Monday, November 23, 2009
It's a great story. You should probably go read it on her blog. (Poop on Jelly in my sidebar.) But this story isn't really her story. No, it's mine. Unfortunately.
You see, after I heard her story, I meant to immediately go check my kids' Bibles to see what words they used. I was raised on the King James and I know for a FACT that it gave me no Sex Ed. Sure, Adam lay with Even and she bore him Cain. My kids know I LAY with their daddy, they bust in and join us LAYING (better known in the English language as lying) in our bed all the time. And they aren't old enough to recognize the euphemism of LAY, ifyouknowwhatimean, nor have the busted in on any of THAT.
Fast forward, less than a month later, PRINCESS decides it's time for HER to read through the Bible. Next thing I know, she's gesturing wildly to me in the middle of worship and pointing at her Bible. All I can see on the page directly above her pointy little finger is
SEXUAL RELATIONS (insert scary music).
Yes, I do think I thought, Oh, Dear Lord. But no, just below that little finger of my seven year old princess was her youngest brother's name. Look, Mama, Charming!
I breathed a sigh of relief, waited an appropriate amount of time, and confiscated her Bible (Children's International Version). I replaced it with a New King James.
I actually confiscated every Bible in the house that used "sexual relations" and put them UP.
Several months later, when I reorganized the bookshelves, it slipped my mind. And when Princess said something along the lines of, "Look, Mama, I found my Bible!" I figured she was in Exodus and it was probably OK for the time being. I'd bide my time until I could confiscate it again.
I missed the subtle fact that when you have four children, you don't remember things unless you see your children interacting with said thing. At which point you have a hard time confiscating them.
Leviticus didn't occur to me. As in Levitical rule. As in "Don't have sexual relations with a women during her period" or whatever the CIV calls it.
I was off at Bible study, laughing my way through the tears when Daddy was blindsided.
He's reading the kids "The Lightning Thief" which apparently has a character whose mother isn't married.
Princess: How did she have a baby if she wasn't married?
Daddy: They did it in secret.
P: Got married?
D: Um, Yeah. (uh, noooooo)
P: Oh, I've been meaning to ask you....(page through Bible)...what's "sexual relations?"
(Did I mention there is a roomful of brothers, two of them younger, present?)
D: Mom will tell you all about that...later. (Meaning when I get home.)
P: When I'm older?
D: (heaves a sigh) Yeah.
Princess has been hearing that a lot lately.
P: Mom what are those?
M: Mommy things.
P: I know, but what are they for?
M: I'll tell you when you are older and need them yourself.
Yup, I'm a wuss. But she kept accepting that. Who would fight it if their child kept accepting "I'll tell you when you're older?" I figured I'd ride that train until it came in to the station and demanded I disembark.
So, remembering Mrs. Nurse Boy's son and the fact that he asked his teacher in the MIDDLE OF BIBLE CLASS (went over the heads of the youngers, not so much the olders), I wanted to save Princess from making the same, um, mistake and feeling later embarrassment. (I also already knew the Bible teacher's answer: that's a very good question and you should ask your parents, so I knew I wasn't going to get away with leaving it to the adults.) So, I pulled her aside this morning and we had "the talk" except "the talk" didn't go the direction I expected.
M: So, Princess, Daddy said you had a question for me last night.
P: Uh, huh. But I forgot what it was.
M: Well, do you want to skip it, then?
P: Can't you tell me?
M: Yes, but (very long dialog about how it was Daddy's responsibility to tell her brothers and she wasn't to do it, nor tell her best friend because I knew for a fact she hadn't had "the talk" either and I would answer any questions she had, but she shouldn't ask anyone else....especially her bible teacher...blah, blah, blah.) So, hon, sexual relations is something a Mom and Dad do to help God make a baby.
P: You mean marriage?
M: Yeah, but something more.
P: OK. How many ships are on your pants? One, two, three....giggle. (run off)
Is it just me or do you think she still wants to stay little?
I let her go.
But I tell you what, the Children's International version should come with a label.
Warning: Contains Explicit Material
I find it strange that ovens are so rare in European countries.
How do they bake? Do they really go out and buy all their baked goods?
Asks this new addict of House Hunters International.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Top is the kitchen. Second is the entryway and dining room.
Because, the sad fact is, I will probably never post before/after photos. So you have to deal with a few "during."
So while I should have been making breakfast and packing lunches, what was I doing? Rooting around for coats and hats and gloves. Because if the big kids are out in it, the Tiny Tyrant must be also.
Mom is such a spoil sport. I told them they could walk around in it, but I absolutely forbade them to "play" in it. No snow pants.
I know, I'm mean.
Eldest, whose idea it was to go out in the first place, refused to even go with that stipulation. Once I convinced him that that was foolish, Princess had already come in and since she wouldn't go back out, he wouldn't either. Even though the Tiny Tyrant and Frodo were still out.
Oh, the adolescent angst.
And the reason I didn't want snow pants? Wet, drippy slush in my entryway. But TT took care of that when he brought in his snowman.
Do you see it? Right there in his hand? It's also there on the carpet behind him. Where he proceeded to stomp it.
Yes, there, where I stand in my socked feet to wash dishes.
Which is why I refer to this seasonal blessing as "SNooooooooooo!"
Monday, November 16, 2009
Who sent out the memo that I overdrafted my checking account and WHY didn't they send the same memo to the charities?
(No worries, Mom, it was an oversight. A distressing one, but it's covered. And yes, the CC offers went through the shredder.)
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
When I was a child I never really could understand my father’s propensity for tears during a parade. Yes, I was probably too distracted worrying about when a float would go by that would have people throwing candy than I was about why my father stood silently saluting a flag carried by old men. It did strike me as odd, though that he found parades so sad.
And I never really understood why we spent the first day of summer haunting cemeteries. I’d sit hunched in the backseat of our sedan as the day grew long, fuming at the injustice of missing a day at the pool while Dad’s shoulders heaved over in the corner at a grey memorial.
I started to grasp that Dad might have a story once I entered high school and began writing a research paper on the men who served in
As his father before him did when Pearl Harbor was bombed, Dad enlisted when things began to heat up in
The day that changed my father forever was the day he opened a military paper listing the latest fatalities in
In my teen angst I found myself angry at Dad for his despair. If he had been with his company, I wouldn’t exist. But as I’ve matured I’ve come to realize that survivor’s guilt can’t be explained away logically. It just is.
Who really knows why my dad was spared death in
All too often we are asked “remember our military” and usually that means to remember the dead. At times like these, both my dad and my granddad have been known to say, “I didn’t do a damn thing in the war,” as if fighting and dying is the only price a soldier can pay. And though it is important that we remember the soldiers that paid the ultimate price, I think it is time for us to also remember the brave men and women who enlist, serve, are discharged and go on to live out their lives outside of the military. Their service is just as valuable. Their bravery is no less. And, many times, the grief they carry at the loss of their fallen comrades is more than they can bear alone.
These days I stand proudly at parades beside my father with his hand in mine. I’m no longer confused at his tears, for those old men carrying a flag also bring on my own.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
I didn't anticipate the mental stimulation.
This morning, less than a block from home, there was a big white TV van driving through the neighborhood that I believe was the home appraisal people. For the next seven minutes my children discussed home appraisal, its purpose, how much they charge and the term "highway robbery" and its root meaning. The reason property taxes goes to public schools and the reason private schools are defined as private. Why it takes so long to pay off a house and how much of each payment goes to property taxes whether or not you use the public school system. And the fact that you do still have to pay "the king" to drive on certain highways. It was VERY enjoyable.
Much more so than the previous conversation about what the proper way to play Old Maid is and how Frodo was doing it wrong and whether Princess was overreacting and whether Frodo was really too loud when yelling "Cookie Crisp!" and whether that would be distracting should he do it in the classroom and how ridiculous it would be for him to do it since there is no Cookie Crisp in the classroom. They were in rare form, I tell ya.
Except it is hard to call it "rare form" when that is the dominant form.
But maybe that's just me.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
Young Christians today are more like St. Francis of Assisi than a circuit riding preacher. “Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary, use words.” This is a generation focused on being the hands and feet of Christ and meeting the physical needs of those in both the local and global community. They are building houses, planting gardens, taking food and clothes to the poor and helping the widows and orphans… and then they are sharing the gospel. And they are using technology like never before. They communicate the message through audio, film, video and the internet, and they strive for excellence within those mediums. They must. This is how they will reach their generation for Christ.
I share their passion. In the film, The Gospel According to Matthew, we were able to capture the heart of Christ that is so often missing in Christian films, but the quality of the film making was constrained by an $800,000 budget. Now we are inspiring a movement that will bring Jesus to film in a version that literally leaps off the screen and into the hearts of viewers.
The budget for a typical Hollywood production is $100-110 million. Actors’ salaries account for much of that cost. Because the new Jesus movie will be not be paying big name actors, our team believes we can produce a world class, state-of-the-art film incorporating the latest cutting-edge technology for just $45 million. The production will be shot on location in Jerusalem and shot digitally using CGI backgrounds and a green screen stage, providing unlimited potential for sharing the gospel for generations to come.
We are inviting people from all nations and all generations to join this movement to bring the gospel to all people. A movement made of 4.5 million people contributing a tax deductible donation of $10 each would fund the cost of the film. The Gospel belongs to everyone, and the new Jesus movie will be produced expressly so it can be accessed by everyone, no matter their financial situation. Our team's vision is to see the film translated into as many languages as possible and supplied to mission organizations and churches all over the world.
You can become a part of the movement to reach the next generation. Please help us spread the word to your friends and family. If you would like to make a donation, you can do so at http://www.newjesusmovie.com./
Also, you can keep up with our progress by visiting any of these links: