School Closed

We had to shut down our school today.

I'm not even going to try.

Peter has declared himself sick and has claimed the couch as his recovery zone.

Thus, school is closed.

Which is quite lovely.

I chose "Play All" on the Jane and the Dragon DVD, made him a Get Well Soon Smoothie, and set about to be productive.

I even painted my toes.

After hanging up the laundry I may get to edit pictures from our California trip and post a few.  Wasn't that so long ago?

The Cost of Soccer

So this playing an organized team sport is not working out so well for our family.

It is way more time consuming than we thought.  We expected one to two hours a week of practice, not four.

It is making Paul grumpy because he just dislikes it so much.  (insert guest post by Paul on the horribleness of sports)

Another reason I cannot write about, lest a local is reading.  Um... yelling, favoritism, disorganization.

And it is now costing us an extra two hundred dollars due to a player knocking Peter's glasses off and breaking them.  He wears bifocals.  That means they cost a lot of dollars.

And if I were a full-fledged Soccer Mom I would have photos showing how much Peter really likes playing soccer.  But as I am just a Soccer Mom In Training, I forgot the camera again this Saturday.  But Peter had water and we had chairs to sit in.  Next week's goal:  camera.

If we make it to next week.

The Apple Pie Winner

It seems that Paul's cousin Adam was to be the recipient of the extra pie.

Paul, the boys, and I sacrificially ate the first blackened version of the pie.  It wasn't so bad, just not presentable enough to let someone outside our little foursome eat it.

Then yesterday afternoon Paul's cousin Adam called and said he'd be in our area in a few hours (dinnertime) while passing through on a road trip.

As I planned dinner, I remembered the apple pies.  Could I possibly serve one for dessert?  So, I peeled back the foil to pie #2 just to make sure it truly wasn't worthy to serve to Adam (I didn't check it before, but assumed it had the same leaky liquid issue as the other pie).  And, miraculously, it was perfectly fine!

So I baked it.

And we ate it.

And it was delicious.

See how Adam doth smile?

Time to Say No

Somehow I am currently...

• Leading an adult Sunday School class (every Sunday)
• Teaching a K-2 P.E. class (every other week)
• Babysitting Nolan (2-3 times a week)
• Heading up our library's Soup Supper fundraiser (tomorrow!)
• Teaching 3rd grade (4-7 days a week)
• Teaching Preschool (4-7 days a week)
• Running Powerpoint during church (3 Sundays a month)
• Coordinating an out-of-town field trip for homeschool group (for next Friday)
• Helping at Homework Club (twice a week)
• Assistant soccer coaching (3 times a week)
• Heading up Operation Christmas Child for our church (the next 2 months) 

That's a lot of leading.
I'm feeling it.
Stress in my shoulders.
Shortness in my words.

I'm thankful for yoga, Paul, canceled practices, sleep, prayer, Paul, and ruined apple pies that I have to eat.

Funny God

I now know why I was never inspired to give away a pie yesterday.  God knew all along, which is why he kept silent.

I'm a terrible pie maker, turns out.

Yesterday morning I was all domestic and made two pies.

Well, I didn't bake them right away.  I don't know about pies.  There are lots of food creations that you can prepare, refrigerate, and finish cooking later.

Um, Rustic Apple Pie should be cooked pretty much when you make it.

When I pulled it out of the fridge to bake last night (to share the oven with pizza rolls - saving the earth and our electric bill), the pie pan was filled with liquid, all around the outside of the pie.

Bummer.

I poured it off, but then the good cinnamony juices started pouring out.  I thought I wanted those.

So I baked the pie anyway, figuring it wouldn't come out so well.

Let's add another baking fumble - I had the oven at 450 instead of 400.  So the top apples blackened, yes.  And the juices around the outside of the crust also blackened, cementing the pie nicely to the pan.

So the new name of this pie is Blackened Apple Pie.  That's a very legitimate name.  There are blackened all kinds of things.

Blackened Salmon Sandwich

 

 

Blackened Chicken

 

and now

Blackened Apple Pie

Morning Pies

I made these two apple pies.  By 7:30am.  Today.  As in, four hours ago.

Why?

Because I was woken up by a thunderstorm this morning during the five o'clock hour.  And since I went to bed the night before at 9:30, my body was satisfied with those eight hours of sleep and ready to get up.

Why apple pies?

Because a couple days ago we picked a huge amount of apples at a friend's house and I have so little time this week to play with them.

This was my chance.

I made the crust, then spread cream cheese in the middle of it.  Poured in some apples mixed with sugar, cinnamon, and flour.  Then folded the edges up.

This easy recipe is called Rustic Apple Pie.

I really like it because it's supposed to look imperfect.  Rustic-like.  And I don't have to fiddle with a top crust and crimping the edges and whatnot.  A top crust just makes the pie twice as fattening, right?

Fat-e-ning?  (What movie??)

Since the crust recipe makes two crusts, I made two pies.

As I made them I prayed for God to enlighten me with a name of someone who needs an apple pie today.

"Oh, me?  You think I need two apple pies?  God, you're so sweet.  And you're right.  I would like to eat them both."

Perhaps I'll wait a little longer to see if I get an update from Him.

Soccer Mom

So Peter missed his first week of soccer practice due to our California visit.  He has never played soccer.  He has never been on an organized team.  He missed two practices and showed up to the game.

He was welcomed by a boy shouting at him, "If you don't go to practice, you can't play in the game!"  Yes, thank you.

Peter held down the sidelines for the first kick off.  But Coach put him in as a defender (what I know as 'fullback') for the second half.

He was so cute.  Huge grin.  Tugging his shirt.  Looking around to see what his nearby teammates were doing.

Then there was a third half.  Truly.  They were calling them quarters, but what's a game broken up into thirds called?  I don't know.

Coach wanted to see Peter's natural soccer finesse shine, so he put him in as center forward for the third quarter.  So cute.  Running all over.  Did I mention the HUGE grin?  He loved it.  Watch this...

Paul - What did you think of the game?

Peter - It was flying fun!!

See?

So today we start the practice regiment.  Two-hour practices, twice a week.  Does that seem a bit much for third and fourth graders?  That seems long to me.

We had the coach and his family over for dinner a couple weeks ago, because firstly, they are friends of ours.  As we supped, Coach asked me if I wanted to help with the team.  I said sure.  And some how it came about that I played soccer two years in college.

This always humbles me.  I don't think we ever won a game.  I do remember the first time we scored.  That was exciting.  (I went to a small private college, see.  Where sports were not so strongly emphasized, nor recruited for.)  But it was a great time in the California sun.

So call me Assistant Coach if you like.  That'd be great.

But really, I'm just getting used to this Soccer Mom thing.  (We forgot to bring water to the game for him.  Oops.)

Hey, do I get a bumper sticker or something?

Yeah.  Like that.

Soccer Pete

Me - How was your first soccer game?

Him - I liked it a lot!  The score was one to one.

Me - What did you like about it?

Him - Um...  (circling the room thinking)  The running.

Me - You like to run?

Him - Yes.  A lot.

Me - Do you want to run right now?

Him - Sure.  Yes.

Me - Where should we run?

Him - (circling coffee table thinking)

Me - Do you want to go play soccer in the backyard?

Him - SURE!

See ya'

The First Time

For the first time in my life...


I attended my Dad's Sunday School class

I listened to him read the Bible

I heard him declare Christ as his Savior

I saw him get baptized


I have never been so in awe of God.

To California

Isn't it such a bummer when you have to go to California?

But what is one to do when her dad accepts the love and forgiveness of Jesus and decides to get baptized?

One goes to California.

And so we go.

With much glee.


And I'd like to take a moment to thank our sponsors sponsor.


Steve, thank you.

Steve, thank you.

Steve, thank you.

Thank you.


So much.


I'm sorry I can't chat right now.  I have a plane to catch.

What is Dessert, Really?

While doing some 'research' for my mom I asked Reuben,

"What is your favorite dessert?"

"Rice and green beans."

Okay.

And while I'm asking him questions, I would like to know why my closet door is broken and unable to close.  Oh, you've been in and out a million times storing 'birthday presents' for yourself.  I see.

I don't know why he thinks my closet floor is the place to put his books, the library's books, and old toys to hide away until Saturday.  This is his way of figuring out what a birthday is, I guess.

What is a birthday, really?

Oh, let's just see a picture of his cuteness...

This is from camping last week.

His wingspan is that of a mallard.

In case you were wondering.

And we might as well talk about this Darth Vader shirt.

It also has Darth Mall and some other bad guy on it.

He pulled it out of a bag of clothes a friend had passed on to us.

If I had gotten to it first, he never would have seen this shirt.

But sadly, black is his favorite color

and this is his favorite shirt.

He even wears it wet out of the washing machine.

Paul and I just watched Phantom Menace

(previewing it for Peter)

and I came to realize how yucky bad Darth Mall is

and how I didn't realize who Reuben was representing.

I am now quite tempted to receive the wrath of this soon-to-be four year old

and magically make the shirt disappear.

Especially since it is two sizes too big and

could be with us for quite some time still.

The diversions of this weekend may be the perfect time

(his birthday and an exciting trip across the country).

Oh, but he is going to ask for it as he does EVERY morning.

What shall I say?

First I will pray

and perhaps it will be wiped from his memory.

It's possible.

With God all things are possible.

I know this.

You may too.

You Are Meant To Be

Do you know Steven Curtis Chapman?  Oh, you should get to know him.  His recent music and videos and stories make me all teary.

In the last several years as we have been involved in adoption, we have worked with SCC to encourage anyone who will listen to get involved in helping orphans.

He does most of the work.  He performs concerts, then shows an informative/inspirational video about adoption.  Then folks swarm the booths in the hallway during intermission.

We stand at a booth and answer questions, share our story, and encourage families to seriously consider adoption.

He created  Show Hope, an organization that raises awareness and money to give grants to families who are adopting.  Show Hope gave us a $4,000 grant to help with our adoption expenses for Reuben.  They recently gave my brother's family a grant, too.

Whenever we get an email from Show Hope asking us to volunteer at an SCC concert, we excitedly go.  We will do our fifth show this fall.

Anyhoo, there's a new Veggie Tales movie coming out this Christmas and SCC does one of the songs.  It's called Meant To Be.  It made me teary.  It probably won't make you teary.  Unless you have been on the receiving end of an adoption. 

(For some reason unknown to me, my blog layout only shows the left side of videos.  To see the whole screen you can click over here.)

Adoption is so sweet.

God made every person.  Including each orphan.  He loves them as He loves you and me.

Praise God for the foster moms, birthmoms, social workers, anonymous financial donors, adoptive families, doctors, airplane pilots, all who help make adoptions happen... who care for children beyond what society expects.


Edited to add- I was just over at MoneySavingMom, one of my daily reads, and she posted about Mary Beth Chapman's (SCC's wife) new book, Choosing to See.

"The book chronicles the story of Steven Curtis and Mary Beth Chapman and their five-year-old adopted daughter’s tragic accident in 2008.  The story will make you laugh and cry — and will ultimately touch you at a very deep level."

MoneySavingMom also talks about how her blog is now supporting Show Hope.  Fantastic!

It Happened To Us

Well it happened to him...  Peter.

He got caught in an escalator.  Yesterday.

It was scary.

I got to use my super human momma powers and pull him out as the escalator pulled him down.

We were going down.

His right pant leg got caught on the side.

I heard a ripping sound and Peter turned and said, "What's that?"

That's when I began to pull.

His pants continued to rip.  For several long seconds.

All the way up to his hip.

Shreds.

But I saved him.

And I hugged him.

And he was frightened.

And we had two more down escalators to traverse to exit the art museum we were leisurely perusing.

He held onto his pant shreds and stood in the middle of the remaining escalators.

He made it.

But we were a tad late to the international student picnic we were expected at because we had to stop at a store to buy him some new leg coverings.

But what a great story to tell.

And it was probably on camera.  Maybe they'll send us a fatty check for our trauma.

Camping

Ugh.

I really wanted to like camping.  Cool families camp.  And they like it.  And they have memorable family photos.

Just click over here to see my brother's family enjoy camping.  It even starts out with "We had a super fun weekend camping in San Onofre."  Or over here, to my other brother's family.  They like camping too.  My parents and sister were also on that camping trip.

You'd think, coming from this family of camperness, that I too would enjoy the tenting experience.  Sadly, it has been confirmed this very week that I do not like camping.  Which I was pretty much aware of before this little trip.  But I was just hoping I would.

I'm sure you can imagine all the unpleasantries I endured.  It wasn't fun.  It was work.  And hard.  Not at all like a vacation.

Vacation equals restful, romantic Bed and Breakfast.

I had forgotten.  I have been reminded.

These are the foil dinners I prepared.

The directions I found online said to cook them on the coals.

They burned.

Both nights.

As Paul scraped the burnty parts off his buritto

he lovingly said,

"It's just like scraping burnt toast."

Dessert did not get burned.

Banana with nutella and marshmallows.

Wrap in foil.

Cook on the coals.

Savor with a spoon.

The family tenting next to us left after one night.

We should have taken the hint.

They left us their firewood and...

their ginormous mallows.

Peter trying to eat a supersize s'more.

I looked up one afternoon and found Peter reading on top of the car.

Weird, but okay.

We're camping.

Whatever.

We camped at a state park with sand dunes.

The hiking trails were all sand and some boardwalks.

The boys stopped and played here for a long time.

Paul and I found a bench.

Playing on the shore of Lake Michigan.

The boys are on the right there,

running up and down the dunes.

Now they are sand wrestling.

Making sure sand gets in every crevice.

We woke up on the third day

(I lasted three days, folks)

and it surprisingly started to rain.

So we started packing up a bit,

taking down the tent,

then the tablecloth.

And it kept raining.

So we kept packing.

And everything ended up put away in the car.

So we decided it was time to go.

Thank you, God, for the rain,

I always say.

We were going to stay another night.

Ask the boys and they'll tell you they had a great time camping.  Pretty much everything I didn't like about it, they did.  Sleeping in a tent is crazy fun when you're seven.  Walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night is fantastic because you get to use a flashlight.  Dirt, glorious, dirt.

But we all agree that the jiggitty bug bites were not fun.  We're still scratching.

There you go.  Camping.  Blah.  No thank you.  Day trips, yes.  Boys' camp out, for sure.