Theologically incorrect cookies.

We didn't skip Easter around here, I just never got to my customary "Happy Easter" post.  So, here's the most decent picture I could get.  Complete with our "I'm smiling because I was threatened" smiles.  And no, I don't feel bad about that.

In our attempts to ensure that the boys have a full grasp on the Easter story, we tried our hand at Resurrection Cookies, certain that would be a fun way to illustrate and tell the story of Christ's death.

Well, the making of the cookies went fairly well.  Kenny read the scriptures that went along with each step as Charlie appeared to pay attention.  And Sam made zero attempt to even act like he knew Kenny was recounting a great story.  But he's 5 and he likes to eat, so I fully expected him to be more interested in the food than listening.

And then the card on my camera was full.  So that's all the pictures you get.

We sealed up the tomb (aka stove) and went to bed with great anticipation of our cookies on Easter morning.  Ok, so I was greatly anticipating.  I think the boys forgot about it two and half seconds later.

On Sunday morning, I reminded the boys about our cookies and they rushed to check them out.  If you've made Resurrection Cookies before, you know that the whole point of leaving them in a cooling oven all night is that you have hollow, or empty cookies the next day.  Empty like the tomb of our Savior.  Wonderful illustration, right??  Right.  Unless your cookies really don't turn out so much hollow, but a slightly gooey concoction, that was actually quite tasty.  But not empty.

Theologically incorrect cookies.  Didn't quite make our point. 

But we had cookies for breakfast, so no one but me was really disappointed in the outcome.

Spring Break, woohoo!

We went camping last week during Spring Break.  Like camping in a camper with a shower.  Not camping in a tent with no potty.  Although, we did spend a couple of those nights in a tent.  And I have boys.  So the world is their potty.

I digress.

We bounced on a big bouncy pillow thingy.

...and you wonder why my back hurts.

With plenty of rests in between.

Papa taught us how to use a sling shot.  While Mommy reminded us not to shoot at people or animals.  Which got me a dirty look from Papa.  Because obviously that takes all the fun out of it.

We threw rocks in the river.

Only after making sure we had a good target.

I loved spending time with these two.  And the best part...Daddy joined us for the second half of the week...





I fell down.

You know we can't go too long around here without somebody getting hurt, needing surgery, being majorly sick or something of the like.  And unfortunately, it's usually me.  I just like to add to the list of mishaps that make it easy to laugh at me.  Fortunately, I don't mind.  Laugh away.

This time, my friends, I have thrown my back out picking up an 11-month-old infant.  Yes, a baby.  But it just happen to occur at church, as worship was ending, and before I knew it I was laying on the floor in excruciating pain with half the congregation looking down at me.  I think I scared them because I was in so much pain and before I had time to protest they had an ambulance on the way.

That was Sunday.  Today is Wednesday and I've been in the bed since.  They (you know, those all knowledgeable doctors) think I have a bulging disc.  So, I've been loaded up with anti-inflammatory meds, narcotics, muscle relaxers and pain patches and told to rest.  Which I am doing thanks to my overprotective husband, best friends and a sacrificing church family.  Before I even got back home from the hospital Sunday afternoon, my laundry had been done, meals planned for an entire week and childcare for Sam had been arranged.

While I care not to be flat on my back in this much pain, I have been on the receiving end of a church family and a husband that has gone above and beyond to show me love.  My kids have been picked up, loved on and entertained, food has been delivered to our door, Kenny has placed every item I could possibly need in a day on the kitchen counter so I could reach it while he was gone to work...which he reluctantly did only because I promised to tie my cell phone around my neck if I got up since I don't have one of those fancy "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up" buttons.

I'm just blessed, folks.  I don't deserve any of it, but am so thankful that I belong to a church that is so willing to help others.  And married to a husband who is storing up treasures in heaven putting up with me.  Along with being a great example to his two little boys of how a husband cares for a wife.

And in the meantime, you may get some more pics from Spring Break simply because I can't do anything more than sit at the moment...

Lollipop break...

Just taking a mid-afternoon lollipop break from being dirty, filthy little boys on Spring Break.  And dirty and filthy are mild descriptors...



An out of body experience.

Car rides for our family to and from school are often fairly entertaining as I listen to the back and forth between my boys and the Jolly girls.  The four are as close as siblings and often act like it, as well.  But their discussions are never dull as they talk about their day, fight about who is right about things that don't really matter and share their leftover snacks.

One day this week, Emma was admiring Charlie's art work and longingly said, "I really wish I knew what it was like to be you, Charlie.  You can just draw so good!"

Charlie's response:  "I wish I knew, too."

Really?

Life with boys.

I knew the moment we accepted a referral for two little boys that life would never ever be the same.  As each day goes by and the level of testosterone in our wee little house increases, I find myself laughing more, praying more and wondering what in the world I've gotten myself into.

As the sole female here, I struggle to maintain some sense of balance.  You know...balance between too many bodily functions that come with their own sounds and good manners.  Between too many cartoons and video games and reading a good book.  Between beating each other with lightsabers and teaching kindness.  Between an overwhelming love for sausage and trying new fruits and veggies.  Between Optimus Prime and Lightening McQueen and Jesus, Peter, Paul and Noah.

I know most of that doesn't really matter. And honestly, I've always wanted a house full of boys. I mean who doesn't appreciate an endless fart followed by a good belly laugh from your 5- year-old??

Funny thing is, I feel like it's taken us a while to get to this point.  After two and a half years, I'm actually excited to see Charlie tricking Sam out of his turn at a game.  Or to see Sam tackling Charlie to the ground because he can run faster than his big brother.  Scheming together.  Getting into trouble together.  Really acting like brothers.  Being boys.  Sweaty, dirty, manipulative, rambunctious boys.

In my quest to direct my little men to real manhood, I made Charlie cry.  While I want them to be kind, respectful and compassionate, I also refuse to raise weenies.  Therefore, you will not run away from an earthworm.  Charlie's my by-the-book-rule-maker-not-breaker-scared-to-do-anything-without-a-plan kid.  Yeah, after he ran away screaming from a tiny, wiggling worm, I made him come back and touch it.  He's one of those "I can't" kids, who unfortuantely has a "I can" kind of mommy.  That worm wasn't going to hurt him.  And while you may disagree with my strategy, he told me the other day he wasn't scared of worms anymore.  He can also do a flip on the trampoline now.  Because I told him he could, when he insisted he was going to break his neck. 

I don't worry as much about Sam.  He's the kid that will eat dirt because he dropped his candy and there is no way he's gonna throw it away just because it has a little muck on it.  But get a speck of grime on his shirt and he needs a full wardrobe change.  He touched the worm too, but screamed the whole time.  He is my I-don't-have-a-plan-deal-with-the-consequences-later-impulsive little guy.  But still a little bit of a weenie.  An impulsive weenie.  Still working on impulsively obeying.

I know Kenny and I have been entrusted with a great task.  To raise Godly men in the world we currently live in will not be an easy undertaking.  A man who values women.  A man who isn't afraid of his own shadow.  A man who takes care of his family.  A man who stands up for himself.  A man who is a good friend.  Makes me want to stop right now and pray some more...

In the meantime, we'll play in the dirt, each candy and drink Mt. Dew, beat the crap out of each other, play too many hours of video games and make smellly farts all while Mommy tries to teach manners, respect for others and a passionate love for our creator.

And maybe God will bless us and balance out the testosterone and estrogen in our household.  Or maybe if He has a sense of humor, I'll be outnumbered 4 to 1.

At that point, I may just give up and celebrate with a commemorative burp.

Excuse me.  In advance.

This is not where I belong.

Reader beware:  Sorta mushy post.  Well, it made me cry.  It only took me a week and half to write this.

Most of you know that I lost my precious little sister in a car accident almost two years ago.  I don't talk about it much, but rest assured it's not because I don't think about her on a daily basis.  Or don't have my moments of complete and total breakdown for no other reason than I just miss her.  I often have to think really hard about whether or not that horrible weekend actually took place.  And other times, everything I do in a day reminds me of something that happen that weekend, bringing me crashing down to the reality that she really is forever gone.

I can honestly say I was never mad at God for taking her.  I will never understand why, seeing as 22 years was not nearly enough time to have her here, but I wasn't mad.  To be completely transparent, what I did struggle with (and still do) is something as simple as going to church.  Or listening to the radio.  Or reading my Bible.  You never realize how many songs and hymns talk about heaven or how many scriptures point back to our ultimate destination...until you would truly rather be there than here.  Then it makes it really hard to sing about it.

I often have coversations with God about why we can't all just come to heaven.  There's really no sense in us all being seperated from our little sisters.  But I always come to the same conclusion.  Or rather God directs me to the same conclusion.  If He was ready for us, we'd be there. 

Plain and simple.  He obviously has more work for us here.  Our jobs here are not complete.  So while we know that we aren't not home yet, our world is full of people that don't know what their forever holds.  I know where I belong and I can't wait to get there.  Step up, Christians, do your job, tell everybody you know about Jesus so we can all go home!

Where we belong. 

All I know is I'm not home yet,This is not where I belong,

Take this world and give me Jesus, This is not where I belong