Yesterday afternoon Lauren and I needed to make a quick stop at the grocery store. We decided to get some ice cream for an afternoon treat. After we picked Abby up from preschool we headed home and dished us each up a scoop. As we sat around the little table, Lauren looked up to me and said, "Don't tell Daddy we got ice cream, he will eat it all."
Geoff got home from work that evening just as we were sitting down for supper. He wasn't home for more than five minutes before Lauren blurted out, "Daddy, guess what we did today? We got ice cream!" So much for keeping that one a secret, Lauren.
Fast forward to this morning. A week or so ago Grandma Phillips sent us a package that included jelly beans, Geoff's favorite! But since we already had our candy jar filled, I insisted they stay at the back of the cupboard, out of sight and unopened. This morning the jar was getting low, so I decided to toss them in. Lauren looked on while eating her breakfast.
It wasn't long before Geoff was ready for work and downstairs on his way out the door. And, true to fashion, Lauren's first words were, "Mommy, I have to tell Daddy something."
Like a fool I replied, "Go ahead, Lauren," and gave no warning not to clue him in on the output of his favorite sugary treat.
"Mommy put out the jelly beans," Lauren proclaimed with pride.
Geoff left the house this morning with a smile on his face, "I guess if I want to know anything I just have to ask Lauren."
I will consider this my warning.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Bathroom Break
So what can top a day at church with Abby wondering aloud for the entire congregation to hear, "Why does that old man not have to stand up?" Today.
With seven minutes to spare before the service started, I seized the opportunity to use the bathroom. I finished my business and vacated my stall. And then I heard the words you don't want to hear in the bathroom, "Oh no, this isn't good." I turned around in the two-stall facility to see a pool of black sludge gathering between the toilets. I was certain I had not left an overflowing toilet, so I returned to the stall, and bent over to investigate. Then the voice spoke again, "I think your toilet overflowed." I was mortified, and determined to prove I was not the culprit. Sure enough it appeared as if it was seeping out of the back of the toilet in my neighbor's stall.
Desperate I asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," the voice responded.
And then she appeared. This wasn't just any voice, it was the voice of the pastor. Of course it was!
We both got a good laugh over it, as good of a laugh as I suppose you could have over the wreak of the sludge.
I offered my services and was tasked with the job of standing in front of the bathroom so no one entered the double stalls of nasty.
I was quite certain by this time Geoff thought this was some plot I had devised to leave him alone in a church full of strangers with our two questioning lovelies. But alas, ten minutes after I left I had returned. And while the service consequently started a little late, the issue had been laid to rest. Whew. Next time, I'm using a different bathroom.
With seven minutes to spare before the service started, I seized the opportunity to use the bathroom. I finished my business and vacated my stall. And then I heard the words you don't want to hear in the bathroom, "Oh no, this isn't good." I turned around in the two-stall facility to see a pool of black sludge gathering between the toilets. I was certain I had not left an overflowing toilet, so I returned to the stall, and bent over to investigate. Then the voice spoke again, "I think your toilet overflowed." I was mortified, and determined to prove I was not the culprit. Sure enough it appeared as if it was seeping out of the back of the toilet in my neighbor's stall.
Desperate I asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay," the voice responded.
And then she appeared. This wasn't just any voice, it was the voice of the pastor. Of course it was!
We both got a good laugh over it, as good of a laugh as I suppose you could have over the wreak of the sludge.
I offered my services and was tasked with the job of standing in front of the bathroom so no one entered the double stalls of nasty.
I was quite certain by this time Geoff thought this was some plot I had devised to leave him alone in a church full of strangers with our two questioning lovelies. But alas, ten minutes after I left I had returned. And while the service consequently started a little late, the issue had been laid to rest. Whew. Next time, I'm using a different bathroom.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Baby Mamas
Like all other children, my girls love to imitate life as grown-ups. Sometimes I wonder what took them so long to come up with this one, considering all of the other things that have come into their play.
Won't they love this photo one day when they are expecting more than the delivery of a blanket.
Won't they love this photo one day when they are expecting more than the delivery of a blanket.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Dear Grandma Phillips
Dear Grandma Phillips,
You won't have to worry about your kitchen this summer [see Night of the Naughties for the story and pictorial], I no longer use floors and walls as my canvas. You may have to worry about your face in the middle of the night, however. Consider this your warning.
Artistically yours,
Abigail
You won't have to worry about your kitchen this summer [see Night of the Naughties for the story and pictorial], I no longer use floors and walls as my canvas. You may have to worry about your face in the middle of the night, however. Consider this your warning.
Artistically yours,
Abigail
Lauren's Wardrobe Change
I've been busy going through the closet in the guest room, and consequently, the room is a mess of things that need to be organized and put away. In true investigative mode, the girls stumbled upon a collection of goodies they had never seen before. It was quite comical to listen to their conversations and inquiries from the other room.
For those of you with girls younger than mine, I am proud to introduce you to your future:
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I Hope You Are Raising Your Son
Today Lauren and I rebirthed our activity time; the time while Abby is at preschool that as of late we have spent at home getting chores done and watching our shows. But today we needed to be out amongst the masses, so we spent the time at the mall in the kids' play area.
Lauren got right down to business, shoes off and play, play, play. I kicked back with my luke-warm coffee and a book. That is until a pair of moms came along and consumed the rest of my cushy bench in the corner. I didn't mind them there, and just enjoyed being able to keep my eyes on my book instead of solely on my child. But as they were talking it became more and more difficult to ignore their intimate exchange.
It was definitely a one-sided conversation. One friend went on and on about her frustrations with her husband, while the other listened politely with a caring heart. As the minutes ticked away I started to think more and more about cogitations I have had briefly in the past: "Somewhere out there are two little boys that will one day grow up to be my daughters' husbands. I pray that his parents are doing a good job of raising him." Only this time I started making an entire docket. This was the inspiration for the letter to my daughters' future in-laws.
I hope you are raising your son to be a man. A good man. A man who knows right from wrong, and who makes choices not just because they are right for him, but because they are right for the others they affect. A man who respects women. A man who believes in the value of hard work, but also makes time to enjoy himself and those in his company. A man who respects a girl enough to meet her parents before a date, then walks her to the door at the end of the night. A man who not only rushes to hold a door for a lady, but also holds it open for any other person walking behind him. A man who helps an old lady across the street, then offers his services for additional help if needed.
I hope you are raising your son to be someone's husband. You are doing him no favors by coddling him, doing his laundry when he is capable, and cleaning up his room. If he expects that from his mother, he will expect it from his wife. And if he thinks it's his wife's duty to clean up after him, he will miss the best of what she has to offer.
I hope you are raising your son to say 'thank you'. I hope that someday when our children have children of their own, your son will thank his wife for her endless work and sacrifices. They will both work hard, but if he thanks her (as she's being raised to thank him, I assure you) they will have a much deeper respect for one another, a stronger relationship, and best of all they will be showing their children how to be good parents and good people.
I hope you are enjoying your son, feeding him well, developing a deep faith, not indulging him in instant gratification, letting him play outside, limiting video games, taking him to the library, fostering friendships with boys & girls alike, teaching him how to bake, plant a garden, mow the lawn, wash the dishes, unclog a toilet, shovel a sidewalk, and selfishly give of his time to others.
I hope that my daughter spends the rest of her life as happy as she is right now. She loves life, her family, her friends, her dog, her babies, singing, and learning. I hope she grows up to be a productive citizen who makes the world a better place. I hope that they are happy as individuals and that together they make each other better.
I hope that my daughter makes your son happy, makes him feel loved, and doesn't take your place as his mother, but rather lives with him as his best friend.
I am raising my daughter with all of these things in mind. I pray that you are, too.
Lauren got right down to business, shoes off and play, play, play. I kicked back with my luke-warm coffee and a book. That is until a pair of moms came along and consumed the rest of my cushy bench in the corner. I didn't mind them there, and just enjoyed being able to keep my eyes on my book instead of solely on my child. But as they were talking it became more and more difficult to ignore their intimate exchange.
It was definitely a one-sided conversation. One friend went on and on about her frustrations with her husband, while the other listened politely with a caring heart. As the minutes ticked away I started to think more and more about cogitations I have had briefly in the past: "Somewhere out there are two little boys that will one day grow up to be my daughters' husbands. I pray that his parents are doing a good job of raising him." Only this time I started making an entire docket. This was the inspiration for the letter to my daughters' future in-laws.
I hope you are raising your son to be a man. A good man. A man who knows right from wrong, and who makes choices not just because they are right for him, but because they are right for the others they affect. A man who respects women. A man who believes in the value of hard work, but also makes time to enjoy himself and those in his company. A man who respects a girl enough to meet her parents before a date, then walks her to the door at the end of the night. A man who not only rushes to hold a door for a lady, but also holds it open for any other person walking behind him. A man who helps an old lady across the street, then offers his services for additional help if needed.
I hope you are raising your son to be someone's husband. You are doing him no favors by coddling him, doing his laundry when he is capable, and cleaning up his room. If he expects that from his mother, he will expect it from his wife. And if he thinks it's his wife's duty to clean up after him, he will miss the best of what she has to offer.
I hope you are raising your son to say 'thank you'. I hope that someday when our children have children of their own, your son will thank his wife for her endless work and sacrifices. They will both work hard, but if he thanks her (as she's being raised to thank him, I assure you) they will have a much deeper respect for one another, a stronger relationship, and best of all they will be showing their children how to be good parents and good people.
I hope you are enjoying your son, feeding him well, developing a deep faith, not indulging him in instant gratification, letting him play outside, limiting video games, taking him to the library, fostering friendships with boys & girls alike, teaching him how to bake, plant a garden, mow the lawn, wash the dishes, unclog a toilet, shovel a sidewalk, and selfishly give of his time to others.
I hope that my daughter spends the rest of her life as happy as she is right now. She loves life, her family, her friends, her dog, her babies, singing, and learning. I hope she grows up to be a productive citizen who makes the world a better place. I hope that they are happy as individuals and that together they make each other better.
I hope that my daughter makes your son happy, makes him feel loved, and doesn't take your place as his mother, but rather lives with him as his best friend.
I am raising my daughter with all of these things in mind. I pray that you are, too.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
National Pancake Day
It's National Pancake Day! So to honor the beloved flap jack, we decided to make pancakes for lunch. It's not quite free pancakes at IHOP, but festive nevertheless.
However, if The Waffle House is hosting free waffles on Nat'l Waffle Day, we're there!
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{About Me}
- brookie
- Fairborn, Ohio, United States
- I'm a teacher by trade, writer at heart & mom in every sense of my being. I never considered writing as a profession, but after I got married and began moving around the country, I began sharing my adventures, misadventures & updates through a sort of e-mail newsletter. I found a true passion in unconventional story-telling that has followed me into motherhood.