Slip And Slide!

Reading the Signs

Thanks for all the great advice/reassurance about the BH contractions. I had my 24 week check up yesterday and was once again cleared to exercise.

Can't say I'm going to jump right on that, but I'm still thankful for the all clear.

And speaking of being thankful can I just say how much Park and I have been enjoying this beautiful weather?

Two days ago we spent the entire day outside, painting with marbles, sponges, and good old fashioned side walk chalk. There may have been a few (or a hundred) baseball pitches that he required of me, in between activities, as well. That child is so efficient at hitting the ball that there is a strong possibility he could take my head off in the near future.

And today we spent the morning at the playground. He spent some time in the sandbox before we had a picnic and went on a nature scavenger hunt. A while back, Bridget had given me some pictures she had pulled off the Internet of things like a playground, fence, tree, bird, squirrel, and so on. I cut them out and put them on a little ring and Park couldn't have been more thrilled to explore with me until we found each item.

He also discovered something that wasn't on the list.... a huge hill to ride his bike down at breakneck speed while I prayed his training wheels would somehow keep him from bodily injury. If this next baby is cautious, I'm not even sure I will know what to do with that.

In other news, Park has learned to read. Now, if you ask him if he can read he will say, "Well, I can only sound out words, but I still need you to read my books to me." But, the last time I checked, that still counts as reading when you are a three-year-old.

I'm not sure exactly how it came about, but I've known that he has a love for letters for some time now. Last summer we made an alphabet book (a letter of the alphabet on each page and then you cut out things from magazines that start with that letter) and he was quite confident of what items started with which letter.He is constantly asking me what sounds each letter makes and loves when I arrange his fridge alphabet into words.

So, last week I decided to I showed him the word "bat" and asked him how I could change it to "sat". I wasn't sure he would know, but when he handed me the s, we just kept going. Before I knew it, he was reading words like hen, sun, bed, pig, doll and so on.

And at the risk of sounding like a bragging mom, I was amazed that he read "Pass Left" off a sign at the playground today.

Unfortunately, he also screamed this rule to any biker who was trying to get around us on the trail this morning. At least he added please to it, right?

Looks like our next task will be teaching him to read the sign that says: "Caution: Dangerous Hill Ahead."

Captured Memories: The Shoot Out

Well, hello Mr. Blog. It is nice to meet up with you again. It's been quite a while....

One of the things I love about blogging is it is one of those things in life I feel little pressure about, which is probably pretty obvious based on the sporadicness (yes, spell check, I made this one up) of my postings.

Having a blog is so incredible because I am able to do something I love (write), while capturing memories made with the ones I love. Sometimes I get on a roll and record those sweet memories as they happen, and other times I simply enjoy making them, taking snapshots in my mind that can be relayed at a later date.

Either way, this little piece of cyber space is always waiting, ready and willing to oblige me whenever the time comes. And sooner or later, I find myself back here, welcomed as if I were never gone.

No harm no foul, minus a few holes in the archives.

All that to say, thank you for persevering with me as I relay some of those captured memories from the last few weeks over the next few posts.

I'm not sure how it happened, but Park seems to have discovered guns overnight. Although we have no actual toy artillery in our household, EVERYTHING has turned into a weapon of mass destruction.

Fingers, sticks, crayons, bats, and anything else you can think of are cocked and ready to be fired at any given moment of play. And let me not fail to mention the sound effects he has so eloquently mastered.

"POW POW...BOOM...BAM BAM!!!!, " he screams, while taking aim at various items in the living room.

I'm not going to lie, it is obnoxious.

So, as of recent, I've tried some various parenting techniques, such as setting some rules of engagement

Rule #1 We don't shoot living things.

Park's reply: "But Mommy, Uncle Rob shoots deer and elk and hogs. Aren't they alive before he shoots them dead."

Thanks to my hunting loving brother-in law, Rule # 1 had to be modified a bit. Although when I scolded him for this told him this, Uncle Rob was quick to remind me that he shoots with a bow and arrow and not a gun.

Clearly, that made me feel much better, as you can imagine.

Modified Rule #1: We don't shoot people.

Park's reply: "But Mommy, I just shoot bad guys."

I took a deep breath and decided to use this as a teachable moment. Feeling this was a good opportunity to impart some spiritual truth, I discussed with my son that bad guys are really just people who need Jesus.

I explained that God created the world, giving every single person a chance to decide if they will accept or reject Jesus. I ended the impromptu lesson with, "We don't want to shoot them because then they would not have an opportunity to meet Jesus and accept Him into their hearts."

Park looked very impressed for a brief moment just before his little face fell in defeat as he said, "I guess I can only shoot wild animals now."

I smiled, trying not to declare victory until he was well out of the room.

About 2 minutes later, I caught him shooting "bad guys" again. In case you are wondering how I knew this, his celebratory yells of "Yes! I shot him. I shot the bad guy!" clued me in.

He is a sneaky one, I tell you.

I gave him one of my best "didn't I just tell you we don't shoot bad guys?" looks, as I sternly said the obligatory "Park Ryland!"

Beaming proudly, Park replied, "Don't worry Mommy, I asked this bad guy if he wanted to accept Jesus and he said no. So, I shot him."

Oh dear. Not exactly what I had in mind with my little salvation lesson.

Re-Modified Rule #1 We only shoot pretend paintball guns. We are not actually harming anything we shoot, because paint does not hurt.

Especially animals and bad guys.

As for that victorious smile I was wearing? Well, let's just say it is covered in paint.

Rough, Rowdy, Rambunctious and Tiffany & Co.

Last week I headed to my sister's and our boys enjoyed some serious playtime.

Those three little men simply adore each other. Krew and Park spent most of their time throwing the ball back and forth to each other, while taking turns falling to the ground over fake injuries that caused them to giggle hysterically. Not to be excluded from the action, Kage would also periodically collapse, eliciting excited hoops and hollers from the older boys.

They were rough, rowdy, and rambunctious and loved every minute of it. Park is definitely the ring leader, but Kage's innate knack for mischief puts him at a close second. And somehow the two of them even manage to corrupt Krew, who typically tends to be the most trustworthy of the group.

In the early years, while I was busy dragging Park out of cabinets chasing him from room to room, and putting locks on our toilet paper, Challi was sitting idly by watching Krew, who couldn't be more content on the same spot of blanket where she had set him an hour before.

It all seemed mildly unfair, until Kage came along and she hasn't sat since.

And did I mention come March she will have three kids ages three and under? I don't see much rest in her near future. However, after undergoing in vitro with Krew and then God miraculously giving her the next two "surprise" pregnancies, I think she would argue that rest is overrated. I've never seen someone more thrilled to sacrifice her sleep and energy.

Challi and I discussed the possibility of my parents having FIVE grandsons. With her due in March and me in September and neither of us finding out the gender ahead of time, it could actually already be the case.

Then we spent some time trying to decide what gender we would choose if God put the ball in our court.

And what did we come up with, you ask?

That we are thankful God has the ball.

Neither one of us have any preference toward anything other than two healthy babies. Girls, boys, or both, we believe His plan for our family is perfect and complete.

Now, if only Park can grab hold of this concept. When he overheard us discussing the matter, he piped in with, "We want more brothers! We don't need any stinky girls in this family!"

Perhaps he is taking after his Pops, who at the tender age of 4, chased his babysitter around the house with a bat after she informed him he had a new baby sister.

Turns out, Pops wasn't playing around about wanting a BROTHER.

However, all these years later, you'd be hard pressed to find a man who loves and takes care of his baby sister better than Pops. Aunt Phyl even has some pieces of Tiffany jewelry to prove it.

But there is one thing we decided Park is right about. If we do end up with a girl, she will probably be stinky. After all, what chance does she have with monkeys like these for her brothers?
Our only hope is that she might just grow into some Tiffany jewelry down the road.

Death Defying Household Chores

Math has never been my forte, but apparently I should have familiarized myself with this little equation pre-Christmas shopping:

2 loads of freshly washed clothes + laundry basket = hours of entertainment.


Who said chores are boring?

Oh, the fun of being a little boy! (Or even just being his mommy)

And speaking of equations, here is another one I learned today:
dirty lens + using camera anyway = pictures with random spots

Sigh.

Tooting My Own Horn

You know it's not a good sign when I haven't even started the post, and I already feel the need to preface it by saying I have never found humor in bodily functions.

Without getting too graphic, let's just say that any noise requiring an "excuse me" after it does not rate high on my laugh meter.

Even typing about this subject is causing me to turn three shades of red, but I'm enduring the embarrassment for the sake of having this memory recorded in writing.

Poor Park might as well have been a horn today because I can't even count the number of toots that left his little body.

And each time it happened, he would politely say excuse me, in between giggling hysterically. By about the 10th time in a row of this happening, I suggested that he take a few minutes to sit on the potty.

However, even after doing so, the problem was not solved. But after about 5 more excuse me's and the resulting belly laughs, Park suddenly got very serious.

Eyes wide with concern, he turned to me and said, "Mommy, I can hardly believe how much my bottom is talking today! I'm afraid it might not have any words left for tomorrow."

And thanks to that statement, I found myself giggling until the tears rolled down my cheeks.

Apparently, those bodily functions rate higher on my laugh meter than I gave them credit for.

Thank you, Lord for knowing this girly-girl needed a son. He has not only broadened my horizons and stretched my comfort zone, but expanded my sense of humor, as well.

A Squirrely Revelation

So it seems I haven't hit my blogging groove this fall. I got out of rhythm over the summer and I keep thinking I'll start back up on a consistent basis, but it just hasn't happened yet.

However, since sporadic posting is better than no posting at all, I'm pressing forward.

Lately, Park and I have been spending as much time as humanly possible outdoors. Now this is a stretch for me since I'm an air conditioning kind of girl, but the weather has been so beautiful that it just seems shameful to waste it.

Recently, we've been enjoying long walks and acorn collecting at a really wooded park near our house. Today we took turns throwing acorns off a cliff into a large stream several feet below. I can't do the delightful giggles justice, so I won't even attempt to explain the amount of joy this brought my little nature lover.

As we watched squirrels climbing through the trees, Park turned to me and said, "I love acorns and squirrels and trees and dirt and sticks. This is the best day of my whole life!"

And based on the fact that he told me the same thing at Allaso Ranch, Six Flags, and his birthday party, I'd say that each day just keeps getting better and better for my sweet Park.

Seeing things through his eyes is such a treat. I love that everything is so new and exciting to him. There is such an anticipation and expectancy in everything he does. I can only imagine how much Park's enthusiasm for life warms God's heart.

We were all created with that same zest and expectancy, yet I sometimes find my childlike excitement being choked out by adult circumstances. When I try to figure things out, I lose my sense of wonder, which generally transpires into feeling far away and forgotten by God. But the truth is, there is no circumstance, situation, valley, trial, fear or doubt that can ever separate me from His love. He is the Author of my life and Finisher of my faith.

And when I walk in His truth it makes everything new and exciting, bringing anticipation and expectancy back into my heart. Park's enthusiasm consistently reminds me that today is the best day God has given me yet and my tomorrows (assuming He sees fit to give us these) will only get better and better.

Perhaps I should share this message of hope with the poor little squirrel we met at the park today, traumatized by the overzealous three-year-old throwing acorns his direction.

The Big Boy Room is a Hit

We finished Park's big boy room almost six months ago, but it recently occurred to me that those pics never made it to the blog. I must give some props to hubby because, minus the bunk beds, he built every single piece of furniture and shelving in the room. And honestly Chris should get some credit for the beds, as well, since they are actually his childhood bunks that he refurbished.

Perhaps my favorite feature of the room, one that I was unable to capture in pictures, is Park's new closet. Our house was designed with large walk-in closets in each bedroom. They are incredible, minus the fact that there is so much wasted space due to the lack of storage within them. After calling around to check pricing for having the closets throughout our house professionally customized, Chris decided that there was no reason to pay good money for something he could do himself.

Now, let's just say that there may have been some skepticism on the part of a certain wife who had concerns that hubby had never actually had any experience in closet design. But,that same wife wished she could have eaten her doubting words after seeing how well the project turned out.

Hello beautiful built-ins and exceptionally well-utilized closet space!

And despite the fact that I had originally wanted to stay away from a theme for the room, our little baseball obsessed offspring persuaded me otherwise. He could not have been more thrilled when he realized his name was actually going to be spelled out with baseballs. Truth be told, having the theme made pulling it all together a lot easier in the end.

But, judging from how many times he has jumped off the top bunk, perhaps we should have considered a parachute theme.

Why do I get the distinct feeling that after reading the above statement, Lolli is currently scouring the Internet in hopes of finding a safety net to purchase for Park's bedroom?

Poor woman never had boys.

Living His Dream

Let me start by saying that when these three weeks of camp end, I might have to drag Park home, while he kicks and screams the whole way. He is in LOVE with Allaso Ranch.

And why would he not be?

Isn’t it every little boys dream to live in a place where you have immediate access to horseback riding, a water park, and more wide open space than you know what to do with? Throw in tons of dirt, rocks, and stick, coupled with the chance to play rock band drums and guitars whenever your little heart desires and you have the makings for the greatest three weeks of his young life.

And if I’m really honest with you, Chris might have to drag me home, kicking and screaming, too, after eating this insanely delicious food and getting to live in the midst of all these beautiful East Texas trees.

We have been here for five days now and the students arrived yesterday. Upon their arrival, Park was so excited and asked me, “All the big kids get to come to my camp, too?”

Clearly, he has not made himself at home in the least.

Yes, camp is in full swing. All the prep work done by the staff has culminated into an incredible experience. Our volunteers are doing AMAZING work. I don’t think they could work harder if they tried. The energy around camp is electric and it is so exciting to be apart of it. With this large of an undertaking, it always amazes me how smoothly things operate. And even though there are sure to be kinks in the system to iron out, as there always are with new things, this camp already seems like a well oiled machine.

I taught my break out session this morning, so right now I am rocking on the large covered porch of the staff house where we are staying, while Park is napping upstairs. When he wakes up we will head over for swimming, followed by dinner and then the worship program. This year’s camp theme is “Unleashed” and tonight Chris will be preaching on being unleashed from the chains of temptations.

In order to avoid the temptation of running on stage to be with his daddy, Park will be playing in an upstairs loft with his favorite buddy Zac during the teaching time. Zac is the 8th grade son of a precious woman on Chris’ staff. His official title for this week is “Provider of Entertainment” for Park. The two of them are inseparable and I’m not sure whom is more fond of the other. Not to mention Zac is incredibly responsible and full of fun games that encourage Park to do things such as obey. It is a win-win situation for everyone involved.

Here are a few pictures and I’m certain many more will follow: (pretend you see fun pictures right now and as soon as Blogger cooperates with me, I will get them posted)

Babysitting, Anyone?

Every year before we leave for camp, we celebrate with a party for the student worship team/ band. These teenagers are talented musicians that pour their hearts and lives into glorifying Christ with their gifts. Much is asked and expected of them throughout the year and before camp kicks off is a great time to gather and show appreciation, as well as motivate, encourage and challenge them to continue to serve wholeheartedly.

It’s such a fun night and Bonnie (my dear friend and the student programming pastor’s wife) and I have brought Park and Cooper every year they have been alive. The first party they attended, they crawled around and helped themselves up the stairs every five minutes. We spent most of our time corralling them, but it was still somewhat manageable and we were glad to get to be apart of the celebration.

We vaguely discussed getting babysitters for the next year’s party, but by the time the summer rolled around, we brought them once again. At this point, they were nearing two and we spent most of the party saving their lives. The details of me jumping into the pool fully clothed to spare Park from drowning after he flung himself into deep water is something I’ve just tried to block out.

Did I mention it wasn’t even a pool party?

And Bonnie did an equally good job of blocking out the fact that Cooper had a horrible blowout on the patio moments after we managed to lock ourselves out of the house without a diaper bag in 100% Texas heat.

Thank goodness for that little dip in the pool that kept me cool.

Oblivious to the drama we were partaking in outside, our husbands were inside preaching the messages of their lives. Engrossed in prayer with students, no one noticed that we were missing for the better part of 2 hours.

That night, while trapped outside, Bonnie and I discussed in depth our babysitting plans for the following year’s party. We even debated calling to book someone a year in advance. But, apparently all that “blocking it out” business gave us temporary amnesia when the time came around for this year’s party.

Just like two women begging for punishment, we showed up again, children in hand. And this year we even threw in Bonnie’s new addition, 4 month old Maddox, just in case our near three-year-olds were not enough to send us over the edge.

Coming to battle prepared, I came armed with dozens of toys in hand. Which was a nice thought, except who needs toys when there are three different sets of stairs to hurl yourselves off of? And stools to spin on? And candles to stick your hands in? And water bottles to pour over each other's heads?

What can I say? Bonnie and I are just crazy like that.

Eventually we took our disruptive wild banshees to the soundproof media room and watched them parade around while doing handstands and leapfrog to the tunes of Lion King, which was playing on the big screen.

About that time, I looked at Bonnie and she looked at me and we couldn’t help but laugh at how we had set ourselves up for this.

“I need you to promise me something,” she said. ”“Next year,” she begged, “If I suggest we bring the boys, for the love of all things good, JUST SLAP ME, ALREADY!!”

Agreed. A band party that we actually can sit through and enjoy without hurling ourselves into a pool?

Now, that is just music to my ears.

Coexisting with the Natives

I've known for a while now that I am living among wild Indians, but I finally have proof. Uncivilized or not, these two boys have completely stolen my heart!

Sifting Through the Details

I've been a little scarce on the blog front lately.

It isn't as much from lack of good material to write about (thank you, Park), but more from a lack of energy to write because of the aforementioned material.

Case in point...

At the beginning of the week we had some sand delivered to fill in some spots where our grass needed help. Park, who was certain it was Christmas morning, was covered from head to toe in a matter of 0.5 seconds. After going inside to change over some laundry, I returned to find a n*ked Park tossing handfuls of mud at every window on the backside of our house. Because, apparently, he is nothing if not considerate of keeping his clothes clean.

Seeing as the water hose was exactly where I had left it, I was a little perplexed at how he had managed to str*p off all clothing AND turn sand to mud in such a short period of time. But based on his past expertise in outdoor urination, I should have known even before he tattled on himself.

GROSS.

But, believe it or not, even that is not as gross as what I'm about to share with you. Consider yourself warned.

Later in the week, he had his sifter out, playing in his beloved sand. We had already discussed and been appropriately scolded for the previous incident involving the windows. Feeling pretty secure in his ability to uphold the rules set before him, I went inside to wash dishes. Thankfully, from my vantage point at the sink, I could still see him playing in the backyard because I've been his mother long enough to know that keeping an eye on him at all times is a MUST.

And I felt my pride begin to swell as I watched him, contently sifting sand within the set perimeters.

I found it strange that this simple activity was entertaining him for such a long period of time, though. So, I followed my gut and walked outside for a closer look. As I snuck up behind him, I heard his little voice saying, "No, it sure doesn't. Poopie doesn't sift like sand does. Maybe if I squish it down..."

Insert me leaping tall buildings in a single bound to arrive in time to stop him before said "squishing" could take place.

Without being too graphic, need I remind you that we don't have any dogs or other such animals where he could have simply found the poop. No, unfortunately there was just no getting around that the nastiness in the sifter belonged to the same little man that had just taken outdoor bathroom usages to a whole new level.

Not to worry, though. Like I do with many of the other disturbing behaviors that I have been privy to in the last few years, I immediately contributed this incident to his father's gene pool. To be fair, my mother-in-law did warn me that Chris was a childhood exh*bit*onist. She said keeping clothes on his backside was next to impossible. And what I once laughed at as harmless little stories from Chris' past, I am now living out in excruciating detail.

And here you thought a potty trained Park would mean no more poop stories. Please don't ever underestimate us like that.

Hunger Induced Hearing Loss

I've always heard that boys will eat you out of house and home, but I thought that was supposed to be during the teenage years.

Lately, Park has been eating his toddler weight in food. Every time I turn around, he is begging for something else to inhale.

A few mornings ago, after eating a huge bowl of cheerios with blueberries, 2 pancakes, and a frozen banana, he asked for some oatmeal. Less than an hour later, he inquired about a snack. I gave him an apple, which he chomped to the core.

Now, typically, I live by the motto that anyone who expends that much energy is entitled to refuel as often as desired. However, shortly thereafter I decided to put off his pleas for more food by reminding him that it would be time for lunch soon.

He thought about that for a moment and then defeated, shook his head in disgust.

"Well, you are just starving me to deaf, Mommy," he proclaimed sadly.

Perhaps that accounts for why he never seems to hear me when I ask him to clean up his toys?

When Life Gives You Mud, Make a Mud Pie

Last night, as I hopped into the car with Sarah and Bridget to partake in our monthly Chili's date, Park and Chris were on the driveway waving goodbye and blowing me kisses. But before I could even get the door shut, I distinctly heard a cheery squeal from Park as he pumped his fist in the air and shouted, "Yesssss, Jussss the BOYS now!!"

Bridget cracked up.

I assured her that this was not a one time reaction, but rather the norm for when they get to have a special night together sans Mommy. And I have to say that it warms my heart to see how much Park loves his time with Daddy. There is no place he would rather be than right beside Chris, regardless of what they do together. Hanging on Daddy's every word and laughing at anything he says, I'm often reminded that their relationship is everything I've ever prayed it would be and more. Chris has far exceeded any expectations I had for the type of father I wanted for my children.

That being said, there are some things I've also come to NOT expect from their time of male bonding .

Cleanliness tops the list.

No baths will be taken. PERIOD. Vast amounts of dirt will be involved in most activities and mismatched clothing will be worn while partaking in such endeavors. Potties will not be necessary because the yard will be used for the majority of relief purposes. Muddy shoes will not be removed upon entering the house and unclean clothing will not make it to the hamper. Teeth will usually not get brushed before bedtime and pajamas will be optional.

Now, my dad was a daddy to girls. He was forced into being a clean man, held to those standards set by a mommy of girls. He became a man that learned to invest in the hygienic well being of his daughters when they were left in his care.

Not to mention he learned to fix a mean pigtail.

But, the truth is, I'm outnumbered. I live in a male dominated household, where my voice of reason is merely like spitting in the wind. Which, by coincidence, is also a pastime they enjoy together in my absence.

And just like my father learned to do, I have had to figure out how to somewhat conform. Coming to terms with the unwritten man law of filth, I've become a much happier wife and mommy. Released from the oppressiveness of allowing their dirt to define me, I've learned that boys will be boys and at best, my influence will cultivate a small need for a decent degree of cleanliness somewhere down the road.

I pray.

Because , truly, it's all about setting realistic expectations. Well, that and scrubbing Park down the next morning after a night of "JUSSSS THE BOYS!!!"

Call me conformed, but a little dirt seems like a small price to pay for the joy I get from seeing the love between my Park and his beloved daddy.

And a night out with precious girlfriends was just icing on my mud pie.

These Boots Were Made for Splashing

Rain, Rain...You went away,
But your leftover puddles entertained me all day!