately, I’m not doing this for me, but for others, and then I get frustrated and the words stop.

I hate it when the words stop. I like the words. Which is why I just wrote two sentences that Paisley, the two year old, could have come up with.

It’s a conundrum. Ahhhh, that’s better.

So let’s do a list and purge the brain, then maybe, after a little bit of prayer, I’ll get back into the swing of wordiness where I love to be.

1. My Mamaw is in the hospital and has been for a month. I will write more about this later, she deserves much more than a numbered line on a list. Just please know that my heart is with her these days.

2. Aidan has started Upward Basketball. This is the only sport I really know anything about, so I’ve actually been in the driveway with him these past few weeks doing dribbling and passing drills. We got a goal and I taught him how to play “Horse”, which quickly became “Pig” because I didn’t have all weekend to play one game.

3. Molly is doing great in tumbling. She turned 5 and I can actually tell a difference in her reasoning skills. She is obsessed with board games, and won’t play with a doll to save her life. Well, if Paisley wants her to play with dolls, she will, but it’s certainly not her first choice.

4. Paisley is getting more violent by the day. She learned to pinch (What on EARTH?) and uses this skill on her brother often. I understand she’s just fighting for her right to be heard and understood, but seriously, we’re all sporting bruises. She’s a really cute bully.

5. Michael and I went to the Egg Bowl this weekend. We had a blast.

6. I finally, for the first time ever, made some really pretty Christmas decorations. I’m pretty proud of them. I actually spent time on my piano, my mantle and the tree this year. Pictures will be coming soon.

7. I do not care why Tiger Woods was in a car wreck in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t care if I was in a wreck during the night, so why should I care that he was?

8. I’m so tired right now.

9. The drive back and forth to Madison a million times in a week is wearing us all pretty thin. Plus, it’s killing our food budget because there is no time to eat at home. Not good for the budget or the belly. The house NEEDS to SELL. That’s all I want for Christmas. A contract.

10. I got to sing my favorite Christmas song in church Sunday. My brother sang with me. The band sounded awesome. Is it obnoxious and ridiculous for me to say that I really, truly love singing? That’s not an arrogant statement in the least, I just really love singing songs and I hope more than anything that God uses me to lead others to worship. It’s the thing that brings me the greatest joy, outside of my family. Surely there’s nothing obnoxious about that.

I know this was a pitiful post. I’m aware that I’ve been off of my game. But between family issues, the flu, and all of our commitments, there hasn’t been a whole lot of time that hasn’t been claimed by someone else. You all know what that’s like.

So here’s to a busy week, and the start of a  busy month. I looked at my calendar today, and by the 20th, I don’t think I have anything to do.

Except celebrate Christmas, and the birth of the reason I do anything at all. If my life doesn’t reflect my love for Jesus, then all the activity is for nothing. It’s just stuff to do. I want it to count. I want people to see that any effort I make to do anything is because of my love for the Lord.

Even coming up with the words.

We Will Call the Germs “Legion”, for They Have Been Many.

We’re getting over the swine flu. All five of us.

I keep thinking about this verse: When the demons came out of the man, they went into the pigs, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

I think we’ve drowned our demons, and the pigs with them.

We had a good weekend. Molly’s party was a success, although we were exhausted. But Sunday, the germs took Michael and pulled him under. Then he took me with him during the night Sunday.

To quote from a song in Annie, “Yesterday was plain awful!”

The kids were pretty much over it by Friday of last week, but joined us in the pitiful yesterday by helping us lie around and watch television.

We do lazy WELL.

So now we’re venturing into the land of the living, after lots of laundry and Lysol. Aidan gets to go bowling, and the girls and I will find something to do.

So if I’ve been rude to anyone, or stared off into space while you spoke to me, or seemed just grouchy, please know that I felt terrible and we are moving past it to a season of thankfulness.

I, for one, have a lot for which to be grateful. Right now, I’m grateful for makeup that will cover the pasty whiteness of my post-illness face. Time to go paint up.

Happy Turkey Day!

Good Golly, Miss Molly!

She’s five.

Let me let that sink in. Again.

It’s actually not that hard to believe, since she has done her best since birth to keep up with her brother. It has been like having twins for years now.

But she’s still my little Molly, who is quickly becoming my big girl.

She’s down for the count with the flu this week and I feel so badly for her. It’s hard to watch her with fever. She’s been pitiful for two days. She and Aidan are both sick and spend most of the day in blankets on the couch, staring into space. It has never been this quiet around here.

She’ll get well soon, and be back to her sweet, funny, creative self again.

I truly cannot imagine our world without her. She lets us know that she loves us constantly. We cannot walk away from her without a hug and a big kiss on the cheek. She tells me every day she wants to be like me. That frightens me to no end, but I’ll accept the challenge.

She loves clothes, and music, and dancing. She has almost perfected her cartwheel and can read chapter books. She wants to know what the Bible says about things she has questions about, and she has a MILLION questions. She’s eternally curious and likes to figure things out.

I am so proud of her.

Here she is at a few months old. Those eyes took it all in, and thus began the “Molly Inquisition”, which is what we call her constant barrage of questions.

This is the most recent picture I have of her on the computer. This was at Halloween, and she was Tinkerbell. Paisley took the picture, and for a two year old, did pretty well!

Yes, Molly, it is ALL about you this week. You and your curly hair, and big green eyes, and round cheeks. You and your neverending thoughts and questions. You and your desire to make us happy. You and your love for Aidan and Paisley. You and your prayers, and your faith that God made and loves you, and has a big plan for your life. I’m so thankful that you believe that and that you tell others that. I pray that as you grow older, you will truly grow in Godly wisdom and assurance that Jesus is everything he says he is, and everything that we need.

I love this girl.

I Will Not Turn to the Dark Side

All day I’ve been dealing with being mad.

I keep replaying that scene in my head from Return of the Jedi, where Luke and Darth Vader are fighting and the Emporer is standing there, with his wrinkly raisin face saying, “Give in to your anger. Turn to the dark side.”

So far, I’m okay, I haven’t used my powers for evil.

I am the queen of keeping things in perspective. I always feel guilty for getting my mad on, because I can look at everything I’m mad about and say, “Well, at least I’m not dealing with _____”.

Then, I end up being mad at feeling guilty because I just want to feel sorry for myself for just a minute and feel like what I’m dealing with has some validity, even though I know others have it worse.

It’s vicious.

So today, since I think in lists, here’s my list o’ mad: (which doesn’t give off a very “mad” effect when you put an o’ in it.)

1. I’m mad that Michael has traveled a lot lately.
2. I’m mad that Molly is sick on her birthday, and this should be a birthday post about the most beautiful, sweet, precious child of mine who is 5 today, but instead, I’m mad.
3. I’m mad that I have to miss choir practice, then race to get to Praise Team practice. I need the choir practice tonight. The Christmas program is coming quickly!
4. I’m mad that I’m having to postpone Molly’s birthday celebration.
5. I’m mad that Michael and I are so busy and dealing with so much that we haven’t had fun in a really long time.
6. I’m mad that it’s so hard to find someone to help me out with babysitting during the week. There are times when I can’t take my kids to where I’m going, so I don’t go.
7. I’m mad, really, really mad that Paisley will not leave me alone for one minute, and when she does, she spills something.

See, it’s all stupid, trivial stuff. There’s more, but I know my limits.

So the Bible says to “be angry, but do not sin”, so my prayer is that I can keep my temper under control and not snap at all of the precious people in my world that don’t deserve it.

And I’m sure that by the end of the day, after I’ve spent time singing at Praise Team practice and get home and maybe watch our favorite stand up comics (CLEAN comedy, let me clarify) I will have forgotten about the mad and will be back to my happy self.

If not, I’ll give the Emperor a run for his money.

(and a post about my favorite birthday girl of the day is coming soon, I promise!)