Breakfast

I find breakfast to be a highly frustrating situation.  It's usually the first decision I have to make for the day.  I do not relish early morning decision-making nor do I relish having to make a meal so soon after rising.  I need time to ponder these things as I am not so much a meal-planning-out kind of girl.  I am more of a "have a general direction I'd like to head and see what happens" kind of girl.  So this early morning scene were I must be reminded of the consequences of being a poor planner and a non-morning person I find rather aggrivating and not at all a pleasant way to begin the day.

I remember those commercials from my childhood for cereal where the announcer told you that the cereal they were advertising was part of a well-balanced breakfast and then they showed you a glass of orange juice and a small plate with a slice of white bread, toasted, with a pat of butter on top and maybe a banana or some other pedestrian piece of fruit surrounding the bowl of cereal.  The implication was "You idiot, no one is asking you to pour a bowl and cereal and think you've made breakfast.  Didn't you hear us--PART OF a well-balanced breakfast." But who lays out a spread like that?  The whole point of cereal is the one-dish preparation. 

So we eat cereal several times a week.  It's my way of keeping the expectations in check around here.  If I scrambled you eggs or made you breakfast cookies yesterday, do not come into the kitchen with a quizzical look on your face wondering what delicacy awaits you this bright morning.  You know.  Are you about to go hoe a field or break some colts? I thought not. So this bowl of wet sweet wheat and/or corn will do you just fine.

I spent the better portion of my life unable to touch wet food.  I have texture issues, many of which linger.  But I've had to get over this one.  I am forced to reach into the disposal to retrieve some utensil or misplaced toy almost daily so I've had to overcome my hesitancy and stifle my gag reflex.  There are still times when I use tongs to probe the nether regions of the disposal but if I can see what I'm going for, I can voluntarily cause my mind to black out for a few seconds and go after the lost item.

Cereal is wet food.  There are not many dishes in which one pours a liquid over something perfectly dry.  And then the race is on.  Because while I can now touch food in the sink that may be wet, I cannot in good conscience eat soggy food.  Incidentally, I can't listen to people eat crunchy food either.  I pour my children's cereal and I walk away.  I urge them to eat it quickly because the soggy cereal fate will soon be theirs if they fail to make haste.  But I can't hang around to offer more direction than that. Because the crunching.  No, say I, to the crunching.

So before 8:00 in the morning, I have to face a decision AND a task AND my psychological issues AND self-doubt AND the crushing reality of the disappointment that accompanies unmet expectations I have of myself as a home manager, mother, and wife.  Not to mention the looming fear of not kick-starting my already less-than-illustrious metabolism by not eating soon enough after waking.  Are you kidding me? 

And doing all this only raises more questions than it answers.  The first of which, of course, is what's for lunch?

Just reminiscing about hanging out with our good friends, John Paul and Joy.

Man that was an amazing show.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Bi-annual update 2012

We are about to embark on our first official year of homeschooling.  I like to think I've been homeschooling since February 7, 2007 but in the sense that we will have an actual curriculum and will actually (somewhat) be following it, I guess this is technically the beginning of that. 

Dressing up is a big thing at out house right now.  At any given moment, you may meet Spiderman, Thor, Captain America, Darth Vadar, Luke Skywalker, a fireman, Thomas the Train, a cowboy, or any combination thereof.  Asher and Jude do not like to commit to just one identity so they usually combine several items to create a new superhero that fits their current mood.  Now would be a great time to insert a picture of that.  Alas.

Simeon is very loquacious these days.  He has mastered the phrases "I don't want to" and "NO!" which has not gone well for him.  He has yet to be convinced that throwing a fit is not an acceptable way to deal with disappointment so we have quite a few "discussions" throughout the day in which I persuade him to change his flawed thinking.  I carry a wooden spoon everywhere I go...you know... in case I need to stir something. 

But as challenging as he is at newly two, he is equally as charming.  Those eyes that won me over the very first time I saw them still have their power over me.  He is hilarious and loves to make us all laugh.  This is why we crack down on the discipline.  Anybody with this much personality better learn some self-control early on.  He likes to grin and give the double thumbs up whenever he likes something.  He pronounces coffee "fahkee" which causes my to giggle every time I hear it.  He is Asher's shadow and Jude's accomplice.  He can count to 11 or 12 and then he takes a little creative license.  He loves singing "I cast all my cares upon you" and "Holy Holy Holy."  His favorite food is guacamole.  Incidentally, he pronounces it "holy" so I think that might be what he thinks that hymn is about. 

Jude just turned 4.  He and Asher both are enamored with Legos!  We took a little trip to LegoLand Discovery Center in Dallas to celebrate Jude's birthday.  It really is fascinating to me how boys just take to Legos so naturally.  I know not all boys get into them, but the idea of putting together all those tiny pieces just to take them apart again does not appeal to me at all, not has it ever.  But these boys will sit for hours and build things and then act our scenes with them and then break them apart and star over again the next day. 

I'm starting to feel more and more outnumbered here as the only female in the house.  Don't get me wrong, it's good to be queen, but between the light saber fights and legos and general tom-foolery that goes on around here, it is clear I am in uncharted territory.  Not that I was an overly girly-girl, but my experience with baby dolls and kitchen sets did not prepare me for the testosterone fest I find myself attending every day.

Asher is 5 AND A HALF.  He is definitely the leader of the brother pack.  All 3 boys get along pretty well and are quick to forgive and forget.  This is one of the many reasons I love having all boys.  Very little drama.  You hit me.  I hit you back.  Mom gets onto us both.  We apologize.  Life goes on.  Feelings don't get hurt often and when they do, they are quickly mended.  The down side to all boy land is that it is constant activity ALL THE TIME.  There are no quiet tea parties or gentle games.  It is full throttle or they're asleep.  I hear "Wow, you must be busy" basically anytime I leave the house.  Ya think? Now go take my cart back for me.

When I tell Jude that we will do something later or go somewhere later, he asks me, "Will you remember that in your heart?"  Not sure where that came from but it's his way or ensuring I do not make empty promises.  He also recently gave up his lovey.  That precious, nasty piece of cloth that he has had with him for the better part of 4 years is no longer his constant companion because, you see, 4 year olds do not have loveys.  At least 4 year olds who suck their thumbs anytime the lovey is in their hands don't.  So in order to minimize the orthodontic damage, he gifted his beloved lovey to Miss Iris Wimberly, a newborn friend.  It eased the pain knowing that Baby Iris will take good care of it for him.

Asher and Jude have learned how to swim this summer.  They are both able to swim underwater for short distances and Asher has started to get the hang of coming up for breath and using his arms more.  They are all perfectly at ease in the water and I really hope they are ready for swim team next summer mainly because it sounds like it will tire them out and not much does.  Simeon loves being in the pool too and is not quite convinced that he can't swim.  We've had a lot of fun this summer in the water.  It's fun for me to see them take to swimming so nicely because I grew up swimming almost every day at our local YMCA.  Safety breaks, chlorine-scented hair, eating snacks with wet, pruny fingers in a lounge chair.  Simple pleasures.

not one some surgeon came up with

Let's just pretend it hasn't been since February that I've posted and just get down to business. Kids are fine, I'm not pregnant, and I'm still married to the guy I promised to still be married to. You're caught up.

I've been giving a lot of thought lately to the ideas of masculinity and feminity. What does it mean to fall into those categories? Who defined those categories? How important is being one or the other? How can those words be best applied? Here's my hypothesis: masculine and feminine are words that should only describe things that can be perceived with the eyes or ears. Possibly the hands, on occasion the nose, but I'm trying not to get too graphic here. So I can say someone looks masculine or sounds masculine or moves masculinely (replace feminine there too) but I can't (or shouldn't) say that certain characteristics or attributes are masculine or feminine. Strength, beauty, courage, endurance, patience, militance, kindness, resolve, tenacity. I don't think any of these words are best used when they are relegated to one category or the other.

Men and women are both called to be strong and the difference between the two has nothing to do with the quality or quantity of that strength. For example, being strong, having strength, doing something strenuous is usually thought of as "masculine." And then all the feminists get super agitated because "women are strong, too! I can do anything a man can do, dammit!" So they squat 200 lbs and refuse to let a man open a jar because they WILL prove that they are strong. And then all the anti-feminists are saying, "I shouldn't be strong because that's what men do and I'm called to be feminine."

But my assertion is this: strength (or any intangible characteristic,) is neither. I look at it this way--there are numerous attributes on the "shelf" of who I am. I take off of the shelf whatever is called for at that moment. Bear attacking my child? I grab "bravery." Someone trying to take advantage of me? I reach for "assertiveness." Friend hurting and needs support? I go with "compassion"(sometimes.) And all of these things become feminine because it's me, Jamie, a female, doing them. Same scenarios, but it's Kris, my husband, a male (despite the spelling,) doing them, those things become masculine.

So as a woman, I'm never called to "put on" masculine characteristics (those things that transcend the senses) because there is no such thing. I'm called to be feminine because it is a glorious thing to be a woman (if you have indeed been made one by the Maker of such things.) It is equally glorious to be a man, again, assuming it is a God-assigned role and not one some surgeon with a severly misguided undertanding of his status in the Creator/creature distinction came up with.

And it should be obvious that I am a woman. I believe that it is important for anyone with functional eyes and ears, yea, even nasal passages, to easily ascertain that I am female without violating anyone's conscience. My dress, my voice, my physical appearance should register with the majority of those in my modern, western culture, as feminine. Because THAT has everything to do with the way that I am able to deliver these genderless qualities. Ideally, I strive to do it in a way that gives God the most glory and best points the world to Him. I do that because of my gender, not in spite of it.

In all this, my goal is not to blur the gender lines. I'm not saying "masculine, feminine, whatever! Who cares?" Rather, that it is unhelpful to describe qualities that all of the church is called to possess as either masculine or feminine because men want to refrain from the ones that are thought of as "feminine" and women think they need to avoid the ones that are commonly thought of as "masculine." It is not feminine to be nurturing. But the nurturing is malleable and will take on the shape of the one that bears it. I will nuture femininely. Kris will nuture masculinely. And it is in that distinction that the glory of the difference in the sexes resides.

Interview with Asher

My friend Patti did a cute little interview with her newly-five year old so I thought it would be fun to see how my own newly-five year old answered these questions, too.

1. At what age does a person become a grown up? "20." Why do you think that? "because I thought when you were 20 you were a grown-up. Were you?" (I nod) "Good."

2. IF you could be invisible for a day, what would you do? "drink invisible water and eat invisible food and do everything that was invisible and sleep in an invisible bed."

3. What is something that makes our family special? "that we care and share" (?)

4. Are you a good friend? "YES." Why do you think so? "Because I care and share about people."

5. How would the world be different if animals could talk? "It would be silly."

6. What's the best thing about being a kid? "I don't have to work a lot like Daddy does and I don't have very much business." The worst thing? "that I don't get to do what I want."

7. Where is your favorite place in the world? "Mamaw's house!" (no hesitation.)

8. If you could give one gift to every child in the world, what would it be? "something they needed."

9. What are five words that describe you? "silly, funny, fun, special, happy...sometimes"

10. If you could invent something, what would it be? "a machine that if you were sad it would make you back to happy." (I believe that's called a Margarita Machine)

11. If you could make one rule that everyone in the world had to follow, what would it be? "to follow God."

12.What's your favorite..
Color? red
Smell? cinnamon
Food? pizza
Book? Danny and the Dinosaur
Sound? a dog barking

13. What does Daddy like to do? "stay at home with his boys"

14. What does Mama like to do? "take care of her boys because you love us."

15. What makes you special? "I care and I share and I help people and I'm a good friend."

16. What do you MOST want to do? "play with my Legos"

17. What would you like to write a book about? "The 3 Little Pigs"

18. What's your favorite thing to wear? " My Bookworm shirt (with Curious George on it)

19. Describe what you look like. "A cool guy with crazy hair"

20. What are you looking forward to this year? "Going to Super Friday"

(Note to self: do not drop the ball on registering for Super Friday again)

In case you haven't heard, Asher is ALMOST FIVE.

I would blog more but I've been spending my days trying to figure out how we went from this


to this


Time is so odd, with all its creeping and zooming by. I hardly know what to make of it all. In one sense, it feels like it has been five. long. years. (I'm tired.) In another sense, I can't figure out how it could possibly be time for a fifth birthday.

But for whatever reason (maybe it's part of the curse) only in looking back do we truly appreciate what we had. And we scratch our heads trying to figure out why we didn't know how good it was. And we surmise the reason must be because it all happened so quickly we barely had time to take it in.

We play with language to make it seem as though the clock hands were spinning rapidly like in a movie but they weren't. Time didn't really pass any more quickly or slowly than time ever has. So the best way we've come up with to tell how good something was is to think about the time, in which the thing was happening, traveling. Did it walk? Did it run? Did it hop into a shuttle and shoot to the moon?

When it comes to these baby days, its like they were in a rapidly moving vehicle. I'm talking rocketship. By which I mean, it's been good.

Really, really good.

Just so you know, there will be no pictures

Well, helllllllllllo, nobody.

I am typing this from the computer located in the drum room. This room also houses my crafty equipment and Kris' audio whateverwhatever but that's beside the point. The window in this room looks out into our backyard containing a lovely deck, an empty garden bed, and an unbelievably overgrown-with-too-spicy-too-eat-lettuce garden bed. But the lettuce is pretty and green and seems to not really care that it froze last night. I suppose spicy lettuce is the best kind to be--resilient and unpalatable. No wonder it grew so well here.

But the drums. I don't actually mind them. With the door closed, it really isn't as grating as one might think. And they are usually trying to play a certain rhythm so even though they are beginners, they are at least thoughtful beginners. That is the best kind to be. Little Simeon (Simmy Shake, Sim-sam, simarooboo, Simmy Jimmy) is not quite as intentional but I can only hope that starting at 18 months will work in my favor. Eventually.

The Brothers Rives are doing well. Asher is ALMOST FIVE. If you have talked to him at all, you no doubt have been informed of this. He is the child whom, at present, challenges me the most. His natural tendencies are almost always not mine so I am frequently presented with an opportunity to lay aside how I think he should do/handle/process/embrace/respond to any given situation and really think about what he needs. He is sensitive and slow to decide and thoughtful. So I am learning to approach him as he is. Not leave him at the mercy of his sin, but not expect him to be someone he isn't. Namely, Jamie Rives.

He has developed quite the vocabulary now that he is reading. He uses words well, but now the challenge is to introduce the concept of a filter. At the park a few weeks ago he asked a little boy, "How smart do you think you are?" The boy replied, "very smart!." Asher said, "Well, I think you are baby-smart because you are not playing very wisely." He recounted this conversation to me later and I told him that, while I admired his word choice, it probably was not his place to comment on the choices of a total stranger.

Jude. For starters, he has considerably less hair now thanks to an unfortunate incident involving a misunderstanding between me and the clippers. He has taken it all in stride and he still looks adorable, but I miss that beautiful, long, thick sandy brown hair with gorgeous blond highlights. Thank God I have all boys because between their hair and my own, I have all that I can handle in the hair care department.

He is his own man. He knows what he wants. He's not much of a cuddler. Doesn't really give a rip. THIS I can relate to. Don't get me wrong, he can send my head spinning as much as Asher, but usually for the opposite reason.

And Simmy. First of all, any thoughts I had about cutting his hair have disappeared completely. Those precious curls are not going anywhere anytime soon. He is talking so much more--well, communicating so much more, let's say. My favorites are "Asha" and "Tude." Mama, Daddy, Pa (Poppy), Maw (Mamaw), car, ball, kie (cookie), cacka, muh (catchall word for drink. Includes but not limited to milk, water, juice.) his favorite word is of course, "no." He is learning, in a rather slow and painful way, that saying to his parents is not acceptable and not the proper response to "obey quickly."

2012 has been nice so far. We have eliminated most of the TV watching that went on here and the effects have been very pleasing. They play more, they read more, I read more, I get more done. I feel like I use the TV now instead of it using us. They watch one show a day now, sometimes two if I need the time to do something, but it is no longer our default entertainment choice or babysitter. So we dropped cable and resubscribed to Netflix and it seems to have been the right time for that change. I really resisted the idea for a long time, but now that we have all adjusted, I'm glad we just did it.

My new year's resolution...

will NOT be to blog more. That would be so 2009 of me. But life is going so fast now that I am in my late early thirties. I'm going to try to capture just a bit of our life and make it stand still in this blog. I mean, my newborn is 2 1/2. THAT is absurd.

I also want to blog more about issues that matter to me during December. I have a few posts rolling around in my head tentatively titled "My Santa Manifesta: You Do Know Where Liars Go, Right?" and "Every Day is Christmas If You Live in America, You Fat, Ungrateful Slob." I'd hate for you all to think I've gone completely holly jolly. I have my limits.

My shopping is almost done. We have found the four gift model of "something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read" to be a great fit for us, so all of four my guys have a little something from each category ready to go under the tree. I would place them under the tree now, but hello--Simeon.

I'm wrapping up a great first season with Noonday Collection. I have learned a lot! I'm looking forward to starting the spring season with a better grasp on everything but I'm really pleased with and grateful for how things have gone. (By the way, delivery by Christmas is guaranteed until the 16th if you need a few AMAZING gifts for loved ones. Or yourself. No judgement here.)

Asher threw up last night. No fever, no chills, just puke. So I drug out the "sick mattress" (a baby bed mattress we keep under the bunk beds for the ill among us to lay on. It's vinyl.) I was just waiting for the next wave to hit. Jude was still awake for some unknown reason (it was about 10:30.) He was wired and kept commenting on how he always manages to make it to the toilet when he needs to throw up and how Asher is kind of a baby in that regard. I had to agree. One of the best things about Jude is that boy holds it until he is standing over the potty. That in itself covers a multitude of sins.

So Asher is awake, Jude is awake, and I'm incredibly sleepy because I had just taken a benedryl for my horrific allergy attack. We all finally dozed off in the living room and then sometime in the middle of the night, Simeon wakes me up. Not for any good reason. Just because. I'm so groggy at this point, I don't recall what happened after that. All I know is that Kris woke me up around 6 and told me to go get in bed and all 3 boys were laying on the floor near me. Around 8, I woke up with the eldest and the youngest in bed next to me. Sleep in heavenly peace, we did not. But no one has thrown up again at the time of this writing. That, my friends, is a Christmas miracle.

Jude prays tonight:
Thank you for all the fings. Thank you for da wunerful day. Thank you for da cross. Thank you for all da promises. In Jesus name, Amen!

Asher prays for "the whole United States of America, even Alabama."

Simeon looks blankly at me as I say a prayer for him to "repeat" until I mention Mamaw and Poppy, which causes him to start barking so I won't forget to give thanks for their dogs, too.

Sometimes their prayers are so precious, I think my heart might break right there. Sometimes, after the 8th or 9th train from the island of Sodor is mentioned, I want to shut it down and tell everyone to just go to sleep.

We got a Christmas tree this weekend. Today, we added lights, 24 plastic balls, and this little gem


It's my favorite.

I sold this toy. It has been a favorite around here for almost 4 years. I bought it off Craig's list for Asher's first birthday.


But it had to go. And I got my $20 back.

My kid can read almost all the words on the "100 Words to know by first grade" list. I'm thrilled!

This little thing just hit the 17 month mark. He's a curly-headed force to be reckoned with.

Thanksgiving 2011

We watched the parade and attempted to teach the boys how to play checkers.

We went to the park and challenged each other to feats of strength.

We ate a lunch consisting if salad, hot dogs, quinoa, leftover chili, and yogurt because of course I had not been to the grocery store.

The boys took naps. Kris worked on his sermon for Sunday. I watched the new Will Ferrell movie.

We got ready and went to Grammy's house in Friendswood. Jude ate nothing. Asher ate a little real food and a generous serving of pie. Simeon almost everything set before him. And pie.

On our way home, we gave the Hispanic Fran Drescher and her fraternal twin sister a ride to her in laws house after stopping to see if they needed help with their flat tire. She was on the phone the whole way and informed everyone she was in her way to her ( insert FCC-banned slur for black people here)'s house. I am thankful we could help them and also that we will be able to say to each other, "remember the thanksgiving that we have the Hispanic Fran Drescher and her fraternal twin sister a ride...?"

We watched the end of The Game and then about 10 more minutes of a movie we started at the beginning of the week. We keep falling asleep.

Yes, the blog as I knew it has been tweaked slightly, but I feel WYPW is a staple that should not be kicked to the curb along with my old header. And blog name. And dignity.

So, even though nobody reads my blog anyway, I will continue this tradition. Because I'm SO big on those.

Which, incidentally, leads me to my point, believe it or not. Didn't leave that question dangling out there for long, now did I?

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. President Washington held the first "official" one during his first year in office. A "Day of Publick Thanksgiving and Prayer" he called it, no less. It was a tradition celebrated by most colonies already but this was a first as a nation. And then President Lincoln made it an official holiday to be celebrated the fourth Thursday in November. And then President Roosevelt moved it to the third Thursday. Because that would extend the holiday shopping season. Publick Thanksgiving and Prayer indeed. His best to the Pilgrims, no doubt.

Of course John Piper, on Facebook, has to throw down the gauntlet with this reminder of the very words of Jesus,

"Whenever you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers, or your relatives or your rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and it be a repayment for you. But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For it will be repaid to you in the resurrection of the just." (Luke 14:12–14)

Jesus really said those words. Why have I never put that in the context of our Thanksgiving meal before?

So if it's not a day of public thanksgiving and prayer (I've never publicly done either on this day) and it's not a feast to which I invite those that could never repay, what is it? My holiday angst. I don't get like this around Halloween. It's all so straightforward (unless you consider the slave labor chocolate issue.) But I struggle (no, not "struggle." That implies much more passion than is really involved.) I brood the issue (over pumpkin pie of course) from now until Easter.

I think I'm thankful. I say "thank you" a lot. Does that count? In prayers. In conversations. I try to express gratitude because I really do see that what I get to partake in are undeserved, yea, ill-deserved, blessings that I absolutely would be lost without. And I know God is the Giver. And I happen to really like a large portion of what he has given and the things I happen not to be so fond of really pale in comparison so thankfulness, while labored at times, is pretty easy to produce. Of course, I've never set sail for a foreign land, watched most of my co-Pilgrims die, struggle through brutal winters, and then come through it all with food and shelter and faith so it's hard to say, really.

We've been teaching the boys "For the Beauty of the Earth" and "We Gather Together." Because they are terribly Thanksgivingy hymns and it just seems appropriate. I really like them both but the words of "We Gather Together" are particularly encouraging.

We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known;
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing;
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!

We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
And pray that Thou still our Defender will be;
Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;
Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

It's Good For the Soul

That's what they say anyway. Ooohh...confessions as the first post under my new banner. This might just get interesting. (Probably not.)

I spend way too much time thinking about what I'm going to wear. I'm a 32 year old mom of 3 that drives a minivan for the love of God. But I do. And I'll tell you why. I felt out of place and out of style for a lot of my life. And now, I know what I like and I know what I don't and I lost a lot of baby weight. So getting dressed is kind of fun. But I wish I cared less. It can't be the best use of time. Or brain space. Or soul space. Damn that Ann Taylor and her loft.

I take lame self-portraits. I do. There I said it. I try to get that "I just happen to have this picture of just me where I look AMAZING that someone took without my knowledge and then emailed it to me" look. Then I crop and filter the heck out of it and it still doesn't look how I wish it did.

I hate most pictures of me. But I do love my new necklace. That thing is pure awesome.


I have sewn very few things in the sewing room that I just had to have. A shark costume, (Shark with cute ballerina Meadow)

a pair of pajama pants (ok, I didn't really sew those. I took them in because they were XL ones that I bought from Goodwill and I needed a better fit. See above.) I altered a dress that I've had in my closet for years but hardly ever wore because it hit my legs to low. In a flash of what can only be described as epiphinic, I hemmed it. Problem solved. We went through a lot to make this room possible. We have all of our children crammed into one room so that I can craft and Kris can record. Seems like I should have more to justify overhauling our whole lives. Alas.

It took me 3 months to finish Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Everyone told me it was the one that would seal the deal for me as a HP fan and there would be no looking back. Well. Let me tell you. It did drag on so. Because I have this thing in my head that compels me to have a different experience than the one I am expected to have--even when I would be perfectly fine having the expected experience. (It's not you, Laura, it's me. Assuming you are reading this. Probably not. No one does.) It's so irritating being me. I get on my own nerves most of the time. What are we talking about? Yes, Harry. I did finish and am planning on borrowing Book 5 from Cheryl when I see her tomorrow. I'm in this far so I might as well.

Tonight as we were finishing dinner, I told Jude that he must eat all his hamburger patty. Not because I am worried about his iron level or growth but because I buy our meat from a co-op and it's expensive. Jude told me, "I did eat it." "No," said I, "there is still meat on your plate." He picked the small uneaten piece up and held it in his fist. "No there isn't, " he said smugly. Jude comes up with these little retorts often which prompts Kris to cast his raised-eyebrow glance toward me and make some veiled accusation about exactly where this propensity Jude has for sass may or may not come from. It was funny. I try really hard (most of the time) to let their need for discipline take precedence over my desire to just laugh off the wrong, but occasionally humorous, behavior. Except this time I didn't. We'll hit that "no back talk" thing hard tomorrow.

Normally, I would be worried about being perceived as a vain, lazy, pitiful excuse for a parent after a post like this. But I'm not now. Nobody reads my blog anyway.

I'm a firm believer in stopping what you are doing immediately if you find that it is not working. In 2006, I opened up blogger at my computer at school when I probably should have been teaching students and decided to start a blog entitled "Grace Upon Grace." (In my defense, it was the week before school let out. My grades were turned in. I guess maybe some teachers cared enough to use every moment for instruction. I did not. To say the least.)

Here I have recorded our lives (more or less.) But I've struggled more and more to write consistently. I think because I felt like this blog had to be this or that type of blog. And I had to write about this. And I couldn't write about that.

But no more! Because nobody reads this blog anyway! I'm writing for myself. I like to write, yet I've neglected this outlet because of self-imposed restrictions. So with the exception of a few good friends and my mother (whom I mean no disrespect to, of course,) I am moving forward under the assumption that nobody reads this blog anyway. Goodbye stat counter and map. So long trying to make my mark on the blogosphere or trying to be a faithful family journaler. I'll still post about the kids and try to mention things that 80 year old Jamie will enjoy reading when 53 year old Asher, 52 year old Jude, and 51 year old Simeon never call or write. Hopefully 85 year old Kris will be next to me reminding me not to be too hard on them, because that's what he does. And I'll rant and observe and editorialize I'm sure. Who knows! It's just me, a computer, and my words now. I will write whatever I want.

Because nobody reads my blog anyway.

Summer 2011

Just to ensure the gaps in my blogging are somewhat filled in, I thought I'd go through my phone pictures and post a few from the last few months. My life is both fascinating and amazing so not to include even the most mundane details seems unfair to you all. Please enjoy.

I fell in love with Pinterest and became determined to actually do some of the projects I pinned. Thank goodness for the filters on Instagram because they made these cake balls look way more vibrant than they were in real life. Incidentally, I found cake balls to be way more trouble than they're worth.







My Wimberly girls and I went to one of those painting places (at my suggestion, it must be noted.) Laura and Cheryl's turned out beautifully. My painting was disastrous. I call it "The coffee filter wore panties."






No more painting.

We saw The Civil Wars!







Favorite band ever. It was absolutely the best concert I've ever been to. The Mucky Duck was the perfect venue and I'm so glad we had the chance to see them (and be those nerds that hang around for a picture) because I'm sure next time they're in town, it will be in a huge venue and as much as it pains me to admit, John Paul and Joy will probably not remember me and make a special request for me to join them backstage.

Laura and I trying not to look too giddy about our night as cool urban concert goers.





Little did everyone around us know we were wiping bottoms and cutting up PB and J sandwiches mere hours before.

Simeon turned 1.







Thank goodness for a brother that does not force you to eat your cake alone.

Jude turned 3.







He had a shark party with a few of his little friends here and then a Thomas party (duh) with family at my parents' house. I intend to blog more fully about these special occasions but in case I don't, at least I mentioned it in passing, right?

I finally got all three boys pictures on the wall.






Two of these frames were purchased in 2006 with the express intention of hanging future children's pictures in them. By the time I got them on the wall, I had to go back for one more frame.


I ran a race. The look on my face says it all.







Actually, I look a little more joyful and relaxed here than I was. Ugh. That race. Moving on.

The boys spent a lot of time on Mamaw and Poppy's "sliding down pool" as it has been named by it's primary users.







I caved and let the boys use the face painting crayons at the children's museum.






Simmy got a haircut! No more George Washington, Patti. He's all business now.







Those spots on the carpet behind him are hair. I was so desperate to finish, I drug his high chair to the living room so he could see the tv. It actually required two more venue changes to complete the job. It was like giving a cat a bath. But less peaceful.

Wow. Ok, I've shocked even myself. I better stop before I pull something.

This Will Be About Vomit

One thing having several small children has taught me is that when one gets sick, I should just go ahead and prepare myself mentally that they all will get sick.
And I probably will too. Particularly if it is of the stomach bug variety.

Asher and Simeon both got sick Wednesday night. It was Simmy's first official vomit. Very special. Simeon didn't ever act like he felt badly but Asher ran fever and was pretty out of it Thursday. Friday morning, Simeon had one final puke, Asher was feeling good, and I was just starting to think that Jude may slide by unscathed.

But that afternoon, I started feeling nauseous. Kris came home to me on the floor in the fetal position with the kids playing around me. We like to kick off Labor Day weekend right.

Kris took over as I dealt with my issues and a few hours later, Jude joined the ranks. Poor little fella had the worst go of it of all of us. He was vomiting all night long. Superdad Kris slept on the floor by him and carried him to the bathroom when he needed to throw up. I was so weak that I could barely stand.

But today, I am pleased to tell you, has been vomit-free. We all feel tremendously better and if we make it until tomorrow morning with no incidents, I am declaring September Sickfest over.

Kris is running sound tonight and in the morning and he is preaching tomorrow night. He feels fine so far but prayers for his health and strength would be much appreciated!

I Never Did Care for the Metric System

Kilometers. Ten of them.

Honestly, it wasn't that great. I was hot and tired. I hadn't eaten very much the day before which in retrospect was quite the unfortunate oversight. I felt oddly stressed out by the whole ordeal. Obviously, this was not a big deal. A local race. My first race at that. Why would I have any expectations other than just completing it.

But now that I have entered this whole running world, I have one more area to place unrealistic expectations on myself and then more evidence that I'm really not athletic.

See I told you so.

Jr. high volleyball was my first clue. High school tennis was another one. I could go on. Fighting the very genes that make you is exhausting. I'm "be just OK enough to participate but never quite rock it out" Girl.

Where's my cape?

Which then propels me to continue to embark on that challenge just to prove that I'm not as pathetic as I first thought. So the whole thing becomes, not about enjoying the run and being healthy, but about engaging in this weird inner-dialogue in which I simultaneously berate and encourage myself. I have these two needs that seem to be mutually exclusive, yet somehow cohabitate within my head. I need to beat myself down with jeering insults and then I need to prove to myself that I'm really not what I told myself I was. I think healthy people just deal with these things when they present themselves via other people. I just save other people the trouble.

All this to say, I have to run another dadgum 10K. I've entered in to this tolerate/hate realtionship with running and now I can't quit it. I should have seen this coming. I knew better.

On the upside, I did burn 1255 calories. So there's that.

WYPW (Edition: Happy Thursday!)

I'm running my first race this weekend. I'm still not convinced this is my thing. There are things that I really do love about running. The challenge. The time alone. The fact that all you have to do is walk out your door and you're there. But I've realized that I do need some sort of goal to work towards. But that requires commitment which I do not generally enjoy (the Lord and Kris being the notable exceptions.) And if I commit to another race in a few months that means that the race will occur when it is cold. And the chances of me going outside for extended periods of time while it is cold to train are not good. I know, I know--you warm up quickly but (and this is the part where I realize I have officially become my mother) I HATE being cold. Even really-not-that-cold-compared-to-Maryland-or-Minnesota-cold cold. So that is my dilemma. But maybe I'll love the race experience and I'll be hooked and I won't care if I have to be cold for a little while. I'll let you know.

Let's hear it for school starting! This means that the library, zoo, children's museum, and Chick-fil-a are back to being either way less crowded or crowded with people all about the size of my own children. I like this. While we miss Kris terribly now that he is back at work, we are soothing that pain with outings that do not involve crowds.

I think we are going to begin a modified pre-K/K program here at The Rives School for Higher Learning. Asher, in true firstborn fashion, is ready. He reads pretty well, he writes his name and can figure out how to spell a lot of words, and he is getting a handle on number concepts so I really need to take advantage of his eagerness. I ordered a kindergarten curriculum set a while back that is based on the classical model and I think it will be fairly easy to adapt it for this year. He is only 4 so I don't feel like we need to have an overly structured school day just yet but there is nothing like that youthful zeal to learn!

Do you know about Noonday Collection? There is a very good chance that I will have the opportunity soon to be involved with this amazing organization, Lord willing. I am so supportive of this business-model which the Sseko founder refers to as "not(just)for profit." In this model, businesses are not forced to "pick a side"--either exist to help people and do good OR exist to make money and grow. Noonday Collection, and many businesses like it, embrace the idea that BOTH are possible and preferable! I love it. It's encouraging to see how it is growing and the opportunities it presents to women all over the world.

And now, I will go rescue the pterydactel that is screeching in the other room. Or it might just be Simeon letting me know he is not napping this morning. I'll report back and let you know.

Photo Sin Thesis

Nowadays, everything must be photographed. Did you hear me? Everything. Especially once you have children. And I don't just mean the milestones--birthdays, first haircuts, opening Christmas presents--I mean, everything. Or else it might as well have never happened at all.

And then (get this,) there are some people who not only do this but then they take those pictures and they EDIT them and make the moment even less like it really was, therefore much more worth remembering. And THEN (don't even get me to lying,) some people take these EDITED photos and glue them to fancy paper and arrange them just so and adhere sparkly stickers to the page and type some endearing quote in some cutesy font and place all this nonsense in a scrapbook.

And not a few of these pictures are taken with a camera that costs more than my car.

And let's not forget to put all these edited pictures on the bloody blog, k?

I am the absolute worst when it comes to taking pictures. I comfort myself often with the thought that we will not take our photos with us to heaven so even if I regret not being a more diligent pictorial historian, at least my sorrow will be not longer than my life. I may or may not have issues.

Thankfully, many people in my life DO have awesome cameras and the desire to use them. So photos of my children's important events do have a good chance of being captured. For example, two of my sisters-in-law have fancypants cameras and Simeon's first birthday pictures are currently on one of their memory cards. This makes me feel better but it has kept me from blogging since then because who blogs about other stuff before blogging about their baby's first birthday? The better option seemed to be to allow the blog to lay dormant for lo, these many months while countless other details of our daily lives go undocumented. My mind is like a silo for logic.

Go and sin no more? I wish. I doubt I'll change. You'll see me (sometimes) get a pic or two on the ol' iPhone, maybe the point-and-shoot if I'm have an exceptional day. I just can't take the pressure of more. My photography skills are sorely lacking. My uploading, editing, and posting skills even more so. So I'm just letting it go. I can't deal with anymore. I gotta be me.

Now that we've gotten that straight, let the blogging resume.

Pinterest Help

I mentioned in my last post that my newest obsession is a very fun site called Pinterest. It is basically a set of virtual bulletin board that you "pin" images to that you run across online or while perusing other people's boards. It's a really easy way to keep track of fun ideas you want to try to make, wear, see, do, read, photograph, etc.

But it is a little overwhelming to figure out. I found this post very helpful. I think because it is fairly new, there are still several kinks to be worked out, but once you get the hang of it, you will be hooked!

Let me know if you join so I can follow you!

WYPW (edition: head start)

Let's be honest--major slackage going on here. The latest blogging sensation, our very own WYPW, seems to catch me off guard each week. You want Wednesdays to come and go at the speed of light? Launch what may very well be the biggest thing to hit the blog world and watch them zoom past you. So I'm outsmarting Wednesday and posting on Tuesday. How ya like them apples?

The big boys are at Mamaw and Poppy's house for a few days. Asher says he wants to stay 4 days and Jude says he wants to stay 2 minutes. We'll probably meet somewhere in the middle. I miss my little guys and I'd like to think the feeling is mutual. But Mamaw and Poppy purchased a very large inflatable waterslide and provide ice cream sandwiches for dessert so it's not likely.

I'm meeting some friends in the morning to do a Dirt Bag-inspired workout. Since I've tentatively ventured into the world of running, I've realized how important it is to balance your strength, flexibility, and cardio training. Fauxga was helpful in developing the first two, but I started from scratch building up some cardio endurance. I'm definitely enjoying running more than I thought I would but I still have quite a way to go before I'm where I'd like to be. But using the heart rate monitor strapped to my chest, the ipod strapped to my arm, and the Nike+ chip embedded in my shoe, I think I may just get there one day.

Speaking of Dirt Bag, you know something's legit when you walk away with a t-shirt!



I realize the sling obscures the t-shirt but I had to put Simeon in that sling today. We have been sorting and packing up baby items that we don't plan on using in the near future. Space is at a premium in our home so if it's not being used and it's not a huge pain to borrow or replace should we need it again, it's going to someone who can use it. So my heart has been in a very fragile state realizing that diaper bags and changing tables are not, for the first time in over four years, a part of my life right now. Even my baby is becoming not so much a baby. So, you see, in order to not fall completely apart emotionally, I needed to put him in that sling.

He was not a fan.



And I did not care.

He would give me a little snuggle for a few seconds now and then, but most of our trip to Home Depot involved him throwing himself back in effort to break free. From his mama. Who loves him. Have you ever heard of such a thing?

We were at Home Depot buying paint for our new home office/recording studio/craft room. I'm very excited! The boys are doing well in their room together so it is full steam ahead on reclaiming some space around here for the ones that pay for it in the first place. My living room is a wreck right now with all the stuff that is in transition from one room to another. But soon it will all be organized and all will be well.

I'd like to write a little about Pinterest right now but I HAVE to go to bed since the 5 am wake up call is right around the corner, so I'll save that for another day, but if you are not on it yet, you simply must sign up. Addicting. So addicting.