Grace

I have never, ever claimed that my kids are perfect.  Never. I won't start now. 

I have said..

• they are good kids.
• my kids love the Lord.
• for the most part, they try to keep themselves out of trouble. [Well, the first three do.  Gabe looks for trouble. He loves trouble. Trouble is his best friend sometimes.]

But, they are still humans....with faults and selfish behaviors and irritating habits [that all come from their dad].

And like me and you and everyone that I have ever encountered in my life, they make mistakes.

Some are just minor. 
Some are not.

Just like me and you and everyone else in the world.

I can promise you that we expect integrity, honesty, and good character from all four of them.

We are not perfect parents. [Seriously, that may come as a shock to some of you.]

I tend to see things through mom goggles. [My kids and my favorite coach tend to tell me that a lot.  I see nothing wrong with looking on the sunny side....]  

I especially view my own children through these said goggles.  I don't want to think they might make a mistake that would hurt them.

But because we are all human, they do some monumentally stupid things.  

And the goggles have to come off. [And, according to them, the smoke flies from my ears, my voice changes, and I speak in rapid spurts of "mom talk".  I don't see it.  I don't think it happens.]

One thing I have learned in this career of being Ma is that all situations are not the same. 
Some call for hugs and tears. [Sometimes a little from me and a lot from one of them or vice versa.]
Some call for lots of "I told you so". [As a parent there are some small victories in mistakes.]
Some call for moments to count to 10...alone. [Or 20. Or 100.]
And some just call for brutal honesty. [That's when you step on the mom goggles and smash them to bits.]

Yet they all have one thing in common....grace.

Honestly, I would not be the person I am today if my mom and dad hadn't done a little of all of those as I was growing up. But I certainly wouldn't be me without lots and lots and LOTS of grace.  Many times [in the past and the present], I didn't [don't] get the punishment I deserve when I've screwed [screw] up.

None of us do.

In a conversation with one of the Shorties the other night, my favorite coach and I tried to stress the importance of sincere humility. 

Not haughty humility that allows a person to get what they want and reeks of insincerity.  

True, on your face, asking-God-first-then-those-whom-you-have-wronged, honest, sincere humility to ask forgiveness for hurting others.

And yes, there are going to be LOTS of people that won't understand and will do whatever they can possibly do to pick you apart, to kick you while you are down, and to throw stones. [And, yes, this Ma got a little upset when a Tweet relating to this matter by a person who only knows how to throw punches came her way...something to the effect of "116 and all, dang" as in reference to Romans 1:16 which is used by one of my children on social media quite frequently. And this Ma had to consider the source and remind herself of what people do when they forget that grace has been afforded to them.  And she had to be gracious. You have to practice what you preach or the words are just that...words.  However, it doesn't hurt to just hit the block on some folks that want to be mean.  If I am doing what God is asking then I have to extend grace. I don't have to read mean girl Tweets.] In the end, the only thing that matters is that you are in line with God.  The world doesn't have to like you...it has nothing for believers anyway.

We have a God who loves us for us.

He wants the best for us even when we fall short...and we will fall short.

He meets us where we are and takes us where we never thought we could go.

And, in our time of need and always, when we don't deserve it,  we will find His grace.

Life as Mom

I am not sure that ANYONE understands how a mother feels.  

I often share a great deal about my children [sometimes to their chagrin] because they are my number one priority.  I have a career but the children that God has entrusted me with, that live under my roof, are my first and most important job.

I hover. 
I am nosey.
I am involved in their lives.

I won't apologize for being "that mom" at all. 

But I wasn't prepared for them to be grown up and have their own lives. [You know...those lives that involve them following their own dreams and hearts....making their own grown up decisions.]

We are a close bunch here at Casa de Shortie.  My favorite coach and I have tried to be the kinds of parents that have always encouraged open dialogue about the things that our kids are facing or may face.  Sometimes those are extremely uncomfortable but absolutely necessary conversations. [I do have some decorum and respect for the privacy of my children so I'll keep the details to myself.] What we have discovered is that they will talk to us and ask our opinion about decisions or issues. 

What I have figured out over the last several months is that I have to learn to step back and let them [the oldest two] live their lives without always telling them what I think. [That was even hard to type.] 

I don't know what it is like to be a dad. [I've never personally been one.]  I know that my dad is just awesome and that my husband is an amazing father.  

But I can speak to...

....Life as mom...

Moms have the distinct pleasure of feeling a life as it grows.  There is something amazing about a tiny baby growing inside of your body.  God is just awesome like that!   The pains of childbirth  seem so trivial compared to the precious piece of Heaven here on Earth that is an infant. 

Moms watch these tiny bundles, that were so protected inside the womb, grow into little humans with personalities and dreams.  It is most extremely difficult to watch a piece of your heart, outside of your body.  I cannot describe, in words, this incredibly insane and passionate love I have for the those four babies.  

Sometimes, when I really think about the fact that God chose me to be their mother it is hard to catch my breath.  

Being a mom is one of the most difficult yet rewarding jobs a woman could ever have in her life.  

Moms watch these tiny people grown into older people. [And many times, at least at my house, these older people were hard to like...loved them dearly but holy cow....they should've come with a disclaimer at birth, attached to their big toe, that says something like, "Crazy from 12 - 15 years of age so medicate yourself Mom".]  Hearts are broken by friends and sports and members of the opposite gender.  [I've spent many a night with tears in my own eyes, praying that I wouldn't punch the heart breakers right square in the teeth.  I won't lie....I've wanted to many times.] 

Yet, it is during these times that God has spoken the loudest to me and to my children.  I will never, ever forget praying over my son at 2am after he admitted he contemplated taking his own life [I can't even type the word...] or being wide awake at 4:30am, urged by God, telling me to pray about Molly's future.  

I haven't faced the struggles that many parents face every day....sickness, drug addiction, the death of a child....but our lives are far from perfection.  As parents, Short and I don't always get it correct.  We make mistakes [lots] and they make mistakes [lots].  We try to learn from them, all of us...sometimes we do and sometimes not so much. And that is OK.  Parents are not given a set of instructions or charts that help us pinpoint the exact cause, effect, and solution.   
Through these valleys [that sometimes seemed like huge mountains] God gave me, Mom, the strength, the courage, the sagacity [BOOM! Vocabulary? Check!] to help my children find their way back. 

God has used them help me find my way back. 

Ultimately, through all of this, I've been mom. 

I hope that I've done that job God intended for me to do as I've raised my children.  My prayer has always been that I raise my children to love Jesus, each other, and to chase their dreams.

• I have one that just finished a year of college and is moving to the next state and a new college.  
• I have another that is already talking about going to college in two years then on to seminary.
• I have one that will be with me at the middle school in a year and is the most compassionate soul I've ever met.
• I have one that is two years from leaving elementary school and has a personality like his daddy.

I am staring down the barrel of a whole mess of life changes for my oldest two.
I am struggling.  

How do I let go? [I am being totally serious.]

I am so used to holding on tightly that it is hard to loosen that grip to boyfriends and girlfriends and college and moving and what God has planned for their lives. I want to protect them from the harshness of life but if I don't allow them to experience these things then I'm being selfish. And I am admitting that I think my plan is far better than what God has in store for them. [And that is just completely arrogant of me.] 

So as I face the future as mom, watching them spread their wings and fly, I am reminded of Molly's favorite verse:

God can do immeasureably more than we could ever hope for or imagine.

Ephesians 3:20 

He can. 

He will.

He has already.

Learning to loosen that grip...one Shortie at a time.

Saved by the Bell

In a few short hours I will return to work, with kids in the classroom, for the first time since February 5th.

Am I sad I have to go back to work? 

I am a little sad.  I've enjoyed my time off [well minus the surgery part] and I feel fully rested for the first time in a long time. I would love to be able to say I taught myself to crochet [I struggled with the slipknot], read 25 books, or organized my house [let's not get crazy now...I've never been accused of organizing anything]. But I didn't do any of that.  I just enjoyed my family, [my couch], my comfortable clothes, and the time off.

You know what makes me really sad? 

Having to wear REAL clothes, do my hair, and put on make-up!! [I am sorry if you've been unlucky enough to see me out and about these last few weeks. Now you know how my family feels.]  I have worn nothing but jogging pants [well just that ONE pair that I own] and PJs since February 6th.  

And loved EVERY MINUTE. 

But tomorrow reality comes sweeping back in and I hit the door running. [Well, not exactly.  We do have a three hour delay. Not too shabby for a Friday.]

One thing I have done while I've been home is really think about my job.
And a lot of soul searching on what I need to do better. 

The list is long my friends.  Long indeed.

Not going to lie, the last two years in the classroom hasn't exactly been a walk in the park for me. [Not unless that walk included fire breathing dragons, dog poop, meteors falling from the sky, huge rocks, toe stubs, too many Swiss cake rolls, and attempts to run far away.] 

Instead of setting the tone I let the tone set me.  
I let circumstances and "things" dictate how I felt.
I wanted to give up and walk away.

But as always, God allowed me the opportunity to rest [via the evil little gall bladder], some time to refocus, and He helped me remember why being a teacher is what I was meant to do.

After all, these people that forget their pencils [so they write in Sharpies on the front and back of an assignment], leave their library books [over and over and over again] in my room, fail to put their name on papers, play tag on the way to lunch, ask to go to the bathroom in the middle of class, and cannot wait until the bell at 3 [not to leave but to get to their cell phones] are still just kids.  

Ultimately, I believe that ALL of them want...
to be successful.
be accepted.
feel loved.

I will be the first to admit that sometimes, as a teacher, I get caught up in what they aren't doing and I lose focus on what needs to be done.  [Just a side note, middle schoolers are waiting, with dripping fangs and cat-like reflexes for you to lose focus.  They thrive on it.  You've been warned.]  Every little issue doesn't have to be monumental and I've made many a mountain out of a mole hill.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, which isn't a bad thing, but sometimes I tend to worry more about how I feel.

I have been burdened over the last few weeks to make some changes in my classroom...mainly me. [I am listening to my Hillsong station on Pandora right now and the song Thank You Jesus just came on. Well, played God, well played.  Thank you Jesus...you set me free. Christ my Savior...you rescued me. Wow.]  

As teachers we have the unique [and awesome] opportunity to make such a difference in the lives of children. [Now understand me...I do NOT do cliché, mushy, when-you-get-the-chance-dance kind of stuff but it is true about making a difference.] I should be seeking opportunities. In fact, the way I see it, everyone who works in a school building has opportunities to make a difference.  

I am certainly not suggesting that this is easy.  Never has been. Kids come to us every day from broken homes, with broken hearts, with brokenness that some of us will never experience.  I can't begin to even begin to know what it is like to live a life that isn't privileged.   

What I do know that for me, that means I must do my job up to Colossians 3:23 standards: 

WHATEVER you do [like teach], work [love, care, commit, be bold, with reckless abandon] at it with ALL your heart [even when the going gets tough, the sharks are biting, and the water is forehead high], as if working for the Lord and not for men. 

Often, I can't change the circumstances outside of school that affect my students. What I can do is make dang sure that the experiences they have in my classroom, EVERY SINGLE DAY, are extraordinary.  [No, I'm not trying to be Super Teacher. Or be the most liked or any of that jazz.] If I'm giving them less than the best of me then I'm not doing my job. Seriously.        

I'm not looking for fame or fortune.  I'm not looking for perfect test scores and data to tell me I'm doing this teaching thing right. I'm not looking for anyone's approval.

Tonight, in a conversation with Coop, Craig said something that hit me like a ton of bricks [again, well played God]:

It is simple. When it comes to others, we should be about washing feet.  

Powerful words. 
Right. On. Time.

You surprised to see us Clark?

Ahhhh...the joys of Christmas.  

The Christmas tree.

We got our tree the night before Thanksgiving and decorated it Thanksgiving night.   [I use "we" loosely. I decorated while the others watched.] Gabe was put in charge of watering it.  Little did we know, the tree stand [that I am pretty sure we've had since the better part of forever] had the slightest crack in the bottom.  

Gabe wasn't watering the tree [sometimes 4 times a day because, in his words, "that tree must be drinking a lot of water"] but watering the carpet.  And the subfloor.  Now, almost three weeks later, that same area is bowed up.  

Water is not our friend.  Remember the bathroom incident with the leaking pipe [behind the wall] that caused us an entirely new bathroom floor and vanity? And the pipe under the kitchen sink that popped at 7:15 on a school morning?   

The stockings.

When we moved here I was thrilled to finally have a mantel on which to hang stockings.  [I'm simple.] For years I've wanted to make us matching stockings. My family nearly had [what we call in the South] a conniption.  

"What about our old stockings?"
"How will Santa know?"
"I won't use the new one."

Geez!  Can't a woman have a Pinterest moment and just make some new stockings out of the burlap and chevron she has without someone throwing a rod?  

Yes, in fact, she can.  And she did.  But it was not without some what I like to term "small issues" [AKA I-really-can't-sew-and-it-takes-me-three-times-as-long-as-the-average-sewing-lady]. 

I couldn't get the heel patch matched up on the first one. 
I couldn't get the two to close on one of them.
I sewed one shut. [That one is Craig's.]

Finally, after a week [and more than one ripped seam] I did manage to complete them.  

And the others are hung on the weird banister we have in the living room.

With care.

The elf.

[Usually not on the shelf but sitting where I left him the day before.  Or three days before.  I lost count.]

I like the elf.  
My babies think it is cool.  
Molly and Cooper thinks it is creepy.
Craig doesn't care if it ever gets moved.

Buddy [we thrive on originality in this house] has been in the fridge, a kitchen drawer, a mason jar, in the ceiling fan, roasting marshmallows, and a few other places.  

Thank goodness Molly is home.  She has elf duty. [Ha ha ha! I just said duty.]

The cards.

We are so over cute Christmas cards [and that would be mainly because my kids hate to actually pose for one].  

Last year we did a redneck Christmas and used some lines from Merry Christmas from the Family. [It wasn't really hard for us to act be redneck.] 

This year we....
[I can't tell you. That would ruin the surprise. Or add extra nightmares with the anticipation.]  Once I get them mailed out I will post them.  But lets just say that we were All Shook Up....

My Jesus.

The Birth of Jesus Luke 2:1-20 

"In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.  (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.  He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven 

and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.  When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

Jesus. 

The Son of God.

Sent to save a wretch like me.  

Billy Graham wrote this about Christmas: 

Visitors to our home at Christmas are sometimes startled when I read the tragic story from the Old Testament before an evening of carols.

“Aren’t these grim thoughts for this happy time of year?” they ask. “The season of Jesus’s birth is no time to talk of death. What do Adam and Eve have to do with Christmas?”

To which we answer: Everything. Without the story of sin in the Old Testament, what can the Good News of the New Testament say? Without sin, we have no need of a Savior. We cannot separate our joy at Christ’s coming from our desperate need for Him. Unless we have witnessed the tragedy of man’s separation from God through the millennia before Bethlehem, then the birth of a baby in a stable is just that for us, no more.

Nor can we separate His birth from the work He came to earth to do. Without His death, His birth has no meaning. The birth without the Cross is a gift half-given. Many would rather not think of the Cross at Christmastime. They take the angels’ song, but reject all that it implies. In doing this, they rob themselves of the full joy of Christmas.

My Thoughts

Romans 1:16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel.

I am not ashamed to defend my beliefs as a Christian.

I choose to put up a nativity scene [or three] in my house because it reminds me that Jesus came as the propitiation [He took the wrath of God] for my sins. 

I choose to recognize that we celebrate Jesus' birth on December 25th but I know that the true date of his birth is thought to be months later.  Why does that even matter to people? 

Here is a comment found on Facebook: If you want to be technical about it, Christmas was originally a pagan holiday and is NOT the date of Jesus' birth. The Catholic church hijacked the holiday. [Hijacked is such a strong verb here. Was there specific rights to this date or something?] 

I did a little bit of research [have I ever mentioned how much I detest history?] and I did find some interesting information from this website:

In the end we are left with a question: How did December 25 become Christmas? We cannot be entirely sure. Elements of the festival that developed from the fourth century until modern times may well derive from pagan traditions. Yet the actual date might really derive more from Judaism—from Jesus’ death at Passover, and from the rabbinic notion that great things might be expected, again and again, at the same time of the year—than from paganism.

Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs.  That's cool if you and I do that whole proverbial "agree to disagree" thing.  I get it.   

However...

Revelation 3:16 "So, because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

Be one way or the other.  Don't proclaim to be a Christian then throw your support for things that are not scripturally sound.  

1 Peter 3:14 "But even if you should suffer for the sake of righteousness, you are blessed. AND DO NOT FEAR THEIR INTIMIDATION, AND DO NOT BE TROUBLED, but sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence;"

Yes. As Christians we are called to extend mercy and grace and compassion and love to everyone.  That doesn't include judgement over differences.  

We are also called to make a defense for why we have the hope in Christ that we do. And we are asked to do that boldly.  I cannot do that by supporting things that go against what the Bible says just because the world says I should. 

   I John 4:4-6  "You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. They are from the world and therefore speak from the viewpoint of the world, and the world listens to them. We are from God, and whoever knows God listens to us; but whoever is not from God does not listen to us. This is how we recognize the Spirit of truth and the spirit of falsehood"   

I've seen the word "offended" a great deal when I've read statements about Christians and our apparent sneak attack on Christmas.  

I'm not offended if someone says "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas."  

I'm not offended if you choose to support removing the nativity scene from Dallas. 

I'm not offended if you don't eat at Chic-Fil-A anymore. 

For those of you that are so convinced that us Christians have this attitude, do you really think that Christians just walk around with hurt feelings because you defended your position [as the Facebook trolls that love to bash the holier than thou leave mega comments and epistles on all the reasons why them religious nuts have it wrong]?  

Oh that's right...I forgot that when Christians do defend their beliefs then we are being overbearing, pretentious, and generally close-minded because we disagree with others who do not share our beliefs.  Those huge windows of peace, love, and freedom of speech, religion, etc. seem to close when the "Bible thumpers" bring it.      

Hmmm..pot please meet kettle.  It seems that generally close-minded, overbearing, and pretentious can apply to anyone.     

I make my choices and you make your choices.  

You choose to stand on one side of the fence and defend your cause while I choose to stand on the other and defend mine.  

But, as a Christian, there is no sitting on the fence. 

Everest Intervention, Married to Rocky, and Musings from the Outsiders

Gabe is obsessed with Expedition Everest.  

When I say obsessed I mean that he will not stop talking about  it, watching videos on YouTube of the ride, and searching the Disney website for information.

He rode the ride twice.  

He was TERRIFIED both times. [As in he hid his head, shut his eyes, and almost puked terrified.] 

But now that we are home and a month away from the trip to Disney he is absolutely, 100% OBSESSED with this ride.  Not only is he obsessed with the ride he is obsessed with the Yeti that is on the ride. [Even though he had his eyes closed both times and he never saw the Yeti he won't quit talking about the thing that doesn't exist.]

If you are in search of a reason to ride Expedition Everest please ask Gabe before you go.  He can tell you every turn, small hill, big hill, when the track takes you backwards, when you get to the broken part [which, FYI, hasn't always looked like it does now....through his research he learned that the track has changed since the ride has been opened], and how long the ride lasts.  

He has even researched the Himalayas [or Himilayan as he says it] and he has decided that we need to go there as a family.  Every single mountain we see gets compared to Everest: 
Is Crowder's Mountain as tall as Everest?
We walked to the top of Kings Mountain.  That's as high as Everest right?
I bet Everest looks like Grandfather Mountain.

In fact, he can tell you all about the Matterhorn Ride at Disneyland [the west coast version of Expedition Everest] and he's never, ever been to Disneyland.

The boy is driving us nuts. [And it doesn't take much to make the semi-crazy a little crazier.]  Please do us a favor and DON'T ask him anything about his favorite Disney ride. [Or if you must just be prepared for a complete doctoral dissertation on Everest, the Himilayans, and the Yeti.  You've been warned.]

I am married to a man that is a marvel. 

He makes rocks. [Sometimes I think his head is full of rocks.  Sometimes I want to throw rocks at his head.  Sometimes he wants to throw rocks at my head.  Ours is a complicated love affair.]  

Rewind 10 years ago....he had the Summer of the Stones [and I don't mean Rolling] with 9 trips to the hospital [which ain't cheap], 2 rounds of lithotripsy [which is even less cheap than the hospital], and 3 surgeries [which by all accounts is the least cheapest of the aformentioned options].  This would also be the summer after Flossie was born and when Coop broke his arm. [That new surgery pavilion at CRMC?  Yep...the Shorties made that possible.]

We learned then that Craig's body makes stones.  Lots and lots of stones. 

He recently had a kidney stone. During the this ordeal we discovered that he also has a stone in his appendix. So let me get this straight...He has this useless tube in his body that has a useless stone trapped inside of it? What the heck?  The surgeon told us that he will, at some point in his life, have appendicitis so he might as well have his appendix removed.  So having it removed is what he'll be doing at the end of July.  [Do they chisel it out? Use a rock hammer? The doctor thought it fitting after the last surgery of 2004 to hand us the stones he took out...maybe we'll get this one too...we could display them.]

Bless him...he is really disgusted.  While this isn't life threatening [can I get an amen on that one] its right at the beginning of football season.  He will be out of commission for a few weeks at a time when he really needs to be able to participate in practice.  Say a prayer for him.

Ever just feel totally left out and you can't explain why?  In some ways, be excluded is OK.  I mean if you don't want me around then that is OK...it isn't about me and I shouldn't make it a big deal.  But in other ways, when you exclude my children and they recognize it then it bothers me.  I suspect that leaving them [us] out is never done intentionally but that is what keeps me wondering....I think it might be me.  [I truly am not saying any of this for anyone to feel sorry for me.  I'm a big girl and I can handle it if I am the reason for the exclusion.]

I have prayed about this situation.  I have asked God to help me let it go. There are so many other things in this life to worry about and at 41, being left out shouldn't be one of them. I just keep hanging on to tiny threads and slivers of guilt and frustration and that makes me mad at myself.  

I will be the first to tell you that I ain't perfect, [I know some of you are upset to read those words] that I've done some stupid things, and that I am weird [nerdy, geeky, quirky, etc.].  I do try. I want to fit in and I want to feel good about my place in this situation.  I just can't seem to figure it out and it bugs me. 

It bothers me for my kids. They are good kids [the best if you ask me] and I would hate for them to feel unwanted because of something I have done or haven't done.  I just wish I understood...that is the part that really bugs me. [Not tragic and I hope I don't sound like a whiner.  I'm not trying to make a mountain out of a mole hill. I promise.]  I am truly at a crossroads with this issue.  Please pray for me about this issue.

As always, even with strange obsessions and that stone-filled man of mine, life as a Shortie couldn't be better.  Happy Fourth of July!!

Hot Tamales and Homecoming

[It's been a while.  Forgive me.  I will explain later but now isn't the time.]

Gabe has kept us on our toes this school year.  He frequently gets his clip moved. [Back in my days of teaching elementary school we turned cards and gave stings. Now, thanks to Pinterest, we are a little more crafty.] Unfortunately, his clip is being moved down instead of up....not good for him. One day it was for teaching the other 1st grade boys how to fart with your hand in your armpit [or armpips as Gabe calls them].  When asked the next day if he continued to do this he answered, "Yes but today I made sure my teacher wasn't around." At least he's honest.

Another time his clip was moved for talking in the hall.  He told me that the whole rule about no talking in the hall was crazy.  My reply was, "Well so is your daddy but I still have to do what he says." But it was the next issue with him that nearly sent me over the edge.  

I get a note saying that he peed in the floor. [Yes, you read that correctly, he peed in the floor.]  Good gravy....He's in first grade!!!  Upon further investigation, I found out that he peed in the floor of the boys bathroom.  Here is his story: Well there is always wet stuff around the toilet and I didn't want to get my shoes dirty. I just backed up, but didn't touch the door with my butt, and I peed.  I tried to hit the toilet but I was too far away. My response:  If you ever, EVER think about doing something like this again then I will sent diapers and wipes to school with you.  [I will have a serious ulcer by the time he gets to middle school.]

I have threatened him with no baseball if he continues to act like a bafoon at school.  Being the meanie mommy that I am, I told him he would show up and tell his team why he was sitting then he would sit and watch them play.  So far, so good.  We'll see how long this lasts....I am not going to hold my breath.

He did share with me that he thinks one of his first grade classmates is pretty. This was the conversation:
Gabe: ***** is one hot tamale! [As always, unless you are a Shortie, names are withheld to protect the innocent.]
Me: Well don't ever tell a girl she is a hot tamale.  You can tell her she is pretty but don't call her a hot tamale. 
Gabe: Oh I won't but I did ask her to be my girlfriend.  
Me: Well what did she say?
Gabe: She told me no but that's OK - I'm gonna bug my way in!
Craig: That's my boy!!
And that is our youngest ladies and gentlemen.....

[Now on to the normal child of the Shortie clan....]
My sweet Molly was a part of the homecoming court this past Friday.  She was the FCA representative. Even though she didn't make the top five to be considered for homecoming queen, she had an absolute blast.  She was simply super excited to be a part of the celebration.  

I wasn't ever considered for homecoming in high school.  I was more your nerdy, wall flower type. [Funny how nothing changes...] She is the only senior that has been a four year member of FCA so she was the logical representative.  At first, she wasn't totally into this idea of being a part of this "popularity contest" but when she found out there was crafting involved, she jumped in feet first!  [Girl loves some crafts.]  "Momma I get to make a tshirt and a poster!!  Why wouldn't anyone want to do this?!"  That's my girl :) 

Picture from the Shelby Star Facebook Page
My favorite coach and his favorite girl 

In all honesty, she could have absolutely, 100% cared less about being considered for homecoming queen.  She is content with who she is and isn't the least bit interested in what everyone else thinks about her.  And, to make all of this spectacular, her bestest friends were all on the court too.  What a fantastically awesome night of fun.  God is so good and she is so blessed to have these wonderful girls in her life.  

She did come in first runner-up for Carrousel Princess.  I was a little sad for her that she didn't win but, as always, she responded with, "I never win anything so I am stoked about being first runner-up!  This isn't my thing - I've never been princess material and I am first runner-up!"  

I love her humility. 

I love her. 

Which brings me to a bit of a soapbox moment.....

Molly has been applying to college in the last month or so [I just wiped a lot of tears from my eyes] and I am super shocked at how many people want to share opinions on her college choices and test scores. [I have said this many times but it is worth sharing again...you mess with my kids and you will see 7 different kinds of crazy. You've been warned.]

Molly knows what she wants from a college.  She has no desire to go to a big college.  She wants a small school that is close to home. [Bless her....she will live with us forever...and that's OK.]  Her top choices are North Greenville, UNCC, App State, and possibly GWU.  Her choices were made based on the fact that these are close to home, relatively small compared to NC State and UNC, and they have what she wants to study.

And as her parents we approve of her choices and are extremely proud of all that she has done.  She is ranked high in her class, she has done well on the SAT and ACT [but those things are not really anyone else's business].  Best of all, she loves the Lord.  She is genuine - what you see is what you get.  She isn't one Molly at church, another Molly at home, and then another Molly around all of her friends.  She is the same Molly all of the time.  

Hopefully, we've taught her to ignore these negative comments and move on with her dreams.  Molly's college choice doesn't really affect anyone but her and it is her choice.

On the same token, I am not overly concerned with where other kids are choosing to apply to and I certainly don't care what their SAT scores and class rank are [some parents get very consumed and want to publicly share that information whenever they are given a platform...or they create a platform...or they think someone else is listening].  I love to talk about my kids and their accomplishments but I try to be humble. [And if I'm ever not then please feel free to knock me down a notch or four.] I just feel like some things are private and talking about them with such bravado makes one look shallow.

[That and $.25 might get you a cup of coffee.]

As always, life as a Short couldn't be better :)