I'm packing and preparing for a week of holding her...
And I can't wait. I could just eat those skinny scrunched up toesies. And her chocolate eyes. She is biting her fingernails in anticipation of Aunt Joni squeezing the fire out of her.
(I grabbed this photo off of my niece's Facebook pictures. So while I was at it I grabbed another picture of my only favorite brother and his family.)
I love to take pictures standing with Cole since he has the ability to dwarf anyone standing nearby.
My first niece has graduated. Gulp.
Okay, so I'm getting ready to be gone for a week+ without posting. So my blog won't change but it would be great if you guys would leave lots of comments while I'm gone so that I know how much you have missed my random ramblings.
If there are no comments and no one cares, then I quit.
Just kidding.
I'll miss you blog world. Eleven days and counting.
P.S. If you have had trouble opening my blog, make sure that the address you're opening is http://ministergrace.blogspot.com/ and not http://ministergrace.blogspot.com/#28. I don't know if it makes a difference or not, but let me know. Check my links on your page and make sure they aren't linked to that. Toodles.
When Nate told me he wanted to help with soccer this year, I kind of balked.
1. He did not play soccer.
2. He did not know the rules.
3. I know what I've thought about other coaches that didn't have experience.
4. I was nervous about his, um, athletic ability.
Like always, he proved me wrong.
1. Instead of COACHING coaching, he was more the head cheerleader. He was first to cheer on the kids and give high-fives. He would give the pep talks at the end. "Good job everyone. You played great. I'm sure we'll win the next game."
2. He helped control the kids when Coach Monica wanted to talk. He would line them up and make them salute and make all the parents giggle.
3. He didn't need to know the rules. That's what refs are for.
4. He loved to tease the kids about running laps. They would just roll their eyes at him and grin. It's been a fun season.
Doesn't Nate look like he's singing...
Young man, young man, there's no need to feel down. Young man, young man, get yourself off the ground. Y-M-C-A .... it's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A.
*The title is correct.* I don't mean Whooo Hooo! I mean whoo hoo.
Goodbye School 10 months of schedule Nate's 6:45 phone call 7:05 bus Grouchy Drew Quiet mornings Praising Drew for his grades Homework 8:30 bedtime Time alone with Finn Cute school outfits Clean towels Beth Moore in the morning
Hello Summer 7 weeks of chaos Nate's 9:45 phone call 11:00 breakfast Grouchy Mom Loud squeals and pounding Punishing Drew for his attitude Housework Late nights Fighting boys Swim trunks Pond water towels Beth Moore at the pond
We had his friends overnight... Water trampoline set up and ready for summer break... We had a party with Nate's family... New rabbit cage... Completed collection of Tech Decks... Money for his ferret savings... Two more days of school... Two more soccer games... Four more days until we head out to Ohio for the week... It doesn't get any better than this for a nine year old.
Boys are so much fun... All mud, energy, comparing their "guns," and "Boom, Boom, Fiyapowah!" (Highly quoted) No drama.
Trey
Jackson
Logan, the smart one
Finn was always included in the fun. When it was time to say goodbye, Finn said, "I wish my buddies didn't have to go home."
The surfboard was one of my infamous last minute plans... Nate rolled his eyes but he followed through... Seriously, how can I host a Surfing themed party with no board?
We all love Emma...
Party with no Reddi-Whip = boring
Although he totally butchered the word "Capernaum," he did a great job reading about Peter's bravery...
When I was a sophomore, the house that I grew up in was sold to Lowe's who promptly tore it down and put in a parking lot. This all passed quickly through the eyes of a teenager, busy with Young Folks and a boyfriend, acting like she didn't care. I remember standing up the street and watching the bulldozers knock down the schoolhouse that my mom and dad bought for cheap and lovingly restored into a home. The bricks tumbled down, the roof caved in, the windows shattered, and the neighbors all scattered.
My parents built a barn with an apartment on the end where we lived while the new house was being built. I spent the rest of my sophomore year and part of my junior year in the barn. Then we moved into the new house. I was even busier with yearbook, YF's, entire weekends spent in southern Ohio, after school jobs, and school. The house was awesome, and mom and dad spent many hours trimming and painting, but I was nowhere around. The end of my senior year came and went and quickly moved into fall when I got married and moved eight hours away.
When I moved to Virginia, and even still to this day, I get the question, "Do you get homesick?" The answer is Yes. But the home that I grew up in, the one that holds all of my childhood memories, the house that I learned about life in, and the rooms that still come back to me when I dream, is gone. I get homesick for a house that only lives in my happiest memories. When I would go to mom and dad's to visit, I didn't even know where she kept her measuring cups in the new house. Or the plates I should use to set the table. And I would feel something in the pit of my stomach. It felt like the loss of something that I loved so much but yet took for granted.
And now I feel the same way again.
I'm homesick.
Homesick for something that will never be the same again. Homesick for something that our parents poured their love and energy into that can quickly be ripped apart. Homesick for my friends that are all scattered in different areas and stages of life.
But, here's the thing.
One house got torn down. But a new one was built.
Now there is room for more people and more holidays and more birthday parties. My parents are happy in their house in the country with baby ducks being hatched on the pond. My friends have their own houses and are doing whatever it takes to follow Christ. I have my own house now. I am a parent building memories and teaching my children about Jesus. Everything is okay.
And everything is going to be okay. He's given us a promise. Luke 18:29-30
We wanted an Airstream so bad that we talked about it constantly. We were always on the lookout for one. We watched newspaper ads, Ebay, and roadside lots. And one day, we found one. It was a great deal, locally owned, and the Airstream of our dreams. We tore into restoring that guy, we spent the night in it a few times, we were constantly talking about how much fun it was going to be, and we were gung-ho vintage Airstream owners.
Then life happened. Things got busy. Games and practices took over our weekends. The boys got bigger. All of a sudden the time required to get the camper ready loomed over us. Our dreams were way larger than our energy.
We've decided to make a mature decision to attempt to sell him. Honestly, I get teary when I think about it. But hey, we want what is best for him. We know how badly we wanted one, so hopefully there is someone out there that feels like we did...
So I present you with our Land Yacht that is now for sale.
I mean, he is ready to P.A.R.T.Y.
New flooring, new leather upholstery.
New plumbing.
Needs new toilet. And cleaned.
I'm expecting a call from Matthew any day now.
My only requirement is that he, personally, comes to pick it up.
Although I could really care less if this style ever comes back in, I am a packrat. I buy and keep any and all sewing patterns. I always think, "Okay, so this is cheesy now, but what if my daughter-in-law wants me to make her wedding dress and this is a cool vintage dress by then..." Pathetic, I know.
Number one, if my DIL wants me to make her dress, that's one awesome girl. (Nothing against my MIL.)
Number two, I can always buy this pattern off of Ebay if she absolutely HAS to have a Size 16 Fitted dress with skirt gathered to bodice, shaped waistline seam, back zipper, and elasticized neckline ruffle. Can be worn on or off the shoulder. {Shudder}
Number three, if she chooses me to be her designer, I should be able to talk her into another style. Like this. Or this. No elasticized shoulders for the bride of my son.
Okay, now back to the pattern.
When I saw the teensy article on pattern flowers in Country Living, a little lightbulb flashed in my brain. "Joni, you could cut up one of your cheesy patterns for flowers."
So I did. BUT, if I hadn't kept the pattern to begin with, I would have had to cut up one of my cute vintage patterns. Like this one.
So, I will continue being a Pattern Packrat. Don't try to stop me.
And I can't wait. I could just eat those skinny scrunched up toesies. And her chocolate eyes. She is biting her fingernails in anticipation of Aunt Joni squeezing the fire out of her.
My first niece has graduated. Gulp.
