Change I Can Believe In

Vancouver Video

I asked them not to play volleyball in the living room. But when the owner of the living room said it was okay, my warnings went unheeded. Rebecca took this video, and unfortunately, she missed the crash of picture frames... but you can tell when it happens toward the end when Michael puts his hands over his ears. And you'll see they didn't seem to care as they continued playing as if nothing happened.

The second video is from the train on the way to Whistler Mountain.

The sound is weird on both - don't know what that's all about. But not bad from an eight year old with a hand-held digital camera.

I needed Molly and her camera...

Found the camera but was woefully disappointed in the results. The views were gorgeous but I failed to capture the majesty of the surrounding. Even so, here are a few of my better shots:

This is the view from Aunt Sue and Uncle Johnny's balcony. It looks out on the English Bay and you can see the tip of lush Stanley Park jutting out into the water in front of the mountains.

Our first day there Sue and Johnny took us to Kitsilano Beach where we grilled burgers and played on the rocks.

Rebecca took this interesting picture of the grill. She took over 150 pictures on her own digital camera and I think I can use about seven of them...

We also played a lot of volleyball!

We rode a train from Vancouver to Whistler, site of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games. The views are amazing! I took these pictures from the train.

I think I mentioned Sue and Johnny live on the 10th floor - well, who could resist throwing something off the balcony?

I held the camera over the balcony railing to get this picture. It made me nauseous to look over. Those little heads are Michael, Rebecca and my Uncle Johnny, instigator of all fun.

That's all for now - it's 1:21 am and I need to go to bed even though my body clock thinks its only 10:21. I have to quit thinking like that... With the schedule we've been keeping we are going to be horribly unprepared to begin school next week!

Back home

It's Wednesday morning about 3:22 and our Canadian travels are over; we safely arrived home after a long but good day of flying nearly across the country. We had a non-stop from Vancouver to Atlanta, then we were going to catch a connecting flight to Flint. The flight to Flint was delayed three hours; apparently the FAA had a computer glitch and as a result there were delayed flights and frustrated fliers throughout the concourses. Lots of flights were being cancelled and I was just praying ours wouldn't be because I was ready to be home. Eight days without Sean is about seven too many.

I'm looking forward to seeing the pictures I took but I have to figure out where Amy put the camera. I can't really complain that she put it away seeing as it's her camera and I just beg her to use it. Yes, I need to get one of my own, a fact she reminds me of constantly.

Right now I'm trying to stay awake until 4:15 so I can see Sean when he gets up. I'm not sure I'll make it...

Read this

Reading great writing is a good way to become a better writer myself. So when I read things like Dr. Metts' blog a few things happen: I want to work harder at writing, I want to read good works, and sometimes I cry because he can just flat say things like no one else.

There are a gazillion blogs out there. Do yourself a favor and read a really, really good blog entry: http://thedaysman.com

Mood: Much Better

I am better, thank goodness! We've all been sleeping well, and the kids are totally adjusted to PST, which is great for now but will be problematic when we return to the east coast. I will adopt Scarlett's approach and worry about that tomorrow, or at least on Tuesday.

Today is Amy's 12th birthday and she has enjoyed celebrating it with Aunt Sue, Uncle Johnny, Cousin Amy and Amy's husband Aaron. We went for breatfast at a place that overlooks English Bay, then she, Michael, Rebecca and Johnny went for a spin around Stanley Park. We ended the afternoon back at Kitsilano Beach where we played volleyball and enjoyed some people-watching.

Twelve. That is hard to believe. I guess all parents feel that way and I know I've been around for all 12 years but they do seem to have flown by. Only a few more until she's gone. Some days that sounds good, but most days I'm reminded that my time with her is fleeting and I need to enjoy her presence.

Tomorrow will be another day of sight-seeing and wandering the streets of Vancouver. I don't know if we'll ever get out this way again so I want to make sure we enjoy each moment. But for now, it's time for pizza with the family, then to bed early so we're ready for our full day tomorrow.

Can't wait to get home so I can post the pictures we're taking!

Mood: Pouty

It's 3:10 here in Vancouver (three hours ahead of EST) and my kids, mom and aunt are at the science center. I'm sitting in my aunt and uncle's guest room just now feeling well enough to be upright. Apparently I'm not as immune to time change issues as I thought.

We got up Tuesday morning at 4:30 after going to bed around 11:30. We were in the plane for five hours and nobody slept a wink. We got to my aunt's at 1 and had lunch, then went to Kitsalano Beach to play and picnic later in the afternoon. We stayed up until 9:30, which was 12:30 to our bodies. (I have a strict policy of not saying, "What time is it really?" when we're traveling because the time is the time where we are! I'm breaking my rule for purposes of explanation only.) That means we'd been up 20 hours with no sleep, no nap, no nothing.

When we finally did go to bed I fell asleep quickly and woke up around 6:30 only to find everyone else asleep. Thank goodness, I thought. They're getting their body clocks on Vancouver time! I went back to sleep for a few moments only to wake up again with a horrible stomach and head ache. I attempted to eat a piece of toast and a banana, thinking I just needed to get something in me. I then, however, proceeded to throw up.

Sean is fond of saying how important routine is to our bodies. I do not think I will mock him the next time it comes up.

I felt much better after that but by them my mom and aunt, both of whom think they are doctors, decided I was in no shape for the science center and they made me stay on the couch.

And that is the reason my people went to the science center without me.

Now all I have to do is convince them I'm better so I won't have to miss out on any more fun.

I'll be baack

(Just pretend Arnold's saying it.)

I got a few emails a week or so ago when I didn't post daily. So sorry about that, but when we were in Atlanta I honestly didn't have a moment to myself to post. And on that note, please know I'll be a bit silent for the next two days as the kids, my mom and I head out to Vancouver. We're going to visit my aunt, uncle, cousin and her husband. It will be a blast and we can't wait to get there, but until then I won't have my computer, thus no posts.

I decided not to take my laptop in an effort to simplify packing and going through the airport. I don't think I'll make this decision again. I'm already experiencing a period of mourning just thinking about being away from it.

Um, that might have been too much information to share...

Anyway, I'll be back soon!

Standards out the window

I was reading Neal’s Nuze this morning and came across a story about a school district in Texas that has drastically changed its homework policy. Check this out:

•Homework grades should be given only when the grades will "raise a student's average, not lower it."

•Teachers must accept overdue assignments, and their principal will decide whether students are to be penalized for missing deadlines.

•Students who flunk tests can retake the exam and keep the higher grade.

•Teachers cannot give a zero on an assignment unless they call parents and make "efforts to assist students in completing the work."

•High school teachers who fail more than 20 percent of their students will need to develop a professional improvement plan and will be monitored by their principals. For middle school the rate is 15 percent; for elementary it's 10 percent.

Really, what more is there to say other than, "Oh my word."

And we wonder why American students' test scores are worse than nearly every other industrialized nation’s students…?

I got a good one

The kids and I had a commitment at church this morning and Sean had to work so we decided we’d meet back at home around lunchtime to clean the house before our dinner guests got there and saw how we really live.*

As I was leaving church a friend told me she’d gotten a flat tire on her way to church and her husband was not only out of town but out of the country. She’d never had a flat tire and had no clue how to change it. I’ve changed a tire or two in my day but that was a while ago. I decided to call Sean and see if he could meet us at her car and help me.

He did not hesitate. He got right off the phone, drove straight to my friend’s house and he and Michael, in 20 minutes, changed the tire.

If you are dating someone and he’s willing do forgo his very rare Saturday nap to help your friend change a tire, marry him immediately.



*One of my biggest writing struggles is verb tenses. The tenses in this sentence seem off. Anyone have any suggestions?

God is faithful, rain or shine

Have you been following the news about the lawsuit brought against Victoria Osteen, wife of grinning pastor Joel Osteen? Seems a flight attendant for Continental Airlines, Sharon Brown, claimed Ms. Osteen pitched a fit in first class when a spill occurred on her armrest. The flight attendant claimed Osteen elbowed her in her boob and that she seemed poised to rush the cockpit.

Little problem for the flight attendant: none of the other first class passengers testified for her. To the contrary, Osteen’s fellow travelers testified nothing like Brown’s claim happened. And Thursday the jury unanimously decided that she did not assault Mrs. Brown.

I am no fan of Joel Osteen, the pastor of a mega-church in Texas. His toothy grin and marshmallow sermons do no favors for God or my intestine. But I’m no fan of frivolous lawsuits, either, so when I found myself on the side of Victoria Osteen I did a little heart check.

It didn’t take long for me to find a reason to dislike him again. Check out what Mr. Osteen said following the verdict: “It’s a great vindication and shows us the faithfulness of God.”

What? Is he’s saying God is faithful because things went his way? There’s a darn good chance, in our litigious society, Mrs. Osteen could have been found guilty and responsible for a judgment of over $400,000. If she had been, would Osteen have claimed God wasn’t faithful?

If you’re going to be the pastor of the largest church in America you need to watch your language. If he’d said, “God showed us kindness,” or “God was gracious” I could have worked with him on that, but to claim God is faithful because things go your way...

Maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion, but I don’t like to see God’s characteristics lauded only when something goes right. I much prefer to see God’s people (myself in particular) claim God is good when times are bad. God is faithful all the time; we are the ones who often refuse to see it when things don’t go our way.

Fun at the mall

I am exhausted. Exhausted really doesn’t cover the full range of my tiredness. You see, I took the kids to the mall today. Oh, I know, I know! What was I doing in the mall?! I have a defective shopping gene and merely being in the vicinity of a shopping mall turns my stomach. But Amy’s grown out of her jeans and Michael’s growing out of everything and Rebecca had to go because she can’t be left home alone yet. So off to the mall we went.

I had a return to make at Macy’s and at this particular mall, Macy’s is at one end and all the stores Michael and Amy want to go to were clear on the other side. I was lamenting the fact that we’d have to go through the whole mall to get over to Old Navy when Michael, ever the optimist, chimed in with, “Oh that’s okay – we can see more stuff that way!”

I made my returns and we began our trek through the harsh lands of the Lansing Mall. We navigated around the kiosks in the middle of the walkway and finally made it to Aeropostal, Michael and Amy’s store of choice. I know this will sound silly, but I was unprepared to see them fit in anything that wasn’t purchased in the children’s section. (Michael’s been wearing men’s sizes for a while, but I’m still shocked when he puts on something I know would be too big for Sean.) Aeropostal just seemed like the kind of store for teenagers or college kids, not my kids. But Amy found two pair of jeans that fit and Michael walked out with a pair of shorts and a shirt, all emblazoned with “Aero.”

We went to Old Navy, Barnes and Noble and got a snack of pretzels. We were wrapping up our shopping trip with another pass through Aeropostal when I saw primary colors smilling at me from across the hall. And I realized I didn’t want to be buying big girl and big boy clothes; I wanted to be at Gymboree, the store with primary colors and adorable clothes that all match. I want to buy cute dresses and tights and matching hair bows. I want to buy corduroy pants that go with a cute polo shirt with clowns on it and get the matching socks and belt. When we shopped at Gymboree I never had to ask, “Do those pants show your butt crack?”

The fact that none of my children fits into anything at Gymboree wasn’t an issue; there are times it’s best not to let facts get in the way of a good pity party.

I loaded my ducks (and Aeropostal bags) into the car and drove home wondering how the heck I went from being the sole arbiter of clothing choices to simply being the lady with the debit card?

Please don’t misunderstand: I want my children to grow up, be independent, have their own ideas. Even so, there are times it is hard to be the mommy of growing children. Today was one of those days.

I think I need a nap.

Yes, you do have to touch it

When I went to college I didn’t know how to do my laundry; Mom had always taken care of that for me. While I appreciate her letting me focus on my studies and extra curricular activities in high school, I would have liked to know how to avoid turning my undies pink. Therefore I have deemed Tuesdays “Domestic Skills Day,” the one day each week I will teach my little ones homemaking skills so they will not leave my house ignorant of water boiling or clothes washing skills.

Last week I ran through how to clean a bathroom from top to bottom. We started in the kids’ bathroom where they watched me clean the toilet, tub and sink. Then we moved to my bathroom and I had each one perform one of the tasks they’d just seen: Amy cleaned the toilet (you can imagine her joy), Michael scrubbed the tub, Rebecca cleaned the sink.

Yesterday it was their turn to do a bathroom all by themselves. We have two full baths and one half bath, so I wrote the names of the bathrooms on slips of paper, put them in a hat and had each child draw a name. Michael drew “Kids’ Bath,” Rebecca pulled, “Mom and Dad’s,” and Amy pulled “Hall Bath.”

As they were heading to their respective posts I handed each one a brand new Clorox Toilet Wand so they could avoid plunging their hands into the toilet water. The expense of the Wand felt extravagant but once I realized I would not have to listen to Amy complain about the rubber gloves not fitting or how gross it was to be that near the pot the $10 investment seemed worthwhile.

All in all the cleaning went well. Amy didn’t complain about the toilet, and all three enjoyed using the Wand; Rebecca especially liked that it turned the potty water blue. Michael and Amy were quite independent in their bathrooms; Rebecca, not surprisingly, needed a bit of assistance. She is, after all, much shorter than the shower stall and didn’t really grasp the concept of spraying the Scrubbing Bubbles sparingly. We wiped off the white foam for a long time.

I managed to maintain my patience throughout the cleaning process, although by the time it was over my patience meter read zero.

When we were finished I strongly encouraged them to play away from me… I poured a tall glass of sweet tea, sunk into my chair took a deep breath. I don’t think deep breathing exercises are stressed enough for new moms.

All in all it was a successful venture. And I’m glad I have a week to recuperate before next Tuesday rolls around.

Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Red White and Blue Bikini

I used to enjoy watching the Olympics. That all changed when I tried to watch with my 14 and 12 year olds.

Last night we were watching men’s synchronized diving – holy cow, how do they do that? I was in awe of the ways they moved their bodies and made so little splash as they entered the water. Truly amazing. But all Michael and Amy could see was the tiny bathing suits and what the suits were covering. If I heard, “Gross!” one more time I was going to banish them to the basement for the duration of the Games.

Sheesh.

There will be more bathing suits tonight as the women divers take the boards. I certainly hope we won’t have a repeat of the comments from last night. If we do then I am prepared to send my pre-teen and teen far, far away so I can watch the Games in peace.

Maybe I can have them jump off the platform.

Prom Date

Several friends have posted pictures from the reunion on their Facebook pages. (Yes, I have a Facebook page; I may be 38 but I’m with it. Is that still a saying?) As I was looking at some of the candid shots I noticed my prom date from 11th grade. I totally missed seeing him.

Our date was not exactly storybook material. We decided to go together because neither of us was dating anyone and we didn’t want to go stag. So one afternoon as we walked together between the orange lockers bemoaning our nonexistent love lives (ah, the trials of 17 year olds), we decided to go together.

I remember liking his car, a red Honda Prelude (yes, Sean knows and has forgiven me) but being miffed that he didn’t open my car door. My dad wasn’t wild about that fact, either.

Anyway, I’m sorry I missed him. I hope he’s doing well.

I went, I saw, I survived

We just rolled in from our 12 hour drive back to Michigan from Atlanta. We had a week full of visiting family and friends and, of course, my 20th high school reunion. While I was not relishing the idea of attending I must admit I was intrigued to see old friends, hear of their current lives and see who’d aged gracefully and who, well, hadn’t.

The evening was planned by my twin sister, Heather, with help from two other classmates, but Heather was the point person. The reunion coordinator Heather hired to “help” was a complete bust so she was left to do much on her own, and we were both concerned about what we’d find when we walked into the hall. But everything was lovely: the food was excellent and the service was, too. The DJ left a LOT to be desired, however. What is so hard to understand that the people who graduated in 1988 wanted to hear music from the ‘80’s, not Justin Timberlake and current day-Madonna. Where was the music from Journey, Genesis and Toto (remember them?!), Michael Jackson, Prince and the Police? And nothing from U2? Are you kidding me?

And while we’re on the music, can I just say that, Mr. DJ, we do not want you to darken the room, crank the volume and play Rihanna. We are not going to dance even though you begged us to “get on the dance floor and dance all night long” – maybe if you’d played Lionel Richie – Mr. DJ, this was our 20th year reunion. We are old now. We want you to play music we remember but low enough so we can actually talk and be heard. Didn’t you notice the majority of our class attendees ended up in the lobby just so we could hear each other? Just a thought…

Other than that, it was a fun night. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing old friends, hearing how life was treating them, and being thankful most seemed well. The career fields ran the gamut: cardiac surgeon, vet, CPA, home builders, pediatric surgeon, college professors, teachers, marketing, human resources, ministry. I was glad so many were successful in their chosen professions.

Sean and I were two of the first to leave; we had to get back to Mom’s and pack for the trip home. While I would have enjoyed a few more hours getting to chat with friends who came from as far as Oregon, Montana, Minnesota and Washington D.C., a sense of contentment washed over me. If you’d have told 18 year old Christy that at her 20th high school reunion she’d be a homeschooling mom of three I’m sure she would have laughed. The 1988 Christy was going to be a missionary in Africa and a big-time DJ (the melding of those two diverse career paths never seemed to concern me). I could hardly see myself married, much less a mother. But 20 years later I could not be more thankful to be walking through the parking lot, hand in hand with Sean, heading home to my three sweet children. Just goes to show God’s ways truly are better than mine, and that He has an excellent sense of humor.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55:8-9

We haven't changed that much in 20 years, have we...?

What is this feeling?

I stepped out of the shower this morning, dried off but felt damp immediately. Then I heard the weather report: steamy, humid, high of 94. Oh yes, I remember this... and I remember I do not like it!

It's been a scorcher of a week here in aptly nicknamed Hotlanta. The three H's - hazy, hot, humid - have reared their ugly heads and we have felt them all. Even with the air conditioner running full bore it's still warm. And I've been edgy. I forgot how much I hated the heat. I mean, I remember not leaving my house from April - September and I remember standing in front of the window A/C unit we installed in my bathroom praying for coolness and I remember wilting just stepping from the car to go anywhere, but remembering and actually feeling it again are two different things.

I cussed like a sailor when I lived here (okay, probably not like a sailor but a lot for a girl raised in the genteel South). Between the traffic and the heat I think I know why.

From somewhere off I-75

We are in the land of magnolias, crape myrtles, dogwoods. After nine hours in the car we made it south of the Mason-Dixon Line, where no one blinked an eye when Sean ordered sweet tea for dinner.

We’ve stopped for the night somewhere in Tennessee. Quite by chance I picked a great hotel; it has a big pool and a row of swings overlooking a lovely lake. And just below the swings is a llama habitat. No joke. We spent several minutes attempting llama calls but none of our calls elicited a response from the furry creatures.

I’m a little apprehensive about the evening and not just because we’re sharing our room with our chatty children. We’re also sharing it with Rascle, Rebecca’s hamster. Our trusty hamster-watcher, Claire, was away, and the other families we asked to watch him were going out of town. So we’ve brought the hamster, his cage, food and fun ball with us. I hope putting him in the bathroom and shutting the door for the night will help quell the sound of our little nocturnal wheel-runner.

Tomorrow we’ll hit the road bright and early in order to be to Sean’s sister’s house after lunch. We have a full week ahead of us, visiting lots of family, with the week culminating in my 20th high school reunion. I am still pretending that isn’t happening…

It's a Birthday Saturday

August 2 is a busy birthday day - my sweet niece Megan is turning 10 and my good friend Molly is turning 30-something. Megan's celebrating by watching her parents give her bedroom walls a make-over. And Molly's celebrating with family a state away.

Happy birthday to both of them - I just wish I could be there to celebrate! (Well, not necessarily the painting part...)

Some peole are just dumb

A simple trip to the pharmacy shouldn’t cause high blood pressure. Seems like a simple enough comment, but today’s trip to my local drug store nearly caused my heart to jump out of my chest.

Sean and I were waiting to pick up my prescription when we heard the woman in front of us say, “Thank goodness for the union pays for my pills. Rick Wagoner makes millions and he wants to cut health care? I could do his job!”

A loud gasp escaped before I could help it and Sean, cool as a cucumber (how did that ever become a saying?) said, “Just let it go.”

I couldn’t; I was steamed. I imagined me sticking my leg out and tripping her as she walked by. When we saw her getting into her car I wanted to run up to the window and ask just exactly what would she do to improve GM other than make ignorant comments to the pharmacist so everyone in the drug store knew she was an imbecile?

Ugh. What a way to start a Saturday.

One Wicked Good Night

Oh. My. Word. Guess who we just met! Cliffton Hall, Deedee Magno Hall, Donna Vivino and Myra Lucretia Taylor. Not impressed? You should be because that’s Fiyero, Nessarose, Elphaba and Madame Morrible! Woo Hoo!

Let me start from the beginning of our wonderful Wicked evening: Amy and I met our friend Cindy for dinner then the three of us drove over to the Wharton Center to meet my friend Marty and her three nieces, Emily, Julia and Megan, friends of Amy’s. We got there in plenty of time, found our seats (Row U, center – we had a great view of everything and thankfully no tall people sat in front of us) and enjoyed a fabulous evening of Wicked. I didn’t think it could get any better. I was wrong!

I parked near the stage door again, and this time I figured out how to walk around the parking deck to the stage door. Just as we were scooting around the corner we spotted the Halls talking with a family and signing autographs. Amy and Emily went nuts. I tried to calm them down (which was a switch for me because I have been known to be quite the groupie) and they got their acts together enough to ask for an autograph and pose for a picture.



The Halls were gracious and seemed completely unfazed by the two girls swooning at them. All I could think was, “This must be how my mother felt at all those Amy Grant concerts…”

We then got to meet Vivino, the standby for Elphaba. I couldn’t believe she was the standby – she was phenomenal. Crazy good. She still had a bit of her green face paint smeared at her hairline. The girls thought that was great.

Then came Taylor. She looked nothing like Madame Morrible – I know she wears a wig and outrageous costumes but I thought I’d recognize her a little. No way. She was so short! She seemed pleased that such young girls were interested in the theater, and signed their Playbills willingly.

I’m not sure (and Amy will never tell me), but I think I may have earned some cool Mom points by finding the way to the stage door. I will take those points any time I can get them, even if I’m not supposed to know I have them.

As I tucked Amy in a few minutes ago she was still floating. It was a wonderful night for her and a wonderful night for us. I could us a few more nights like that. But for now, I am content to thank God for graciously giving us a completely conflict-free, fun time together.