Games! Games! Games!

We had a lovely visit with my parents last week.  When Memaw and Papa come to visit, it is GAME ON!  The kids love playing games with them.  Basketball, video games, board games, card games, whatever!

Ellie was still in game mode when Nana and Poppy came for Andy’s brithday party, and she somehow managed to wangle some hands of Old Maid with Nana.

She loves Old Maid…even though she pretends to be sad when she loses.

Dad and I continued the never-ending Scrabble tournament of champions.

SOMEBODY won 2 out of 3, but I won’t say who.  That would be bragging.

Happy Birthday, Andy!

Andy is 10 today!

We had a family party last night, complete with spaghetti dinner and Andy’s choice for his cake: Triple Chocolate Cake with Heath pieces in the mix.  He’s sporting some of his gifts.  He might be a bit of a basketball fan…what do you think?

Katie noticed the swooshes on the headband and the sweatshirt and thought it was really really really cool that he had “matching nerfs” on his stuff.

Dad: NERFS??!?!  Do you mean NIKE?

Katie: Oh yeah, that.

“Very nice.  More cake, please.”

Fly on the Wall Report

Sean was watching some of the NCAA tournament with the JAKE…

Dad: See those two really tall guys?  They’re twin brothers.

Katie: Which one’s older?

(not to be understood as “which one is 2 minutes older.”  It is to be understood in the same way as when my sister, who shall not be named, asked the score in a football game, was told it was tied at zero, and she then asked who was winning.  I think we’ve got kindred spirits here…)

I know that my Redeemer liveth…

This morning, I am surrounded by…

the smell of monkey rolls left over from breakfast.

the sounds of my sons playing with the toys from their Easter baskets on the table.

the rustles and swishes of new Easter dresses and knit stoles, and my girls’ delight in them.

the glorious choruses of Handel’s Messiah ringing through the house, and the inevitable, choking, weeping joy that accompanies them and makes it impossible for me to sing along, except in my head.

the thoughts of those who are far off, either in distance or death, and the sweet comfort that it will not be so forever.

the anticipation of feasting with our church family at the table of the risen and victorious King.

the excitement of spending extended time with family for the next few days.

the greetings across the internet, around the world, with brothers and sisters, some of whom I’ve never met: “He is risen!”  “He is risen indeed!”  ”Yes! He is not here! He has risen just as he said!”

The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ! And He shall reign forever and ever!

The Lord be with you this Day!

Facebook is so behind the times…

Sean and I have been slowly getting our feet wet in the morass that is Facebook.  I’m always nervous about new ways to give out all kinds of personal information to the entire world.  The other day I finally filled out the “spouse” field in my profile, and because Sean also has an account, Facebook had to check with him to make sure I was his wife. Do random people arbitrarily report that they are married to perfect strangers?  Is this sort of verification actually necessary?

Let the bizarreness of that sink in for a second, and then get this: Once Sean confirmed that yes indeed, this person is my wife, we both got notifications from Facebook.  His said “You are now in a relationship with Kiersten.” 

NOW?!??!

Somehow that ruined the whole “up to the minute” gimmick they’ve got going.

I have been dreading this day…

Some of you know that Ellie has been, to this point, utterly oblivious to the origins of the meat she eats.  We used to go through a litany with her once in a while:

Parent: Ellie, do we eat cows?

Ellie: NO!!!!

Parent: Are they delicious?

Ellie: NO!!!

Parent: Are they foodable (her word)?

Ellie: NO!!!

Parent: Ellie, do you like cheeseburgers?

Ellie: YES!!! YUMMY!

To tell you the truth, I thought she was starting to suspect.  I mean, the girl is four and a half years old.  She’s a smart kid.  Did she really not understand that chicken nuggets come from chickens and fish sticks come from fish?  I thought, until tonight, that she was just continuing to play along in the funny game with Mom & Dad. 

Nope.  She was clueless.

Dad: Ellie, do you like cheeseburgers?

Ellie: YES!  YUMMY!

Dad: Where do cheeseburgers come from?

Ellie: McDonald’s.

Dad: But where does McDonald’s get the meat to make cheeseburgers?

Ellie: (pause) I don’t know.

Dad:  Burgers are cow meat. (Ellie jumps in shock and stares in horror)

Ellie: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!  I don’t want people to eat K.C.! (her stuffed animal cow…named after a steak…come ON!)

Dad: Honey, nobody’s going to eat K.C., but the cows we see along the road when we’re driving?  We eat them.  We get steaks and burgers and roast beef from them.  And it’s ok.

Ellie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Dad: Do you like what you’re eating?

Ellie: Yes!  YUMMY!

Dad: That’s cow meat and pig meat in that spaghetti sauce, and you like it!

Ellie: NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Dad: Ellie, if you’d rather be in denial for a while longer, that’s ok…

Ellie: MMMMM HMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!

Three-Part Harmony

Tonight was really cool. 

Tonight we ate spaghetti with spaghetti sauce that had been simmering for hours on the stove.  We were famished, because the man-children and parental units had spent the better part of the day in a serious Spring cleaning session with the kid books, the homeschool stuff, other books, toys, and bookshelves.  Furniture was moved, dusted, and some were slightly rearranged.  Hard work makes dinner better.

Tonight we chatted around the table about foods we like and the meals that Sean and I had when we were kids.  We talked about how interesting it was when a “beef and potatoes” man married a “chicken and rice” woman.  We refrained (still) from explicitly saying that beef=cow, so Ellie is still a happy, ignorant ding-a-ling.

Tonight we sang after dinner.  We sang St. Patrick’s Breastplate in honor of the feast day.  It’s one of my favorites. Then we chanted a couple psalms, including one that the children know the melody well enough that Sean and I can sing bass and alto.  Our family made noise in three parts.  (I think there may have been four here and there, but we won’t point fingers.) What a wonderful treat it is, to harmonize with your own children.

Tonight was really, really cool.

The Brekkie Brigade

These boys love breakfast.  Jonathan would be content to eat breakfast food for every meal of the day.  His ideal meal includes pancakes, waffles, biscuits, eggs, bacon, sausage…you get the idea.  Andy’s not quite as much of a fanatic, but he gets really excited about any breakfast that’s not “cold or lazy.”  For those of you who don’t speak Andese, that means “cereal or microwave oatmeal.”  It’s all about effort for that one.

Jonathan asked last night if he could make pancakes this morning.  Andy walked into the kitchen and told Jonathan to get the griddle off the stove so that he could fry up some bacon.  We’re not messing with Andy this morning–his ‘Cats lost a heartbreaker last night–so Jonathan obliged.

Andy has become the unchallenged Bacon Master of the house.  He has watched his mother overcook it long enough to believe in the slow and low (heat) approach.  The kid does have a nice touch.  This morning he was standing over his first batch and he was overheard to say: “Ahhh….NOW we’re getting to the part where the grease flows like milk and honey!”

1000 Words

Is there a vet in the house?

When I was little and my grandmother would come visit, she would declare one afternoon to be “animal hospital”.  My siblings and I were to gather our best loved and most tattered stuffed animals and she would do her best to fix them up.  She was amazing. She somehow made a cotton ball substitute for a hippo’s missing tooth.

I’ve had a few animal hospital sessions here in my own home, but sometimes the service isn’t exactly what you’d call prompt.  Katie’s Caleb (KAY-wub for those of you who say the words out loud in your head) has had an injury for a few days, and the owner decided to take matters into her own hands.

She started with great enthusiam…

…and then reality hit. I don’t think surgeons are supposed to pout during procedures, dear.

She needed a breather…all that blood and gore, you know.  Surgery can be messy.

HELP ME!  ANESTHESIA ON!!!!

Finally, the patient came out of surgery, made it through the recovery room, and has a battle scar to show off to all the other stuffed animal inmates.

Nice work, Kate.  Stay in school.