The legacy of people much wiser than me...

For some odd reason, I remember a summer long, long ago that my grandmother, Mom Peg, insisted on us learning Psalm 23. Yes, we call her Mom Peg. Blame it on oldest cousin Kevin. He had grandparent naming rights as the first to be around. Her name isn't even Peg. It's Sylvia. I digress.

So, Psalm 23. I learned all six verses of it, although as a child, I swear the Bible I was using had at least 47 more verses in chapter 23. Any chance it's been shortened since I learned it? Or I was just a way dramatic child who was being taught to hide scripture in my heart by those much wiser than me? Probably that.

Charlie has had to learn Psalm 23 for school and for AWANA's on Wednesday nights and has knocked it out of the park! Seriously people, the kid can memorize anything! And remembers everything that is said. Which means, don't say anything in front of him if you don't fully intend to follow through with it. (He still thinks we are going to Disney World the second Sam turns 5 because one day a really long time ago, I told him we could go when Sam got older. And in his head, 5 is older.) And it also means I don't believe him even for a split second when he tells me he forgot to do something I just told him to do. You didn't forget, you're just doing what you want to do instead of obeying. Don't get me started...

Back to Psalms...because the Summer I learned this passage is forever in my memories, as well as the actual verses (yes, I still remember it), I wanted to show Mom Peg the tradition that is being passed along.

You can follow along, too. Just to make sure he does it right...

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. 3 He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me All the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the LORD Forever. Psalm 23:1-6 (NKJV)

GO CHARLIE!!

Yum.

We have had a fairly laid back weekend. Hence the two posts in two days. How do you like that, Julio?  We wrapped up Charlie's basketball season and finally got the basement cleaned out today. That will make me sleep better just knowing that the space below me is clean, organized and free of dead bugs.  At least for now.

I'm always looking for and trying new recipes to combat the ho-hum routine of Taco Tuesdays and Spaghetti Saturdays. Some turn out great. Some we strike from our "Let's try that again!" list. Tonight we had one of those dishes that will stay on the list.

Qualifications for most recipes that I try are as follows: No ingredients that I can't get for a reasonable price at my local Kroger. If I have all the ingredients on hand, it's immediately got an upper hand on something that calls for say, salt-preserved anchovies. It also can't take me half a day to prepare said dish. I'm all about food, but my time is far too valuable to begin cooking dinner right after lunch. After all, laundry and 1st grade homework beckon.  Also anything I can make ahead of time is a winner in my book.  Feeds into my inner planner.

I found this recipe on my faithful bag of Martha White Buttermilk Corn Meal Mix and since I had all listed ingredients, I knew we had to try it.

Canyon Casserole

A few side notes.  I actually used frozen corn, just because I had half a bag leftover in the freezer. And mozzarella cheese. But that was because my thoughtful husband used the cheddar cheese making me a quesadilla at lunch. Don't think it really affected the taste all that much.  I also made it earlier this afternoon and stuck it in the fridge.  Which meant, come dinner time, all I had to do was pop it in the oven.  The messy kitchen clean-up was already taken care of.  Spectacular.

I spiced it up with some crushed red pepper. Like I do almost everything. And actually made some rice and served the casserole on top. I also eat rice with almost everything, so that was just a given.

We all loved it and had seconds.  Well, except Sam, who was having one of his 3-year-old "I'm not eating and you can't make me" moments.  Yet he still felt it necessary to ask repeatedly for a cookie.  Let's just put it this way.  He still hasn't eaten and is pouting on the couch at this very moment.  And before you call CPS, his plate awaits him whenever he decides he is ready.

I digress.

So feel free to try this.  And share your own tried and true EASY recipes.  I'll be at the ready with my apron and mixing bowl.......

Warm & sunny, please.

Since this week has included a tiny touch of Spring amid the painfully cold Winter we have had, we headed outside the first chance we got.

Sam was a little confused and thought he needed his coat and hat. He almost wouldn't go outside without it. Once outside he let me know, "It's hot, Mommy! It feels better!" I wouldn't call it hot, but 60 degrees does feel much better than 2.

We rode bikes, threw our frisbee on the roof, ran in circles, amused ourselves with sticks, took a couple of turns down the slide and played basketball with our bicycle helmets on. Yes, my friends, safety first at the Cook house. You never know what kind of trouble you might get into while playing basketball.  Especially playing with Charlie. He plays full-contact basketball. I think I'm the one that needed a helmet.  And a full set of football pads.

We are learning what a foul is.  And that it is a bad thing to whack your Mommy in the face.  Just payback for the snowball, I suppose.

We petitioned the Spring-time fairies for more of this splendid weather and broke out the 'ol grill for some BBQ. We didn't actual petition anyone. I just took advantage of the weather to get Kenny to cook. It worked.

I've decided to ignore the weather man in hopes that the forecast will remain the same as it was today. Warm and sunny.

If I ignore them, it can't get cold again, right?

I'm smarter than you.

I've decided that my kids must think I am a raging idiot. Really.

I tried to remember from my own childhood when I realized that my parents were smarter than me. I'm thinking it was right around the time I realized that the good Lord had blessed me with some common sense. Which was not that long ago.

So, for the next 18+ years I will stand with my hands on my hips, use my mommy voice, pretend I have eyes in the back of my head and give death looks with the real eyes in the front of my head. All while you act like you didn't hear what I said, try to hoodwink your brother out of Wii playing time because you think I won't notice, continue to push buttons on things when you have no idea what might explode if you persist just because you need to touch every button, and wad your face into the most foul positions because you think it will somehow let you get your way. And sometime during your mid-twenties it will occur to you that I am smarter than you. And always have been.

You may be able to grin and use those big brown eyes to elicit the "Oh, poor little orphan" response from other people. But I'm your mom. So while I love you dearly and will do anything in my power possible to give you the best life I can, that doesn't work on me.

Anymore.

Yes, I know you are only acting your age and I'm certain I'm only being paid back for acting like such a little turd as a child teenager. You keep acting as if I'm a dummy and I'll keep sharpening my Mommy skills. You did get a head start on me. I didn't know kids your age could be so sneaky. You may try to wear me down. But I am bigger than you. You can smile and make me laugh. And I won't forget that you've been sporting an attitude all day. You can ignore me. But I can ignore you. You can be super silly. And I can laugh loudly at you. You can be super annoying. And I can ignore you again. But I will win.

I love you to the ends of the earth. Remember I came 7,597 miles to get you.

And I will always be smarter than you.

EDITOR'S NOTE: We have very well behaved children. They do have their moments when they push limits.  Usually (and thankfully) when no one else is around. I do love them and would do anything humanly possibly for them. But I am still their Mommy. They will obey and respect us as their parents--all the time.  Mommy voice or not.  Yes, people...it's your job to make sure your kids are doing those things. Now. Go hug your kids.

Vomitona. The Spanish word for vomit.

At some point during my five year stint at THE University of Alabama, I was certain the Lord was calling me to be a nurse. Turns out, we must have had a great misunderstanding because I couldn't seem to pass all my classes no matter how hard I tried. That and puke makes me...well, puke. So I got a degree in how to professionally clean up puke. I mean, early childhood development.

Yesterday I get a call from Nicole who was picking up the kids from school. She was laughing and wanted to know if I had talked to Charlie's teacher or the school nurse. Of course I had not and since she is laughing, I am assuming Charlie is alive, but hasn't had a great day.

Turns out during Spanish, Charlie got puked on....¿Qué la mierda? Wait, wait...that's not the best of it...ON HIS HEAD. I'll pause while you throw up a little in your mouth. Because that's what I did.

As with most 7-year-old boys, the details are a little vague. He told me he was laying on the floor. (Note to self: find out why he was laying on the floor during Spanish...) And I do know he got it in his ear. Gag. And the school nurse made him wash his hair in the sink and gave him a new shirt to put on. Thank you, school nurse.

I'm just eternally grateful that this happened at school and not with me. Because he probably would have had puke on both sides of his head after I saw him. He handled the whole episode fairly well. Much better than his Mommy would have.

I put him in the shower the second he walked through the door from school. And his biggest concern with the whole thing was if he had to take another shower before bed. And it wasn't "hair night". Why did he have to wash his hair??

Gross.

"Yes, he looks JUST like his father."

I know our family looks different. But I honestly don't think about it much until we are out somewhere and I notice the stares. I always immediately assume my fly is open or I have toilet paper flying from the seat of my pants. It usually takes me a second to realize what they think the real problem is...

And I love some of the conversations I have.  Today I took my fully African son with me into the local Dollar General to pick up a few things. While checking out, the lady asked Sam, [Insert Spencer County accent. That's just straight up hillbilly for those of you that don't know.] "Why aren't you in school today, buddy?"

Since Sam's attention was on the bright flashing Valentine's display and he was paying no attention to her (more evidence that he is indeed 3, despite his height), I responded that he was only 3 and wasn't in school yet.

She exclaimed over how tall he was and how he looked like he was older. Then she turned to me and said, "You are kinda short. His dad must be really tall! How tall is your husband??"

Long pause.

"He's actually only about 6'2". And extremely white."

Okay, so I didn't say that. I really wish I had said I had never met his father, but really would have loved to have the opportunity to. And just sat and watch her try to figure that one out.

I did say that his father was quite a bit taller than me. And gave a quick explanation that he was adopted from Ethiopia and also has a really tall brother.

"Oh. Well, that's really nice."

Thanks. I think so, too. He does get his good looks from his dad though...

Can't touch this...

You honestly don't want me to break into the rest of that song.  MC Hammer would be terribly embarrassed.  Plus, I got rid of my Hammer pants a long time ago.  Promise.

I have watched this over and over and just about peed in my pretend Hammer pants laughing every time. This is our pastor's 5-year-old son, Jake. The oldest of 4, soon to be 5 kids at home. (Honest.  Why would I joke about something like that?)  So no older siblings to be learning this kind of stuff from. Jake broke it down for us last night at our Superbowl Party.  I was much more entertained by this than the game.  Turn your speakers up and enjoy...

The many sides of Charlie

Sometimes I feel like I live with the Cat in the Hat. Is it really necessary for everything to rhyme? I guess I could give him a break since he's just trying out new words that he is learning. The child literally never stops talking. Or just making noise. Since about half the time it's not actual words, but just gibberish that you would think I would understand by this point.

But as annoying as that can sometimes be, I'm also realizing that in addition to our Dr. Seuss tendencies, we also have a little historian on our hands.

This came the other day in the car on the way home from school..."Canada is north. They are our neighbors. Mexico is also our neighbor. And Europe is bad. Very bad. All the people leave and come here. So we fight them. They are so bad. I don't want to ever go to Europe, Mommy."

Great. There goes my plans for world travel. Man.

And despite all this, I discovered the other day that Charlie is quite the ladies man. Except he doesn't know it. Typical of a 7-year-old boy. Or any man.

This all came out at a birthday party where Charlie was one of just two boys. Surrounded by all the girls from his class. And I'm pretty sure the other boy was just a cousin of the birthday girl. They were so excited when Charlie arrived. It seems that his attendance at the party had been the topic of conversation before our arrival. The girls were all certain Charlie would be there.

Apparently all the girls think Charlie is soooo funny. One reported that she loves to look into his beautiful brown eyes. Gag me with a spoon. Another told her mom she's gonna start laughing like Charlie because his laugh sounds so much better than hers. I tried to find out why they all like him so much. Turns out, he's the only boy that will play with the girls. So, naturally they all think he is just 'o so dreamy. Again, just a side effect of having girls for your best friends.

I hope the girls won't be disappointed when they find out that Mr. Love Boat doesn't have a clue about Valentine's Day. As you can imagine, that wasn't really high on the list of things to celebrate in Ethiopia. It probably came right after setting aside a day to observe the habits of a groundhog. I've tried to explain it several times. He was not impressed. With either holiday.

Until he found out that he might get candy. That he can get on board with.

They better just back off. Because his Momma has dibs on him until he's at least 35. No one will be taking those "beautiful brown eyes" anytime soon!

Charlie's also recently become quite the basketball player. Well, let's just say he's learning. Gradually.  He did score 10 points at last weeks game. But it seems that sometimes he just forgets what is going on. The only good thing he has going for him...he doesn't really have to jump to get the rebound. Since he's at least a head taller than most of the kids, he just puts his hands up and usually comes down with the ball. I think that's why his coach thought he was gonna be good. Sorry, Coach. Along with the tall comes terribly uncoordinated and a touch of I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on. He'll get it down pat soon enough.

Until then, we'll hold the recruiters (and the girls) at bay.

I did it.

Blogger has had a new layout, template and editor for quite sometime. Problem was, I liked the old one so much, I didn't want to commit to the new...in case I didn't like it. I have commitment issues. Except for Kenny. I do like him.

So. I finally did it. I switched to the new stuff. And I do like it. There's really no change on y'alls end except for the look. What do you think?

And a new picture. Just so I can play with the new editor options. I just found this picture. It's our not-so-spectacular church directory photo that was taken right after the boys came home. Can you tell?? They are so little...



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