Job's Tears

You probably all know the story of the suffering of poor Job (if you don't, there may not be a more poignant account out there than this one by Regina Doman) but, do you know the story of Job's Tears? I didn't until I read about them while looking at the beautiful rosaries on Barbara's site.

Late last winter, or maybe it was early last spring, I stumbled upon Barbara's rosary quite by accident. My eyes welled with my own tears as I read the name for her rosary and believing I was being given a sign of some sort, I contacted her to purchase the beads.

To be continued...

Miss Communication

Naomi to Candace (standing directly in front of the TV): Excuse me, please. Can you move to the side? I can't see.

Several moments pass and Candace remains planted in front of the screen.

Naomi (again): Caaandaaace! I still can't see!!!

Candace (skipping out of the way): Ooohhh. I thought you said, "Stand right in the front of it."

Middle Management

The Boy has been requesting a small trash can for the bathroom he uses for several months now. (Oh come on, people, it's not like there aren't other waste baskets in the house. The Boy doesn't need any more reasons to think that he's got his own personal suite here, complete with garbage pick-up. You wouldn't want him getting soft now, would you?) But the Mother-of-the-Boy in me just can't stand the thought of her baby having to ascend an entire flight of stairs to dispose of his trash bag into (heaven forbid!) the shared family trash can.

So, last night, I caved. I spent a whole $2. 49 to bring justice and equality to the waste management situation on the Ark.

Then, I set said can at the top of the stairs thinking that the Boy would a) be thrilled to see his new, white, plastic gem and b) carry it down on the way to his room.

Much to my chagrin, this morning when I walked past the door downstairs, I noticed the now infamous can sitting right where I left it and realized that not a single can-requesting teenager had bothered to thank me for it. Gratitude, schmatitude. So, when the other kids found me in the kitchen fixing breakfasts and lunches and mumbling to myself things like, "didn'tevenhaveownbathroomgrowingupletalonecanhadtoshareONEbathroomwithfivepeopledoesn't knowhowluckyheis..." all but Naomi kept their distance.

Me (to the brave Naomi): Did your brother take his new garbage can downstairs yet?

Naomi scurried off and returned a few moments later boldly announcing: Mama, I took it downstairs for him and I told him that he should have taken it down himself last night.

Me (full of righteous indignation): Good! Nice job *bossing* your brother.

Candace (overhearing the conversation, chimed in): Waaaiiitt a minute! Naomi *bossed* the Boy? But that's my job!

Now if I can only keep the union out.

The nose knows

Once the three little ones were in bed tonight, we sat down with the older kids to play a game of Yahtzee. The Boy wandered into the kitchen, as teenage boys are wont to do, in search of food. Exactly two-and-a-half minutes later, bowl of Movie Theater Butter in hand, he settled in on the couch for his pre-snack snack. Suddenly, the cherubic, fair-haired little N, appeared on the balcony above--acting as resident spokesperson for the pink bedroom. Peering through the railings, she explained her impromptu visit:

"Mommy. Daddy. We can't sleep. The smell of popcorn is making our nose wake up."

Next Stop--Bethlehem

The vacant nativity scene should have been my first clue...

But sometimes, you just have to see things to believe them...

Could it be? Rather than the traditional long-eared donkey, Joseph high-tailed it into town driving Mary, the animals and the three kings on--dare I say--a big yellow school bus?

And how did the mother from the Fisher-Price family doll house get on board?

Look out, Oliver Stone. You've got nothing on a three-year old left to her imagination.

Which Came First?

Baby T has become a bit of a shoe Houdini lately. He just can't seem to keep a pair of shoes on his feet. We've done velcro, lace-up, buckle, etc...but still he manages to squirm his feet free. And his favorite place to do so? In the car. So, as he is the sixth child, I have given up on shoeing Baby T in the car--unless I know he'll be getting out.

Yesterday, as we waved goodbye to CB at preschool and were pulling away from the curb service drop-off, N reported with concern:

"Mama, Baby T took his shoes off again!"

"It's okay," I responded knowing of my new grand shoe plan, "He doesn't have any shoes on right now."

"I KNOW!" she countered, exasperated, "BECAUSE he took them off!"

Sigh. It's going to be a long day.

Overheard

Nameless Older Sister (while chastising the three littlest ones after choir practice):
You know, you guys were too wild in church tonight.

Four year old spokesperson for the guilty party:
We can't help it. We get wild in church because it's so long.

Science lesson gone horribly wrong

Tonight, as the three little ones and I sat under the fading sun at soccer practice, I noticed the moon had already risen. What a great opportunity, the overenthusiastic teacher in me decided, to point out the moon while the sky is still blue.

I called out excitedly, "Hey guys! Who can find the moon?!" Each of the little girls scanned the sky and quickly responded, "I do!" Then little N added, "But it's such a small moon, Mama." Not wanting to let a teachable moment pass me by, I answered, "Yes, it is. It's called a half-moon." CB, listening intently to my explanation, turned to N and I and with concern and said, "You mean someone CUT it?!"

I briefly tried to explain that it was still there, but it was dark and unable to be seen; thus continuing my science lesson. She looked at me quizzically and I thought for a second before offering, "Or maybe someone cut it." Satisfied, she wandered off while I, left with my failed lesson plan replaying itself in my mind, decided it was a good thing I'd never been offered a science teaching job.

Potty Training

Yesterday morning before church, I asked my just-turned-four-year-old to grab my red sandals. Unknowingly, she grabbed a different pair of red shoes and my almost-three-year old appeared beside her and said, "No, no. She wants the ones I went potty in yesterday."

I'm quite certain those are NOT the ones I want.