Etched in cement

We had a cement pad poured in on the east side of our house. We didn't really use the space. . . very close to the neighbors. . . can't grow cool flowers or veggies because it doesn't get much sun. . .and on a bit of an incline. Since we inherited a camping trailer from my folks, we thought it best to have a place to store it. Hence, the cement pad. We got bids. . . blah blah blah. . .
Tyler David (fabulous) comes and excavates. We celebrate that there are cool loaders at our house! We run outside, we take pictures. Then, they leave. Dum de dum. Oh, the cement isn't coming until the following week. Monday comes and the cement company arrives! Yes! They put in all the forms and announce they'll be pouring the next day. . . be ready at 7:30 a.m.

This sounds great. I have it in my head (and it is not getting out!) that I want to have my kids put their hand prints into the cement. This is very important to me. I'm not sure why, but it is. Wet cement that we paid for deserves the cutest hand prints ever. There is one problem. I have plans with my friend Rae. We are going to picnic and hike. What a fabulous way to spend a Tuesday! Then. . . drama for Shanda. They pour late, the cement needs to set longer than what was originally anticipated. . .I feel so bad. I'm asking Rae if we can meet a little later so that I can. . . yes. . . put my kids hands in cement! I must say that I have a pretty awesome friend because she offered to come to my house and picnic while we waited for "the word" that it was time. The word finally came and we put our hands in the cement. I danced and celebrated with glee! But alas. . . everything is not right in Sprickland. Scroll down and watch. . . .



Garrison is the first to go. He does an excellent job. This is not the problem.

Simon is next and he also does a fabulous job. This is not the problem.

Noel's turn and she does great. This is not the problem.

Penny had a bit of trouble. It was very important to her to grab the cement. Still, I did not consider this a problem.

Here is the final shot. The problem? I forgot to put the date in! About an hour and a half after Rae and her kids left I realized my error! I ran outside with a sharp pencil and scraped the date in the cement. It isn't very visible in the photo, but I got it! I won! I won! June 16, 2011. (Right below Garrison and Simon's prints.) I was so proud of myself for remembering. . . after I had forgotten. I even thanked God for bringing it to my mind.

Yet. . . I must confess. . .there is still a problem. The cement was poured on June 14.

A little pride

Basketball camp this week for my boys. They had a blast and loved to tell me the focus of the day--shooting, passing, defense. . . etc. Four days for forty-five minutes a piece. A perfect time for 5 and 6 year old boys and girls. I loved watching and seeing how my boys did not only in basketball, but with their interactions. I must describe one such moment.

Simon. My Simon. Love him. He is not the tallest kid. . . in fact I'd say he is among the shortest at the camp. He isn't a broad guy. He isn't the strongest. He is scrappy, and fast, and determined, and silly (and not too bad at basketball I might add). I watched the coach ask everyone to get into a line and then follow her. Ah. . . you can imagine 25 kids trying to make a line. They slowly (with help from their coaches) stretched out across the gym. The kid behind Simon kept doing robot arms, often hitting Simon--deliberately I might add. He was being funny and being five. I could tell that Simon was irritated by robot boy. I saw him turn around and ask him to stop (way to go--we taught you that!). But, the robot was still on the loose. I watched to see how Simon would handle this--come and get me, start to whine, hit him, move to another location--all things I've seen him do in the past. He decided to do something new. He slowly backed himself up until he was right in front of the robot. Then, he quickly and forcefully shot his booty out behind him and hit the kid with it. Without looking, Simon continued forward in the line. Robot boy stopped. I was filled with silent laughter and thought, that is my boy. Way to go buddy.

On a side note--I have a cement story, but it needs a picture. I have the picture in my camera. Perhaps next week I'll get it out and tell you the story. For now, we are packing to go camping--our first time in our trailer. I'll let you know how that goes as well. Enjoy your week-end!

A gift

Know what my mom gave me? Please answer out loud.

Yup, yes. . . that too. You are right! You must know Gloria Koeman!!! I love her, love all the wonderful things that she has given to me (mostly non-tangible!), love that she lets me be me, love that she said of the orange streak in my hair that it wasn't "as bad as it could be", and love that I get to call her mom--only eight of us do.

Though I could fill volumes with everything that I love and respect about my mom, I wanted to share something that she recently gave to me. A photo album.

Great right? It gets better. Mom has always been great at scrapbooking for us. She made two sets of books for each one of us kids-one set with photos and one set with writing. The writing books contain her thoughts, stories from us growing up, significant papers we received or created. . . a written history really about my life. I know--she's amazing. The photo album contains photos--in case you were confused.

Two years ago when my parents first separated, dad hid all albums. He said that we would never see them again. He knew it was the one thing that was very important both to my mom and to us. We thought they were lost forever. I remember holding mom and weeping with her. I remember crying with Gary as I realized that the record of my history was gone. Gone. It was so hard to take in. I was left with two baby albums of mine --given to me when I had my own children, as well as one writing book from elementary school--a Christmas gift. (My folks had hidden clues in the book. So fun!)

Eventually, dad got sober and decided to return said books. We cried again with great joy as the lost had been found. I drank in my history and was so happy to see pictures of myself which I could share with my kids. I loved reading what I enjoyed as a four year old because I had two four year olds. Had we loved the same things?

This winter, mom took my photo album, took it apart (it was falling apart!), and put in into a new album--one which doesn't eat away at my beautiful baby pictures. She also kept all of her original comments such as "My daddy is so strong!", "I fell asleep in the closet." "Why are you saying 'No No' Mommy?", "My pals come to visit." "Kerrie is my friend.", and "An Easter beauty" Each one with a date. I love these descriptions because it is me through my mom's eyes. 100 pages of me through the age of 7. It isn't the book that is the gift. . . it is the history. My history. It is also a work of love from my mom--both times. Finally, it is a symbol of hope that my dad might make it. He might defy the odds. It sits on the top of the piano right now causing me to smile.

Oh be careful. . .

My daughter. . . my amazing daughter Noel. She is delightful, thoughtful, fun, adventurous, and larger than life. She has a sensitive spirit that I treasure, yet she can be quite. . . ahem. . . sly.

I am realizing that I need to be a little more careful in regards to her. Here are two examples from today. Just today!

At DeAnna's Playhouse she gave me a ticket so that I could watch her show. Thanks Noel. She got ready for the show. . . and promptly got distracted. I ended up chasing Penny who decided that she wanted the ticket. I shared with her and then she shared with another child who was there. Moments later I turn around and there is my Noel, shoulders haunched and crying. She had watched the entire thing and thought that I didn't want to see her show. Little things. . . she is watching. She is watching me all the time and I need to be careful.

Tonight, Noel is crying in bed. What is up now Noel? Through the tears I hear something about "silly make believe" and "you said that mama" (she calls me mama when it suits her). Apparently (and I still have no clue!) I said something about the silly stuff that she makes up. I LOVE the stuff she makes up. I love it that she has princesses that live with her. I love to watch her in the sandbox talking to all of her friends. . . none of whom I can see. I love laying in bed with her at night and listening to her tell me a story. I hugged her and stressed that by "silly" I meant fun. . . something that I want to do with her because it is great. . . something that I love about her. I did NOT mean silly as in not good at all. She hugged and kissed me and seemed pacified.

My kids are watching and listening. Little movements, little eye rolls, little phrases. . . things I might not even realize. . . they are getting it. I pray that they catch the great things. I pray that I give them great things.

Mistakes

When I worked at Camp Roger, my boss/mentor/friend (Winger) had a saying.

"Mistakes are required."

I liked it because it gave me permission to try, to forget at times, to just plain mess up.

I've been reminded of that in the past few days. . . and not in a good way. My pastor in a sermon a few weeks ago even said that Jesus made mistakes. Mistakes aren't sin, but are used for learning. Tipping over a glass, buying the wrong pop for your husband, singing at the wrong time in a song, burning the potatoes on the grill. . . all mistakes.

Today God walloped me upside the head. While we were at the library this morning (it was crazy busy) we waited for the elevator (having a stroller warrants the use of the elevator). As the doors opened, my ducks rushed in only to discover a full elevator including another stroller trying to get out. I asked them to get out of the way. Two ducks dutifully got out of the way while one duck took one step over--not getting out of the way. He thought he was in the clear, yet. . . . mistake. I pulled him aside and hissingly told him that he was not a good listener and needed to be aware (one of my catch phrases). "That was rude."

As we piled back into the car, I realized I had left Penny's shoes at home. We had intended to go to the park for a picnic and play time with friends from church. Alas, we'd have to go home first because I forgot. I announced to the kids that I had made a mistake.

On the way home, I realized that I had done the same thing as my son, yet I had allowed myself so much more slack. When we got home I apologized to him for being crabby to him. He forgave me. Yes!

Sometimes I'm o.k. with allowing mistakes and correcting behaviour, sometimes it just gets to me. If I want to encourage my kids to try new things, to get out and do, to risk it. . . then I really need to have a little more patience and let them have the freedom to make some mistakes. I know the lines get really blurry (like when one of my children writes on the cover of the Bible in the pew!!!!!). I'm going to try and do better.

Lunch

If this is what summer is, then sign me up!

Great weather and lots of fun outside. We've had an adventure every day. Yeah! Plus, for the past two days we've had unexpected company. I love it! Yesterday a friend and two of her kids arrived for a quick stop and ended up staying for lunch. We had a blast. Lunch wasn't spectacular and the house was. . . well the house was lived in. Did you know I have four children five and under? Today, my brother and niece arrived before lunch time and stayed as well. Same situation (food/house). Hmmmm who will come tomorrow? :) Feel free to show up or call and then show up. I just stocked up on cereal (ask Lisa Fredricks).

On another note, I had a chunk of my hair dyed orange. I love it. I love it so much I think I'll have more of it "orange-a-fied" next time. I posted it on Facebook so that people won't be surprised at church Sunday morning. :) Of course, folks would like to see a picture. Um. . . I don't know how to transfer pictures from my camera to the computer. I would love to post pictures on this blog as well. Do you see how old the picture is at the top of this blog? CRAZY! I think I'm going to ask Gary for tutoring session. Maybe you'll see some of my hair in the future.

Can't wait to get outside! Did I mention that we like it out there?!? wink wink

Duck Duties

If you've been here for any length of time, you know that I call my kids the ducks. It began when I would ask them to "come along" and they would waddle on behind me. What a great bunch of ducks! It because useful because I can address them as a group and make group announcements. "Ducks--two minute warning." "Alright ducks, we are going to pick up the toys and then get going." "Ducks, quit pooping on the ground." O.K., so the last one isn't true. . . yet. They can always hear me and is distinguishes me from all the other moms/dads/caretakers at a park or at church.

So, this summer Gary and I decided that we needed a little "somethun" in our mornings with our kids. School gave us a great morning routine and we liked it. . . .especially with one child who works just so much better with a routine. We made a chart called Duck Duties (hence the title of this post).

Every morning they need to check off their duties. If they don't, they don't get to watch their morning video until they are done. Some do it right away, some wait. . . it is working. We've been doing for a whole two days now! (smile) My kids are finally the age where I feel like I can do something like this. I'd love to hear more ideas, both for this summer and for the future. We already need to make a few tweaks to the system. Penny doesn't have a chart, but she does seem to do her jobs every morning. Wake up and let us know she is awake. Poop. Eat breakfast and get some in her hair. Laugh about it. Wander all over the house and tackle at least one sibling. Talk. Nap. She is by far the most consistent. :)