Wednesday, October 12, 2011

"Wait a minute...You mean???!!!!"




The time has finally come.

Last week on the way home we were having a discussion about what Miles wanted for CHRISTmas. McKinley was in the back seat listening quietly. I knew in my gut what she was about to ask...

"Mom, is Santa real?"

I knew this day would come. I actually looked forward to it in a sense. Most occasions I don't look forward to ANY part of the kids getting older, but this one, I did.

You all know how hard it is to try and make a list, check it twice and then act like a crazy, mad man trying to find it, keep it hidden, put it together, wrap it, write the note, make the cookies, eat the cookies...you get the picture.

So when my youngest munchkin popped the question, I was quite quick to answer, "No sweetie". That simple.

"WHAT!!!???"

Ok, maybe I should have eased into that discussion a little softer and with the help of her father.

Mac has always had a very tender heart and a sweet little nook in the center of her big 'ol heart for the special things in life. Santa was a special thing. Every year she went through great lengths to write him a note, even when she was too little to write, she had me write her letter for her "exactly as I say". She baked cookies for Santa and always left a big glass of milk. Sometimes when we traveled for the Holidays she would leave a note saying where we were going to be on CHRSITmas Eve. We followed Santa on the Doppler Radar, made sure we put the fire out before bed so he wouldn't burn his booty coming down the chimney. We did it all, and then some.

There was the year that all she wanted for CHRISTmas was a picture of Santa Clause and Mrs. Clause and he delivered. Even autographed the pictures that he took just for her!! Then there was the year that the movie Polar Express came out. All she wanted that year was a bell from Santa's sleigh. (Have you tried to find a really BIG, nice, gold bell lately??!) But once again, Santa came through. She still has that bell...and the pictures....and all the notes Santa left for her every CHRISTmas morning.

So yes, maybe I should have taken a little more care to gently spill the beans.

"So, what are you saying Mom??!"

"Well sweetheart, you asked. I thought you would want to know the truth."

"Ok, so, what are you saying...wait a minute, are you saying, do you mean that YOU AND DAD ARE SANTA???!!!!!!!"

"Yes baby girl, we are."

"But what about all those letters? Did you write those?"

"Yes, every one."

"What about the cookies? Did you guys eat those?"

"Yep. Those were my teeth marks in the ones left on the plate for you to see."

"And the pictures?? Where did they come from? and WHO signed them?"

"Ms. Renee helped me on those."

"Ok. But what about the bell? That was special. It was from Santa's sleigh."

"I bought that too."

"You mean, YOU bought my DSI???!!!!"

"Yes. Your dad and I got that for you"

"And the WII???!!!"

"Yep. We had to stand in line for hours to get that game system that year."

Then there was a long pause.

"Am I going to have to pay you guys back for all that stuff???"

These are all great memories that we have made over the last 10 years. Memories and traditions that we will likely talk about for years to come and many of them that we will in fact still do. We will always make cookies CHRISTmas Eve, but maybe now we can keep the fire burning all night.

Keeping it real,

~A

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Deep Observation

Most people spend their 20's trying to figure out what to do.
Then spend their 30's trying to figure out how to do what they wanted to do.
Then spend their 40's trying to figure out how to get out of what they thought they wanted to do but don't want to do anymore.
Pretty deep observation that I've made huh?

I've also figured out that the older I get the less I care about what people think. Time is too precious to waste on pleasing people, arguing about things that don't really matter in the big scope of things, and spending valuable time trying to change someone that only God can.
Let it go, move on.

And since I'm not any older than these...I can't tell you what will happen in the 50's, but I'm sure it's gonna be FUN!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

3 Words

Every once in a while my sweet husband takes me on a date. I enjoy this. We don't do this as often as we would like.
The kids are old enough now that we don't have to pay a babysitter, just got to feed the little munchkins. Which can cost as much as the date itself. But you can't put a price on a little peace and quiet. RIGHT?
So when you see how needed the night is, how much planning goes into the event, you expect all your planning to lead to much needed adult conversation, calmness, quietness, and overall just a pleasant experience.
UNTILL...
A set of grandparents with an alien grandchild are seated less than 3 feet away. I immediately started looking for the hostess. Did I mention we were on a date? Did I mention we left 3 kids at home? Did I mention it has been waaaay too long for this night?
The night was filled with alien child crawling under multiple booths at one time. Making a mad dash to the kitchen, several trips to the bathroom, running and hiding from grandparents, throwing his food, crying, yelling, and finally Grandmother giving up and Grandfather threatening to take off his belt. (here, you can use mine)
Apparently these fine folks were babysitting so the parents could go out on a date too. Bless their hearts.
My husband made a great observation: Next time you want to do the parents a favor and babysit your alien grandchild, I have 3 words for you....CHUCK E CHEESE.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

No Tears in Eight Years

It happens EVERY year. The week before school starts I have the same questions every year. I cry about the same thing. I call my sister in law EVERY YEAR and get the same pep talk! We talk on the phone everyday but this conversation is always her little 'pep talk' to me about letting go, AGAIN.

I HATE when school starts back. HATE IT, HATE IT, HATE IT! I'm not one of those parents who shops early. I refuse to shop on 'tax free weekend'. I don't have the kids backpacks ready. I don't do anything except try to cram in as much time together as possible.
I fight it till the bitter end.

As I lay in my big 'ol tub of water one night trying to relax after a long day, I kept sorting through all the mixed emotions I was having of school starting back once again. I felt the need for my yearly pep talk. Trying to use good judgment, I decided to wait till AFTER my bath to use my cellular device that could so easily be dropped in my vast of bubbles.
Beginning to reach the point of turning to a prune, I couldn't stop with the tears. What a relaxing bath this was turning out to be...
Then I came up with this novice idea: Why not pray now about all that I'm feeling (no fear of electrocution there huh?)...AND then I'll call my sister in law and she can pick up where God left off.
I had a plan.
But as I began to tell the Lord how I was feeling and my all worries about public school something happened.
My load started to become lighter. I was feeling a little fresh air and no, no one had barged in the door asking if I knew where all the black socks were, although that happens quite often. I swear the dryer is eating them.
I simply talked and then I made the statement: "I'm not going to call anyone. I'm not going to ask anyone. I'm not going to say a word to anyone. I'm going to wait for you to send me an answer and give me a peace about what to do."

What to do? That was the question every year. Home School vs. Public School.
I knew my kids would be dumber than dirt, but we would have fun.
I knew it would work SO much better with our schedules. No early mornings. Sleeping late. Shorter work days. We could still travel when we needed too. We could save some money not having to buy clothes, shoes, lunches, and we could have ALOT of fun. But the kids would still be dumb.
I admire home school moms. I do. And am a bit envious too. They seem to have so much energy and organization. Have all these creative juices that flow. And they get to see their kids ALL day and ALL night. Who wouldn't want that, Right??

As I leaned forward to pull the drain, thinking in my mind, "I wonder how long He's gonna make we wait for an answer", he immediately spoke to my heart.
And this is how He explained it to me...
Everyone can't have the same calling. If everyone that was salt on the earth were to home school, who then would reach the lost in our schools today? Children need to see other children make right choices. They need to see how to live out a Christian life. Teachers, coaches, other parents need to see the light on the earth. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. You are called to raise disciples that lead others. You will be rewarded with the family time that you seek. I would not forget you. And besides, you went to public school and you didn't turn out SO bad.

By this time I'm laying in an empty tub of washed out worries amazingly in shock. Then I ask myself why I'm shocked. I know the God I serve, so why was I so in awe of His kind and gentle thoughts towards me? Plus...I think some people would disagree with Him about me 'not turning out SO bad after all" :)

But that's how He rolls. In my time of questioning and searching for the same answers over and over, He spoke in 10 seconds what my sister in law has tried to accomplished in the last 7 years every August!! (Sorry Kim, I love you but you got trumped)

I got out of that bath a new person. (and quite shriveled up too)
I had a peace like never before. I was so excited. I felt like I didn't have to keep cramming to get time in with my family. I felt confident and assured that I was doing exactly what God called me to do.

I began to think about how everyone's calling was different. Even if you struggle with where you are in life, or you find yourself constantly comparing yourself to other people, we are all chosen. Chosen to fulfill our individual calling on earth. If everyone acted the same, talked the same, worked, studied, lived life the same, how could we ever reach all the different types of people in the world today?

For the previous 8 years of 'first days', I cried. I felt guilty. I took days and sometimes weeks to get over going back to school.
But this time was completely different.

We went on to have the BEST first day EVER in the Turney5 history. No tears. No guilt. Just family, fun, and freedom.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Take a Break...Miss a Day

Awards Day at school is one of those proud moments that you sit and watch with excitement and pride of all you and your child have endured for the last 180 days. It actually seems short lived compared to the multitude of hours & money spent on volcano projects, science fair projects, essays, solar systems built (which I still haven't gotten back some much needed kitchen utensils that was used to rig that out of space contraption), posters made from a 1 night notice, Indian teepees...you get the drift.
Honor Rolls for all 3 - which I am so proud of.
Outstanding Student of the Year for Miles - which speaks volumes of the man he is becoming.
Yes it was a proud day. THEN...they begin to hand out the awards to those kids who had perfect attendance.
Perfect Attendance. What exactly is perfect attendance? It means they were never late to school, never checked in, never checked out, and never missed a day, moment, breath...of school.
Now to an OCD person you strive for perfect attendance. You will at all costs attend no matter what. I myself had perfect attendance in high school. I liked it because it exempted me from exams, but who would dream of school being like it was back in the day? I remember waking up sick as a dog and my mom saying to me in her southern drag, "Amy, just stay home, it ain't gonna hurt you to miss a day". How many of your parents actually encouraged you to stay home? No, parents are dragging their kids to school kicking, screaming, fighting, coughing, throwing up, fever, - whatever it takes.
Now that I'm a recovering :) OCD person (notice I said RECOVERING), I willfully fight anything to be perfect. House cleaning, laundry, life, church, even school attendance. I figure we get 10 days to play hooky. What would my kids remember more about growing up - a certificate of paper, or 10 days of trips to the beach, sleeping late on a school day, taking trips, amusement parks, water parks, bowling, fishing or whatever we can come up with.
So we don't usually get recognized for that prestigious award on Awards Day, but we do get our awards on those fun days throughout the year.
So now you know how I feel about perfect attendance. And I know it looks good on a resume or college application but we're talking elementary and middle school here o.k.?
So I in all my wit and deficient ability to keep my mouth shut sometimes when I should, rather loudly with my "matter of fact type voice" proclaimed as those children stood proudly up in front of the multitude of us 'slackers' while their parents all went down and took pictures noted, "SO those are the kids that got all OUR kids sick this year, huh?"

I don't think Stacy will sit with me at Awards Day anymore. But everyone around me enjoyed it so much that I think I will have plenty of company at our next school function.

Take a break, miss a day
~A

Thursday, April 21, 2011

A Child's Perspective On Kindness

Before school every morning we have a "hands in" prayer time. It's a tradition.
A couple weeks ago my sister was staying with the kids for us while we attended a conference. She decided that the 'hands in' prayer time could benefit even greater with a more applicable teaching time. So every day they had a different challenge to complete. Things like: find someone today that you can help, give someone a compliment today, do a good deed...etc.
My daughter is in the drama filled world of third grade. She often comes home telling us stories of how mean this one little girl can be. Or that this little girl has informed her that she is not her friend. Or even, "you can't be in our club". There is generally a story every afternoon, to the point that the boys now get in the car after school and ask, "what did (insert name) do to you today?".
As a mom it's hard to see your child upset. I have refrained from giving too much advice because I wanted to see her put into action the things that we have talked about and how to handle certain situations. We have prayed for (insert name). We have talked about what her home life could be like and that could be a reason why she acts the way she does sometimes.
Now it was my sister who was having to hear the stories of this girl's meanness. So she decides to teach my daughter about kindness. "Be nice to her", "say something kind to her", "You have to kill her with kindness" she would instruct her every day.

A few days ago after picking up the kids I could tell my daughter obviously had something on her mind. You could sense the heaviness she was feeling. She seemed at the end of her rope. She finally says to me, "Mom, Sherry says that I should kill (insert name) with kindness", and there was a long silence..."Yes, that would be nice", I replied. And with much seriousness & thought she replies back, "I'm gonna get a baseball bat and write KINDNESS on it, and hit (insert name) with it".
I found that it was best to just pull over since I couldn't see past the tears of laughter how to drive.
Where on earth do they get this stuff? I have no idea...

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Acting My Age

I consider myself somewhere in the ballpark of mid 20's when it comes to having fun. I like to have fun, be adventurous & spontaneous. It's one thing that my kids love about me. Rarely do they attempt something that I'm not 2nd in line. Now I'm not reckless or dangerous but I have been known to break a few rules but...who hasn't, right?
But this weekend my body sat me down for a nice long talk. Actually we are STILL sitting, or I should say laying.
I was the one 2 years ago that HAD to talk the husband into getting the kids a trampoline. After all it was going to have a net around it and we would abide by all the rules. It would get the kids outside and be a fun source of exercise. We would have so much fun. I explained how careful we would be. How we would take turns, only jump one at a time. He finally gave in.
The hours they have spent jumping and playing are too numerous to count. The gallons of water they have used spraying each other while jumping are enough to fill a small pond. It has been moved countless times so to be in the shade throughout the day. Many times I praised my great idea and worthwhile investment. Needless to say we have gotten great enjoyment from our trampoline.
It has shown much wear & tear over the span of 2 years, including a ripped net, something that we have said over and over that needed to be replaced.
It was Sunday night that the kids & I were jumping and began to chant relentlessly for Dad to come join us...."Daaddy, Daaddy, Daaddy".
We hadn't been on long before the game began and I was tagged "it". I made my way bouncing around trying to choose my victim. Laughter filled the night air. I was usually the brunt of the jokes for my lack of graceful poise in mid air. I set my sights on Miles. I made a high bounce toward him. As I came back up I found that my legs didn't quite have enough room to get underneath me and it began. It was what felt like hours but happened in seconds. I started stumbling backwards, grasping for anything I could grab onto to stop my spiraling fall that felt like would never end. Then there was the moment that I knew... The moment I knew that I was going to regret letting my silly husband ever talk me into getting such a dangerous, ill made,
reckless, stupid piece of junk ever made.
Then I awoke on the ground surrounded by people who claimed were my family , hearing shrills of agony I'm sure have never been uttered only to realize they were coming from me. I lay there in the grass and dirt, fully prepared to stay there for the next 6 days. I tried to be brave for the children. I tried. Then the husband thought it was time I was moved to the house. We scurried around and unearthed what was the left side of my lower back and managed to get me in the house which involved being carried like a sack of fertilizer out of the local farmers market.
It was a long night...a very long night. Truth be told it's been a long few days, but I am getting better.
I've learned a few things in this whole ordeal.
1. Don't tell anyone how you got hurt. They WILL laugh. They WILL make jokes. They WILL make comments about your age.
2. GET A NET!
and lastly....
3. When you are in pain...you could care less if the hospital gown opens in the front or the back!

Keeping my two feet planted on the ground for awhile,
~A