Have you ever stopped to look at your kids and think, "What in the world?"
    Every child is a perfect blessing, I know, I know, but seriously...What is going on?!"
    It all came crashing down when I realized, this generation is off the charts with their grasp on reality.  
    We were out the other day, when we saw another family with two boys, around 10 and 12 years old, wearing headphones with their cell phones, zombie walking behind their parents.  Sure it was nice because the kids were happy, the parents were happy and the peace and harmony were enviable as our kids had each other in headlocks to the death, but really?
    Then, we ran to get a bite to eat.  The table beside us had a family of five.  Every. Single. One of them spent their meal on their phones.  They made no eye contact, not with each other, not with their server - and there was little to no conversation.  Nada.
    Before I could get all, "That would never happen in my family" about it, I'll take you through the misery at our house.
    The other morning, our four were watching TV instead of getting ready for school.  Their clothes were on, so in their minds, they were good to go.  Two of the boys started arguing over wanting to play Xbox, (don't even get me started on the Xbox) while the other two wanted to finish the show.
    "Guys, are you ready?"
    "Yes"
    "Shoes, teeth brushed, backpacks?"
    "I can't find my shoes."
    As I'm busily finishing their lunches, I shove some trash into the overflowing bin.
    "Guys, someone needs to grab the trash."
    "Okay..."  
    (No movement.)
    While putting their lunches in their backpacks, I notice a few sheets that need to be signed, "What are these forms?"
    "A field trip."
    I'm starting to come undone.  Not one of them have come to the kitchen, eaten breakfast (that I made) helped with chores, done one thing.  
    "That's it.  TV off.  It's time for school."
    Four grumpy kids grumble to the kitchen, when it hits me.  They're spoiled.  They don't have to work, they don't have to do anything.  Sure, they'll do their chores for allowance, but that's different.  There's no motivation to do one thing for any level of responsibility.  They don't have responsibility.  There are kids in this world who have JOBS at their age, kids that take care of families and younger siblings, and my kids can't change a roll of toilet paper.      
     "Get ready for school, get your stuff and get in the car."
    "But we're hungry!"
    "Then stop watching TV and eat your breakfast."
     "Where are your coats?  It's freezing." 
     -Sweet Moses, why don't they ever wear coats?
     "Guys, you HAVE to find your shoes.  Where are your shoes?"
     Crickets.
     Scrambling in the car, my blood is now boiling.  
     "What do you guys do to take care of yourselves?  Do you cook?  Clean?  Can anyone do a load of laundry?  Do you know how to turn on the washing machine?  Dishwasher?  Do you realize in a matter of years, especially you older two, you're all going to leave this house?  There are NO MOMS IN COLLEGE.  Who's going to take care of you?  When you're on your own, how will you have clean clothes, matching shoes, hot meals, toilet paper?  Do you even know how toilet paper magically appears in our house?  Do you think fairies come in the night?
     As we pull into school, the Assistant Principal saw my face and knew it had been a colorful morning.
     "Everything okay?"
     Grunting, I gave the kids quick hugs as they ran off, "I'm raising morons", I growl while he smiles back.
     Driving to work, I was mad and upset with them and myself.  They can make me crazy, which is what kids do, but it's just as much my fault as it is theirs.  If my kids leave the house without knowing how to survive a day, there's a problem with that.  The more time we allow our kids to sit and watch TV, play video games, be on their iPads and cell phones, the more disservice we're doing. 
    Sure, it's convenient, but at what cost?  The social/emotional side is disturbing enough, but the sheer lack of responsibility and activity in everyday life is alarming.
    One of my best friends, Tricia has about the best outlook of all.  She'll tease her teenaged daughter saying, "You know, you have a pretty amazing life if you'd ever get your nose out of your cell phone and live it."
     Amen, Tricia.  Amen.  
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    Something happened on Sunday that reminded me of years back, with anger.
    While sitting in church this week, our sweet friends Jennifer and Jason held their beautiful baby girl in their arms.  They have three boys, so it's beyond adorable to see them with their sweet Princess wrapped in pink. 
     Shortly into the service, little sounds were heard as their baby girl was letting her voice be known.  I watched as Jennifer jumped immediately and shot to the back.
     The church has what's called a "Cry Room", where a sound proof room is provided for people with children so they can be behind the congregation and listen, without being heard.  
      When we had our first baby, it was in Texas in an old beautiful stone church where the "cry room" was called the back door.  I can't remember how many times I paced and walked outside with our first son, wondering why we even tried to go to church in the first place.  
     It wasn't like that at first.  When he was a newborn and would fuss, I'd do everything I could in a panic to quiet him as to not interrupt the service.  Beads of hormonal sweat would fill my brow as looks from others around would turn with either genuine smiles, or perturbed glances.  
    It was one Sunday.  One Sunday that stood out.  A little sharply dressed lady who was dripping in money approached after church.  I thought she wanted to see our little boy the way she bee lined directly through the crowd.
    Smiling, she put her bony hand on his back and leaned in, "I hear him during church, love."
    Grinning back apologetically, I responded, "Yes, I think he wants to join the choir."
    Her eyes narrowed as she lowered her hand, "Yes, well maybe he should join the nursery first.  That is where babies belong, you know." 
    It was punch to my post baby flabby gut as my eyes teared and my husband (who heard none of it) turned to me in confusion.  
    Another older woman, who saw what had happened, immediately approached.  Assuming it would become round two, I readied myself.     
    She looked even more feisty than the last, so I knew it would be worse.
    "Ooooooooo don't you listen to her!"  She started, "I've known her my whole life and she's always been a mean ol' thing."
    A laugh escaped me as she reached for our baby's hand.  Lovingly holding it, she continued, "There's nothing more precious than a baby.  Their laugh...or their cry is a gift from God.  Don't you ever forget that - and if this little one wants to do one or the other while he's here - well then you just let him.  Forget about her.  I'll take him from you any Sunday you'd like and we'll just smile at her together.
    Hugging her tightly, I wish it would've erased the harshness from before.  In her passive-aggressive way, that woman shifted a fear into my heart, so anytime our baby made a sound, I wanted to leap into our car and go.  It genuinely made me not want to go back to the church, but we did.  Week after week and I walked, time and again outside, taking turns with my husband.  
    Looking back, I wish we hadn't.  Knowing it gave her complete satisfaction every time we jumped was bad enough, but we really missed that time each week together as a family.  
    Why didn't we just put him in the nursery?  We just weren't ready.  Some people can, others can't, but it's nice to see churches now with a Cry Room to act as that middle ground.  
    After church this week, I found myself with Jennifer saying the same thing as the woman from before.  Hearing Jen's beautiful baby's voice was more musical than any hymn.  Truly God's gift.  I understand that now, being on the other side.
    I'm sure there are still others who don't agree.  There's a time and a place and church isn't one of them.  
    The one thing I'll never understand however, is in our church, wouldn't they agree, a baby is pretty much the biggest reason we should be there to begin with?

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     Have you ever heard of the expression, "Silence is golden...unless you have children"?  Hmmmmm, yes.  Ask anyone around and they'll tell you how that little red flag goes up anytime the house is just a little too quiet.
      Take the other day, for instance.  The new year had begun and our younger ones questioned the meaning of a resolution.  
      I believe the conversation began, "What's a 'restitution'?  "A resolution is when someone makes a plan to change something for the better."
      "Like what?"
      "Well, a lot of people resolve to lose weight, eat healthier, exercise, spend more time with family and friends...things like that."  
      One would think that might be the end of topic.  
      Nope.  
      Later that day, in the peaceful quiet of the five minutes God sometimes grants us, we hear, "We did a restitution for Lilly".  
     -oh no.
     "What do you mean?"
     "She likes it!"
      This is where I should take a time out to explain that Lilly is our dog.  We were lucky enough to get her when she was eight weeks old - and she's just about the sweetest thing on earth.

    She lives and breathes with our kids and where they are, you'll find her as though they're part of a pack.
     Lilly's almost two years old now and she's grown to be a beautiful girl.  Her coat is long and soft and her tail can often be found hiding little bits of leaves or things from around the yard when she plays. 

    Enter - the 'New Year's Restitution'.  
    "We cleaned her tail so all the knots and stuff are gone."
    "You mean you brushed it out?"
    "No, we fixed it."
    "Fixed it?"
    "Fixed it.  Come see!  It looks a LOT better."
     The familiar pit in my stomach let me know I was probably three seconds away from a complete and total conniption fit.  Adam sensed it - and immediately dropped everything to follow.  
     Rounding the corner to the kitchen, there it was.  A ball...no...a mass of fur so big, it could warm a small village in Alaska. 

     One area of massacre, then another, until we looked to find sweet Lilly, sitting patiently for her next attempt of a butcher/haircut.   

     I think I faintly heard my husband behind me saying, "Take a breath, it'll grow back..." but that was the last thing I remember before I saw red and wanted to axe murder someone.  
     I stood Lilly up to survey the damage, only to find the whole back of the poor dog chopped with chunks of hair missing and straggles of long wisps and sections they missed.
     It looked like she had the mange. 
     Turning to our new team from Vidal Sassoon, they were beyond proud and excited.  
     "Now she won't have to worry about all that hair behind her.  She's better!  It's her restitution."  
     Indeed.
     May your New Year bring exciting 'restitutions' to you and yours.  Hopefully a little less hairy than ours.
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    Growing up in the 70's and 80's, I never imagined something this cool in a million years.  Having a big brother who was totally into Star Wars, by extension, shaped me into a Wookiee loving, X-Wing Fighter little sister.  What I didn't realize, is that our boys were doing the same thing.
    Disney's Hollywood Studios has some of the most incredible Star Wars rides and features this side of Tatooine.  Your mind at times will have difficulty determining what is real verses make believe as you leisurely strike up conversations with random Stormtroopers. 

   It was one thing to experience this through our eyes, but a completely different realization to see it through our children's.  The boys loved every yelp from Chewbacca and every threat from Vader.  Our daughter however...not so much.  She didn't quite know what to do with it all.  
     Disney made everything so lifelike, so real, even the rides forced your brain to have to remind yourself you weren't really flying or going under attack from the Dark Side.  As fantastic as it was for us, we started to notice around the time we came face to face with Darth Vader, her six year old little self wasn't as thrilled.

    We hadn't planned on this earlier in the day when we signed the kids up to do the Jedi Knight training.  Not seeing the activity beforehand, we were surprised when after the kids learned some lightsaber moves, "the" music started, smoke billowed and through an opening door, approached Darth himself, ready to fight.  
    One kid literally took off screaming from the stage while half the others stood in awe.  The boys were excited as hope filled their eyes for the chance at Darth Vader.  Once they realized their little sister was about to bolt though, they turned to her, encouraging her to fight.
     When her time arrived, they stood behind her and watched as she took one strike, then another at the Dark Side.  She became more confident with each blow until he retreated, allowing her to take her place.  
     The boys were happy and I swear I saw a little tear well in my husband's eye. 

    There's nothing quite like sharing the love of something through generations and watching it grow in their hearts as well.  Disney has done an incredible job of bringing this world to life and generating a Force, even stronger than a galaxy far, far away. 
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   You can't imagine how long I've waited to write this blog post.  Years ago, we muddled down the center of Disney's Magic Kingdom trying to corral our two little boys, while I carried our third son in my arms.  
   Sparkles of shimmering hair and dresses danced about as mothers gracefully twirled their little girls around the crowd.
   "What is this?  Is there a pageant or something?"  I wondered aloud to my husband.  
    Being so far removed from the concept of a daughter, I had never known of a place called, "Bibbidi, Bobbidi Boutique.   
    Asking one mother, she explained it as "The most fun her daughter had ever had."
    humph.  Having three boys, I conceded I would never know that experience.  
    That was, until now.
    Six years have passed and we took our boys and little girl to Disney World and Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida.  There's so much I'm itching to write about, from Star Wars to Harry Potter.  The first of these however, is the last I ever thought possible.
     Approaching Cinderella's castle, Lauren Elizabeth's little hand took mine.  Her heart pounded with excitement and a bit of nervousness at the grandness of it all.
     We waited until a "Fairy Godmother in Training" named, Nicole called her back.  Nicole explained how she still needed to train for one thousand years before she could become an official Fairy Godmother, but as wonderful and endearing as she was, she'll have no trouble at all.    

    Nicole and her friend, Whitney began to primp and preen Lauren Elizabeth, transforming her into a little princess Belle, with sparkles from head to toe.   

   It was amazing how well they worked with her, with constant stories and jokes.  Our little girl was mesmerized at the fun and wonder of it all.  They were even good about including Lauren's big brothers, making it more of an experience than a simple appointment.  It far outweighed any hope or expectation we'd ever thought possible.   

    When they say Disney is where dreams come true, they weren't kidding.  Lauren Elizabeth kept her hair in her sparkly bun for the car ride home to North Carolina and talked of nothing other than Nicole and Whitney.  She couldn't believe she met Fairy Godmothers and we couldn't get over how magical the experience was.  
    Thank you Nicole and Whitney.  You'll never know how much you meant to us or how you truly made dreams and wishes come true.
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   There's something about your first roller coaster ride.  The thrill, the excitement, the fear.  
    We went to Virginia, but didn't expect the trip to include the first big roller coaster for two of our boys.  
    It all began with a beautiful trip to Williamsburg.

    New this year, was an ice skating rink on the main street.  As Christmas music played in the cool air, the kids tried to see who could stay up the longest without having a fall. 

     We loved Williamsburg.  When it was time though, we made our way to Busch Gardens.  It's an amusement park that has pretty amazing rides.  Many are closed for the winter, but one roller coaster, the Verbolten, remained open.
     Two of our boys, Christian and Preston, said they'd brave their first ride.  After my husband and I took them though, we wondered if that was a mistake.
     Thinking it would be a regular coaster, we were eager to introduce them to the world of rides.  Little did we know, it was more than that. 
     Here we are, completely clueless as to what's about to happen...

    The coaster had an outdoor and indoor section.  Not just any old indoor tunnel type of thing, but like a haunted house, can't see your hand in front of your face it's so dark, in the depths of hell type of experience.  Any good parent would happily use this as the first exposure for their child to discuss during future therapy sessions.
     The roller coaster stopped in the middle of the pitch black tunnel and literally dropped, like DROPPED out from under us, totally freaking us out like we were falling from a broken track.  
    I found this video of the ride on YouTube from someone else who rode it... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0zN_Hjbmqc
    After the fact, (again, we're awesome parents) we actually looked the coaster up and saw what Busch Gardens had to say about the ride.  This would've been good to know before we took our children.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kb4m03FrAko
    All in all, the boys seemed to enjoy it, much to our surprise.  I couldn't help but remember the first roller coaster I rode with my dad and how safe I felt with him.
    I don't know if that was possible with this one, but at least I'm sure it was a memory they'll never forget.  I know I never will.  ugh.

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    While grappling my way through the grocery store with four children wrestling down each aisle, I was stopped short when our ten and twelve year old boys ran ahead and stood in front of this...

    Pushing the cart with a new fervor, I swallowed hard while catching up to them.
    "MOM!  This is the STUFF!  This is what we've been looking for!"
    Gently moving along, I attempted to be nonchalant, "Okay guys, that's great.  We need to get going before the ice cream melts." 
    (No such luck.)
    "But Mooooooom!  EVERYONE wears this!  We really want it."
    I thought for a second about the whole, "If everyone jumped off a bridge" approach, but decided against it. 
    As much as I'd rather stab myself in the eye than have them grow up to be (gasp) teens, I realize it's inevitable.  It pains me to say it, but for some reason it hurt the depths of my soul just as much to see the boys standing in front of the array of asphyxiation, as it would to see our daughter in front of an aisle of feminine products.  I can't even go there.
     So, for now, the boys have the body wash, shampoo and gag me spray which they're excited to ritually apply like it's a right of passage. 
     We're still working on the whole, "less is more" concept for now, and I pray one day they'll get it for the sake of all that is holy...and the ozone. 
     I'm really, really not ready for this.
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    The fabulous author, Karen Kingsbury has teamed with the Hallmark Channel with her beautiful story of "The Bridge".
    When Charlie and Donna Barton (Ted McGinley and Faith Ford) endure love and loss, they turn to each other, creating a haven for themselves and others, by way of a bookstore called, "The Bridge".
    College student, Molly Callens (Katie Findlay) who comes from incredible wealth and Ryan Kelly (Wyatt Nash) a hopeful musician, find one another and learn to make "The Bridge" a place to discover new feelings of emotions and growth as well. 
     The cast does an outstanding job of connecting you to this story. McGinley and Ford couldn't be more perfect together (love them) and Findlay and Nash are fantastic.
     Be sure to watch this Sunday, December 6, 8 p.m. ET/PT on the Hallmark Channel for the original movie debut of Karen Kingsbury's, "The Bridge".
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    I hope someone can help me.  Help me understand how one doll can cost so much?  
    The irony is, after having three boys in a row, I would've given anything to be able to buy just one baby doll.  Now that our first grade little girl is begging for one though, I'm in shock. 
    How and why are American Girl dolls so expensive?  What am I missing?  Not only that, but our daughter has this whole world of American Girl dolls she's dreaming of for Christmas.  Clothes, matching outfits, accessories...she knows the exact doll she's in love with and has talked of nothing else for weeks. 
    I was grumbling about it at work today, when my friend, Kelly mentioned today there's a 20% off code for Cyber Monday.  (It's GIFT20 if you're thinking about one, too.)
    For now, I'll sit at my computer and ponder.  Is this a childhood wish that will be cherished forever, or will this be a phase that's not even worth getting into.
    Any advice or experience would be greatly appreciated, as I stare at this doll while she smiles and waves at me, tauntingly. 

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   When Adam and I got married, I couldn't boil water.  I mean, I literally had to call my mom and ask how to make spaghetti.  
    Dorm food led to apartment food, (bowls of cereal and canned corn) when I was suddenly smacked with the realization when I became a wife, I should probably learn how to cook for two.  Like, actual food, sans Lucky Charms.
    You can imagine my surprise then, when I discovered how much I genuinely enjoyed to cook.  The Food Network became my new best friend and I began to look forward to trying the next recipe. 
    When the time came for the chance to make our first Thanksgiving meal, I couldn't wait.  What I didn't realize however, was that making dinner is one thing...making Thanksgiving dinner...that's a whole different story.
    Who knew how long a frozen turkey had to take to thaw in the fridge?  Not this girl.  And what's with the junk inside?  Why do they put the guts and neck IN the turkey, making you reach up to your elbow, into the frozen tundra of death? 
    You know what makes the whole house smell like the holidays?  The best pumpkin pie this side of Martha Stewart.  You know what Martha forgot to mention?  How the last thing you do is keep working on the side dishes when the timer goes off.  Having your husband take the pie out only leads to him burning his arm, causing him to flip the entire pie upside down, covering the inside of the oven.  Yes, there's no smell quite like the aroma of scorching pumpkin pie throughout your house.  Even better, the smoke alarms act as Christmas music while you scoop out pumpkin lava and scrub the scalding hot oven.  
    And then there's the ham.  Ahhhhh, the ham.  I get that they're usually pre cooked and all, but feeding a house full, the last thing I'd want is for anyone to get food poisoning.  Better safe than sorry, so it's probably a good idea to put the ham in for just about as long as the turkey.  That way, not only do you have the honey glazed deliciousness of Thanksgiving, you also have enough meat left over to provide shoes for your family into the next year. 
     Needless to say, years past of the worst Thanksgivings, have provided experience and knowledge for the best.  
     They've taught me how to thaw a turkey, keep pies unflipped and glaze a ham to perfection. 
      More importantly, they've shown me to take time to share with those you love, no matter how good or bad the food is.  
      So even if your corn casserole of life tastes raw and burnt at the same time, cherish each bite.  One glorious, smoke alarm filled Thanksgiving at a time. 
      We hope you and yours had a Happy Thanksgiving!

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