Poop On Your Buns - Who Knew?

It is done.  It is finished.  The goose is cooked.  The kettle is on.  The nail is in the coffin.  The law is laid down.  The eggs are in the basket.

The pee is in the pot.

That's right.  We are potty-trained.  And I say "we" in all seriousness.  I have accomplished much.

Before, this is what he thought big boy briefs were for. Please ignore the construction cords and dust in the background. Please, for me. It can be your belated Christmas gift to me. Ignorance, blindness.

Below is a conversation in my home last evening.

Max is no longer in purple.  His favorite color is now red.  Which is my color.  What we give up for our children.  Thus, I shall be green, He's Too Good To Me is blue, and Max is in red.


"Tange me, I poo-pooed."

"No."

Funny look on Max. 

"Tange me, I poo-pooed."

"No.  You should not have poo-pooed in your pull-up.  You should have used the potty like a big boy.  I'm not going to ever change you again.  You will have to wear your poop in your pants."

Funny look on Max.  Serious thinking.  To his daddy he says . . .

"Tange me, I poo-pooed."

"No."

"No, son.  I'll only change you if you put big boy briefs on and never tee-tee or poo-poo in your pants again."

Max smiles, takes off running, yelling . . .

"I go ge' big boy biefs.  I big boy now."


His daddy changed him, put Thomas the Train briefs on him, took him to the potty, and . . .

Viola! 

Twenty-four hours later.  No accidents.  No wet or dirty pull-ups.  I feel richer already.  I feel vindicated.  I feel . . .

ok, maybe a little irritated.  I should have threatened to make him walk around with dried poop on his buns six months ago.

Who knew?





















Little stinker.

Beef Stew and Bread Bowls

I don't like winter.  Cold is my least favorite temperature.  Unless it's hot.  Then, I'm pretty sure, I'd be typing this differently.

But today I'm cold.  I'm not a sock fan.  With or without shoes, I'd rather leave the socks off.  And remember this post?  No Shots Allowed - I don't like fuzzy slippers, they're bad things.  So, I'm pretty sure my inability to warm up today is due to a lack of socks on my feet, my feet on cold tile floor, and the Smootie King Caribbean Way in my hand.

I'm sitting here, dreaming of hot cocoa and a night of cuddling on the sofa with He's Too Good To Me and an old Deborah Kerr/ Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, or William Holden movie.  Any or all of those leading men would do.

But I can't see that happening in the near future.  I failed to mention we would be alone for the evening - like I said - I'm dreaming.  Remember, I have four children, all of whom happen to think home is where the heart is.

Now I will shift my rambling to one of my favorite cold weather foods.  Beef Stew. 

I wish I had an old family recipe to pass on to you, but, shamefully - or not, I use the McCormick seasoning packet.  Nothing I have found can beat it.  I (you can substitute Shelby for most "I's" used in my sentences that refer to cooking) use two packets per recipe, the more seasoning the better.

I like to cook, but I'm not freakish about it, and after spending a day back and forth in the kitchen making these babies . . .

. . . a packet for the stew works just fine for me.

These bread bowls are as yummy as they look.

And when filled with steaming hot stew . . .

. . . they will warm the heart.

We (again, substitute Shelby) grind our own wheat around here.  We use the basic wheat dough recipe, but I'm sure any bread dough will work.

After the mixing and kneading and first rising, seperate dough (which makes two loaves) into six balls. Spray bowls.  Using a standard - but oven safe - cereal bowl shape the bowls over the bowls - get it?

Let them rise again.  Bake normally, 350 degrees till golden brown. 

Let cool completely before removing from bowls.  I know, I really could use some new baking sheets.  But these are antiques, pre-historic.  Irreplaceable?

Again . . .

Am I making you hungry?  Or, at least, warm?

John 6:35  " Jesus said, . . . I am the bread of life."

What the Word? Wednesday

Welcome back to  What the Word? Wednesday.

Maxster's new favorite color is red.  Alas, no more purple.

Sweet baby boy has a cold, so there is one strike against y'all before you even start - a stuffy nose which is resulting in a stuffy voice.

Good luck. 

Max is who?

Hint - this past What the Word? Wednesday's answer will help you get this week's Maxster lingo.

Post all guesses.

Max is saying, "I Buzz Lightyear.  I come in peace."

Santa Claus Buys a Gun

At 5:00 on Christmas Eve we headed to Bass Pro Shops to get a photo with Santa.

A little before five, while dressing Max, this conversation took place between him and me.

Remember, he's in purple.  Sorry again, Daddy.

"We've got to change your clothes so we can go to Bass Pro Shops to see Santa Claus."

"What Fanfa Caus dolin' at Bassss Pho Sopsss?"

"You'll sit in his lap and tell him a present you want for Christmas.  He and Rudolph will fly around tonight and leave your present under the Christmas tree."

Silence.  Some serious thinking going on.

"Tat not what Fanfa Caus is dolin' at Bassss Pho Sopsss."

"What is he dolin'?" (couldn't help it)

"Fanfa Caus buying a gun."

Moving on.

Due to someone advertising something they did not follow through with, there is no photo with Santa this year.

We did get one last year, and it is great, but I'm too tired to find it and scan it.

I will share this one, though.  I took it last year after the Santa photo.  It may be part of our problem.

Whacha think?

My Christmas Gift to Y'all

My Christmas gift to y'all is two-fold.

First, a Shelby Find, or recipe.

So many people say they have the best hot cocoa recipe.  I'm telling you to trust me - I have the best hot cocoa recipe.

Trust me and enjoy, or . . .

miss out on a milk chocolate, white chocolate combination that will make your toes curl.

I wish I could give credit where credit is due, but I just happened on this recipe about three years ago on the web.  Just a general recipe.

Christmas Cocoa

Melt 1c. chocolate chips - 2/3 c. white and 1/3 c. semi-sweet - over medium heat

Stir in 1/2 c. sugar , 1/2 c. water, and pinch of salt

Cook all over medium heat until full boil.  Boil, stirring two minutes

Stir in 5 1/2 c. milk and 2 c. whipping cream

Heat until simmers.  Add 2 tsp. vanilla

Again, trust me.


My second gift to y'all is more important than the first. 

Trust me and enjoy, or . . .

Miss out on goodness that will change and rock your world.

Jesus is the goodness, my gift is prayer.

A prayer from me to you, wrapped up in love and tied with a bow of hope.

A prayer that if you do not know Him, Baby Jesus will not be left in the manger this Christmas, but He will find a home in your heart.

Again, trust me.

"Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." 
 Luke 2: 10-12

"And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men."
Luke 2:52

"And Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, 'Father, into Thy hands I commit My spirit.'  And having said this, He breathed His last."
Luke 23:46

"And the angel answered and said to the women, 'Do not be afraid; for I know that you are looking for Jesus who has been crucified.  He is not here, for He has risen, just as he said.  Come, see the place where He was lying.'"
Matthew 28:5-6

"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."
John 14:3

It is simple, but no one can do it for you, no one can talk you into it.  No one can save you except Jesus, and only then if you believe and accept.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life."
John 3:16

Merry Christmas from our lives, home, and hearts to you and yours. 

Amen.

From the Mouth of a Babe

From the mouth of a babe, my babe, on Christmas Eve.

Riding home tonight Max was looking at Christmas lights as usual.  We saw a beautiful manger scene and then, . . .

as we drove on, I heard my baby boy say,

"Baby Jesus gone gone."

Tears sprung to my eyes as I heard myself saying the words that He is not gone.

How's your Christmas going?  Has the Baby Jesus who became the man Jesus become your Savior Jesus?

And, if He has, is He gone gone from your Christmas?

Come back tomorrow - I have you a gift.

What the Word? Wednesday

Welcome back . . .

What the Word? Wednesday

Maxster wasn't too excited about participating today.  I had to bribe him with three oreos.  Then I tried to give him two, but he was on to me.

Here goes . . .





Comment your guess and check back to the bottom of this post Thursday for the answer.

See 'ya.

By the way, Christmas Eve is tomorrow.  Are you and yours on the right track?

Maxster says, "Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus"

His Aunt Janice called with the correct answer as soon as she heard.

Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus

Janice

Extra, extra, read all about it.

It's not a secret, it's no longer a surprise, spread the word.

My sister is coming for Christmas.

I just found out, moments ago.  Actually, she's not coming Christmas Eve or Day, but Monday night - and only for one night.

They live eighteen hours away and were here several months ago for three weeks so that my neice, Rachel, could participate in Ballet Magnificant's summer camp.  Because of that recent trip, they were not coming back for Christmas.

But now, they will be here in forty-eight hours as I write this.

I love all my precious sisters, and I will spend Christmas with the other two and their families, with Penny traveling from Tennessee to be here.

But this joy I'm feeling now comes from thinking that I would not see Janice, and now knowing I will.

Janice took care of me.  Janice put up with me.  Janice has always been more than a sister. 

Fourteen months older than me, here we are one Christmas.

Remember decorating trees with angel hair?  I do.

Christmas Eve was always spent at Ma and Pa's house.  There was one heater in the front of the old house.  The back bedrooms were so cold we could not move under all the quilts Mama piled on us.  But we managed, somehow, to scoot to the window by the bed and write in the condensation on the glass, carefully keeping our eyes peeled for Santa.

We would whisper and laugh until Mama would tell us, "For the last time . . ." to get quiet or Santa would not come.

Stop.

Hold the presses.  She's not coming.  He may be good to me, but He's Too Good To Me has bad timing.  I was trying to find time between rehearsals to finish and post this, it's only hours before I have to be silly for tonight's drama, only twenty-four before she and her family were to be here, and he relays the bad news from Mama. 

Plans have changed and my brother-in-law, who is on church staff, will not be able to get away.

So here I sit, typing this change to my blog, barely able to see through the tears.  I've only spent two Christmas' away from any of my sisters.  I'm forty-four and know that is a blessing - many, many families are apart at Christmas - but knowing does not make missing any easier.  Each sister is as precious to me as the next, but one is not able to take the place of another.

I'm a sister kinda gal, and My Lord knew what he was doing when he gave me three. 

Janice, I will love on your other two baby sisters extra for you this year. 

Here's kisses through cyberspace to you and all those that belong to you that have made our family better.

I miss you . . .

Love,

Come Watch Me Break A Leg

This will be short and sweet and the last post till Monday, or Tuesday, or 2011 - depending on how exhausted I am.

This is the fourth year He's Too Good To Me and I have participated in A Cricket County Christmas at our church.  It is a hillbilly comedy series about the true meaning of Christmas.

I am Glenda Mae and he is Fester.  Country cousins.  This year we go to the big city to spend Christmas with our city cousins.

Rehearsals this year have been sporatic to say the least.  We are all a little under-prepared.  The weekend of the performance is always very hectic but this year we are expecting a late night tonight, early morning tomorrow, and, as usual, all day Sunday.

Along with this we have family grandparent Christmas Saturday night and preparation for the cast party here Sunday night.

If you are in our neck of the woods hunker on over Sunday night at 6:00, McLaurin Heights Baptist Church.  Watch me and my big hunk of a country cousin break a leg.

"And the angel said to them, 'Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people.'"  Luke 2:10

Rich, poor, countrified or citified.  All nations - all people.

I Simply Remember My Favorite Things at Christmas

These are just a few favorite Christmas treasures in our home. 

All of them matter for different reasons.  Some are old and some are new. 

Ornaments that have significant meaning or hold sweet memories.

Decorations that are dear to me.

He's Too Good To Me bought me this at a flea market one of the first Christmas' of our marriage.

The angel that tops our tree with a handmade star.  The star is old and in need of repair but I like it that way.

In honor of a cockatoo named Magic that Shelby once had that died and took a piece of her heart with him.

Speaking of hearts, mine will always belong to Josie Girl, our beloved Bordie Collie mix who died this past summer.  A grand 'ole lady who is greatly missed.  There are no words.

An animated Santa that I can't turn on this year.  Max doesn't like him to move.  Santa's old and makes me smile.  Rudolf has always been Shelby's favorite Christmas character and the real Santa left this one on the roof of our house for her about eight years ago.  He sings and his nose lights up.  Max loves him.

My favorite ornament.

The sunflower has always been Delia's favorite flower.  She loves this simple ornament and there is no doubt that it belongs to her.  It calls her name.  So Delia.

Izzy is my animal lover and each year her ornament is an animal.  He's just adorable to her.

Nativity scene I love.

Max made this handprint this year.  A treasure.

Those in my life that know the painful hurt of a church loved and lost would never question why I love this ornament.

This little drummer boy belonged to my mother. The song is her favorite Christmas carol and I remember how she treasured him over the years. 

He really should go to one of my sister's homes next year.  Pass him around like the gift he is.

One day I will blog about Puppy, Izzy's closest friend for the past six years.  Stuffed with love.  This is a perfect likeness of him.

Woody.  He belongs to Shelby, or our Bluebird.  We brought him home from Gatlinburg for her when she was three.  His arm is broken and it hides in the branches.  The most expensive, by far, ornament on our tree.  Her favorite.

Our outside nativity scene.  He's Too Good To Me and I made this about fifteen years ago.  Very dear to me.

I could go on and on.  Over the years I have collected material items to go along with my Christmas memories.  These . . .

. . . velvet roses were given to me by He's Too Good To Me one time after we had a huge fight about thirteen years ago.  It wasn't even Christmas time.  He said they would not die, just like his love for me. 

I only get them out once a year.  They go on the most coveted spot, the mantle.  Then I pack them up carefully for another year, and in what seems like the blink of an eye, I unwrap them again and feel their softness and linger on that memory.

These things and more are precious - but this old song by Eddie Cantor from the 1920's speaks my heart.

Listen and be blessed.

Love to all,