big means BIG

Many of you may have done me the favor of reading my post about God being big in our home buying adventure. Little did I know at the time of writing that post that there was a sequel already in the works. It never ceases to amaze me how I limit God. But through this process my appreciation for his absolutely amazing "bigness" has been firmly established.

Starting where I left off, we were just over 2 weeks out from close, and everything was coming together smoothly. Then, rather suddenly the floor dropped out from under out feet! Christopher received a phone call a mere week before we were slated to sign escrow papers that our financing had some to a screeching halt. A necessary third party component to our mortgage was denied. YIKES!

I interrupt this news report to give you the following: For those of you, like me, who believe ARMs are the appendages attached to the side of your body you can read this little paragraph for a fuller explanation of the details. Apparently when you do not invest at least 20% of your own capital into the purchase of a home you are required to carry a special insurance policy with the lender as your beneficiary. This special insurance is called Private Mortgage Insurance, or PMI. Basically, statistics show that those people financing more than 80% of the purchase price are more likely to default on their loan. So PMI is issued until you have paid into your principle 20%, or your home's value has increased enough to appraise 20% higher than the original purchase price. PMI is standard, and if your lender accepts your financing package and is in the process of underwriting your loan then PMI is generally guaranteed. It was certainly nothing we, nor anyone else, anticipated giving us a problem. Now I return you to our regularly scheduled program.

Our PMI was denied. Our lender, who owns his own mortgage company and has worked in this field for decades was shocked! Our credit portfolio made a very strong statement of good credit risk, and his investors were excited to give us our loan. But the PMI company, Radian, said our appraisal was inaccurate, and placed the property far above actual market value. We could not understand what they meant. Our appraisal came back 15k over our offer and stood very solidly in the middle of the comparisons used for the context of what the market could bear. The only statement Radian could give for the reason of denial was the decision to mark our finished garage as a benefit to the property value. Apparently the truth is that finished wall board, double paned windows, stained wainscoting, and upgraded louvered garage doors should have been noted as a liability. That makes sense. Who wants a pretty garage? And anyone mentally well would willing pay over 15k to have the garage reverted to open wall studs, old wood garage doors, single light bulb fixtures hanging by chains, and rickety single paned windows. But I digress. The main point is that we were sitting dead in the water.

Of course our first reaction was to panic. What do you MEAN we have no financing? What do you MEAN we don't have a loan? What do you MEAN? We were told that we could go with a government subsidized program and be guaranteed PMI, but we would need to deal with some of the nuances from the program. Christopher continued to feel strongly that buying our home was something we were doing to get away from government intervention - financing with them would be a somewhat major step in the wrong direction. Our lender told us that he might be able to work something out if we came up with a more substantial down, and that he would also "do the ole hale Mary pass", where he took our application and put it back out to his investors to see if another set would bite. The theory was that a new set of investors might allow us to get a different PMI company. When we asked about Radian changing their minds we were told that was an impossibility. Apparently our lender doesn't know my God.

Friday came and we were no closer to hearing anything, but our nerves were shot. We kept holding onto the fact that the bible says God brings all things to completion which he starts, and we knew that God had started this home-buying adventure.

Saturday was awful. In an attempt to help support the original appraisal our lender went ahead and issued a government appraiser to the site. This appraiser got in touch with the listing agent, who then got in touch with our realtor. Our realtor called us to say that the listing agent was distressed over what appeared to be a "bait and switch" on our behalf, namely one of the largest components to the government subsidized program is the agreement of the seller to pay 1.5% of the selling price into the program for future funding of other candidates. This clearly affects the sellers bottom line profit and can not simply be added without negotiations. The listing agent said we would need to renegotiate the entire contract. YIKES! Later than day our own agent called us back and tried to assure us that things were going to get worked out. She realized we might have felt a little alarmed at her initial call, and felt badly that she may have scared us. It was nice that she called, and it was nice that she encouraged us, but the fact was that we knew we didn't have any money to buy the house and no amount of pleasantries changed it.

Sunday we get a call before we head out the door for church from our lender that he thinks we may have a deal, with the original loan application, but he will be in touch with more when he gets it.

Monday afternoon our lender announces that he has heard back from Radian and they have changed their opinion on our appraisal! They accepted our PMI, and the investors are still eager to fund our loan. We are in business!

Tuesday morning Christopher gets another call from our lender that because the original loan stopped in the underwriting process he had to restart the entire process again. This has caused some thins to be reevaluated, including interest rates, which had dropped since we first locked. To our utter amazement we were told that because of the PMI debacle the new loan configuring would take these falling rates into account and, along with an increase in our credit score since the initial application, we would end up with a below 6% 30 year fixed mortgage. Speechless would be an understatement. Apparently God wanted to make sure that the previous humanly impossible circumstances were made clear by yet again making the impossible the very reality of our lives.

With our loan in our back pocket, our signing date set for 9/11, and a crew of people lined up to start work on the house once we closed, Christopher and I felt like nothing more could touch us. You will need to read the rest of the story in the next post because, we are beginning to learn, there is always a sequel.

Honey, Bunny, Bearie and Mac

Leah is the equivalent of a bag lady when it comes to her bed, and the arrangement of stuffed animals that reside upon it. She usually has at least one baby doll, some smallish marine mammal, a few bears, two or three random animals purloined from her siblings' beds, and of course Honey, Bunny, Bearie and Mac.

We didn't realize there was a naming scheme until we began limiting the number of animals she was allowed to sleep with each night. While going through the rigors of explaining why she didn't need all seven beanie bears I grabbed one of the sacred four and receive a howl of utter desperation.

NOT BEARIE!

Bearie? Okay, not bearie. But certainly you don't need both baby dolls? And I think you can live without...

NOT MAC!

Leah, you won't even allow Mac* to look at you, much less come near you. You can't sleep without Mac? (Shakes her head emphatically) Alright. But you need to put back this fish, and you can also put away...

NOT HONEY!

You named this one Honey? (She nods her head, while sucking her thumb) Are there any others that you simply must have with you?

She looks at the chaos on her bed, and grabs only one more. Bunny.

I have to have BUNNY, Mama.

So you need to have each of these four? You can't live without any of them?

Nope. Honey, Bunny, Bearie, and Mac all need to stay here with me or else I won't ever sleep.

We still deal with weeding out her bed from time to time. I find hair bands, Sunday School pictures, single socks lost from their mate forever, and of course seven dolls, two pairs of shoes, a missing pajama shirt, and her sister's book. But we have struck a deal that works for everyone - I am allowed to remove all the excess toys down to a sheet, blanket and pillow as long as I understand that Honey, Bunny, Bearie and Mac do not fall into the category of "excessive", and must live next to her pillow until Christ returns.

I won't be utterly shocked to find them in heaven.




*Mac is our next door neighbor's dog. He is a big dog who could mean business if he wanted to, but has been adopted by our children as their dog while we work on Daddy's resolve for a puppy of our own. Mac's owners gave Leah her stuffed Mac, and even wrote his name on a cute little dog collar that her version wears. We have been working for the better part of 2 years on breaking Leah of her fear of dogs, so the irony of her choice of beloved stuffed animal is made all the more humorous to us.

Someone

Mary knows how to say, "Josiah." She is quite cute when she says it. Lately however, she has taken to a less intimate nomenclature.

Mama, Someone is hurting me. (Josiah is grabbing her hair.)

Oh no! Someone is getting into your fizzy. (Josiah is teething on my seltzer water can.)

Ahhhhh, stop it Someone! (Josiah is using her as an aid to help him stand.)

We have no idea what prompted this dehumanizing progression. She doesn't use it exclusively, and can be heard just as often cooing his given name while covering his face with kisses. In fact, even when she uses her new pet name it isn't reserved only for discipline. She will kiss "Someone" and scold "Josiah." Whatever the reasoning, we all find it pretty hysterical.

Can We Welcome You To The Kirby Family?

There is a reason door to door salesmen have such a bad reputation. They inspired an entire marketing scheme aimed at advertising a home owner's distaste for their presence before even knocking. The "No Solicitors" sign can be found in classic metal, scripted with airbrush in country colors on wood, handwritten on a note taped to the doorbell, and of course screamed from behind a closed door by a 70 year old biddy. We should have recognized the reason for this national defense. We missed it.

Adam presented himself at our door one fine Saturday and asked Christopher if there was a room in our house that we would like "dry" shampooed for free? He noted that we was a demonstrator for Kirby vacuums, and for the painless task of listening to his sales pitch he would clean any room at no charge. We had just been talking about the need to rent a Rug Doctor for our family room, so this seemed providential. Christopher told Adam we would be ready for him in 15 minutes. Within moments my peaceful afternoon was gone. We raced around to get toys off the floor for the shampooing, and I had to run upstairs and get out of my pajamas (I told you we were planning on a relaxing afternoon). No sooner had I gotten upstairs but Adam was back, some 10 minutes earlier than expected. Eagerness can be a good characteristic. 

I decided to go full bore and take a shower, allowing Christopher the delightful task of entertaining our new friend for the vast majority of his stay. I figured by the time I arrived downstairs some 30 minutes later our floor would be close to finished, and I could go back to relaxing on my couch, albeit cleaner than originally anticipated. You can imagine my surprise when I walked into the family room and was met by Adam, a very unshampooed floor, and small white disks strewn across my carpet (for hygienic purposes they don't actually attach the bag until after you purchase the machine, so they use a special chamber which sucks the dirt into a clear canister and onto white discs of vacuum cleaner bag material so you can see what the inside of your very own Kirby bag would look like. I am convinced they are trained to leave these discs lying around your home in an attempt to subtly remind you of the disgusting state of affairs resting beneath your feet). Adam was very pleasant to meet me and seemed utterly unperturbed that he had been there a solid half an hour with nothing more to show for himself than a cleverly designed display box housing all the mighty Kirby's attachments.

I am in therapy to try and forget what happened next, but apparently I am not paying my shrink enough for the "total recall" plan. I remember, quite vividly, Adam spending the following 2 hours wasting our time while he tried to sell us a TWO THOUSAND and TWO HUNDRED dollar vacuum. Apparently we are going to die as a result of the dirt housed in our carpets. We are certainly experiencing unprecedented illnesses due to dust mite excrement on our tongues in the morning. We have only our lousy old vacuum to blame for the wear and tear on our lovely, military grade, rented for decades carpeting. And with the new Kirby model we could use the latest technology of "dry" shampooing to insure a thorough clean every time. "So, can I welcome you to the Kirby family?"

We tried to explain that we were buying a home with all wood floors, and would not have the issue of carpet padding trapping all that dirt, dander, and death. We tried to humor him when he raced upstairs into our bedrooms, uninvited, while my baby took a nap. We were gentle, kind, and long suffering when he attached and reattached the same special nozzle 7 times because he had forgotten just one more thing he was supposed to show us. One of the best zingers came when he finally accomplished the "dry" shampoo; and we marveled at how poorly conceived the design to turn the Kirby into a shampooer was managed - water sloshing out of the open receptacle while piles of foam thoroughly soaked our carpet. We even allowed him to jump on our trampoline while we discussed the possibility of purchasing the vacuum (read: figure out how to finally get him to understand we weren't going to buy). But it was finally time, and Christopher broke the news.

Adam was nearly speechless. He couldn't believe we didn't seriously want to purchase this wonder appliance, which did practically everything including make dinner. He asked Christopher what would make him reconsider, and without thinking Christopher blurted out, "I don't know, take 50% off the price." Well, Adam was aghast at this suggestion noting that he had never heard of such a thing before. Yeah, that was kinda the point! We reminded poor Adam that we weren't going to have any areas in our new home with wall to wall carpet. It didn't make financial sense for us to purchase such a substantial vacuum. We reiterated that we did not utilize credit for spontaneous purchases and were not comfortable taking that much money our of our checking when we were closing escrow in only a few weeks. Adam continued to remain speechless.

He finally broke the spell by deciding to call his up-line manager and find out what kind of deal he could make for us. We tried to dissuade him, explaining we were not buying the machine. He called anyway, but received only his manager's voicemail. Ahhh, we sighed internally. Maybe now he would get the point! We were growing weary, and were ready to have him gone. And yet Adam persisted. He began to explain that we would certainly never see the kind of sale his team was offering for quite some time. He became snippy, mumbling under his breath about how much he hated packing up "these beasts" when only moments before he had been asking us if he could welcome us to the Kirby family. In the midst of this tirade his manager called him back and after several moments Adam hung up and announced that he was authorized to give us the Kirby for 15% off. This was such a significant price reduction he was sure we would jump on it. In fact, he stopped packing his "beast". We held firm, once again reminding him that we were not interested in spending that kind of money on a vacuum at this time. Adam began to pack again.

Over the next several minutes, while Adam literally took his sweet time getting his things together, I tried to initiate conversation with him about his job, how much he liked it, and what had made him get into the business. I thought perhaps it would help ease the embarrassment he must be feeling at spending nearly 3 hours in someone's home and having nothing to show for it. Had I not known he was in his mid-twenties I would have thought him closer in age to a 4 year old throwing a bit of a tantrum. He barely acknowledged my questions, giving me the briefest possible answers, and continued to huff and puff about how much he detested packing up. Suddenly his phone rang again. This time it was his area supervisor asking for a status update. Adam explained that we just weren't interested even though he had already offered us the exorbitant deal of a lifetime. After several moments of listening Adam recalled to his supervisor that Christopher had mentioned the "50% off" deal. Adam listened for another minute, and then hung up the phone. He stopped packing, went over to a piece of paper with the original sales price and promo information on it and wrote $1100 on it before handing it to Christopher. "I can get it for you for the price you asked."

"Adam, I don't want to buy it. I am not interested in it."

"But you said you if it was 50% off that would be the right price. Well, here it is."

"Adam, I don't want to buy it. I changed my mind."

"You said you would take it if it was 50% off. I have never seen this before. They have never reduced the price like this before. You will never get this kind of deal again."

"Adam, we don't want it."

"But..."

Christopher finally had to say to him that he was tired of discussing this, and he needed Adam to pack his things and get out of his house. I don't think I have ever seen my husband come so close to decking someone out of sheer exasperation than that day. It still took Adam nearly 10 minutes to leave. His supervisor called him again, and Adam recounted, in front of us, how Christopher told him he had to get out of our house. He didn't say goodbye when he left.

A few weeks later Leah was talking about how much she missed her friend. 

"What friend, Leah?"

"You know... my friend. Adam."

"Adam?"

"Yeah, with the vacuum. He's my friend."

Thankfully we don't run a democracy in Odd, we run a monarchy and Adam has not been invited back.

Secrets

Pssst, I have a secret and I'm not gonna tell you.

Remember those days in elementary school when keeping secrets meant purposely dropping hints so your friends knew you knew something they did not? You were queen of recess for that one afternoon as all the playground consulted with you to learn your secret. Best friends were dropped, all bets were off, nations were divided and rejoined under the auspices of who was (and who was not) worthy of your secret. And if you had a genuinely good secret to tell you could set yourself up with power and influence on the monkey bars for the rest of the year. You had to be careful though, because that fired burned in both directions and God-forbid if someone scooped you! I don't know that there was a shunning worse than the overrated secret, except perhaps the loud fart. But I digress.

I was never good with the secret game. I never seemed to be "in the know", and when I was I genuinely didn't want anyone to know my secret (like being the one who farted). I liked immediately sharing whatever juicy tidbit I had with my girlfriends as quickly as possible. I would rush to school, race to the playground, run home to get on the phone, whatever was necessary in order to talk, talk, talk about my secret. I have always preferred talking, not secreting.

My aversion to secrets remains to this day. I can barely contain my enthusiasm waiting for Christmas. I would actually prefer to tell someone exactly what I want for a birthday present rather than manage the suspense of a surprise. Because of all these factors I knew I could never hold in this secret:

Christopher and I have been eternally rewarded with a microscopic blessing due in April. What a mighty God we serve!

God is Big

For those of you who share my belief in the living, universal God you no doubt have heard the cliches that talk about God being big. We chat in our lingo about how God can move mountains, nothing is impossible for him, he is over all things, he works all for the good of those who love him, and on and on. We study biblical testimonies of God's miraculous intervention which supersede any human understanding, and take comfort that God CAN work in these mighty ways. But, dare I admit it, I think we often (and certainly for myself) don't truly expect God TO work on our behalf in this same way. There seems to be a delineation between the God who literally parted the waters of the Red Sea, stopped the sun for a full hour in the height of the sky, allowed a 90 year old woman to conceive, fed thousands with a few loaves and fishes, and even rose from the dead, and the God who lives in our hearts today. Apparently the new God doesn't need to make himself known in these same powerful ways. We have the entire inspired Word of God in the bible, and because of that the form of revelation given to many of these biblical patriarchs isn't necessary to repeat. I don't need to see the dead raised to life, because I have God's word, which is never false, telling me how he accomplished the fact. In a small way it is similar to my husband telling me he bought milk. I don't need to go with him to the store to believe that he did it. I trust him, and I know that he doesn't lie. I have been to the store before, and watched him purchase milk. The concept is not new to me. I hear him, and I believe. Because I believe he bought milk I go into the fridge with the expectation of finding milk. Here is how that same illustration often works itself out in our spiritual lives. God tells us he bought milk. We say we believe God, since we have read the accounts of how he bought milk for others before us. But instead of going into the fridge with the expectation of finding milk, we go to the store and buy it ourselves. We do what we believe. 

I have been learning over the past 2 years how strongly I actually disbelieve the promises, and power of my God. The bible tells me that God, "eagerly rewards those who believe him." I don't live in a way that shouts MY GOD EAGERLY REWARDS ME. I often live with a cloud over my head that constantly whispers, "I don't have enough faith to even pray for God to reward me."  The conviction that God doesn't want to pour himself out on behalf of a child who constantly thinks so little of him has been strong! So, what is the application? Believe God for bigger things, and start recognizing that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob's God is mine as well.

We have always said it would take a literal miracle for us to buy a home on the peninsula. Our conviction to place children above any economic station means we have not spaced children according to a saving's account, job promotion, or income security. We have been pregnant during lay-offs, given birth during huge job transitions, and generally not followed the rules of prudence set down by our culture. I didn't work outside the home in our early years of marriage giving us a cushion of income. And the decision to homeschool has meant more expense, with less ability to offset it by me earning a supplementary living. We have always had a peace about these decisions, and the places it has put us. We don't own a fancy car. We don't have gobs of savings. We don't own a home we can call our own. But we have Hannah, Bethany, Caleb, Leah, Mary and Josiah. Which one would I trade for any of the above "securities?" That is a laughable question. But it doesn't change the fact that there are times our hearts yearn for something more than renting in the hood *wink*. This desire has grown stronger over the last several months, and it is why I have been so absent on my blog! We were working through the myriad scenarios and questions associated with purchasing a home, and wondering if perhaps we were being given our miracle.

I can't imagine anyone reading this could be uninformed about the sub-prime housing market collapse, but in case you don't have a clue about what I am referring to there has been a serious blow to the appreciation in homes across the nation. This crash is so serious that even in areas of rather stable progress, like the Monterey Peninsula, homes have depreciated upwards of 50%. For the first time in our adult lives home prices have actually fallen into our price-point. We began hearing all manner of encouragement to "get into" the market now. But we were reticent. After all, much of the reason the market was so soft was directly linked to people buying too much home for their budgets only a few years ago. People told us we should "get into" the market then but our decision to do precisely the opposite probably saved our shirts. We were in no mood to trifle with spending multiple hundreds of thousands of dollars on a blunder we had avoided previously. But was God telling us he had bought the milk?

Through a series of "coincidences", of which we fully give God the glory, we met a real estate agent who had a large family of her own, and could understand some of the more unique challenges facing a family with many children. She also lived in Marina, and since we have lived here our hearts have quickened to this quiet town. We very much like the idea of staying here permenetly. She was well suited to help in that goal. Armed with very little real understanding of this whole process we jumped in, head first.

The first thing worthy of note is that when the nation makes a statement about its housing market being "soft", it means exactly nothing in plain English for the Monterey Peninsula. I had assumed I would walk into a home, marked down from something-I-couldn't-afford to something-I-could, decide if it was what I liked, pray over it for a few days, make a decision to offer something-less-than-the-buyer-wanted and with tears of appreciation for saving them from utter ruin the owners would gladly accept my bid. Little did I know that even in a soft market Marina still has incredible investor appeal along with first-time-home-buyers like myself seeing the possiblility of a dream turned reality in every MLS listing. The first home we even looked into was in escrow with no less than 8 back up offers standing in the queue - eight back up offers on a home already in escrow. This was soft?

It didn't take long to realize we were not going to have the scenario exactly like I had imagined. We began pursuing homes the instant they appeared in each day's listings. Again and again we would go to a home only to be told that there were 2, 3, even 4 offers already placed. The reality of dealing with a bank-owned property made itself evident as the combination of our price-point with our square footage needs did not allow for many owner-sold homes. We began questioning the difference between our wants and our needs. Did we really want a cul-de-sac? Did we really need a 4br? Some of those questions were good, and helped us see what could be changed in the future but lived with for now. But in many ways I gave up hope on finding my dream home, and began concentrating on trying to find a house of reality. We put in our first offer but were shot down after an interminable wait of nearly a week by an all cash offer. We put in a second offer and once again lost, this time to a bid snuck in moments before our own. We were growing weary. Each home being listed was covered in agents and prospective buyers within 24hrs. We noticed that each home fell into three categories: gross - and by the way you need to be a general contractor to buy this place because the previous owner lost it in the middle of a flip and oh yeah, they never finished the kitchen or bathroom; this is gorgeous, being sold by its owners, and will never be in the price point we can afford for a million years; and bank-owned, priced-below-market-value steals which meant we simply didn't have the financial package to compete with aggressive cash investors. I distinctly remember the moment when I threw my hands up, told God I was done, and prepared to rent for the rest of my life.

It is amazing that when God is preparing to do something big he usually needs to make sure you are worked to the end of your capabilities so there is no question about how the next event could have worked out itself.

#100 Miracle Drive came on the market to the tune of tens of thousands below market value. Our realtor saw it first thing that morning from her office. Christopher saw it first thing in the morning from work. I saw it first thing that same morning from home. I contacted our realtor, found out the scoop, and made plans to see it bright and early the following morning. In the mean time I had to work to get specific paperwork in order because it was bank owned, and required additional documentation for any prospective buyer's financing - namely a pre-qual letter from the foreclosure bank itself. The next 24 hrs were a blur. To list all the details would make your head spin, and my fingers ache, but suffice it to say we "somehow" *wink*:  coordinated to view the property for the first time with a plumber (MLS listed that copper piping vandalism had occurred but did not specify to what extent damage was done), go back later in the afternoon to view the property with a builder; discuss some serious stains looking like a major infestation of mold; get our fully processed pre-qual in a record 7 hours; discuss the reality that all copper piping was ruined, and the entire house would need to be re-plumbed; try to see past the outdated kitchen, horribly abused carpet, and wallpaper-happy decor in every room; and ultimately make the decision to put in an offer.

We knew as we put our offer in our realtor's hands that there were already 2 offers on the table. We were told specifically that the foreclosing bank would be dealing with all offers simultaneously, and would expect us to put forward our best offer with only a single verbal counter. We knew there was no way we could compete with cash investors. We also knew that the work needed to bring the property up to livability was extensive, and getting our lender to agree to finance a home with no working plumbing was impossible. Yeah, this was what you might call a LONG shot. Our offer was placed on Saturday.

On Monday the listing agent called our realtor to confirm she had received our bid. She noted that there were still offers coming in, and she expected at least 3 more by days end. She added that we would receive a disclosure agreement verifying we understood that we would absolutely receive a single verbal counter which would be our one chance to add any addendums to our offer. Basically we were buying a house on eBay, guessing at how high the other bidders were willing to go without losing your own neck. Not particularly the kind of place you want to be when you are trying to buy your first home!

On Wednesday our realtor received the next call from the listing agent asking why she had not received the disclosure she spoke of on Monday. Apparently it was lost in our realtor's email spam folder. In a record 30 minutes we faxed, emailed, pdf'ed, signed, and submitted the delinquent document. There were 6 offers on the table. Ours was not even officially submitted yet because of the missing form. 

Three hours later the listing agent called our realtor to verify details in our offer. We had asked for a closing cost credit, in hopes that we could use the money to fix the plumbing and potential mold infestation. We also hoped our lender would agree to finance on the house without working plumbing if he saw that we would have the money after close to repair it. The listing agent said our offer needed to specify what our intentions were with the plumbing. She was very clear in explaining that no lender would be allowed to finance a house that did not pass health and safety in the appraisal - which pretty much means you need running water. The MLS listing information was VERY clear that the foreclosing bank was selling this property "As Is", and would not be held responsible for repairing any damages. We had seen this in several other foreclosure homes where the banks basically cut their losses and while you got a deal you also got a dirty house in need of a lot of love. After discussion and prayer we chose to amend our original offer and ask that in leu of the closing cost credit the seller would pay for all plumbing repairs. This was going to far! Never before had our realtor heard of a bank taking on such extensive repairs for a foreclosure property. However, there was still the single verbal counter-offer promised, and we could reassess then.

Nothing on Thursday.

On Friday afternoon my realtor called me... our offer was accepted - no counter offers, no negotiables, no fuss. Not only was our offer accepted, but the seller agreed to pay for the plumbing, heating vent work, repainting (the entire interior of the house including wallpaper removal and retexturing of walls), carpet removal, wood floor repair, pest inspection, "green" termite remediation; and we received the closing credit we had asked for in our original bid before the plumbing addendum was added. It was all there, in black and white!

As we have moved through this dream world it has been one thing after another showing God's "biggness". There are times in our lives when we need it. Like the Israelites through the desert, being led by the presence of God in a pillar of fire or smoke day after day, Christopher and I have needed the very real presence of God in this decision. Inspections, repairs, financing, budgeting, and timing have all been insurmountable obstacles at one point or another during our journey, but each time we simply remind ourselves that if God bought us milk he put it in our fridge. So we continue looking for God to work it out, and so far he continues to make sure that every aspect comes together smoothly.

We are now just over 2 weeks out from closing escrow, and the excitement continues to mount. I am giddy with anticipation to pick out colors for my walls without asking anybody's permission! Christopher is looking forward to working in our backyard. Even the kids are tickled about the provision of God in this huge adventure. It is such an incredible journey, and I look forward to updating you more as these Israelites prepare to cross the Jordan, and enter their promised land (flowing with milk and honey *wink*).

The Little Things

These two tidbits came out from Leah and Caleb over the last couple of days. I knew I couldn't let them get away.

Leah: Mama, on yur birfday I'm gonna buyed you a BLUE present! Yep. And it's gonna be a beautiful blue princess unicorn my little pony doll. And I can play wif it wif you.

Caleb: Mama, do you know what I'm going to live in when I grow up?

Me: No, Caleb I don't.

Caleb: I'm gonna live in Escrow.

Me: In Escrow, huh?

Caleb: Yep. That way I can always be right by you.

Me: That's awesome!

Hope My Hi Will Make You Smile

Christopher received this email recently, and laughed so heartily that he printed it for my amusement. Together, we have reread it a couple of times and continue to laugh out loud. Since I have been missing in action for several weeks (I promise a more thorough blog soon) I thought this would be a good reintroduction of the inhabitants of Odd.

This is taken exactly as it was written - word choice, punctuation, and all. The title of the email is:

Hope My Hi Will Make You Smile

Hi there

Where are the sunrises of my love? Where are romantic nights and days with beloved soul mate? I feel like an orphan, and my soul suffers very much. I hope that my letter to you, who is stranger yet, but who can become native soul mate very soon, won't be occasional into your mail-box and, I hope, it will become special for you.

I hope that you won't see only the attempts to get acquainted with you into my letter; I hope that you will be able to read between lines my desire to tell you that happy future waits for us if we decide to be together.

You are strong and smart man, I am pretty woman, and we are single and we in search of love. I see no reasons which will prevent us from being together and to be called a couple. 

I know that it is too early to speak about serious relations, but you have time to think.

Don't be in rush, your decision is very important for me. I am here and wait for your important choice.

See you

Irina P.

Speedy Man

The children are often allowed a single piece of candy after lunch. We keep a box in our cupboard which houses smarties, individual fun-size chocolates, lolipops, and the like. The routine varies only slightly with each child asking if they can have a piece of candy as they clear their plate from the table. Today, Caleb added the important fact that his candy was vital to his Speedy Race he was preparing for in the front.

This is going to make me go extra speedy.

Well, it is a good thing you have it!

Oh yeah. I will so need this when I go outside for my speedy race.

He left, and apparently ran his speedy race with great success. So much success, in fact, that he decided to come back in about 10 minutes later and request a second piece of candy.

Can I get another piece of candy, 'cause I have a speedy race again, and I need it.

No. *chuckling* You know the rules, Caleb. You already had a piece of candy, and you don't need another one.

Okay. (He contentedly goes into the bathroom, and calls out) I'll just get some speedy water then.

Tools of a Darker Humor

I believe in the Sovereign God. I know that he works all things together for my good. I know I can trust that in times of difficulty he has a greater plan unfolding through the ages. I know that whatever I go through in my own experiences they are designed with my particular strengths, and weaknesses in mind. I know that God actually purposes certain circumstances to come about for my teaching. The reason I know this is because I can never get through any line without it becoming the longest, most complicated, utterly disorganized queue... ever. No exaggeration. 

Shall I elaborate? Good.

If I need to run into the store for 3 things, and there are 5 checkstands available for my use, it will take roughly 10 times the length of time for me to get checked out as it did for me to select the 3 items I needed in the first place. Here is a taste of what happens to me (mind you, these are all real life examples, and absolutely resemble the people portrayed in the anecdotal retelling) -

"The Goof"

This happens when I select the shortest line available only to find that the person in front of me has goofed. They entered the wrong pin, and have now forgotten the correct one but they still insist on using THAT card; I stand idly by while they fish out of their purse the scrap of paper with 17 different combinations of numbers presumably assigned to 17 different cards of which one will supposedly work. The person then leans over to the clerk and shows them the piece of paper asking, "Which one is it?"

"The Wall"

After struggling to make it through the crowds with my children in tow I am finally standing a mere 2 people back from the checker. The customer being helped inquires about a sale in the weekly circular. The clerk verifies that the circular she is referring to was published for last week's sales. At this point the scenario goes one of two ways, but they equal the same thing. One of them is wrong, one is right but both refuse to go that extra 10th of an inch to recognize their mistake. The battle escalates, one insisting the date is right, one insisting the date is wrong while the rest of us watch helplessly as a wall is built over a mere 30 cents.

"Trainee"

We can all appreciate being new to the job. You feel foolish, never quite able to get your feet under you. Who doesn't have a special place of patience for Day 1? How about Day 1 unsupervised? The clerk looks so fresh, so blissfully unaware of the mayhem surrounding her that I figure her line must be slightly more enjoyable than Mr. Grumpface. I load my things onto the conveyor belt (and can I stop here and make a note about why I don't leave the lines I enter once I realize they are again tools of a darker humor? The invention of the conveyor belt to aid cashier's in speeding up lines is a fraud. The only thing it does is quietly steal any autonomy you may feel with the line. Once your produce is on that black ribbon of death you are committed. How many times does a different clerk offer to take you to the next checkstand if your things are already unloaded? Never, that's how many. I have sat for literally 15 minutes with only one person in front of me while gobs of people blow through the lines on my right, and left all because I made an unspoken covenant of " 'til death do us part" when I placed that first cucumber on the conveyor belt.) By the time Miss Newday finished my transaction my entire cart was rung up, voided, and re-rung with multiple variations of change being owed, and at least 42 instances where a trainer would have proven invaluable.

"Tape Replacement"

This is one of my favorites. I stand in a small line, making my way to the front with relative ease only to be informed immediately before it is my turn that the cashier has run out of register tape. They will need to change it before they can continue ringing. I remark that I will wait, but they insist on me moving to a different line for fear that I will be unhappy with the length of time it will take them. I try to assuage their guilt but there is no arguing, and by the time I am finished with my purchase through a different checkstand my original cashier has replaced their tape, and helped 4 customers.

"Error #349b"

I am aware that God is so convinced of my need to experience trying circumstances in lines that even when I am not purchasing an item the person who I am with will undoubtable receive my line treatment. My friend and I advanced to a "self-checkout" where the system treats you little better than a 1st grader. She had two items to purchase, and after swiping the first the screen goes blank, shouts that the item is unrecognizable with "Error 349b" in bold print, then reverts to the homepage display. She tried again, tried the other item, tried the first item until we both realize we need the supervising clerk. 10 minutes later we have tracked down the clerk who is obviously disgruntled that she has to work with peons, but after several more screens my friend finally has her purchase completed only to have the weighted bag holder yell at her for placing unidentified objects on it. So I stand by, holding fish in both hands while she pays so we can finally be done.

I could continue. If I pick the short line it will take twice as long as the long line. If I pick the long line, full of 2 or 3 item purchases it will be nearly 4 times as long as any other. The line I am in gets closed and merged with another. I give the clerk the benefit of the doubt only to find that my misgivings were completely deserved. It has gotten to the point where my husband, and friends will often ask me which line I would choose, and then go to the opposite one.

But I remain optimistic. Someday I will choose a line that runs smoothly, is correctly marked, takes me to the right counter, gets me out quickly, and ultimately behaves the way lines are meant to behave. I just have to figure out what God has for me to learn, and learn it. Apparently the last 15 years hasn't done the job yet.

Leah's Home Planet

Our good friends, the Proctors, moved to Texas at the end of April. They are military, and we knew we only had them for a short while, but what started as a 14+ month tour turned into nearly four years. Our families shared a lot of laughs, tears, births, and deaths. And even though we knew it was time to say good-bye it was still difficult to watch them leave - especially to go to Texas. Now, this needs to be put into context because, you see, the Proctors are FROM Texas. Yep. The Army moved them back to their home state, and even fairly close to their home towns. We are excited for them to be reunited with family, and friends. But still... Texas?

This morning Leah was watching me make breakfast when she announced, "I have a play date with the Proctors today."

"No, sweetie. The Proctors have moved."

"Yeah," Caleb reminded her, "they live in Texas now."

"That's okay," Leah continued, "cause I live in Texas too. That's where I am from."

I don't think Leah is really from Texas (I birthed her in California after all). But I am coming to believe that Leah is simply not from earth. 

Happy Father's Day

Today is a day of remembering our fathers. Along with our natural fathers perhaps we remember our spiritual fathers, our country's founding fathers, our Abba Father, our husbands and sons. In short, it is a day to remember all the blessings that come from the men in our lives. I did not have the privilege of growing up with my own dad, but I have been given such a blessing in watching my husband with our children. There is something particularly sweet about a grown man beaming at his tiny newborn, tenderly kissing the boo-boos from a two-year old's imagined scrape, laughing at the "funny" jokes a 4 year old says, generously praising the efforts of a seven year old nervously trying their wings in public performance, and patiently allowing a 9 year old the room to grow through that awkward stage. Today, Christopher's children, each in their own way, gave him something that represented their thanks for the sacrifice, hard work, love, and irreplaceability of him in their life.

Hannah: beautifully wrapped an atlas of Egypt. She knows how much her daddy enjoys maps, atlases, and geography, and made the practical step of placing value on what he would like. She grows more responsible by the day, and is most likely to think through outcomes in order to make an informed decision. She wants to bless you with her effort to understand what would really please you.

Bethany: showered Daddy with gifts. She spent hours over the past several days writing stories, drawing pictures, and designing a host of "wrap-ables" for the number one man in her life. Her effort to show how special he is to her came through with crystal clarity. They weren't big gifts, or expensive presents, but often it is the hand-picked bouquet, or personal note that tells people that they mean enough for us to use our time.

Caleb: prayed for Daddy before dinner thanking God for the good job he did of helping to present our church's Sunday morning sermon today (our head pastor was out of town, and three elders stepped up to fill his shoes - Christopher being one of them). He praised his father for the good work he accomplished. Caleb values words that encourage and edify, often choosing to ask us how we are doing, or tell us what great people we are out of the blue. He appreciates the need to be told, verbally, that you are special.

Leah: came downstairs after nap and stayed quiet! She recognized Daddy's hard work in preparing for the sermon, and blessed him by remembering that if she remained quiet he could get a good nap himself. She grows in her sensitivity to others, and generously gives from her heart. She may not always get it right, but can't we all appreciate that the thought can sometimes be more crucial than the execution? 

Mary: simply wanted her daddy to hold her, and give her hugs. At 2 and a half she loves her daddy with an unspoiled, and uncomplicated affection. We drove to church in separate vehicles this morning so when service was over, and we were preparing to leave in those separate cars, she become nearly hysterical that Daddy was not coming with us. It is nice to be needed.

Josiah: fell asleep in his father's arms, being gently rocked by this wonderful man. His face lights up when Daddy comes home. His beautiful smile brightens anyone's day, but it is an especially poignant balm after a day of meetings, and politics in the corporate world. Sometimes you just need a small reminder that life really isn't all about greed, the corporate ladder, promotions, or getting ahead.

In myriad ways our children tell us how much they love us each day. We don't really need days like Father's Day, or Mother's Day to tell us of their love. But I think remembrance is important, and the ceremony of honoring those that we love is a way of affirming their place in our lives. We all need to be loved (and told so), needed (and told so), accepted (and told so), honored (yep, and told so), and included (don't forget, and told so). Today, in our special way as the Randall Family, we loved our one and only, Christopher. 

(picture taken by Bethany)

Injustices

I am fairly level-headed. I recognize that things which you cleaned yesterday may very well get dirty again today. I especially recognize this as my family grows. Leah, in particular, has the gift of throwing all clothing, clean and soiled, into the clothes hamper. I rewash hordes of clothes for the simple fact that after sitting at the bottom of the hamper for 4 days they now smell like their genuinely dirty counterparts. I clean the bathroom, ideally daily, but realistically every third day; and just as soon as I clean it my son goes in to use it. Need I say more? I change sheets, only to have a baby explode out of a diaper that very afternoon. I wash dishes so that we might use them at breakfast, lunch and dinner. I vacuum because lint, and outside debris carried in on my perfect children's perfectly wiped feet, prefer clean floors. I dust so I can see where the new dust falls. In total, I am involved in a very intricate dance that has no ending, but occasionally bears the allusion of conclusion. This, I can handle. What I can not handle are the injustices which pile on top of the never-ending cycle o' cleaning.

Vacuuming the vacuum.

Defrosting the freezer.

Washing the washing machine.

The last one really gets me, and it got me specifically yesterday. I noticed that I had a ring around the top of my inner tub. Then I saw that there was grime on the agitator. What!? How can this be? I don't spill detergent and leave it. I keep the dust off the back, wiping down the top and inside of the lid fairly regularly. But somehow I was faced with a dirty washing machine. I grabbed the vinegar, a brush, an old rag, a toothbrush, a cup and got to work. I scrubbed the tub, agitator, bleach dispenser, fabric softener insert, water spigot, top, bottom, and on and on and on. When I was done I started to feel a sense of accomplishment. My washing machine was clean. I could put my clothes in it with confidence... but wait!

The clothes were dirty. They were only going to make the machine gross all over again. Added to this was the fact that no one could tell that my machine was now a glowing representation of godliness because nothing looked different on the outside! Injustice! So in retaliation I am spending today thinking about how I can market a self-cleaning machine and the millions it will make me.

The Tale of Two Languages

Bethany made up the following joke all by herself. I merely acted as recorder, and wrote exactly what she dictated. I hope you enjoy!

There was a man who walked into town and didn't know the language. He went to his hotel room, and he looked out one of his windows, and he saw some kids playing in the pool, and he heard one of them say, "How about I go to the bottom?"

Then he looked out his other window, he saw some kids go into a restaurant and saying, "I can't wait."

He heard a knock on a door and someone saying, "Hello, your food is ready!"

He then heard another knock on a door, and a person answering, "Yes?"

Then he went around town to explore. He stopped by some people who asked him, "Did you knock our car? If you did go to the top of the highest mountain."

He said, "How about I go to the bottom?"

Then they said, "Well.."

And he replied, "I can't wait." Then he said to the people, who were next to a restaurant, "Hello, your foods ready!"

And they said, "Really?!"

And he said, "Yes!"

Laugh or Cry

There is an expression that says, "If you don't laugh, you'll cry." I am sure everyone has a moment when they realize the truth of that saying. My week was one such revelation.

My children are wonderful! They are well behaved, useful, enjoyable little people who give so much joy to me each day. I would never trade being at home raising them, even for the best salary/fringe benefits/total package "career" job you could find. I look at my life and wonder, "wow - how did I get away with this?" I watch each day as my little son grows cuter and cuter. I see almost all of the idiosyncrasies in my girls take form, and develop. I don't miss a single career change that Caleb makes (he informed me yesterday he wants to be a horse trainer). Sure, there are hard times. Sure, there are days I wish I could "take a break", send my kids off on a school bus and come back into a quiet, CLEAN home. I am human, and so are my children. But overall, I don't think either of us would really want to be separated from one another for the entire day, only getting the chance to connect in the evenings and weekends. I am jealous over my children's time, and I want to be there to discover life with them - not hear about it from someone else.

However...

This last week went terribly awry, and while I may have days here and there, I can honestly say I had the worst week parenting - ever. This is no hyperbole. If I said right, then all went left. If I said stop, they kept going. They deliberately defied me. They exacerbated escalating conflicts which did not immediately concern them. They irritated one another to no end. Even Josiah struggled with an inordinate amount of fussing. I was brought to tears, along with Christopher, as day after day we poured ourselves out thinking, "how much longer can this last, God?" And then, just as mysteriously as it started, it stopped. Suddenly Caleb and Leah joyfully played together, respecting each other's space and genuinely working to cooperate. Bethany and Hannah followed through on responsibilities. Mary began using her words to communicate instead of simply screaming. And yes, even Josiah woke up with a huge smile which did not leave his face all morning. My children were home.

But I learned something in the midst of it. While perspective in life is vital, invalidating the reality of difficulty in another person's life is a shallow form self-aggrandizement. Perspective says, "my children are generally very well behaved, and even within this time of trial I am thankful that I only face relatively minor insurrections." Perspective reminds me to not exaggerate for the sake of inspiring pity in others. Perspective gently whispers that I still have so much to be thankful for in my life, and the lives of my children. Job inspires perspective. Invalidation seeks to undermine the reality of my difficulties by replacing them with someone else's version of my circumstances - a version that understates my cross to bear by pointing out the size of their own. Invalidation screams, "you can't say you are struggling because this is nothing compared to what I have dealt with!" Invalidation overwhelms with impotence by denying the trial, and trying to create guilt that you would even think your difficulty bears authenticity. It seeks to raise one above the other through incompatible comparison.

I was faced with both perspective, and invalidation over the course of my week. I had one woman share with me, through a gentle and quiet spirit, an encouraging word about how much she appreciates my children even in the midst of my exasperation. She pointed out how loving they are toward her child (who has some special needs), and how their manners speak of a solid foundation in quality character. It reminded me that I am dealing with a puddle of testing, not a sea of disappointments, and I was encouraged (I shared this with the children, to encourage them). The other interaction was a woman who overheard me share my current state of distress, and immediately pounced to admonish that, "at least you have your children home, and have the power to make them do what is right." She went on to say, without asking any questions about my current situation, that I should be thankful that my children are still young and can be responsive to correction. She would not complain, if she were me (mind you, I was asked by a close friend in a group setting how I was doing and it was through my reply that this woman opened fire) because I had no idea how much she would give to have her children back at home where she could control their waywardness. I felt bruised, and lonely after she finished. The only thing that loomed in my sight was the thought that unless my children were pursuing heinous sin I had no business feeling overwhelmed with my conviction to proactively parent.

I think I struggle with mixing the two. I think many people struggle. In our human nature we want attention, whether for the good we accomplish or the bad we survive. Our culture tends to place an inordinate amount of attention on the spectacular, so that we become desensitized to the reality of difficulty in other's lives, and focus wholly on our own right to receive consolation. By invalidating a trying circumstance for someone else we effectively demerit their right to experience what God has seen fit to use for their sanctification.

 

I hope this past week has taught me how to use perspective in future difficulties. I want to utilize the gift that often allows me to laugh, when I know I have reason to cry.

(Mary went to bed for "nap" in her crib, with the tent. This is what we found when we went to wake her.)

Bethany's Debut

Bethany came to us with this beautiful ballad, introducing it as her debut. We are thrilled to give you a front row-center rendition of "Bethany's Song". Enjoy.

Letter of the Law

Recently, my family and I sojourned in Circuit City. We used the guise of searching out computer printers as a cover for our real mission, which was to be the point-and-stare show for everyone shopping. In these situations, more than almost any other, do I feel the pressure to "perform". I want my children to sparkle, amaze, shine, bless, and even - dare I admit it - shut down all the nay-sayers. I used to be good at this job. When Leah was still small enough to be housed in our arsenal of a stroller I could glibly walk the aisles of department stores knowing that the looks I received were ones of admiration (how does she do it?), respect (look at how well they all behave), and envy (I wish my kids would act like that). Let me tell you something, from experience, humbling always comes... it just depends on how far down you need to go. Eventually we had to release Leah.

This brings me back to Circuit City, and the looks of terror we received as all eight of us clamored into an electronics store filled with highly expensive big-people toys. Needless to say I think everyone in the building knew Leah's name by the time we picked out our printer (which is beautiful). Leah follows the spirit of the law, which translated means she doesn't listen. I can say, "Leah, stay right here" and she hears, "Leah, don't leave the greater Monterey Peninsula." When I blurt, "Leah, stop crawling on the floor!" she registers,  "Sweetie, you are so cute as a puppy." Spirited is the polite description for my fourth born.

We finally made it through the checkout, (paying for only the printer!) and out of the building. We stopped at the curb so I could issue the following decree before heading to our van across the street in the parking lot:

Every single one of you must be holding either a hand, shopping cart, or stroller. No one is allowed to step off the curb without holding a hand, stroller, or cart. Period.

I thought I made myself very clear. Leah decided to follow the letter of the law, for once.

Okay Mama, I'm ready.

The Gratitude Campaign

I received this from my mom, and thought it was wonderful. Check it out!

The Gratitude Campaign

Fan

I am not a big "giver of awe" to celebrities. I think the combination of working in a family business that occasionally served the Hollywood elite, recognizing their right to privacy and enjoyable family outings coupled with my own unwillingness to see them as anything more than human has kept me from becoming smitten with any one personality. Mind you, I enjoy several actors in their profession, novelists, teachers, etc. but I have never spent idle minutes (dare I say hours for some) pining at the possibility of becoming personal friends, or intimates with them. I don't search out their private lives in magazines. I don't read tabloids, legitimate (People) or not (Star). And while I readily admit that I enjoyed Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous most of my fascination with the program was Robin Leach's unique voice rather than the famous in the spotlight.

BUT...

I thoroughly enjoy a bible study teacher named Beth Moore. I had the blessing of hearing her in person during a women's bible conference in San Francisco. From everything I have witnessed, she is bright, funny, and very down to earth. I found, somewhat by accident, that she writes a blog along with her two adult daughters. I am tickled. And, for your own edification, I linked to it in my sidebar. She is human, but I would readily sit down for afternoon lunch with this wonderful woman. *grin*

Spanish

One of the many things Christopher and I want to incorporate into our homeschool is foreign language. In today's world culture having a second language is becoming incredibly relevant, and Spanish is an obvious choice for Californians. Because of all this we told the kids some time ago that we were investigating a foreign language program which could teach them (and us) Spanish. The girls were very excited, but Bethany in particular thought this idea really wonderful. I think it had to do with the fact that she would have an "official" curriculum, like her older sister. After much research we settled on Rosetta Stone, Spanish (Latin America). The course is costly, but we found the homeschool edition for Spanish 1, 2, and 3 bundled together while at our homeschool convention earlier this month, and couldn't refuse the price. We bought it, and told the girls that night. They were thrilled! Immediately they wanted to know when we planned to install the program, and allow them to begin learning their new language. We had to explain that we needed to wait until the product actually shipped, but that we would not wait until the beginning of the new school year to begin their lessons. They could both start once we received our package, and loaded the application. Well, some 10 days later our box finally arrived. As is always the case when a little person is waiting expectantly for an event we happened to have out of town guests along with a host of appointments which kept us from immediately installing our Spanish. Each day Bethany inquired if THIS was the day she could start learning her new language, and each day I explained that it just wasn't going to happen until later. In the meantime, she talked often about how much she looked forward to learning Spanish. I think much of her enthusiasm stems from legitimizing a favorite game she plays where she translates phrases of our choice into and out of her own made up language. Like kids that wore a  bended paperclip in school to act like they had a real retainer, Rosetta Stone would give Bethany the real retainer after settling for so long with the paper clip. Her eagerness finally bubbled over a few night ago as she read aloud Psalm 1 in order to work on her reading skills. She struggled through words like "wicked", "chaff", and finally "righteous."

How do you say this, r-i-g-h-t-e-o-u-s?

Let's sound it out.

Rrr - iiii - g.

No, start with this: what does l-i-g-h-t say? You remember we talked about g-h-t in other words. 

Hmmm... it says, (long pause) light?

That's right. So if l-i-g-h-t says light, what does r-i-g-h-t say? 

Ummm... it says, (long pause) right?

Exactly! Good job. Right is the first part of our word. Now what does o-u-s say?

But there is an "e" in it.

Yes, but we are only concerned with the o-u-s right now. (Bethany was beginning to get flustered, and after several verses already pronounced and worked through I could tell she just wanted me to "know". She was tired of learning. She sighed.)

I can tell this would be a lot easier in Spanish.

I've Been Tagged

My girlfriend, Julie, who writes a blog as well (see it over on the sidebar... Watercolor Ponies) tagged me. So now I am "it". I have to share 7 little known facts about myself. Here goes:

#1 I have an obsession with hooks. If I can hang it from a hook, all the better. I have hooks for my bathroom towels, rather than towel bars. I have a whole row of hooks next to the front door for the kids' jackets. I have hooks for pot-holders, aprons, backpacks, towels, and if I could I would have more. Just wait until we own a home, and I can hook to my heart's delight.

#2 I have at least one clock in every room, and none of them are on the same time. My bedside clock needs to be 10 minutes fast so I get up on time (don't follow the logic, there is none); my microwave clock needs to be exactly correct for my husband, but the massive clock on the wall facing the microwave is fast by 2 minutes. And by the way, digital clocks don't count as real.

#3 I am taken by anything miniature. There is nothing like the absolute adorability of something large being shrunken down in size. I have a tiny bottle of dishwashing liquid on my drainboard that presumably serves the purpose of taking up less space than the large jug-o-soap I buy at Costco. The real reason however, is how cute it is in my kitchen. Tiny bottles, little baskets, miniature of any kind is darling to me. 

#4 I don't like taking showers (baths are even worse). I take them because I like to be clean. But if there were a way to manage hygiene without them, I would. The whole ordeal of cutting the time out of my day, washing (especially my hair), and then dealing with the blow dryer is just a headache I would rather forego.

#5 I thoroughly enjoy laundry, but only the washing, drying, and folding part; I can't stand putting it away! What a pleasure it is now that Hannah and Bethany (and sometimes even Caleb and Leah) can do it for me.

#6 My beverage of choice is plain wrap, Safeway brand, unflavored, room temperature,  aluminum canned, seltzer water. I drink roughly 4 a day.

#7 I do not know my multiplication tables past the high 6s by heart. In 3rd grade I was tested every week, for time, and never got the gold star next to my name. I am determined to learn them with Hannah!

So, what about you? What seven things would make me giggle? If you are so inclined I would love to have you comment on this post, and add your own "little known facts". 

Peek A Boo

Peek a boo... I see you.

Under The Water At Lexi's Party

I considered passing by this blog-worthy event because I feared my readership might be weary of Leah-isms. Similar to my own threshold for Knock-Knock jokes, could it be possible that you grow tired of hearing the anecdotes taken from my children's mouths? It is possible - but the fact remains that Odd is not Odd because I have one child who never reinvents my parental platitudes with their own unique bent. No, Odd is what it is because of events like the one I am about to share, and you wouldn't be reading if it weren't so... well, Odd.

As a backdrop for the following statement, you must understand something. Some 16 weeks ago (December 9th, to be exact) my children attended an indoor swim party for a friend's birthday. Leah became so enamored with the event that we have scarcely gone a single evening without her mentioning, "I went under the water at Lexi's party." It has almost replaced the mindless sayings all families use, like, "God bless you," at a sneeze or, "excuse me," when you bump someone. In our house you could simply say, "I went under the water at Lexi's party," and I seriously doubt anyone would even blink. She already knows that she wants a Lexi party for her own birthday (she doesn't separate the party's owner with the event location, and can not simply call it, say, "the pool"). Bearing all this in mind, Leah sat down next to me tonight and calmly explained the following:

I went under the water at Lexi's party (this statement no longer requires any response, being now used as a way to introduce any number of topics, and akin to "hello" in my daughter's vocabulary). I bumped my head on my arm, right here (she points to an imagined wound on her arm, which never came into any contact with her head under the water at Lexi's party or elsewhere). And now my head gave me a blood-scrape. See?

Here, she gave me one of her more fantastical looks, which are making her famous among those who have IRL (in real life) knowledge of my curly-haired imp, and trotted off to pretend obedience to the bedtime ritual.

Yo Cuz, part II

I had the unique pleasure of visiting with yet another Amish cousin last night, David. If you recall, I had the opportunity to visit with David's younger brother Michael just last year in June, so I've been on a bit of a kick getting to see my Amish cousins of late. You see, David is a pilot with Express Jet airlines, and the good Lord brought David through Monterey on one of his flights. I was blessed when I got an email from David last week and he suggested we get together. He had about a 22 hour layover, and it would give us the opportunity to have dinner together, and allow him to meet the family.

Trisha had a meeting at the church, so it was a bit crazy managing all six of the kids and hosting a small-scale dinner party. But, we had an awesome time together, catching up after 18 years of not seeing each other. It was neat to hear how God was working in David's life, and how life is treating he and his family, as well as share what God is doing in our life.

David promises to come visit again as Express Jet allows him Monterey layovers in the future. We're praying he and his wife Kathy and their children Abby and Gavin will have a chance to come and visit in the future as well!

Praise God!

facebook

There is a new phenomenon (or perhaps not quite so new, but I am just now learning about it which makes it new to me) called facebook. It is an online networking community, similar to MySpace (which was totally lost on me), but supposedly designed for an older crowd - in internet years that includes me. So, I joined. It has some pretty fun stuff, like games you can play with your friends, photos you can share, little places where you write messages on other people's profiles. It has the air of maturity, calling things "networks", and "groups" but in essence it is about how many friends you can accrue. I am sadly lacking! For instance, of the ten people who have deigned to be my friend (and one of those is my hubby, and is under obligation to acknowledge me) there are no fewer than a combined total of 862 friends. EIGHT HUNDRED & SIXTY TWO. Read it again. It's a good thing I am so mature, and not easily caught up in popularity wars.

Said very quickly, in the "Announcer of all things Legal" voice:

Go sign up for a facebook account immediately, and flood Trisha's inbox with friend requests so she can be cool, and have lots of people in her "network".

What It Takes

Easter is often thought of as that special day when the whole family puts on their new spring clothes, everyone looks beautiful, and pictures are taken for family and friends to see. It is, in essence, a highly photo-opportunity-rich event. At least that is how it works in the real world. In Odd... things always seem just a bit different. Here is a look at what it took to get this one photo. 

2/21 - win eBay auction for new Easter dresses after grueling hours of searching for, and finding the right ones
3/10 - get dresses in the mail, and try them on to make sure they actually fit
3/20 - ask girlfriend to be prepared to take picture of family when we get to church Sunday morning
3/22 - check dresses to make sure they are clean, pressed, and ready for tomorrow - run out to buy last minute nylons for girls, and slip for Hannah, stop at grocery store to buy fresh salad fixings for Easter dinner - set out everyone's outfit - chat with hubby about the following day
EASTER DAY
7:53am - alarm goes off... hit snooze once
8:01 - up, shower on and getting warm
8:17 - out of shower, baby waking
8:26 - downstairs, semi-dressed, baby changed, now nursing
8:39 - discuss with hubby plan of attack for day, baby still nursing
8:51 - baby still nursing, hubby in shower
8:56 - baby burped, in swing, Leah is awake and already "dressed", start blow drying hair
9:02 - hubby out of shower & waking up rest of kids, hair still drying, curling iron plugged in - Mary insisting on sitting on potty for 7 hours to go potty, Caleb asking 50 million questions, girls wanting to have me make them beautiful immediately
9:07 - hair dry, directing girls (while curling hair) to get their underclothes on, directing hubby on what clothes were picked out for littler people, keeping an eye on Leah
9:10 - curling hair, helping older girls with underclothes, Leah is showing me her new pretty dress
9:14 - curling Bethany's hair, Caleb wants to show me how handsome he is
9:21 - curling Hannah's hair, Mary wants to show me how beautiful she is
9:24 - get Bethany dressed in new Easter dress
9:29 - get Hannah dressed in new Easter dress, list off to hubby what needs to happen with the diaper bag, make adjustments to Hannah's new slip which requires finding two safety pins
9:35 - put make-up on Bethany, and add a "barrel" curl to her hair so it looks how she wants it to look
9:37 - simultaneously work on Bethany's hair and double check that everyone is on track
9:42 - remind Leah that I will put her hair up when I am done with the older girls
9:46 - put make-up on Hannah, clip Bethany's hair out of her eyes
9:51 - throw some make-up on myself
9:53 - put Leah's hair up, check diaper bag
9:55 - load up the van for special Easter brunch at church, drinking homemade chai on the way out the door
10:02 - pull out of driveway, everyone is fed, burped, powdered, cleaned, pressed, combed, perfumed, diapered, and hungry
10:09 - arrive at Bagel Bakery to buy plain bagels so when we get to brunch at church we don't have to worry about there not being food choices for the kids with all their allergies
10:15 - back on the road after changing our order 3 times because they didn't have enough of our first choices to fill our standard order
10:19 - almost to church...
WE FORGOT OUR CAMERA!
10:24 - arrive at church, 30 minutes before service starts and still miss most of the brunch goodies!
10:39 - making small chat with everyone, keeping an eye on all 6 little people running around, making sure dresses stay nice, trying to see if camera in phone will work for a group photo (that's laughable)
11:00 - Resurrection Sunday service starts (It Was Wonderful!)
11:42 - children dismissed for Children's Church and (under pain of death if they soil their clothes) are released from our pew
12:19pm - service dismissed
12:21 - hubby trying to procure a camera from someone to take a picture
12:23 - pick Josiah up from the nursery, check to make sure we have all sippy cups from the 2's and 3's for Leah and Mary
12:29 - hubby finds someone with a camera... but no flash card
12:32 - kids getting hungry we decide we are just going to need to get home and take a picture later when we are at our Aunt's house and who cares if we are in plain clothes... if someone wants a picture of all 8 of us at one time they can take it themselves!
12:37 - loading kids in van, who are breaking down from the constant "go" of the morning (not to mention the constant "go" of the past 3 days with park outings, friends spending the night, birthday parties to attend)
12:41 - finally find the second sippy cup in the church, leave church parking lot with at least 3 kids crying
12:57 - pulling into driveway and get bright idea to have the next door neighbor come over and take our picture really quickly before we put everyone down for naps so they can be sane for an entire afternoon/evening back out of the house
12:59 - next door neighbor taking a nap, but willing to help us out
1:03 - open front door and Leah literally runs upstairs to get in her bed for a nap, Josiah is crying for a nursing, Caleb is upset because we told everyone they were taking a rest before Auntie's and he doesn't think he needs it
1:07 - next door neighbor comes over, show him how to run our camera, set up what might be a good composition, try not to worry about how exhausted everyone is
1:10 - picture taken!
1:13 - bring everyone inside, take off Easter clothes, hang everything up, get everyone in bed, hubby and I change out of our clothes
1:27 - change Josiah, start nursing
1:39 - still nursing, chatting with hubby about the rest of the day, plans to make the salad, needing to get the picture uploaded and on the blog
1:48 - baby done nursing, downloading picture
1:53 - find 2 decent pictures in the ones taken, one looking great of me, one looking great of everyone else
2:06 - working on face swapping the good pic of me into the good pic of everyone else, hubby doing up few dishes
2:35 - hubby outside watering the lawn, still working on face swapping (it was a very unflattering pic of me)
2:51 - finish face swap! Start making salad
3:14 - wake everyone up from their "nap", promise to get back to pic and write post tomorrow, reload diaper bag, change out of pajamas into "nice" play clothes, pile into the van, head out the door for more fun!!!
3/24 - (I won't bore you with the other details of my morning so far, suffice it to say we are busy enough) Write blog to go with picture

And there you have it... what it takes to just "snap" a picture of my family!

The Tale of Two Men

This is Hannah's first creative writing assignment. She is learning about storytelling, and using her imagination to build character development. I copied her text exactly, so you could enjoy all her nuances in vocabulary, and style. The reference she makes to Dubia is better explained here.

The Tale of Two Men.

Once there was two men.Those two men lived close to each other.Their names were: James and Tyler.James was 22, & Tyler was 20. Oh yea, did I tell you that those men were SELFISH! You would think they where very good men, but when they went shopping with their wives, they would act like little kids, only with food, not with toys. One day they secretly left their wives that, by now they wish they never married in the first place, and their kids. They were going to a place called Dubia, that was in the shape of a palm tree!When they were, say...half way there the ship that they were on caught on fire! It was caused by two men...James & Tyler! They were forced to leave, but they got a piece of wood that served as a raft.That night was the worst night they had ever experienced in their life.About a hour later, they heard a voice saying: "grab on to the rope". They could not belive their eyes, it was their wives!They had to answer. "okay". When they got back they all had a feast, and James and Tyler learned never to be selfish again and to love their wives and kids.And they all lived happly ever after.
~ THE END ~

non sequitur

A normal conversation in our household:

Bethany - I made the beds, Mama. Is there anything else I need to do?

Mama - I don't think so, sweetie. Have you finished your other chores?

Bethany - Yep.

Mama - Great. You can go outside.

Caleb - Speaking of, can I have a glass of lemonade?

Wound

Caleb just came in from playing outside, perfectly calm but with his arm stuck out towards me.

Mama, I got this and I need you to take care of it. (He shows me his arm, with a scratch on it.)

Hmm, is it bad?

Uh huh. It has a lot of blood, see?

Well, that looks pretty substantial.

Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna survive.

No?

He shakes his head.

What do you think I can do to fix it?

You probably need to put a band-aid on it. (He sighs, ostensibly from the effort of managing this hugely inconvenient war-wound.)

Alright. You go grab the band-aid box and I will put on one.

It's just so big! This is a Daddy-sized boo-boo. It definitely needs a band-aid.

Hey Caleb, let me take a picture of it.

Oh yeah, good idea Mama. That way you can show everyone how big it is.

That was exactly what I was thinking, son.