A Few Friendly Reminders

Just wanted to remind you all that the Wild Olive Tees fundraiser for our adoption journey will end tonight. The family code (WHITNEY407) will be disabled at midnight. Or there-abouts.

Cuz I don't nearly expect those sweet gals over at Wild Olive Tees to sit around till midnight waiting to "flip the switch" - they are busy gals with hordes of kids and they need their rest. Heh :)

But anyway, that's the wrap.

Thank you all, again, for sharing, for purchasing, and for praying.... 

Details of our pending trip should be coming in sometime today.

And I'm proud to say that the To Do list took a major hit this weekend. I'm exhausted but I plowed through a lot of the administrative stuff of preparing to travel!

Finally, I'm taking entries to the give-away for Your Big Story till midnight tonight. It's a great story and you really ought to be sharing it with friends. It would make a super Easter Basket stuffer gift. Really, so perfect! Come, read, share! It only takes a minute!

It's MONDAY!!!!!!

Oh, I woke up so ridiculously early. I was disoriented and foggy for at least the first 20 minutes, laying there trying to figure out what would rouse me even before The Boss was moving.

OH. Yeah. It's Monday! This could be THE Monday.

And I've had this sense of weight and anticipation since then. I've been creating a big To Do list in my head ever since, finding things all scrambled and jumbled in my mind and trying to bring order to the thoughts that are swirling.

I need to list the awesome new "big ticket" items to Cr@igsl!st that were donated over the weekend for my on-going online selling.

I need to print up and post the family calendar.

I need to update the inventory of the existing yard sale site and get some of those big ticket items cross-listed.

I need to make a "game plan" with Shaggy for the final days of wrapping up his To Do list.

I need to keep praising and praying in the midst of it all.

I REALLY need to start thinking of a bloggy handle for this little one. I am not fond of using their real names here, and though it's certainly no secret who we are, I like capturing little names that tell a bit of who they are.  What do you all think? Maybe I should start a bit of a contest.

I need to think about an event for my 1,000th post.  It's coming up soon and I want to do something fun for that, too.

Hmmmm, I hope this all keeps my mind busy today.... In addition to all the regular every day Momma stuff I get to do for my Gang, that is!

Ain't This Country Grand?

I had the most wonderful experience the other day at Costco.

I know, I know. How wonderful could it be? It was Costco, on a Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend.

But seriously, I was alone. I was meandering the aisles, sampling and snacking my way through the store and dodging carts and shoppers as I walked among the traffic.

And that wasn't even the wonderful part.

As I stood in the mile-long check-out line, I tuned in to the conversations and people swirling around me. Normally, with a list in my hand and a cart overflowing with bulk-sized bounty, observing the shoppers near me is the LAST thing on my mind. But this day, I was particularly attentive.

There was a young Korean family, corraling their kids with frazzled gestures and whispered admonitions to behave. They spoke quietly to each other and the kids in Korean, but the kids were sassing back in English. It wasn't very funny, having been there myself too many times, but it brought a smile to my face anyway.

On one side of me was a "Jimmy Buffet-esque" old guy chatting on his Bluetooth with a friend about the big clambake coming up with their friends. He was bemoaning the long list his wife had written out, frustrated that the store was mostly sold out of the majority of the list.

In front of me was an elderly couple, jockeying for a spot in the shorter line, communicating without words. They carried themselves with a great sense of "old money" grace and style. It was obvious that they were happy about their weekend plans, as they talked quietly about the kids coming in and the grandchildren's sleeping arrangements.

On my other side, was a young business man, looking to be of  Middle Eastern descent with his lovely dark skin and coal-black hair.  When he spoke kindly to me as he tried to settle into one of the lines, his accent confirmed my observations. He had his hands full of ice cream for a family cook-out for the holiday, so I let him go ahead of my over-stuffed cart. His effusive thanks and polite inquiries about my weekend plans (based upon my full cart) were thanks enough for me.

Across from the line where I was waiting, a young African-American mom was chattering to her chubby baby in an effort to pacify her during the long wait. Elderly folks around them smiled and nudged each other as the baby's giggles rang out.

Several carts ahead of me, a grumpy old man was greeted cheerfully by my favorite clerk. She graced him with her regular smile beaming from her ebony eyes, chatted pleasantly in her deep-South accent and rang him up with the not just a little flair and flashing sparkly nails clacking away on the keypads. Her slow drawl eventually won a smile even from his deeply grooved frown. This is why she's my favorite.

All over the store, folks from all walks of life were stocking up on snacks, party supplies, and grilling meats. Planning their Independence Day festivities. Exchanging smiles and empathic grimaces at the hustle and bustle. Giving "Happy Fourth" greetings. Making plans for trips "down the shore" and out to fireworks shows. Chatting with friends and strangers. The atmosphere was festive and largely jovial, with only a few exceptions.

Different languages. Different foods in the carts. Different customs and cultures. But one purpose and intent. One goal. One common plan. One celebration connecting us all.

Happy Birthday America!  I love all your colors. All your sounds and all your sights.

Ain't this country grand?

Have You Seen My Normal?

Friday afternoon, I was telling Shaggy how excited I was about Monday coming. He looked at me funny, cuz it's no secret around here that this Momma doesn't love Monday mornings.  Wrestling tired kids out of bed on early, cold, dark mornings isn't really my favorite way to start the day, you know?

But I explained to him that what I was really looking forward to was bringing back some semblance of Normal.  I was waxing eloquent on how I planned to start the week off with a bang: running laundry, making grocery lists, straightening the clutter, maybe even tackling the pile of paper work that accummulated over the course of the days that I was away caring from my mom. All very Normal activities for my Mondays and Tuesdays. And ooooh, when Li'l Empress headed down for her nap, I could get my Normal on and head to the grocery store.

I was getting really excited, the more I thought of the peace and order that Normal would bring back to The Gang's abode. I was on a roll, baby!

He let me go on for a couple minutes, sympathetically nodding his head, and (I thought!) agreeing that the presence of Normal was going to be "extra" welcome around here.

When I wound down my mini-rant, he looked at me and said, "Well, all that would be great. Except that Monday won't really be Normal.  Dr. D has PSSA's in the morning. Daddy's working from home after he comes home from the tests with Dr. D. And the kids will probably still be home because of the strike."

(Yes, our school district is on strike. In APRIL. I know.

Don't even get me started on THAT particular topic!)

I felt so deflated!  And I must admit, a little annoyed at how he let me go on and on.  But he's right. Darn it, Normal isn't here today. Come to think of it, I can't really remember the last time we had some "normal" Monday around here. . . 

{calling in a loud voice} "NORMAL?!" 

"Where are you, Normal?!"

"Hello?  Have you seen my Normal?"

I seem to have misplaced my Normal.

If you've seen it, can you send it home?

I'm missing it this dreary, rainy Monday morning.

Monday Musings

"The only normal people

are the ones you don't know very well."

~Joe Ancis

I can't believe it, I actually got a Monday at home and I can finally participate in TCC's Monday Musings. And I'm so glad that this is the Monday I hit - the quote itself doesn't require a dictionary to decipher (just joshin' ya, TCC!) and it's actually one I've been pondering since lunch with my friend on Wednesday. Let me explain . . .

Lately, I've been spending a ton of time (for me) at home, alone or with just one or two of my kids. Flu and fever season hit us a bit harder here at The Gang's house than in winters past. Anyway, as an extrovert (like squared!), a lot of quiet time often leads me down the path of introspection. Introspection is not, in and of itself, a problem. But for me, lots of introspection turns into self-focus and self-absorption in the form of re-hashing conversations (with humans and with God) that I could have handled better. It becomes a conversation in my head of how ridiculous it is that at my age (gasp!) I'm not over this by now. That I should have learned this lesson and moved on already. If I am not diligent to stop those conversational tracks in my head the minute they start laying rails westward, I am full steam ahead to the end of the rails: comparisons that always result in me coming up short in some area. I fly right past the stations of "Wait, I'm Not Alone" and "Stop Here - Renewals by the Holy Spirit." I screech with all my brakes smoking right into "I Am So Screwed Up." Or I limp with squeaky wheels and sputtering engine into "Why Can't I Be Like __________?" By then, my tracks are a wreck and my wheels are chewed up beyond recognition.

So at lunch on Wednesday, I was sharing with my friend about some things going on in my life. It quickly became a conversation full of me, what I'm "really" like, and what's wrong with me. While the conversation was helpful and encouraging and insightful (she's a wonderful, wise woman, no matter what she thinks about herself today!), I also heard this Station Master in my head questioning me. Asking me if this was all really necessary. Checking with me to see if I could possibly be so ridiculous to assume that I was the only one who didn't have this issue (or any variety of others) together by now. Reminding me of the supreme vanity of thinking that I could be or should be comparing myself to others around me. Questioning the wisdom of my starting point that everyone else is normal and I'm the one that's beyond salvage-able.

As we ended our time together, I thanked my friend for her ability to be so real - I even used the word normal. And she is - she's vulnerable about her failings, but she's also real about her part in those failings and in her dependence on Her Father. But what struck me after I left our time together is that I thanked her for her normalcy, as if I have precious little of my own. As if being with her is what boosted my normalcy quotient for the day. And I felt convicted about that. When I was able to sort through it all by way of running conversations and debates with the Station Master, I realized that even within all of her own transparencies in our times together, that couldn't possibly be all there is to her. I realized (seriously, it was like a series of V8 moments for most of Thursday and part of Friday!) that I view her as normal, but given the things that she's shared with me, she may struggle to see herself as normal. And that others (God help them!) may actually view me as normal.

The funny thing is, all of us are normal in our propensity to screw up. In our struggle to make it through in our own steam. In our need for a Savior. In our desperate, daily need for "Renewals by the Holy Spirit!" All of us should be making those stops, cruising up to the platform and letting our engines cool down and be tuned up.

The equally funny thing is that none of us are normal. We are all individuals, all unique in our own right. We can never be fully known by any human relationship on this train route. We can only depend on Our Father to know us more intimately than any other. In this dependence, it matters less and less that we know normal people. And it matters less and less that we be known as normal people.