I ponder things.

I really do. A lot.

Pondering, for me, happens at odd times and mostly when completing mundane tasks ... like yesterday, as I was peeling potatoes for the most involved recipe for Irish stew. Seriously delicious though. I'll post the recipe later.

I was alone. It was quiet.

These two conditions happening at the same time create a ponder-fest.

So, I did. Ponder, that is.

God has definitely been dealing with me on some issues (like He's never not dealing with me) and this has been one of them: Worship.

Most of you know I'm a part of the worship team at our church and praise & worship is very close to my heart. Or should I say music is very close to my heart (you'll understand the clarification in a minute). I'd say it's a definite passion of mine and always has been. I love to worship God in this manner. I really do. Once again ... always have for years.

But, I think we can all get a bit confused here.

Since when did "worship" mean music?

Who decided that singing and playing instruments was what worship was?

Who defined worship for us?

That's what I was pondering.

From what I recall from the Bible, worship was something totally different.

I seem to remember it being bringing offerings and sacrifices, or going to hear the Word read aloud, or falling down prostrate. Never music.

Was it David that made us think that it's songs? I realize throughout the Psalms that's what He did and he was a man after God's own heart. I get that. But, is that really worship? I'm just pondering again. Because honestly, I think the songs ... the music ... is more for us than for Him. More for our benefit. Not that it should be. Does it really just make us feel better? God doesn't NEED our songs or our music. I'm sure He appreciates it. But, obviously, we're the ones who need it. Look at all the emphasis we put on it at our churches.

But, I'm not really sure that's what worship is.

God gave me a little insight yesterday. Totally strange how this happened amidst my pondering.

I was still peeling potatoes and pondering.

Beau walked in with the girls from school.

There is an afternoon routine that happens in our house after school, which involves grabbing a snack and homework. Nothing else happens until homework is done.

This can be a chore sometimes especially with La Petite Belle, who is very easily distracted and wants to talk, or do anything else but homework at this time.

Right before she sat down at the table to do her homework, she says, "Mommy, do you want to hear the song I made up today?"

I say, "Baby, not right now. I want you to sit down and do your homework."

She proceeds to sing some of it.

I say, "I will listen to it later. Sit down and do your homework."

I did want to hear her song, but it was way more important to me that she just do what I asked her to do ... to just obey.

BAM! It's like a had a little revelation of what God must feel with us.

The fact that she wrote a song for me was sweet, but that's it. Sweet.

I wanted her to obey.

Do you think that's how God feels?

I'm not saying He doesn't want to hear our songs. Of course, He does. Just like I wanted to hear La Petite Belle's. But, obedience first. The song was secondary.

So often, I think we want to forget about the obedience, which encompasses every aspect of our life and just shut God up with a song. "See, God? I love You. Listen to my song." I wonder sometimes if He's even listening or turns His ear because of the disobedience and indifference in our life.

I'm not saying He does. So, don't freak out. I'm just pondering. Could He be?

Obedience is better than sacrifice, right?

I know when my child disobeys me, I really don't want to hear her sing a song of love to me. I want her to repent and obey. I want her to change.

How ironic that we can sing a song to God about how wonderful He is and how much we want to give our lives to Him, but have hate/resentment/bitterness (plus a hundred other things) in our heart toward our brother.

Worship is love and adoration for our God, accompanied by a life of devotion to Him.

That's it.

Simple, but extremely difficult.

John MacArthur, Jr. says: "That consuming, selfless desire to give to God is the essence and the heart of worship. It begins with the giving first of ourselves, and then of our attitudes, and then of our possessions -- until worship is a way of life."

A way of life.

That's what it is.

The music we sing is such a small part of that way of life.

I'm just pondering here.

Your thoughts?

Age is Just a Number.

This is what most younger people say to older people to make them feel better about their age and also what older people say to themselves when they're in denial about how old they are.

It's the truth. Face it.

But, let me tell you a little secret ...

Come in closer because I don't want those young folks to hear what I have to say. (Notice I said "folks" like most elderly people. Youngsters don't understand that terminology. Or the word "terminology." So, I'm pretty safe with my comments.)

I wouldn't trade my age for anything.

Age is so much more than just a number.

I've lived my whole life to get where I am today.

Would I want to be 28 again? No way. I'm way smarter and wiser than I was back then.

Thinking about going back any younger than that is just ridiculous.

I was a child.

So naive. Still learning so many things about life ... being a wife, a mommy, a child of God, a woman.

I think I actually lost my identity there for a while.

I am way more in tune with who I am and who God's created me to be now.

I love my age.

I feel good. I feel confident. I feel happy. I feel secure (except when I'm insecure about stupid stuff I shouldn't be insecure about, but that's a whole other issue).

Now, let's be real here ... would I trade my physical appearance for that of my .... hmmm ... let's say ... 23 ... no, let's make that 20-year-old self? Most definitely YES!

But, honestly, that's it.

Just the body. Just the physical appearance. How superficial and vain. So not important.

I'll take the wisdom and knowledge I've gained over that any day. It's amazing how much you learn over the years through both good and bad experiences. And, believe me, I've had both.

I embrace my age, no matter how many people take jabs at me because of it.

Like the sales clerk at Sephora this weekend, who, in a very concerned manner, questioned whether or not I used under-eye cream and moisturizer ... Yeah ... she did. I gave her this expression.

And, said, "Of course, I'm using moisturizer. Duh."

Obviously that cream is not working.

So, get off my back, Age! I'm happy with the number I am and there's nothing you can do to make me feel bad about myself. I will challenge you at every cost. Bring it on.

Do-Overs

You ever wish you could have a few of those?

I know I do.

Like the time I was in 2nd grade and the teacher refused to let me go to the restroom, and consequently, as I stood in line to get my SRA Reading card, I peed. Right there in line in front of everybody. Mortifying for an eight-year-old just trying to fit in, with her Dorothy Hamil haircut and her Coke-bottle glasses.

And, like the time I thought it was a good idea to use a belt as a lasso when I was pretending to be a cowgirl rasslin' up some cattle and knocked parts of my two front permanent teeth out. Quite a disappointment for both me and my mother. Thank God for resin. Otherwise I would look like that nagging lady from Hee Haw ...... which my mother said was my favorite TV show as I child, only rivaled by "The Lawrence Welk Show." Ridiculous, I know. She said I would sit the entire hour motionless, staring at the television. Not loving that it wasn't "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom." Remember that guy? Marlin Perkins ... yeah, that's him.

Fascinating, I know. No wonder I wasn't hooked. I'm thinking Lawrence Welk was a tad more entertaining with his talented band of singers and their lovely outfits. I just remember the guys had a lot of hair. How can a young girl resist this?

Definitely had to be my inspiration for wanting to sing.

OK, getting off track here.

There are countless do-overs I would love to have for my high school years. Countless.

I know you may find this hard to believe, but I wasn't the perfect little angel I am now. Not even close.

Actually studying more than the day of a test would have been excellent.

If we'd only known the things we know now when we were in those dreaded years.

Like how pointless it is to spend a year dreaming of banging some girl's head into the lockers ... same dream over and over ... until she bleeds, just because she "stole" your boyfriend whom you thought you were going to marry, but ended up breaking up when you went away to college anyway. A friendship was ruined. Boo to boys. That girl had been one of my best friends and I did have to apologize to her years later. Water under the bridge, but nonetheless, a definite do-over. How things could have been different. Ahh ... immaturity.

Let's not even talk about college ... the whole first couple of years ... DO-OVER!

Even now, with my kids, I wish I could have do-overs.

Like the time I thought it would be a good idea to carry K Belle in a sling as I was cooking dinner and a drop of boiling water burned her tiny foot. I cried more than she did.

And, even this morning as I fussed at La Petite Belle for leaving her water bottle at school, all the while she insisted that she didn't. I refused to believe her and asked her to produce the water bottle if that was the case, then gave the whole speech on responsibility that I seem to give every day. After she left for school, I saw the water bottle lying on the floor in the corner of the dining room. My heart dropped. Do-over.

Good thing every morning we wake up to a new day and do get the chance to have a do-over.

I'm going through something here.

Yep.

It's the best sentence that describes my life right now.

It's also the best excuse I have for acting any way other than my original way.

And, boy, it's a doozie.

I blame these statements:

"If our pursuit has moved from reasonable attention to a veritable obsession, we'd better search our souls for what's driving us."

"You and I are going to have to come to a place where we stop handing people the kind of power only God should wield over us."

"Our challenge is to let the healthy, utterly whole, and completely secure part of us increasingly overtake our earthen vessels until it drives our every emotion, reaction, and relationship." (all Beth Moore)

I'm having to take a good, hard look at myself. And, I'm not really liking what I see.

My poor Beau.

I usually don't bother him with the crazy things that go on in my head.

But, he begged.

I answered and I'm sure he wished he hadn't asked.

I warned him.

As much as he tries, he just can't understand. And, that's understandable to me because, honestly, I am also baffled by my own mind.

Truly taking a look at yourself and the motives of your heart is not fun at all.

It's quite painful.

Let's just say I have an ugly heart, which is to be expected, since the Bible says that man's heart is wicked above all things.

All. Things.

There's nothing worse than a person's heart.

Just when you think you're doing alright and you're not that bad of a person, that wicked heart rears its ugly head.

Jeremiah 17:9

^9-10"The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful,
a puzzle that no one can figure out.
But I, God, search the heart
and examine the mind.
I get to the heart of the human.
I get to the root of things.
I treat them as they really are,
not as they pretend to be."

Wow! That last line got me.

Yeah, I don't like what I see. I want to change.

The problem is that I remain the same.

I keep facing the same issues. The same issues in the same areas of my life. You'd think I'd have learned a thing or two by now.

I mean ... I'm pushing a certain age here, people, and I should be way more in tune to who God is and who I am. I've been a Christian for 18 years and there are still dumb issues that I struggle with that I shouldn't because of my confidence in God.

It actually makes me angry. Irritated. Frustrated. And, then makes me feel more like a failure because I am not moving toward a new place.

It's time to move on here.

Just move on, Mama Belle.

I think I have selective ADD or maybe ADHD.

Selective ADD/ADHD: A term I just made up meaning ... ADD/ADHD that only surfaces during times I am not totally interested or engrossed in something going on.

I have a huge problem sitting still. Huge.

My butt starts to ache. My back hurts. I get a pain in my neck.

Even at work, after a few hours in my seat, I've got to take a walk.

I've got to move, people.

I was not made for sitting still.

Yet, I had to do so yesterday here.

The courthouse.

I was there to fulfill my obligation of jury duty.

As much as I prayed to the Lord that I would not have to report, I did.

You know what I did ALL DAY?

Sat.

Sat in a very uncomfortable chair.

I switched from cross-legs to straight legs to foot-on-the-knee to feet under the chair.

Ugh. No relief.

See? Selective ADHD because I can sit two hours watching a movie with no problem, three-and-a-half if it's "Inception," or four hours if it's "Gone With the Wind."

I also came to an even more troubling discovery that I am easily distracted. I attempted to read a novel. Now, listen ... I don't read novels. I just don't. I figure if I'm going to spend my time reading, it might as well benefit me in the long run and not be a bunch of make-believe nonsense. If I'm reading a book, it's one that's giving me more knowledge into some aspect of my life, but NOT a novel.

I picked up one of Nicholas Sparks' novels. Easy-to-read novel. I loved "The Notebook" (the movie) so I thought I'd try one of his other books.

I started it.

Each little clicking of pens, tapping of feet, and general conversation kept my attention away from reading.

I was way more interested in the woman's (behind me) drama with her college-age son and the complaints of the others around me about having to do jury duty in the first place and the reasons why this is just too inconvenient for them.

I found myself reading some paragraphs three or four times. But, I did get to chapter three.

See? Selective ADD. I can read blogs or great books like, "Crazy Love," and not be distracted once, with the TV on, mind you.

Aside from discovering my diversion to sitting, my day was pretty uneventful.

I did not get selected, much less called, and the other cases were settled before a jury was needed.

God answered my prayer after all.

I sat all day and made $25. So, I guess it wasn't so bad, but I'm thankful I'm not going back today.

The Slacker's Sunday Six

My friends mock me because when I give reasons for why I am or am not doing something, I list them as A, B, and C. But, it's perfectly normal to me to give your explanations in an outline form. And, as one of my English teachers always told me, when you're making an outline, you must always have a B to go with your A, and better yet, a C.

So, here goes ...

Reasons Why I'm Using the Word "Slacker" in This Post:

A. It's not Sunday.

B. I don't post on Sunday.

C. I really like this idea and want to use it despite it's criteria for being done on Sunday

And, the creator (my friend, Jodie), gave me permission to do so. I think she's started something here. I simply love her and her blog always makes my heart feel all warm and fuzzy.

There's really no rhyme or reason to this. It's just 6 things. Any 6 things you love. That's it. Easy. I like easy because A. I don't have to think much about it, B. It saves me time., and C. Who likes doing things the hard way anyway?

On we go ...

one

Deep soul-searching.

And, I'm not too happy with what I'm finding in there.

"We all fear we aren't who we are pretending to be." - Beth Moore

two

Hats.

Not just any hat. These little French berets are my favorite. I so wish I could wear them without looking like I just stepped out of the shower and left my cap on (because I always wear a shower cap in the shower ... not). I want to wear this beret as I sit outside a French bistro and eat pastries in France, of course ... not really. I'm not a fan of France, so maybe, Canada.

three

Fall.

The apples. The pumpkins. The weather. Come on, fall!

four

Pearls.

Nothing classier.

five

Open Cardigans.

The best piece of clothing invented for anyone who wants to hide anything (a.k.a. baby bellies that are there after 10 years, wider hips, muffin tops, saddle bags, etc.). I have a few of these lovelies ... black, cream, multi-colored, which reminds me that I need another one.

six

Newly sharpened pencils.

So many possibilities.

This is something Jodie does every week and as soon as she figures out how to put Mr. Linky up, the sooner you all can participate. Fun and easy. Go on over. I'm sure she has an awesome post for today too. She never fails me.

How much do I love my life?

"Now that you've cleaned up your lives by following the truth, love one another as if your lives depended on it." - 1 Peter 1:22

"As if my life depended on it?"

Man, oh, man.

This seems beyond my ability, but Christ demands it.

I fail so miserably.

I'm not even close.

I want to be.

Getting past my own selfishness is almost impossible. And, I believe that the irritation that occurs from being with people is a form of selfishness. Not being friendly, being in a bad mood ... also a form of selfishness.

Let me be honest here.

A lot of times I honestly don't want to be around anyone. No one.

Sometimes it's quite a relief when I get to go to the bathroom and be in that little stall alone. I feel safe. Relief. No one around. I can breathe for just a minute. After that brief moment, I'm ready to go out into the world again. (OK, that's weird.)

It's also impossible for me to act happy and bubbly when I'm not. It's difficult.

But, it's also selfish when I'm not putting the person I'm coming in contact with above my own emotions and feelings.

This is going to take a lot of work.

Next month, you'll be saying ... "That Mama Belle ... she's such a people-person. She loves everyone."

And, I do love everyone. It's the liking I have a problem with.

But, once again ... selfish.

I think I'll take it a step farther and say it's sin.

It's putting myself above what God has commanded me to do. I know what the right thing is to do and I choose not to do it. I teach my kids that is called sin.

So, how much do I really love my life? Enough that I would try to save it at all costs. I would fight to the death to save my life.

That's how much I should be loving people. Making every effort to go out of my way to love them, whether it be convenient or not and whether I like it or not.

Success

Day One of school/my disciplined life proved to be a success. Only two-hundred-and-something left to go.

The girls got out of the house earlier than normal. I even made eggs & bacon. I know ... it's like I'm supermom.

I had my quiet time. And it was so very quiet ... until Beau called me frantic about how his car died and K Belle had to steer it into a parking lot while he pushed it in the rain. The girls still made it to school on time. All of this because of a stupid busted water pump. Ugh.

Let's get back to my quiet time finished up later than planned.

I started a new Bible study this week ... Beth Moore's, "So Long, Insecurity." So far, love it. Favorite thing read thus far (and I've only read chapter one as I type this) is this verse: "When I felt secure, I said, 'I will never be shaken.' O Lord, when you favored me, you made my mountain stand firm; but when you hid your face, I was dismayed." Psalm 30:6-7

Makes me question whether we were ever meant to feel fully secure? Our only security is in Christ. So, pretty much we can forget being secure in ourselves.

Can't wait to get deeper into this study.

After my quiet time, I ran. See? More discipline.

I took care of housewifey things like laundry and errands, met the hubby for lunch, and picked up the girls at school.

I helped the girls with homework. And, I've decided to get their brains moving and more focused by playing some classical music while they work. So relaxing, although we didn't finish homework until after 5:00. But, it sure was pleasant.

I cooked. And, I cooked GOOD.

I decided to give you the delicious recipe. Enjoy!

Shrimp Portofino

1/2 c. butter

1 pack sliced large mushrooms

4 tsp. minced garlic

2 lbs. large shrimp, peeled, deveined

1/4 c. fresh lemon juice

1 large jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained

Salt & pepper to taste

Lemon slices & parsley for garnish

Pasta (I used whole wheat penne.)

Saute' mushrooms and garlic in butter until almost tender. Add shrimp and saute' until shrimp is cooked through. Add remaining ingredients, except lemon and parsley and heat through. Serve over pasta. Garnish with lemon slices and parsley. Serves 4.

See? I cooked. More discipline.

Tomorrow may not be as productive.

I'm so ready.

Don't let the sweet, innocent look fool you ... OK, yeah ... they're cute.

However ...

I am quite ecstatic about the thought of these girls heading back to school today. EC. STATIC.

Seriously, what's all this talk about how sad it's making everyone? Come on. Be real.

My girls have gotten to the most extreme point of boredom that watching grass grow would be quite illuminating. Except for the fact that the grass grows and then quickly chokes and dies. Do you know how hot it is down here? It's so hot that they don't even want to go outside. Not even to the pool. You can get heat stroke just by walking there. My girls are officially over the pool anyway. Fini. Done. Bored With.

And, when they were not swimming for 15 minutes and then asking to go home, they were competing for the title of "I Can Irritate My sister in Three Seconds or Less." So far La Petite Belle has been in the lead.

I, for one, will not miss the bickering.

And, I'm looking forward to the routine.

Routine is good. You always know what to expect.

Although this week is going to be a little rough. The thought of waking up at 6:00 a.m. is not at all appealing to me and having to wake the girls up is even a more horrid task, seeing as they've gone to bed close to midnight and slept until almost noon most days. That life is now over ... cold turkey starting today. (Sleeping Late ... I think I'll miss you the most.)

But, a new regimen is always difficult at first. Living a disciplined life even harder.

I have big goals for this school year. BIG. GOALS. For me and for the girls.

Goals like not being a lazy butt ... goals like cooking ... goals like losing the five pounds I've put on just last night by eating ten oatmeal cookies for dinner ... I WILL PREVAIL. (Why is it I start every day in a very healthy way, but by 3:00, I'm ready for a bag of Sour Patch Kids? And, at 9:30, a bowl of ice cream? Ugh. Remember when people got their jaws wired shut? Sounds promising.)

Today marks Day One of the most successful school year and the year that I will finally be the best mom and wife ever ... plus lose 15 pounds. Oh, it'll happen. Check back in May for the results.

Mama needs Kombucha.

Imagine my surprise when I headed to the only place in town, a locally-owned health food/drugstore, to purchase my beloved Kombucha, Synergy to be specific.

I was feeling under the weather and crave this mushroom drink when I feel like I want instant healing and energy.

On the sliding refrigerator door, a sign read, "Kombucha temporarily unavailable."

WHAT?

I specifically went to this store to get this ... well, along with my antibiotics.

Then, I remembered this which I thought would only be a temporary thing.

Basically, Whole Foods and other stores that carry Kombucha drinks have pulled the drinks from their shelves because the FDA says that the "alcohol" content in these drinks exceeds the legal limit for a drink not to be considered alcoholic (around 0.5%). So, the Treasury Dept. steps in and says the drinks have to be taxed the same as alcohol and they must have the same regulations placed upon them as alcohol.

This is my favorite part of the article:

As expected, many “booch-lovers” are crying foul on this form of prohibition (albeit likely a temporary prohibition) and sorely miss their daily Kombucha “buzz,” which is likely more easily attributed to the natural caffeine content than the negligible alcohol content. In the meantime, many of the faithful are looking elsewhere to independent Kombucha cultivators for their fix, as many have begun (long before the deficit) making their own kombucha, trading recipes and selling home brews. So the market is being driven underground (at least temporarily) and libertarian Kombucha lovers are making a stink.

Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute!

You mean I'm going to have to go underground to drink a fermented mushroom tea meant to detox my body and improve my immune system? I can't see it now. A bunch of women in braids and Berkenstocks sitting around a living room coffee table sipping Kombucha talking about how many reusable grocery totes they lugged around that day. Or women like me that just like the taste and the energy/wellness feeling they get from the drink. (Wonder if that has to do with the 0.5% alcohol? ... no, relax, I jest ... it's just the natural caffeine content.)

I definitely wouldn't know the first thing about growing my own Kombucha and don't have any desire to try. The Asians have done it for years, but have you seen these slimy mushrooms? No thanks. Here's some tea brewin'.

But, good news, I won't have to go underground to drink this healing drink. As of just this week, I learned that one brand of Kombucha has already returned to Whole Foods.

It was ridiculous to begin with. I want my Kombucha back.

Hypocrisy

Definition: A pretense of having a virtuous character, moral or religious beliefs or principles, etc., that one does not really possess.

Are any of us not guilty of participating in such a thing?

We could each wear this badge.

I get really irritated when people accuse others of being hypocrites.

Who in this world is not a hypocrite?

Sure, we can say with a holier-than-thou attitude that we are indeed not hypocrites because we live such holy lives and are committed to Christ.

But, wait just a minute.

You can't tell me that every thought and action in your life is pure, or right, or holy.

Do we try?

Yes.

Do we fail?

Yes.

Does that mean we stop trying?

No.

But, don't call Joe Schmo a hypocrite because he smokes cigarettes or drinks a beer or listens to Led Zeppelin, but think you're exempt from such a title, as you gossip about him smoking said cigarettes or drinking said drinks or listening to such "devil" music.

I would be careful in labeling anyone a hypocrite.

Or judging them according to what I think they should or should not be doing.

Who the heck am I or you to do such a thing?

We are all hypocrites.

Guilty of professing our love for God with our lips, and then with the same lips speaking death to those around us.

Guilty of lifting our hands in worship, but not lifting a finger to help those in need.

Guilty of singing about how much we want God, but not really seeking Him daily.

Guilty of praying for God to forgive us, but not being able to forgive those that have hurt us.

Guilty of saying we want a pure heart, but voluntarily setting our eyes and minds on things that are far from purity.

We are the hypocrites.

All of us.

If you recall, Jesus called only one group of people hypocrites ... the religious leaders ... the regular church-goers.

How dare we claim to be so holy and upright to point the finger at any other person claiming we know their hearts. We don't.

And, I, for one am sick of it.

Do people at time need rebuke and correction within the church from pastors and the like? Yes.

But, that is their business and we should make no judgments about it and them.

We should always remember that we ARE the hypocrites.

And, always strive not to be the hypocrites.

I so don't want to be one, but know that I am.

We all are.

The Shrine to Chef Boyardee

Despite its zero nutritional balance, Spaghettios or Chef Boyardee's Copycat version, Mini-Bites remains a favorite with La Petite Belle. And, when I say "favorite," I mean she asks for it for a special meal when we go to the store. Make that any time we go to the store.

I rarely buy it, except for special occasions & shameless bribery. (Did I just say "special occasions"? What special occasions require Spaghettios? None I want to go to. Dumb.)

Due to a grand sale at Albertson's & the fact that school starts next week, bringing along with it the joy of lunch-packing, I stocked up.

I placed them neatly in the cabinet only to come back a few hours later to find them in this shrine-like pyramid. My other cans were quite envious in their two-can high, even arrangement.

She just smiled & giggled when I questioned her about it.

She's a tad excited.

The only difficult task is keeping her away from them until next week. It's quite torturous for her. So far, so good.

La Petite Belle's Photography

On the very important date of Beau's birthday, I misplaced the camera. Therefore, I had to rely on La Petite Belle to photograph the event. The usable pictures were limited and, as you can see, the date on the pictures are not quite accurate.

The birthday boy before his gifts

The girls and I showed up early to church bearing warm, homemade strawberry muffins.

And, we all brought homemade cards. This was K Belle's drawings of our family. She's quite good.

Then, lunch with friends at Carrabba's ... like I said, limited pictures.

But, our "adopted" son was there.

We made another little trip to Crush yogurt, one of my favorite places.

Then, accompanied this adorable little one to the water fountain.

And, this adorable one too, along with her sister, the photographer.

Happy Birthday, Beau!

As I've said before, you were made for me. So glad you were born, love.

I know this day was great, but I know you'll enjoy your iPhone 4 even more!

A Bit of a Tomboy

I just never really liked playing with the girls.

Boring.

I did have some girlfriends at school ... maybe one or two.

But, on a day-to-day basis, I played with boys.

My best friends have always been boys.

I just liked them better and there was never any drama.

As a young girl, I played outside daily with my next-door neighbor ... a boy. I remember climbing and spending many days on the giant oak tree in the front of our house.

Even as I got older, all the way up into middle school, I played and hung out with my step-dad's younger brother who was only one year older than me. We lived out in the country. Our daily activities were climbing roofs, harassing our 90-year-old aunt, riding bikes, blowing up frogs in shoe boxes (not proud of that one), and hunting for snakes.

And, if I wasn't playing with the boys, I played alone.

Let's not forget, I'm an only child. I know. Shocker.

I was perfectly content to play alone.

I read a lot. I colored. But, I mostly sang.

I can remember singing anything and everything from Michael Jackson's "Dancing Machine" (on eight-track, mind you), to Heart's "Barracuda," to Linda Ronstadt's "Blue Bayou," to every song from Grease.

I must admit. I did play with Barbies. Just a little. All I remember is creating makeshift furniture to create the Barbie house I didn't have and always wanted. I'm not bitter.

I've often wondered why I always preferred the boys over the girls as friends.

I always felt very comfortable with the boys, even when I was the only girl. No problem.

Even when I was in high school, my best friend was, of course, a boy ... and my boyfriend. Because I was always with him, I hung out with his friends. It's just the way it was.

I had one girl who I would consider to have been a good friend in high school and we really didn't hang out that much away from school. But, I did like her a lot. She had her own boyfriend so maybe it was because she wasn't needy at all.

In college, my girlfriend pool grew larger, but still they were really just girls to go out and have fun with. No real relationships.

And, after my first semester in college, I had developed a relationship with, you guessed it, a boy. Again, my best friend was a boy.

After I got married, my best friend ... a boy, of course. No need for any girls. I was just too busy.

However, my first real friendship with a girl (woman) occurred after K Belle was born and we lived in a Oklahoma. She was a neighbor with a child of a similar age. I didn't even know how special our relationship was until the morning that I pulled the U-Haul out of our garage to move back to Louisiana. She had attached a card to the windshield, and as I read it, tears streamed down my face. I was really going to miss this girl. I really did love her.

After moving home, I still didn't really seek out any girlfriend relationships. I was busy with kids and really just didn't think about it.

When we went out with couples, it was due to Beau being friends with them. I always felt like I was just tagging along and enjoying the company. At that time, it was good to have any kind of adult conversation.

Since then, I feel like I've moved into a new season in my life, which includes girlfriends.

I can't even begin to express how precious my girlfriend relationships are to me. I have a few really good friends that I know I can trust with anything and would come running if I ever needed them.

I am blessed and now understand the true value of friendships among women.

But, hey, I can still hang with any guys and feel right at home, and can probably beat them in a foot race too.

He's a good dad.

And, because he's such a good writer, I'm handing this post over to Beau.

He was there and he definitely has opinions, which pretty much makes him the perfect candidate for blogging (as I've mentioned in the past ... To which, he always says, "Pfft.") I think the only qualifications for being a blogger are the ability to type and think. Really anything goes.

Without further ado ... my Beau on "The Covenant/Purity Ring" ...

We had prepped K Belle about what our rules will be with respect to dating and relationships. I informed her that there will be NO dating until she is out on her own. She would be allowed to go out with FRIENDS, but there will be no "pairing off" with members of the opposite gender. I also told her that if she was wise, she would put off dating until her senior year in college.

K Belle has been encouraged to consider not even kissing a boy/man until her wedding day. I've told her on a few occasions that all of this dating and physical contact just adds baggage to your relationship with the person you'll actually spend the rest of your life with. I've even gone as far to tell her that I'm actually sorry for ever dating any girl/woman other than her mother.

Three weeks ago, she went to her first youth service, where she found out that purity/covenant rings are all the rage. She informed us that a friend was advocating them to her, to which Mama Belle replied, "What, is he selling them or something?"

Nice.

Anyway, she wasn't with us on her actual birthday, so I took her out on a date the next night. I got dressed up; she wore jeans. When I opened the car door for her, she returned the favor with a rather coy look. We held hands the entire time in the car, on the way to and from the restaurant.

We went to a really nice little place in our city's premier residential neighborhood. We shared a great meal together (easily in the top five steaks I've ever had), and we talked and talked. Our waitress made it a point to leave us alone (she nodded and winked at me when she said she would), which gave us even more time together.

We were in the restaurant for almost 90 minutes. I originally wanted to give her "the present" at the restaurant, but it was kind of loud in there, so I waited. As we were leaving, I had her put her leftovers in the trunk of my car, and I grabbed her hand, and walked her over to a gazebo across the street.

As we sat there, we talked some more, and then I made my move. I initiated yet another purity ring conversation, just to make sure she would really want one. I told her that I didn't want her to have one just because it was cool. Also, I told her that there would come a time that the very people who were encouraging her to get one would possibly encourage her to live a lifestyle contrary to what the purity ring stands for.

Then I went for the main point I was trying to make. I said, "And when that happens, remind yourself of this: At any point you can become like them, but they will NEVER be able to be like you again." I hope those words sank in.

After a couple more words, I got it out.

Her response was priceless. Immediately, she began saying over and over how much she loved the ring. One thing that I noticed about the ring when I bought it was the little hearts on the sides of the diamond cluster at the top. That was the first feature she mentioned.

I placed it on her finger and prayed with her. As I prayed, I started choking up. I could hear her whispering, "Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry." I'm not sure if she was talking to me or herself.

We hugged and talked a little more, then made our way back to my car. Most of the heartwarming sweetness was broken when I discovered that my car's alarm is activated when you try to unlock the passenger's side door first (it's still pretty new to me, and I didn't know that). As the horn sounded SEVERAL times while I tried to figure out what to do (the car was parked right in front of the restaurant, by the way), I could tell she was really embarrassed.

I guess that makes me a dad of a teenager.

Celebrating with the Teenager

K Belle thinks this is the most important birthday of her lifetime ... 13.

She just entered a new era and is now able to do so many things that she didn't get to do before like ... ummmm ... go to youth group, and ... ummm ... say she's a teenager, and ... ummm ... that's pretty much it.

But, it is a milestone. This is her last year in middle school, which Mama Belle doesn't even want to think about right now. Boo to high school. Boo you.

I can't even imagine my baby girl with all those "older" kids and their peer pressure and issues and harassment. Let's not go there.

But, today, we celebrate. Or should I say we celebrated this weekend with pizza and a movie with a few of her friends because thirteen-year-olds don't really have birthday parties anymore because they're way too mature for that.

Friends and pizza.

There were presents.

She was happy about this card because it gave her the present of "One Conditional Facebook Account," which meant Mama Belle will have access to all messages, friends, photos, etc. (Hint: If you want to know how to do this, email me. I'm a genius.) And, of course, said Facebook account can be taken away at any time due to pretty much any indiscretion or misbehavior. Let's see how this goes.

There was cookie cake.

We all piled into my little Highlander and headed to the movies. "Beezus & Ramona" ... so cute.

But, actually her real present was this: her covenant (or some call, purity) ring. This is a whole other post in itself for tomorrow.

See you then!