tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89610214686295876962024-03-13T03:40:48.877-07:00Confession MamaJo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.comBlogger519125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-74983407587590080422012-05-14T13:21:00.001-07:002012-05-14T13:21:25.529-07:00Family Photos with Balloons Take 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-27046928442905236482012-05-12T13:45:00.000-07:002012-05-12T13:45:12.325-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Confession: I want to be glamorous.<br />
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My church has this amazing photography ministry and I love to see all the photographer's pictures on Facebook where they take a model out to these beautiful remote spots, style her, and then take beautiful pictures and post them on Facebook. Every time I see those pictures, I secretly yearn to be one of those models. So, when I saw the above picture, I decided to ask Djae (the talented photographer) if he would take pictures of my family at this place with balloons. My idea was brilliant. I could just picture it: Me, in a flowy earthy type dress, with flawless make-up and perfect hair (like the models of course), with my beautiful family all giggly with joy playing with the balloons in an open field at sunset. Perfection...<br />
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I don't know why I still fool myself. I should know by now that I cannot be beautiful and glamorous while caring for 3 children ages 5 and under in the "wilderness." Our family photo shoots are the furthest thing from glamorous.<br />
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There I was in my newly purchased earthy flowy dress hiking up a hill with a runny- nosed cranky 1 year- old on my hip and two pre-schoolers close behind whining about the bugs flying in their faces and the weeds scratching their legs. By the time we reached our destination my perfectly done hair was sticking to my sweaty forehead and my make-up was being washed off by the sweat beads dripping down my face. I am sure the models have their make-up person waiting in the wings to touch up in such occasions...not me. Instead, I had two pre-schoolers announcing that they had to go pee reeeeeally bad. Nice! So, I did what any good mom would do, I sent my husband down the hill to the car to get the wipees, ordered Noah to find the nearest tree, left the baby with the unsuspecting photographer, and ran to a faraway bush with Maia. By the time all kids' bladders were empty, poor Malakai was crying and the poor photographer was probably making a mental note to tell future clients that under no circumstances may he be used as a babysitter.<br />
We proceeded to try to get some decent pictures with a fussy 1 year old who seemed to be terrified of the camera, 2 kids complaining about "pickers" in their socks and on their legs , and 1 very un-glamorous sweaty mommy begging and bribing everyone to comply while trying to ignore all the prickly things that were stuck in my dress. All the while, I pictured myself running through the field like one of those glamorous models throwing my head back and laughing like I was having the time of my life with my perfect hair, make-up, dress, and jewelry.<br />
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Reality: I have missed my window of time to be glamorous. That word is no longer in my vocabulary.Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-62400999742709011442012-04-09T21:13:00.004-07:002012-04-09T22:18:12.363-07:00Resurrection Roll Fail<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OaAltHe0SZk/T4O3CpyS9qI/AAAAAAAABx8/NfygSZtwPx0/s1600/Resurrection%2BRolls%2B.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>In one fell swoop, I have thoroughly screwed up my kids' Christian theology with my failed attempt to creatively illustrate the "empty tomb." Shoot! <div><br /></div><div>I should have known better than to try to do something "crafty." I have no "craft" skills whatsoever, but I thought there was no way I could mess up on this simple project. I talked myself into doing it because it would be a great way to talk about Easter and its true meaning with my kids and I thought it would be a great tradition to start doing with them. So, I went for it. </div><div><br /></div><div>The blogs I read which described these "resurrection rolls" made it look so easy. You just roll a marshmallow in butter cinnamon and sugar and wrap it tightly in a crescent roll, bake for 15 minutes, and "VOILA" you bite into an empty tomb because the marshmallow (the body of Jesus) has melted away (risen from the dead). So, we followed all the instructions as I talked to the kids about Jesus being put in the tomb after he was nailed to the cross. The only hitch in this portion of the project was keeping my kids from eating Jesus' body (the marshmallows). After all the tombs were filled, I put them in the oven and hyped the kids up with excitement over "Jesus' body" disappearing because He "rose from the dead!" I could barely keep myself from peeking into the oven! When the timer beeped, we all rushed to the oven and pull out our empty tombs. To my dismay, this is what we found...</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OaAltHe0SZk/T4O3CpyS9qI/AAAAAAAABx8/NfygSZtwPx0/s320/Resurrection%2BRolls%2B.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729624407149835938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div>The body oozing all over the tombs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Noah: (Totally bummed) "Awww man, Jesus didn't rose! He's still in there." </div><div>Me and Ricky: (Stifled laughter...more stifled laughter...still more laughter)</div><div>Me: "It's ok buddy, just go have a seat and I'll fix them." </div><div><br /></div><div>I proceeded to "fix" the tombs by scraping the oozing body off of them and then serving them to the kids. When Noah bit into his, he discovered that the tomb was in fact empty. However, Maia was a different story. She informed me that she had bitten into a piece of Jesus' body. I asked her to show me where it was and upon further inspection, I am happy to report that it was just a dense part of the tomb. Phew! </div><div><br /></div><div>Needless to say this illustration contained many flaws...some may even say blasphemy probably due to my ineptness in the craft department. All this to warn you moms out there who are creatively challenged to proceed with caution when doing a creative illustration with core beliefs. You could be doing a lot a clean up.</div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-53540456481820003892012-03-16T13:20:00.002-07:002012-03-16T13:36:38.372-07:00Before and AfterPeople say that when you have kids, you discover a whole new level of love. I completely agree. But, there is something else that is quite disturbing that having kids has revealed to me. <div><br /></div><div>You see, before I had kids, I thought I could almost walk on water. I mean I was a sweet, kind, honest, good person. However, my view of myself has completely changed since having kids. I have discovered that who I really am is a thief and a liar who needs anger management classes and intense psychotherapy. </div><div><br /></div><div>The other day after breaking up the 50th fight in the first hour of the day, repeating myself countless times, changing the 2nd nasty poop explosion, and being yelled at for an hour straight by my 11 month old for not bringing him food fast enough, I lost my temper and and threw a tantrum and told everyone to just stop and leave me alone. Then, I lied and told them that if they didn't stop fighting, the police would come and get them. Later, I stole a piece of candy from one of their goody bags (because I deserved it, of course) and when they asked if they could have some, I lied again and said there was no more. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, there it is...my kids have revealed that underneath that honest and calm facade was an angry thief and liar waiting to reveal herself...anyone know of a good therapist?... preferably one without kids...</div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-49773216982559967822012-03-10T13:12:00.003-08:002012-03-10T13:31:09.608-08:00What the Kids are Wearing<div>I've mentioned it before here on this blog, but since the topic of this blog has to do with this particular subject, I am going to say it again. I lack fashion sense. Yup. I don't actually own any accessories (besides my kids) because I don't really know how to pair them correctly with an outfit. As for clothes, you can always count on me to wear plain basic items that are quite safe and can be worn with comfortable under garments...ahem...that is no strapless or spaghetti straps. Thus, my wardrobe is boring and underwhelming. So, when I attended a wedding a couple of weeks ago, my good friend Kathy and I decided to scope out what "the kids are wearing these days" in order to try and spruce up our mom wardrobes. By kids we meant the kidless 20 somethings who are so stinking fashionable and cute. There we were, the two moms (me in a 4 year old very outdated dress, flashing unshaven legs, and zero accessories) scoping out all the "kids" and trying to decide if we could pull off the hip Spring looks that they were sporting. I took good mental notes and tried to figure out how to fit a shopping trip into my budget...no luck.</div><div> But...this past Thursday, I realized that I will be on stage singing this Sunday in front of thousands of people. I cannot look like a drab fashion-less woman in basic cotton mom clothes! This is my chance to go shopping and put all my mental notes to the test plus I stumbled upon a $50 gift card in my purse which was begging me to spend it. So, I did. I went to a store that I am sure all "the kids" shop at and ventured to buy an outfit complete with feather earrings and bangle bracelets (because that was in my notes). I am now praying that I do not look like a complete mismatched mess on Sunday. Hopefully, "the kids" like it! </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-29489688659240562882012-02-26T14:48:00.003-08:002012-02-26T15:14:43.535-08:00My Purse: A Symbol of Me?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IE0SR_cFPuQ/T0q27GYbNGI/AAAAAAAABwk/F0LBijW6jSY/s1600/407270_2996786351284_1010993978_32842143_1472479382_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IE0SR_cFPuQ/T0q27GYbNGI/AAAAAAAABwk/F0LBijW6jSY/s320/407270_2996786351284_1010993978_32842143_1472479382_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5713580203714491490" /></a>This is my purse. This is what it looks like all the time. The good thing is that I have everything you could ever need in that thing. The problem is that it may take me years to find it. I don't think it symbolizes who I am as a person...you know, put together on the outside and a complete mess on the inside. I think it is more of a result of being a mom to 3 kids who hand me things all day long. Since, I need my hands free at all times, to carry a kid or collect another kid item, I naturally throw whatever they give me into my purse and before you know it, I am getting a call from the show Hoarders telling me my husband called them about my purse. I really don't see any way around this problem though. I mean, between the stuff I need in my purse for me and all of the kid's snacks, and their trash, and sippy cups, and treasures, and socks, and toys etc., it is impossible to have a clean purse. Can I get an "Amen?!"...No? Okay then, let's play a game. See if you can locate the following items! <div><br /></div><div><div>Medical receipts that should have been mailed in weeks ago</div><div>A check book that has no more checks in it</div><div>2 of Maia's hair bows in case we ever need to spruce up her look</div><div>A baby spork </div><div>2 pens</div><div>A Sharpie</div><div>Paper clip</div><div>Lots of pennies</div><div>A variety of healthy snacks: plantain chips, cashews, gluten free kid cereal</div><div>2 viles of lip gloss</div><div>A piece of a candy cane </div><div>Maia's sunglasses </div><div>Broken pieces of spearmint gum</div><div>Empty gum wrappers and package</div><div>An iPad Stylus</div><div>And Purell to clean my hands with after searching around in my purse for anything. </div></div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-41713077399761310002012-02-25T22:02:00.001-08:002012-02-25T22:02:07.581-08:00The Parenting Strategy of the SeasonI have learned after 4 years of parenting that I will never get the hang of this parenting thing. Right when I think I've got a handle on things, my kids begin a new phase or take on a new personality. Now, instead of getting disappointed and surprised by the curve balls they throw me, I am always on my toes, reading parenting books, and changing up my strategies. I'm always ready to reach in my back pocket and pull out a whole new play book. The season I currently find myself in consists of weekly doctor visits, 2 preschoolers who feel the need to fight constantly, and a baby who is always moving. The strategy of this season is "Diversion and Task Assignment." <br /><br />Exhibit A:<br />At our weekly trip to Kaiser, I am on my own with my three tornadoes, waiting for the second time in the World's slowest moving line to pick up Malakai's prescription. The pharmacy is packed with people, my purse has been emptied of its snacks, my voice is nearly gone from all the reprimanding, I am sweating from trying to hold my extremely squirmy baby, and my full-of-energy preschoolers are being extra loud and are on the verge of breaking into a full blown fist fight. I am all out of bribe material and am doing a great job of avoiding eye contact with all the patrons for fear of the murderous looks I might catch. Here is where my "Diversion and Task Assignment" strategy comes in handy. I call the two older children over and miraculously they obey. I have them stand on either side of me so that they will not touch each other and I assign them 10 jumping jacks each. They begin to jump while I count. As they jump, they giggle hysterically and forget about the fight they were about to start. Malakai stays still for the first time in the whole day as he is thoroughly entertained by their uncoordinated jumping jacks. We are quite the spectacle but I have successfully avoided fist fights and melt downs and we have made it to the front of the line without the entire pharmacy being demolished by my tornadoes. The strategy of the season has worked. <br /><br />Now it's back to the drawing board for a new play book! <br /><br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-23027343554046943012012-02-08T10:04:00.000-08:002012-02-08T11:10:24.451-08:00We are Super HerosSee, I am not one of those feminist, women empowerment, alpha female type girls. I actually get a little annoyed with those "women-rule-the-world" songs on the radio. And, if you've ever read my blog, you know that I am very self-deprecating and that I know that I am far from perfect. But, I'd like to take a step away from the norm and use this post to give props to all the working moms of multiple children who take their multiple roles in life very seriously and strive to do the best that they can in every one of those roles. <div><br /></div><div>When I sit and reflect on all the hats I wear, I get overwhelmed (which is why I don't do this often). I compared myself to a super hero and realized that super heros really do not live up to the term "super hero." I mean seriously, they have super human powers with which to defeat a bad guy. Anybody could do that. </div><div>Here is what my version of a super hero looks like: a working mom in a cute super hero costume, holding her cell phone to her ear with her shoulder on a business call, while changing her baby's poopy diaper, using one of her legs to separate her two pre-schoolers from fighting, while flirtatiously smiling at her husband across the room. In the background is a calendar with all the million ministry events, birthday parties, showers, school performances, doctor's appointments etc. all occurring on the same day. Does this picture, give you anxiety? If it does, then you are probably a man. If you are a working mommy, you are probably high-fiving the computer screen, because this is totally you! </div><div><br /></div><div>You realize that at this stage in your life, you are never NOT multi-tasking. At every moment of every day, you are doing multiple things at same time. So, let's raise our mugs of extra-caffeintated coffee and say to each other GOOD JOB SUPER WOMEN! You're holding up the fort and doing a great job! Call on God daily to give you that super human strength to love Him, love your husband, love your children, love His people, and to do your job with excellence. Let's not be so overwhelmed that we miss the precious moments and forget to be present in the "now." </div><div><br /></div><div>To the true super heros out there: YOU ROCK! </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-75298937229676240392012-01-16T14:38:00.000-08:002012-01-16T15:09:08.526-08:00Sometimes You Just Have to LaughThe past two days I have found myself laughing at inappropriate times. Because I am brutally honest, I am just going to come out and say that raising 3 children this close together in age means that I experience daily moments of torture. You know, moments of two kids yelling at the top of their lungs at each other in the backseat of my car while the baby cries out of fear that he may inadvertently get a blow to the face that is actually meant for a pre-schooler? Or, the moments when all I want to do is get the dishwasher loaded, but instead I have to run to the rescue of the baby who has finagled his way onto his knees in the highchair and is about to tip over while a preschooler is yelling from the toilet, "MOOOOOOOM, I'M ALL DONE!," and the other preschooler is simultaneously whining about a toy that he can't find and he is sure that he needs it right this second or the world will end. Those are daily occurrences in my household and I am almost positive that I will NOT miss those moments all though women older than I, swear that I will. <div> Anyways, back to my point. I have discovered a coping mechanism to help me and my children make it out alive during these torturous moments. That mechanism? LAUGH! </div><div><br /></div><div>Example #1: I am used to being totally embarrassed at church by little Miss Maia Belle. But, I don't usually laugh when she embarrasses me. Yesterday, I did...and it actually made me feel better. We were at church after making the rounds of picking up all the whiny hungry kids. We were getting ready to take the kids to the car when Maia pulled Noah's hair because he did not do something how she wanted or when she wanted him to do it (this type of abuse is common for Noah from his sister). But, this time, instead of whining about it and telling on her, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He turned and grabbed 2 healthy handfuls of her hair and yanked as hard as he could. I am sure that the passers-by were appalled by my reaction because, I turned around so that my children could not see my face and I burst out laughing...quietly of course. When I gained composure and went to talk to Noah about how his reaction was not acceptable and to Maia about why it was equally unacceptable for her to hurt her brother, Noah's determined, and unapologetic face amused me so much so that it took every ounce of my being to keep a straight face. Sometimes it feels like 70% of my day is spent breaking up fights and correcting my children and apparently I feel the need to laugh in order to not go crazy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Example #2: After running errands with all three energy-filled children and going out to lunch. Ricky and I were eagerly anticipating getting home and getting the kids to bed. We had broken up countless fights, fed the baby wayyy too many snacks just to keep him quiet, and had used our stern voices so much that our throats hurt. So, once we got the kids in their seats and headed home. We were hoping for them to wind down and maybe even fall asleep in the car. Instead, our preschoolers decided to get in a yelling match in the backseat while Malakai screamed his little head off because the poor thing has to sit right in the middle of the two crazy kids. Ricky and I looked at each other as if to say, "<i>It's your turn to yell at them." </i>As soon as our eyes met, we began to laugh uncontrollably. We laughed and laughed and laughed until I thought my bladder would explode. The best part of the whole episode was that our kids all quieted down because they could not figure out what was so funny. </div><div><br /></div><div>The moral of the story is...when you feel as though your kids might drive you to jump off a cliff, LAUGH! </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-88209386787385250452012-01-07T15:50:00.000-08:002012-01-08T06:44:57.570-08:00Malakai 9 months<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K8Rtlu8iswA/Twjc6u3BLLI/AAAAAAAABwQ/eQ9tql6hYAM/s1600/IMG_5916.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K8Rtlu8iswA/Twjc6u3BLLI/AAAAAAAABwQ/eQ9tql6hYAM/s320/IMG_5916.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695044630379310258" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZKc-XSbJrmA/TwjasrWMHyI/AAAAAAAABwE/MkCOM8CSZl0/s1600/IMG_5911.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZKc-XSbJrmA/TwjasrWMHyI/AAAAAAAABwE/MkCOM8CSZl0/s320/IMG_5911.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695042189894885154" /></a>This little guy is so much fun! He is 9 months old and has such a fun personality. We think that he is going to be our most adventurous child. He is such a fast army crawler and whenever we turn our heads for just a second, he ends up under a table, behind a chair or in between furniture. <div>He has had consistent ear infections for about 5 months now and we are in the process of taking him to a specialist to see about taking the next step. He has been on every kind of antibiotic on the market! </div><div>He is so happy in spite of the pain in his ears. He says bye bye and waves, he loves to point to the sky and say "bah" for birds. He claps his hands and gives kisses. He prefers table food to baby food and will rarely even open his mouth for baby food! He enjoys his big sister very much as she takes care of him a lot. Almost every morning I find her in his crib with him because "he was crying." </div><div>My little Malakai Kade loves his mommy so much and prefers to be held by only her. I love my little guy and am trying to soak up every second with him because this baby stage is gone in the blink of an eye. </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-27233642019909248662012-01-07T15:43:00.001-08:002012-01-07T15:49:04.920-08:00You Know You're a Bad Driver When...Maia: Mommy, are you supposed to park <i>on </i>the lines or <i>in between</i> the lines? <div><br /><div>Me: In between the lines.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maia: How come you always park crooked <i>on</i> the lines? That's not how you are supposed to do it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Yeah, Mommy is just not a very good driver.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Maia: But, daddy always parks <i>in between </i>the lines. How come you don't?</div><div><br /></div><div>Me:...</div><div><br /></div><div>I'd just like to say now, that I was not in the driver's seat today when we acquired the big dent in the front of our truck. A certain someone who "always parks <i>in between </i>the lines" turned into the garage wall instead of into the garage! HA! </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-61921864429365002992011-12-31T16:03:00.000-08:002012-01-01T21:54:12.896-08:002011<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MHKJOlwvop0/Tv-j8YBtzsI/AAAAAAAABv4/Dowr6rjzsy4/s1600/IMG_2453.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MHKJOlwvop0/Tv-j8YBtzsI/AAAAAAAABv4/Dowr6rjzsy4/s320/IMG_2453.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692448711656722114" /></a><br />2011 was a good year. It was a year full of challenges and wonderful blessings all at the same time. It was also year of growth.<div><br /></div><div>I continued with my Good Morning Girls email group which has kept me accountable to spending time daily with the Lord and has sharpened me continuously as iron sharpens iron. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Early in the year, my honey surprised me with the best birthday present ever: three of my dearest friends taking me out to dinner!</div><div><br /></div><div>Then in April, our newest addition Malakai Kade made his entrance into the world. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is where my first big challenge came in the form of intense post-partum depression. God was faithful as He always is and rescued me by way of 2 Samuel 22. </div><div><br /></div><div>We've formed new friendships this year for which I am ever so grateful. One of the families were gracious enough to invite us with them on vacation this Summer! </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, our close friends blessed us with a trip to Hawaii where Ricky and I got to spend some much needed quality time together. </div><div><br /></div><div>God called us out to stop only serving ourselves and to be Kingdom-minded and start serving Him! We began to lead a table at our marriage ministry at church and have been beyond blessed by this opportunity to serve Jesus. </div><div><br /></div><div>We have also been convicted in the area of serving "the least of these," which we had not been doing prior to this year. We were blessed to serve as a family in Adopt-a-Block and in our food pantry ministry and have committed to being more servant oriented in the new year. </div><div><br /></div><div>We have had our share of challenges in the parenting department as you may have read about in my blogs. Navigating through those has been quite humbling and educational! I've had my share of ugly mommy moments where all I wanted to do was sell my children to the highest bidder, and eat a hot meal for once, and only worry about getting myself ready in the morning, and sleep in, and go the bathroom in peace! It amazes me how God loves me through those ugly moments. </div><div><br /></div><div>This year has found me stepping out of my comfort zone in many ways in my job and in using my talents. I have learned that I am called to obedience and that I can do all things through Christ alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>2012 is going to be exciting, I just know it! It holds some unknowns for my family as far as our living situation goes and I am having to just trust in the Lord. It's a year that also holds potential for big things! </div><div><br /></div><div>I am making it my goal this year to love like Jesus and to just practice obedience and rid myself of selfishness. It sounds impossible,but it is worth striving for. </div><div><br /></div><div>My verse for this year is Hebrews 10:24 <i>Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-56841081559461845482011-11-27T21:53:00.001-08:002011-11-27T21:53:53.277-08:00My High Horse has Gone MissingBefore I had kids, I knew that my kids would be little angels. I knew this because I knew exactly how I'd parent them. My children would never throw tantrums in public or disrespect me. They would always be polite, kind, and obedient because I would be the perfect mom. <br />Never in my worst of nightmares did I see myself being at a big church event with my daughter throwing an Exorcist-worthy-tantrum. Surely, I would die before I'd be THAT mom walking her child through the crowds of people while her child writhes and screams and attempts to bite her mother. I would NEVER allow my child to scream until she was blue in the face and nearly passes out in a public place. Not me! I would be the mom with the kids who walked in a cloud of light because they came straight from Heaven...HA HA HA! <br />I can't even write that while keeping a straight face. It's humorous now to think that I thought that way back then. To think that I supposed I could maintain any shred of dignity is laughable.<br /> Why? Because when you're Maia Belle's mommy, humiliation is the name of the game. There is no room for pride when your child throws the king of all temper tantrums at a big church event (my place of employment). There is no place for dignity when you walk through crowds of people you know while your writhing screaming child is attempting to bite you only after your table of friends watched your daughter scream until she was blue in the face. <br />My lofty hopes of maintaining my pride and dignity while being a mom are long gone. They have been replaced with a heaping serving of humility by means of humiliation. It's obvious that I needed to come off my high horse, but little did I know that I also needed to be stomped six feet under ground as well. I would venture to say that I will never have a problem with pride or narcissism, my daughter will make sure of it! <br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-59676355343024554832011-11-21T12:25:00.000-08:002011-11-21T12:47:36.520-08:00Third-Child-Hazards<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hi! I'm Malakai Kade Murray...why are you laughing? See, this is why I am writing this blog. I want everyone to know why being a third child is hazardous to your health. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Exhibit A. Every time I have this pacifier in my mouth, people laugh at me, and I just can't figure out why. I think my parents want me to have a complex. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-04edmq6lAdI/Tsqz80bVi3I/AAAAAAAABuU/lyRUlOfJAMc/s320/IMG_5350.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677548137700756338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div>Exhibit B. Instead of coming to rescue me from eating a leaf which could potentially give me a stomach ache or make me choke, my parents take a picture of me, eating said leaf. </div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_fDmuoSF2RA/Tsq1EpYfZHI/AAAAAAAABvc/NeiXQDwJsOc/s1600/IMG_5352.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_fDmuoSF2RA/Tsq1EpYfZHI/AAAAAAAABvc/NeiXQDwJsOc/s320/IMG_5352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677549371686610034" /></a>Exhibit C. I've got some older siblings who are just slightly older than me and can't really handle my weight, but my crazy parents will do anything for a picture of them and I together so they ask my siblings to hold me which means my insides get smooshed, my shirt gets shoved up into my face, I can't see because the sun is in my eyes (my mom says that is the best lighting) and my belly is showing for everyone to see. Seriously, mom? So embarrassing. <br /><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CxvU1-Pg8qE/Tsq0fzLjymI/AAAAAAAABu4/Szn9oMwfE8E/s1600/IMG_5321.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CxvU1-Pg8qE/Tsq0fzLjymI/AAAAAAAABu4/Szn9oMwfE8E/s320/IMG_5321.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677548738661567074" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-74zWiYiGMLA/Tsq0pD8HGAI/AAAAAAAABvE/HXt-5NUWIf0/s320/IMG_5322.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677548897778997250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IeTnIdC_v24/Tsq0RB0ZSJI/AAAAAAAABus/FjFAIxUpRcE/s1600/IMG_5317.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IeTnIdC_v24/Tsq0RB0ZSJI/AAAAAAAABus/FjFAIxUpRcE/s320/IMG_5317.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677548484892903570" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-avdiv3O20VI/Tsq0HIGRzJI/AAAAAAAABug/aaeC5RIVOXY/s1600/IMG_5318.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-avdiv3O20VI/Tsq0HIGRzJI/AAAAAAAABug/aaeC5RIVOXY/s320/IMG_5318.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677548314779831442" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">(Mom finally comes to my rescue after I start crying and I nearly get dropped too early by my sister).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b2168wEwD0k/Tsq00LuplMI/AAAAAAAABvQ/5rzMeSDDqrs/s320/IMG_5319.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677549088848581826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Exhibit D. These are the crazy people who raise me! Don't they just look like they could be hazardous to my health?! It's amazing that I am still alive to write this post after all the third-child-hazards I've survived! </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-euTMdRJ-ODw/Tsq1-ZSALpI/AAAAAAAABvo/Tg4lW0dkDd8/s320/IMG_5313.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677550363796844178" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-68074670525826350372011-11-16T14:49:00.000-08:002011-11-21T12:25:19.106-08:00Maia's Vocabulary<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gmQ9pakPk5w/TsqzpFcgqjI/AAAAAAAABuI/ZV0OnzGLRX8/s1600/IMG_5306.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gmQ9pakPk5w/TsqzpFcgqjI/AAAAAAAABuI/ZV0OnzGLRX8/s320/IMG_5306.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677547798671698482" /></a><br />My precocious 3 year old has quite the vocabulary. She is so advanced, in fact that she teaches me new words on a regular basis. Here are some of the words she has added to my vocabulary...<br /><br />"Chicketating"-" When you feed the chickens."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This came on the tails of a conversation explaining the differences between the words INTERESTING and IRRITATING. She had combined them into one word "interrating." After defining these two words for her, she matter-of-factly informed me that there was also the word "Chicketating."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"</span></span>Turnupenlater"<span style="font-style: italic;">- </span>"The red and white things that close when a train comes and stay up when the train is gone." <div><br /></div><div><i>Maia has since changed this to "Turnenlater." Apparently, she has the freedom to change the words as she sees fit. This is used on a regular basis as we drive over train tracks quite often. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>"Fluffy"- "When someone is changing your diaper and you get all crazy and turn around and be naughty, that's called when you're being 'fluffy.'"</div><div><br /></div><div><i>She was observing me struggling to change Malakai's diaper when she was inspired with this word. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"</i>Crack-a-doo-dah"- as in "You're being a crazy crack-a-doo-dah"</div><div><br /></div><div><i>There is no rhyme or reason for this one. It just is what it is because that is what Maia says! </i><br /><br /><br /></div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-86040382645317687192011-11-12T20:32:00.000-08:002011-11-12T21:03:04.476-08:00The Kid TableThis weekend is pure chaos. Ricky was in a wedding on Friday evening which means we attended the rehearsal and dinner on Thursday evening, then Sunday my brother is getting married, which means we attended the rehearsal and rehearsal lunch today. The kicker is that we've had all three kids with us at every single event and they are all sick...and so is Ricky. It's been quite adventurous, but the most humorous moment for me so far was Thursday night's rehearsal dinner...<div><br /></div><div>My kids are all coughing violently throughout the rehearsal in spite of my attempts to drug them with cough syrup (which I am not supposed to administer to my young children...but I was desperate...don't judge me). I was getting interesting looks as people came to coo at Malakai and noticed his nose covered in snot. And, I was so overwhelmed in the process of getting everyone ready and out the door on time after a full day of work that I forgot to bring snacks and so my children were complaining about how hungry they were. I searched through my purse for some old piece of fruit that may have still been semi-fresh. Instead of finding food, I littered the floor of the church with grocery store receipts that some how never make it out of my purse. After, cleaning up that mess, we found a spot in the foyer with toys! Hallelujah! </div><div><br /></div><div>We spent the entire ride to the rehearsal dinner location, listening to whining and trying to bribe our tired and sick children to not embarrass us at the dinner. At this point, you may be asking what would possess us to take our three children to this event. Well, you see, the bride and groom informed us that "everyone" would be bringing their kids and so we should bring ours. It turns out "everyone" was one other couple with a very quiet newborn. When we walked into the room, I prayed that they would have arranged it so that we could have our very own table, but to my horror, I realized we were placed with an unsuspecting, lovely, pre-children couple plus the "special" uncle. I apologized for them being placed at the kids table as soon as we bombarded the table with all of our children, and our luggage. Then, as if choreographed all three of my children begin to cough up their lungs simultaneously. I quickly covered their mouths with my hands and then without thinking introduced myself to the table guests offering my germy hand. Bad move. </div><div>Anyways the night continued to be comedic as the "special" uncle scared my kids, my kids insisted on using their sleeves as snot rags, and the coughing became background music...not to mention, I went up and gave a "speech" during the open mic session with a sleeping baby in my arms and my kids running wild in the adjacent conference room. I really did have meaningful things to say, but my speech sounded nothing like what it sounded like in my head. Maybe it was because I caught a glimpse of myself in the window as I was walking up and noticed that I had sweat glistening on my forehead, my hair was all messed up and hanging in my face, and I had a sleeping child in my arms who had drooled all over my shirt. This sorry reflection of myself must've thrown me off a bit! </div><div>All of this to say, that I felt terrible for those poor people who got stuck at our table and had to be coughed on all night by my children. I really hope that they have strong immune systems. </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-64786464152933332602011-10-04T20:43:00.001-07:002011-10-04T20:43:24.473-07:00Dinner TimeThere's nothing like working all day, then coming home and slaving in the kitchen to make sure my family has a healthy home cooked meal only to sit down at the table to my son saying, "Awww man, I don't like _____(insert whatever I have cooked)!" It used to make my blood boil, but now my blood just simmers...I am making progress. The rule in our house is that it does not matter whether or not you like it, you must eat it...ALL of it. Although, I always win, my son puts up a good fight EVERY night. It's exhausting and to be honest it usually ends up with me at my wits end, frustrated, and threatening to throw toys away and never allow him to eat sugar ever again in his life, and telling him about the starving kids in Africa etc....it's ridiculous!<br />Tonight, I decided to try a new strategy. I asked him to eat a few times and let him know that he would not get up off the table until he finished. This time I added no additional threats and prayed through my frustration so that I would stay calm and not let him get to me. Of course by the time everyone else had finished, he had taken ONE bite and he was still chewing it...gross! We all got up and finished watching HIS new movie and ate dessert while he sat at the table and whined and threw a fit and told me how much he did not like what I had made and tried to negotiate the amount he needed to eat. I stood my ground and prayed a lot and just reiterated that it was his choice. Then, I cleaned the kitchen and gave the other two kids a bath. After sitting at the table for over an hour and a half, my stubborn son finally realized that his dinner was not poison and that his mommy was more stubborn than him! He ate all his food and my blood pressure was at a normal range! VICTORY is so sweet...especially because it's so rare when you have 3 kids ages 4 and under whose goal in life is to drive their mama crazy!<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-28129137631034885932011-10-02T20:18:00.000-07:002011-10-03T14:35:16.098-07:00Tantrums Are ContagiousDid you know that tantrums are contagious? So, stay away from those tantrum throwing 2 and 3 year olds or you just might find yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, jumping up and down, and throwing yourself on the floor kicking and screaming. You may not believe me, but I'm telling you it's true. If you are around <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">demon-possessed</span> toddlers or pre-schoolers long enough, you will find yourself acting like them. <div>My three-year-old was having a marathon tantrum day and apparently I just could no longer be a parent. My calm yet firm facade was wearing thin, my blood was boiling, and I all of a sudden had no self-control left in my being. It was kind of like an out-of-body experience as I watched myself do exactly what my daughter was doing. Thank God no one was around to watch me scream and cry and throw myself on the floor. But, it really wasn't my fault. Those things are contagious...I swear. Apparently, my dramatics scared my daughter into obedience...but I am positive that Mrs. Duggar has some sort of antibiotic to keep these contagious tantrums at bay...I need to get me some of those...</div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-59091910972872335902011-09-27T20:33:00.000-07:002011-09-27T21:08:13.808-07:00Busy, Busy, Busy<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IKG-68xiieI/ToKdfC8tfNI/AAAAAAAABtk/CiuyQq4zND4/s1600/IMG_4765.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DrAeZcYhRwE/ToKcSD2IOJI/AAAAAAAABtc/cA0Umir_Ukw/s1600/IMG_4866.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DrAeZcYhRwE/ToKcSD2IOJI/AAAAAAAABtc/cA0Umir_Ukw/s320/IMG_4866.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657255916014680210" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7z0DQmZiClU/ToKbPME0FZI/AAAAAAAABtU/5ydie6KO7Qc/s1600/IMG_4915.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7z0DQmZiClU/ToKbPME0FZI/AAAAAAAABtU/5ydie6KO7Qc/s320/IMG_4915.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657254767172523410" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m4uEONbvunU/ToKaz9Qc9MI/AAAAAAAABtM/Qx9iUxKBmcA/s1600/IMG_4844.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m4uEONbvunU/ToKaz9Qc9MI/AAAAAAAABtM/Qx9iUxKBmcA/s320/IMG_4844.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657254299338339522" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKaoMfYpOJ8/ToKakeA88BI/AAAAAAAABtE/jwHfQHJ2WQY/s1600/IMG_4838.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKaoMfYpOJ8/ToKakeA88BI/AAAAAAAABtE/jwHfQHJ2WQY/s320/IMG_4838.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657254033253789714" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DHEs8i2lZcM/ToKaUxhIj7I/AAAAAAAABs8/ZKbR0bnbqLQ/s1600/IMG_4808.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DHEs8i2lZcM/ToKaUxhIj7I/AAAAAAAABs8/ZKbR0bnbqLQ/s320/IMG_4808.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657253763611135922" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x5Ia5uYf8Zs/ToKaLLMZfWI/AAAAAAAABs0/3RTusTR_yPE/s1600/IMG_4805.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x5Ia5uYf8Zs/ToKaLLMZfWI/AAAAAAAABs0/3RTusTR_yPE/s320/IMG_4805.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657253598704794978" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IKG-68xiieI/ToKdfC8tfNI/AAAAAAAABtk/CiuyQq4zND4/s320/IMG_4765.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657257238623780050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h4svONInsUw/ToKZ7ks3p8I/AAAAAAAABss/kOL5rWzeMpA/s1600/IMG_4784.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h4svONInsUw/ToKZ7ks3p8I/AAAAAAAABss/kOL5rWzeMpA/s320/IMG_4784.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657253330673969090" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WY9QexcwtPo/ToKZthLqZVI/AAAAAAAABsk/-wUalLbFQeI/s1600/IMG_4780.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WY9QexcwtPo/ToKZthLqZVI/AAAAAAAABsk/-wUalLbFQeI/s320/IMG_4780.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657253089211213138" /></a><br />I have a second to breathe...sigh...life is so fun and yet so crazy. My babies are growing so quickly and I am trying to soak in the present with them. In these past few weeks we've been to the beach for a quick vacation, to Oak Glen to pick berries and buy apples, and to Disneyland a couple of times. <div>Malakai is now eating baby food which I make. This has turned out to be quite the task which destroys my kitchen and takes hours but it saves me lots of money and so it is worth it. I think I was a little over-zealous in my first attempt. I tried to make enough food for 2 weeks and made about 8 different fruits and vegetables. I have many little cuts and burns on my fingers. I'm almost positive there is a little blood mixed in with the pureed veggies. Oh well. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maia is finally in a big girl bed as of yesterday and no longer sleeps with Elmo. I actually did not force this on her. I wanted her to keep Elmo forever so that I could get sleep! But, she threw him out of her bed and then picked him up, placed him in a brown paper bag and informed us that she would throw him out tomorrow. Then, she fell asleep and slept through the whole night. I cried. But, I am glad to see that her strong will is good for something! Tonight she had a harder time going to sleep and she did ask for Elmo but I just laid down with her for a fe minutes and she fell right to sleep. </div><div><br /></div><div>Noah has been dealing with separation anxiety since Malakai's arrival and it has been progressively getting worse. So, I am trying all kinds of reasoning strategies with him and nothing is working. Tomorrow I am going to try to put him with the non-napping kids at school and see if that helps with the dramatics at drop off time. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have just finished co-writing a book proposal which I know will have a huge affect on the world if it gets picked up. I am praying that the publisher will get behind it. </div><div><br /></div><div>With everything going on, blogging has not been a priority which I hate. This is like a journal for me and when I blog I remember the funny things my kids say and do and I feel like I missed a lot these past several weeks because I've been so busy. I do remember that Maia's version of the Joseph story in the Bible was hilarious though. She said that Joseph's brothers threw him in a hole and Jesus came and picked him up out of the hole. But, the brothers were not mean, they were nice. They threw him in the hole because they knew Jesus would come and get him. Nice! </div></div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-11017015163105892142011-08-24T12:37:00.000-07:002011-08-24T12:57:16.625-07:00The Disaster That Is Working From Home<div style="text-align: left;">Today, I ended up having to work from home while having all 3 of my kids here with me. This is quite a feat. As I sat working diligently in the office and Malakai took his nap in my room, Noah and Maia took it upon themselves to completely destroy the house.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Noah asked if he could play with his army men in the "potato" (I made homemade play-dough the other day, I'm still patting myself on the back for that, because I do nothing crafty). I didn't see this being a problem so I said yes. Maia also said that she would be having a tea party and making cupcakes with the "potato." This is the end result of those two playing with the "potato." </div><div>
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w4GmPzWWmiQ/TlVUoQ3SKnI/AAAAAAAABr8/rebNunkpn5I/s320/IMG_1984.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644510758677129842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div>This picture actually does not do the mess justice, because you can't see that half of the play-dough was on the floor in itty bitty annoying pieces and they had been stepped on and dragged all over the house. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Next my two munchkins came in to show me that they had played dress up...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>In this picture we have Spider man and Mardi Gras Wolverina Tinker Bell </div><div>
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T2pgixHptn0/TlVVVWn2API/AAAAAAAABsE/7CBaVzagnAE/s320/IMG_1981.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644511533317095666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">In this picture we have Spider man and The Ever Over Accessorized Baby Tinker Thor </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x-nbl1iF7Cs/TlVVgfcp8wI/AAAAAAAABsM/_2KHJQGo5QQ/s320/IMG_1982.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644511724664648450" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div><div>After dress up, I was almost done with my work to do list and after lots of commotion with them running back and forth from their room to the living room and listening to them sing Happy Birthday to each other, they asked me to come out and see "my presents" that they got me for my birthday. This is what I came out to. </div><div>
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kb98LrB_a2U/TlVWnqb3mnI/AAAAAAAABsU/yTHEuDIp2Gk/s320/IMG_1983.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644512947384851058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div>Each of those blankets had a pile of toys underneath them that had been taken out of the toy box. The blankets were wrapping paper. I did my best to not act shocked at the tornado that had gone through my living room and opened my presents and then kindly asked them to put all the presents back. Now, I have cleaned up all the messes, fed them lunch, changed and fed the baby and am more than ready for nap time. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Working from home is quite the adventure! </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-29895455962628081462011-08-22T16:02:00.000-07:002011-08-22T16:22:50.828-07:00Cartwheels Are a Bad Idea"Mommy, I can do a somersault but there's a boy in my class who spreads his arms out and does one arm first and then the other arm and flips his legs over. But, I can't do that." Noah was trying to show me his gymnastics skills and was explaining to me that the little boy in his class could do a cartwheel. In that moment I completely forgot that I was...ahem...however old I am and decided that I would impress my 4 year old son by showing him that I could do a cartwheel. Why? Don't ask...I have no idea. <div>Ricky was witnessing this little demonstration. He laughed and had a few cautionary remarks which I completely blew off and instead became more determined to show off my cartwheel skills. Noah, looked at me wide-eyed as I wound up and ordered everyone to move out of the way. I dropped my hand down and thrust my legs over in a spin wheel motion and very ungracefully thumped my feet back onto the floor while simultaneously hearing a loud "POP!" "OUCH!" Noah was impressed and worried at the same time, Ricky was stifling his laughter and shaking his head in an I-told-you-so sort of way. I dropped to the floor in pain.</div><div> I've been dealing with a sharp pain in my leg ever since as well as trying to figure out why I thought I had to show my 4 year old that I could do a cartwheel. I have learned my lesson and will not be doing any more tumbling as I have come to grips with the fact that I am aging! But, I must say that it has come in handy as a good excuse not to have my daily meetings with Jillian Michaels! </div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-63191967087234326072011-08-19T19:46:00.001-07:002011-08-19T19:46:12.088-07:00Whining and Tantrums...From MamaI always ask myself where my kids get their whiny and tantrum throwing natures from. Today, I was humbled because I realize that they get it from me. <br /><br />It's been a long super busy week. One filled with amazing things as well as some really hard things. There have been some sleepless nights and some nights where I've gotten 7 hours of consecutive sleep. It's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster. Fridays are my days with the kids by myself...my day "off." But, all you mommies know that there is no such thing as a "day off" when you are a mommy of little ones. Anyways, I was looking forward to nap time today when I would get a chance to catch up on my thoughts, to sit and breathe, to do my work out, to do my quiet time, and to just enjoy the silence. I will never look forward to or count on nap time that much ever again. It was disastrous. No one slept, instead, we had whining, yelling, fighting, peeing in the bed, crying, and spankings during what was supposed to be my 2 1/2 hours of "me time." The rest of my day was ruined and I found myself whining and throwing tantrums...in an adult sort of way....you know saying things like, "Why can't everyone just cooperate so I can have some me time. I deserve it after the week I've had." There was a lot of eye rolling, heavy sighing, sarcastic remarks going on. I mean seriously, all I wanted to do was have one complete thought without being interrupted by fighting children...and to go to the bathroom in peace. I felt myself spiraling down down down and yet...I could feel my gracious loving Savior whispering Scripture into my ears, "Do everything without grumbling or complaining." Then came my response, "I knoooooow BUT, my daughter is out of control. Can you not hear that all she has done is whine and throw tantrums for an hour straight because she refused to take her nap? I can't control myself...she is making me crazy." His voice came again, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. We are more than conquerors in Christ Jesus. I discipline my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I may not be disqualified." But, but, but...I came up with every excuse in the book, because I wanted to do it my way. I wanted to whine and complain instead of doing things His way. <br />I expect my kids to obey and do what I say without hesitating and without whining and yet when God asks the same of me, I fight Him on it. Yuck! I've been humbled today and encouraged at the same time. In my quiet time this afternoon (Ricky let me go to Starbucks so I could have my "me time") I read John 21 where Jesus reinstates Peter. He loves Peter so much. Even though Peter failed Him miserably. I was encouraged because I know that He loves me that much too. I had to ask for forgiveness. I know that He will give me an opportunity again to prove my love for Him and I pray that I will prove that I love Him so much and will obey even when it is not easy.<br />The other thing I learned is that it is very important for me to teach my kids to obey without hesitating, whining, or talking back because this will prepare them for their walk with Christ. <br />So, today was rough. But, because God works all things out for good for those who love Him, it was not a complete disaster...I had the contents of my heart revealed and I am confessing all my ugliness in hopes that it may serve as encouragement to at least one mommy out there. <br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-74047570177145295452011-08-19T09:36:00.000-07:002011-08-19T10:03:39.761-07:00Some Fun Pics<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ICfE5hpZWY/Tk6XDagVWBI/AAAAAAAABr0/kOO9HwhSfp8/s1600/NOah.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div>My crazy haired kids pushing each other on the swings. They really do love each other but sometimes (okay, A LOT of times), they push each other's buttons and I have to intervene so that everyone makes it out alive. </div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OghV7k9E6-k/Tk6TGxQwnPI/AAAAAAAABrs/KSSnptCxZnw/s1600/IMG_0007.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OghV7k9E6-k/Tk6TGxQwnPI/AAAAAAAABrs/KSSnptCxZnw/s320/IMG_0007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642609127653940466" /></a>I decided to try Malakai in the swing too but I could not find his hat, so I had to use Maia's girl hat. He was not happy about this! <div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G8l87cDV_b0/Tk6RlFj4ljI/AAAAAAAABqc/CLiDnNEbopY/s320/IMG_1906.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642607449475683890" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u0V9TPsE_NA/Tk6Rek0jGQI/AAAAAAAABqU/5HnsYiAimb8/s320/IMG_1905.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642607337607993602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div>
<br /></div><div>They do enjoy being silly and making each other and mommy and daddy laugh. Maia's favorite word is "crack -uh-doo-dah." She made it up and says it all the time and it never fails to make us laugh!
<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RBDeSQf5WcE/Tk6Sqvj1V4I/AAAAAAAABrk/8d9hUJvIc_o/s1600/IMG_1936.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RBDeSQf5WcE/Tk6Sqvj1V4I/AAAAAAAABrk/8d9hUJvIc_o/s320/IMG_1936.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642608646160734082" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Z3OPhWsZbQ/Tk6Sgpm1lmI/AAAAAAAABrc/bKANFfd0kyk/s1600/IMG_1937.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Z3OPhWsZbQ/Tk6Sgpm1lmI/AAAAAAAABrc/bKANFfd0kyk/s320/IMG_1937.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642608472764028514" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WlgFfAwGQ5o/Tk6SYzz2wEI/AAAAAAAABrU/vnUIb2hCwck/s1600/IMG_1933.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WlgFfAwGQ5o/Tk6SYzz2wEI/AAAAAAAABrU/vnUIb2hCwck/s320/IMG_1933.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642608338064031810" /></a>My baby boy is getting cuter by the second. He is finally starting to sleep through the night consistently and has been eating cereal too for about 2 weeks now. He loves his cereal. He has also stopped crying every time he gets into the car and is starting to fit the 3rd child stereotype of laid back, easy going, and happy. I love kissing him all over his face and neck and making him laugh every night at bed time. I just can't get enough of my little guy. He is growing too quickly.
<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2Eeh_BZRjg/Tk6SRaXu2rI/AAAAAAAABrM/I6V1s_tUk00/s1600/IMG_1931.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q2Eeh_BZRjg/Tk6SRaXu2rI/AAAAAAAABrM/I6V1s_tUk00/s320/IMG_1931.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642608210976103090" /></a>
<br />I am lucky to get to spend time weekly with my good friend Kathy. Our kids get a long great and even say that they will marry each other and call out for each other in their sleep! I am blessed by her family. Little Miss Ava, LOVES Baby "Mou-Tai" and is in Heaven every time she gets to hold him.
<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BrE5fWUES8M/Tk6SKO0InZI/AAAAAAAABrE/oHnb_l7uMqk/s1600/IMG_1928.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BrE5fWUES8M/Tk6SKO0InZI/AAAAAAAABrE/oHnb_l7uMqk/s1600/IMG_1928.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BrE5fWUES8M/Tk6SKO0InZI/AAAAAAAABrE/oHnb_l7uMqk/s320/IMG_1928.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642608087614922130" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YVE3eHkiy8E/Tk6SC7iEfHI/AAAAAAAABq8/iq0u87xOOME/s1600/IMG_1923.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YVE3eHkiy8E/Tk6SC7iEfHI/AAAAAAAABq8/iq0u87xOOME/s320/IMG_1923.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642607962179796082" /></a>Ricky and I have committed to changing our eating habits and have been sticking to the Sugar Busters way of eating for 4 months now. We love it and we feel great! But, we felt like after sticking to it for over 3 months, we deserved a serious cheat meal. So, we went to Bruxie in Orange and had waffle sandwiches and waffle desserts and milkshakes. We felt sick afterwards and I had to unbutton my jeans, but it was sooooo worth it!
<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RzABSR67DPM/Tk6R6reMGuI/AAAAAAAABq0/dUIdA8DTqjg/s1600/IMG_1916.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RzABSR67DPM/Tk6R6reMGuI/AAAAAAAABq0/dUIdA8DTqjg/s320/IMG_1916.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642607820429597410" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kGKUDFSx3RM/Tk6RzZAWxwI/AAAAAAAABqs/IzsBBOx2gUo/s1600/IMG_1911.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kGKUDFSx3RM/Tk6RzZAWxwI/AAAAAAAABqs/IzsBBOx2gUo/s320/IMG_1911.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642607695213545218" /></a>
<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DnrvgMdL3-I/Tk6RsExeTJI/AAAAAAAABqk/iKHVkUD2GLE/s1600/IMG_1909.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DnrvgMdL3-I/Tk6RsExeTJI/AAAAAAAABqk/iKHVkUD2GLE/s320/IMG_1909.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642607569523330194" /></a>
<br />So proud of my little guy for serving Jesus by picking up trash. I love this picture from our day at Adopt a Block.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ICfE5hpZWY/Tk6XDagVWBI/AAAAAAAABr0/kOO9HwhSfp8/s320/NOah.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642613468052150290" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
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<br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u0V9TPsE_NA/Tk6Rek0jGQI/AAAAAAAABqU/5HnsYiAimb8/s1600/IMG_1905.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div></div></div>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-67667673845884533152011-08-15T14:22:00.000-07:002011-08-15T14:36:14.078-07:00The Story CompetitionI always look forward to talking with my kids after their Sunday School class. I try my best to reinforce the lessons they learned and I like to see how well they listened to the Bible lesson. Lately, however, Maia has felt as though this is a competition with Noah as to who has the best story. If Noah tells me about a kid in his class, Maia makes up a story about a kid in her class (usually the kid was naughty and pushed her or something of that nature). Yesterday, Noah told me that the story in his class was about Jonah. He repeated the whole story back to me without missing a beat. It was quite impressive and he understood that we are to obey God and always tell people of His love even if we don't like them.
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<br />...And then there was Maia...Oh Maia...crazy competitive Maia. Maia's story went on for about 15 minutes. She said that the story she learned in her class was about Jesus and a naughty elephant who was chasing him and then there was Joseph and Spider man who came to try to save Jesus from the naughty elephant and somehow there were princesses and Giraffes involved as well. I lost track of all the characters in the story. Poor Noah, sat there wide-eyed and feeling like he got gipped because Spider man was not mentioned in his Bible story.
<br /> I sat there trying to figure out if I should correct her for lying, caution her against blasphemy (as Jesus would never run away from an elephant or need spider man or Joseph's help for anything), or if I should encourage her imagination. I was at a loss.
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<br />Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961021468629587696.post-12553403784247198552011-08-13T21:26:00.000-07:002011-08-15T14:21:47.496-07:00I Saw God TodayIf anyone serves Me, he must follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also; if anyone serves Me, the Father will honor him. John 12:26 <div>
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<br /></div><div>"Mommy, what does Jesus look like?" Another deep theological "stump mommy" question had come out of my 4 year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">old's</span> mouth. <i>Shoot! Uh...quick, think of something...why is my brain so slow...got it, </i> "I think He has long hair like Noah!" Laughter came from the back seat and my little ones moved on to a new topic of conversation. <i>Phew! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Today, as I played a game of Duck Duck Goose, I recalled that particular conversation...</span>
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<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> Ricky and I decided to spend the morning along with our kids serving at "Adopt-a- Block." This is a ministry of our church run by a young woman named Alix. She and others had a vision to show love in its purest form to those who need it most. They do this by "adopting" a neighborhood in the poorest parts of town, going there weekly, picking up trash, playing with the kids, and interacting with the families. This is not a "hand-out" ministry, but rather a ministry of love demonstrated through quality time, service, and relationship building. This week, however, was an exception to the rule. Alix realized that too many kids from the blocks were having to start school with no school supplies. She and her team organized a backpack drive and collected backpacks to take to the children. Ricky and I thought that this would be a good way to show our kids in a very tangible way what it means to serve Jesus, love others, and help those in need. </span></i></div><i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">
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<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I must have been quite a sight as I herded my brood through the block with a trash bag in hand, wearing a 4 month old, and directing my 3 and 4 year </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">olds</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> to pick up trash with their </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">over sized</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> gloves. I kept trying to explain to them that we were serving Jesus by making the neighborhood clean for the people that lived there. Although, they looked at me like I was crazy, I kept right on encouraging them with this explanation! Once the door-to-door teams got all the kids to come out to the street, we sang songs with the kids and did a short devotion on prayer. As I was standing there sweating like a pig in the hot sun while doing my best to shade my 4 month old and trying to keep my hot 3 year old from throwing a tantrum, I kept feeling the presence of Jesus in that place. I felt like if Jesus was here on this earth, right now, He would be right there with all those kids, teaching them hand motions to a silly song, and praying over them. In that moment, the fact that I was drenched with sweat, that my 4 month old was getting sunburned, that my 3 year old had taken off her shoes with glass all around and was on the verge of a tantrum didn't matter. All that mattered was that Jesus was in that place and I was there too. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">We split into groups after the song time and played Duck Duck Goose. My heart broke as I watched the boys gravitate toward Ricky. These kids have such a lack of male role models in their lives and I could see it in spending just a few moments with them. As soon as Ricky joined the game, all the boys wanted him to chase them, play with his hat, and get a ride on his shoulders.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">At the end of our time with these precious ones, we stood in line with them to get backpacks and had the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">privilege</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> of watching their eyes light up as they opened their new prized possession. I could not help but giggle, as I watched the boys walk around with their heads held high and their chests puffed out proudly showing off their new backpacks to each other. And my heart delighted in seeing the little girls' faces brighten with huge smiles when they discovered markers and glitter pens in their bags.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">
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<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I saw God today. He was on a block in Corona with a bunch of poor kids and ordinary people who were picking up trash and giving out backpacks. And though I can't describe His physical features, I do know that He was beautiful. </span></div>
<br /></i>Jo Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16239974184028593448noreply@blogger.com1