Have you seen this show?
A tragic thing happened.
Tragedy, indeed.
See this precious angel baby of a face? 
My first born son. The little person that made me a mother.
And now he's growing up.
Know how I know?
It has nothing to do with his ski size feet. Or his giraffe legs. Or that he alone is responsible for depleting our fish stick stash of 200 in less 5 days.
Nope.
It is because HE STANK.
Like more than wet puppy dog stank. Like full-blown nasty man stank. Like the gym shoes were left in the wet basement and then sucked on by a dog nasty man stank.
And now my angel baby is wearing this.
And know what else?
He hates it. He gives me dirty looks every morning when I march him to the bathroom and watch him put it on. Because if I don't watch...he won't swipe the ole' pit.
Just like a man....perfectly fine with the stank.
This cannot be happening to me.
(Dear Sister of Mine, Don't even think about bringing up my own puberty stories. Because I know some on you, and I'll tell. This is about me and my baby, so don't go there. Just don't. Thanks in advance for keeping your trap shut. Love ya, Amb)
I love seeing pictures of people way back in the day.
So I was super thinky today about this....and then look what goes and happens tonight.
A for real MIRL.
When wires and cables and keyboards and screennames come to life.
And, boy howdy, I could do MIRLs every single day of the week.
Because they are just about as yummy as this pizza that we scarfed down tonight.
Oh....pardon moi.
What is this MIRL that I speak of?
Why the one when the one and only CarpoolQueen rolls into town in her big ole Suburban loaded down with 3 of the most precious boys that I have ever met and wants to eat and meet and talk and giggle with me, of course.
Little ole me.
It was amazing.
Because CPQ is just as funny and witty and lovely in person as she is in my computer, and I'm so glad.
Here are all of us Delphie girls posing with Sus.
This is what it is all about, y'all. Real people. Making a real difference in each other's lives.
Suhweet.
I used to think people were crazy.
You know, the people. Who hooked up on the internet.
I had no understanding of how true meaningful relationships could come through a keyboard and a screen. How lives could mesh together through motherboards and circuits. How lives could be changed for the better by a few cables and wires.
But now I get it.
100%. Get it.
Now, don't get me wrong. I totally understand that their are weirdos and creeps out there who take full advantage of innocence and prey on victims who are unsuspecting and naive. I get that. I think that it is heinous and disgusting and fully believe in internet safety and cautiousness and vigilance. But that's not what I'm talking about. No weirdo speak here.
I'm talking about bonds. And friendships. And connections.
And they happen. Every.Single.Day.
Blogging and "social-networking" (I hate that word because it seems so sterile.) used to confuse me. I viewed it as a bunch of housewives who had WAY too much time on their hands, so they used their minutes between donning rubber gloves and scrubbing toilets to voyeuristically peer into other people's personal lives. It seemed like another take on those celebrity gossip magazines....only minus the celebrities. And then to find out that not only did you LOOK into their lives, but you COMMENTED on their lives....well, it just all seemed absurd.
And then I did it. Because I'm a follower and someone told me to. *wink*
And my life is changed.
Forever.
Because now I have a circle of friends that stretches from coast to coast. Friends that pray for me and my family. That know my children by name and can remember details about their small lives. Friends that snort giggle with me and weep with me. We've been through births, and deaths, and job losses, and surgeries. We've been on vacations together, and we've sat in each other's living rooms watching our favorite tv shows together. We discuss dinner plans, the latest coupon finds, and the joy of the flip flops we found on clearance. We do what friends do. We just happen to live states away from each other.
And now I get it.
I completely get it.
Because I know how significant those one-on-one conversations are when you reveal deep dark secrets. Because I understand the power of prayer warriors when your family is the midst of crisis, even if those prayer warriors are hundreds of miles away. Because I know what it is like to want to meet one of your sisters face-to-face because it is just time to wrap your arms around them.
Because it's real.
And I don't think it is fathomable until you experience it. I don't think it makes sense until you walk miles with the women that you are now bonded to for life. I don't think it registers as even possible until you accept that God's plan for relationship isn't bound by skin...that it can exist through wires and cables.
It does sound crazy.
But it's not.
Because it's real.
So very real.
Just like the change for the better that is me. Because of this. Because of these women.
To all of my dear precious friends.........Thank you so much for the gifts of grace, mercy, patience, kindness, and love that you extend to me every day. I truly do see Jesus in you.
I hate cooking. Period.
And there he is. Chef Boyardee himself.
Whose response to the whole fiasco was: "Accident."
You betcha.
Today it happened.
The crazy mix of wanting to throw in the towel on this whole homeschool business and of pure confirmation that I was doing the right thing.
My burden to homeschool began with Sawyer.
My precious redhead from whom all things stubborn, mischievous, and temperamental flow. If you haven't had the privilege to meet The SawDog in real life, then you are missing out. This kid has the hind legs of a mule mixed with the heart of a big ole' slobbery puppy dog. To know Saw is to love him, but on the same token, to know Saw is to want to pull your hair out of your head one painful strand at a time.
Sawyer is a smart kid. Really, he is. He just isn't quite the brightest bulb on the tree. Bless his heart, he gets his common sense from his mama (and she didn't have much to spare...ahem), and there are days that he just has to be reminded to walk in a straight line or else he would be constantly turning circles trying to remember where he was going.
Sawyer is also a follower. He has tremendous potential to be a leader, and he even masquerades as one once in awhile, but for the most part, Saw's viewpoint is that everything is always greener on the other side. He's a walking xerox machine....from mannerisms, to sayings, to actions, to you name it....and because of his periodic lack of judgement, he usually isn't xeroxing the right folks.
Mix all of these characteristics together, and not only do you have a funny, hysterically cool kid (he really is a great kid), but you have a recipe for trouble. Just keepin' it real. Because Sawyer is our one that we struggle with. He is the one that causes Kirk and I to constantly check to make sure our parenting cards haven't been revoked. I love him to ever-lovin' pieces, but he is just a tough kid. Tough...as in...Dear Jesus, Please come back before he's a teenager...tough.
And so came my burden to homeschool. I kept feeling that if we didn't get a grasp on his behavior and attitude issues now, then there was the potential for losing him when he was older. I knew that keeping him at home with me during the foundational years would allow me to remove some of the distractions that so hinder my precious son, but also give me the minutes and hours that are so crucial to instill God's Word in his heart and refocus some of his energy in a more positive way. I knew it would be a long hard road, but admittedly looked through rose colored glasses as our homeschool process started.
Our first couple of weeks have gone as smooth as silk, but this morning, the gloves came off. It was more than a battle of wills. It was an all out massacre. Two hours were spent on copying 15 spelling words. There were no less than 4,934 tantrums thrown, and we had to change shirts once because the first one was soaked through from all the crocodile tears.
After the 495th time of me saying, "You can do this, Saw. You can. We'll get this done and then we'll move on," I was about ready to snap. It was really all that I could do to not leap across the table, rip up the spelling words, and rip him to shreds in the process.
But, it hit me.
This is why we are here. This is why we're home.
The easy thing would be to send them to conventional school. To send Sawyer off to another teacher to handle. To not deal with things like spelling word meltdowns and handwriting hissy fits. It really would be easier.
But confirmation came today in the middle of the throwdown, because I was reminded of exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing. Because I know that we can get through it. That Sawyer is going to see patience and perseverance modeled in his mother, no matter how hard it is for his mother to pretend like his stubbornness isn't making her crazy. That Sawyer is going to come out better because of our experience. That Sawyer will grow.
And that is enough.
Even if it means that by May my hair will be completely gray, and my prescription for Prozac will be tripled.
It will be enough.
