Happy Birthday Isaac

Thirteen years ago today, I gave birth to a strapping 8 lb. 14 oz. baby boy! What an exciting day for our family. It had taken a long six and one-half years from the birth of my first son to bring another baby into this world. We were more than ready for this new little guy and welcomed him warmly. What a tremendous blessing he is to us and what entertainment he brings to our lives. Aaah – the memories of that day...if I could bottle that feeling, I could make a million.

3:00 a.m. September 30, 1996…

I am dreaming and in my dream, there is a lot of pain.
Suddenly, I wake up and there is still a lot of pain.
I am not dreaming; I am in labor!

No need to panic, it took me three days to get my firstborn into this world. I will not wake MDH up until I think I should go to the hospital. I will time my contractions for a bit. I go into the den and turn on Turner Classic Movies.

Contraction. Breathe.

I find the 1957 version of Peyton Place just coming on. I have never seen this movie, maybe I will watch for a bit.

Contraction. Breathe.

The movie is good and I wonder why the 1950’s are traditionally considered a chaste decade. Lana Turner is beautiful. Why do they not make bras like that anymore?

Contraction. Breathe.

I am hungry. Maybe I should eat something. NO! The last time I gave birth, I ate something and vomited during a hard contraction. Never mind, I will just finish this movie.

Contraction. Breathe.

Gee, four minutes apart. These things are coming fast. Maybe I should put on my makeup and shave my legs. I looked terrible the last time I gave birth. I want my makeup on this time. Off to the bathroom.

Contraction. Breathe.

Thirty minutes and four contractions later I look somewhat better. Let’s see what Lana is up to now, the tramp.

Contraction. Breathe. Contraction. Breathe.
Maybe I should wake MDH up. Naaaaah!

I want to see the end of this movie.

Only, about thirty more minutes.

Contraction. Contraction. Contraction. Pant. Pant. Pant.

I crawl to the bedroom.
WAKE UP!!!!!
Get your clothes on and take me to the hospital because I am in labor!!!

How long have you been in labor?

About four hours.

How far apart are the contractions?

About a minute.

Contraction. Pant.

Why didn’t you wake me sooner?

I was watching the 1957 version of Peyton Place.
I have never seen it before and I wanted to see what happened to trampy Lana Turner.

Contraction. Pant. Pant.

We find ourselves speeding to the hospital. After I am checked in and situated in my room, I am attached to fifteen different monitors. By this time, I am almost dilated to six.

Where is my epidural! Please bring that large needle and shove it into my spine!

Aaah – that feels much better. No more pain. I actually sleep a few hours.

It is time to push. I hate this part. Push! Push!

3:55 p.m. September 30, 1996…

I push twice and am handed a gorgeous baby boy!

Easy as pie!

Can anyone tell me what happened on Peyton Place?

Just kidding, I read the book.

My Battle With Wal-Mart

I do not own a flash drive! I realize this statement is hard for some of you to comprehend. I do not need one or want one. My knowledge of flash drives is non-existent.

Well…was non-existent until four weeks ago.

Big C had to have a flash drive for the computer class he is taking this semester in college. How hard could it be for two ignorant consumers to pick out and purchase a simple flash drive? It has turned in to the biggest, ugliest mess I have encountered since I bounced a check at Target in January. (I still have nightmares over that and I am too embarrassed to tell you all the details.)

The story you are about to read is true. The names have not been changed to protect the guilty. On Friday evening of August 29, 2008, Big C and I walked smiling and laughing into the electronics department of the local Wal-Mart. We sauntered up and down every aisle until we spotted the flash drives. Looking at the flash drives is like looking in the toothpaste aisle --- way too many choices! We settled on what seemed to be a good choice, an 8GB SanDisk Cruzer Micro with a Retractable USB 2.0 Connector. It was silver and in a clear plastic case, so we could actually see it. These were expensive and locked on the sales rack. We had to get a salesclerk to unlock one and take it to the register. I checked to make sure it was not a returned item secured with tape. How ironic. It looked fine; we purchased it for $60.19. We took it home and Big C laid it on his desk in his bedroom where it stayed until he opened it two weeks later.

Please fast-forward sixteen days later to the night of Sunday, September 14, 2008, 9:00 p.m. Big C takes the flash drive out of the packaging, turns the little contraption over and low and behold, it says written in big bold letters “Cruzer mini 1.0 GB” and has neither retractable USB connector nor a lid to cover the USB connector. Let it be documented that the side with the writing was face down and could not be seen in the package.

Looking back, I realize my mistake was to call Wal-Mart on a Sunday evening at 9:00 p.m. when I was tired and getting ready to begin a new week.

Here is the gist of the conversation with my end of the conversation being in italics:


Wal-Mart may I hep ya?

Yes, I would like to speak with someone in electronics.

Hold----Wait…Wait…Wait

Lectronics!

Yes, I purchased what I thought was a SanDisk Cruzer Micro 8GB Flash Drive with a retractable USB connector. When I opened it, the product in the package was a Cruzer Mini 1.0 GB without a retractable connector or protective cap. What do I need to do? Can I bring the item back to the store and exchange it?

Hold------Wait…Wait…Wait

I done spoke with the manager and he said you had to return it unopened within 15 days.

Fifteen days? It doesn’t say that on the receipt anywhere and it has only been sixteen, plus I would not have known it was the wrong item in the package if I had not opened it.

Hold….Wait…Wait…Wait.

Manager.

Hello. Yes, I purchased what I thought was a SanDisk Cruzer Micro 8GB Flash Drive with a retractable USB connector. When I opened it, the product in the package was a Cruzer Mini 1.0 GB without a retractable connector or protective cap. What do I need to do? Can I bring the item back to the store and exchange it?

How come you have waited so long to ask about this?

Well, I just opened the package.

It does not make sense that you are just now discovering it.

I could not tell it was the wrong item until I opened it tonight.

You have had the item for two weeks and you are just now opening it?

Well, yes. We did not need it right away, so we just laid it aside until today.

That just does not sound right that you are only now figuring out it is the wrong item.

I just opened it!

You have had it for two weeks and are just now opening it?

Yes!

That does not sound right.

I am sorry that it does not sound right to you, but we did not need to use it until tonight! Haven't you ever purchase something and laid it aside until you need it and open it later?

Sometimes. What color is it?

Silver.

We only carry black in our store.

Apparently not because I purchased this item from your store! I have the receipt in my hand and the items bar code on the receipt is the same as what is on the package! (My voice is very high pitch squeal at this point.)

So you are saying the wrong item is in the package.

Yes!

You will need to contact the manufacturer and discuss that with them.

Why should I have to contact the manufacturer when I purchased the item in your store? Are you not responsible for the items you stock in your store?

Yes, but we do not stock that item.

Maybe you have just misunderstood what I am trying to say. I came into your store on the night of August 29th and purchased what I thought to be a SanDisk Cruzer Micro 8GB Flash Drive with a retractable USB connector. When I opened it, the product in the package was a Cruzer Mini 1.0 GB without a retractable connector or protective cap. I could not see these words until I took the item out of the package!

I understand what you are saying, what I do not understand is how you are just now figuring out it was not the right thing.

I just opened it!

That sounds very suspicious to me.

You do realize you are implying that I am lying? What is your name?

Chris M. We do not carry that item.

Are you the manager in the electronics department?

I am assistant manager over the store.

What is your boss’s name?

Jerry S.

What are his hours?

Monday-Friday 7:00-6:00.

Thank you.



You know you always think of many things you could have said and I wish I had asked if this policy applies to any electronic I purchase at Wal-Mart. For example, if I were to purchase an Xbox 360 now to give as a gift at Christmas and when it is opened three months from now and found to be a plain Xbox I cannot return it? That is essentially what he was saying.

What you need to understand is that I would never, not in a million, gazillion years, ever purchase an item and switch the item and try to get my money back. It would never even cross my mind. I am the one who drags screaming, hungry children back into Wal-Mart after I have unloaded my mess of purchases and find I did not pay for a small tube of mascara and want to make amends. I am the one who places her cart in the cart rack instead on parking lot islands. I am the one who, when my child spilled a container of bubbles got down on my hands and knees to clean up their mess because I am responsible for my child’s actions. I am the one who smiles and speaks to the tired check out girl who has encountered one hundred angry, in a rush customers and tries to give her an encouraging word. I am a lot of things – good and bad – but I am not a liar or thief! So when the Assistant-Manager of Wal-Mart implied that I switched products, it made me more than a little mad. You do not tell an anxiety ridden, obsessive-compulsive woman that she is a liar and thief without her going completely over the edge of reason! I did not sleep at all that night and was determined the first person through the door to Wal-Mart at sunrise would be me! And brother was I ever going to give it to them good!

The rest of the story will be hard to understand unless you have experienced Grace.

During my restless night, after I had calmed down a little, I heard His familiar whisper and our conversation went something like this with His Words in italics:

Don’t go to Wal-Mart tomorrow.

Why not?

You are too mad and you will say something that is not a reflection of Me.

Father you know I am not in the wrong here. I am being cheated.

Don’t go to Wal-Mart tomorrow. Do all things in Love. You won’t be able to Love tomorrow.

You got that right!

I know. I’m God.

I am being treated unfairly. I have done nothing wrong.

I know. My Son was treated the same way.

So am I supposed let this pass?

Love your enemies and pray for those who do you wrong.

I don’t want to.

I know but you are going to have to trust Me on this one.

I trust You, I just don’t always understand Your ways.

My ways are above your ways.

You remind me of that often.

Because you keep forgetting.

Yes Father.

I am not telling you this story to tell you how great I am. I wanted to rip the man’s tongue out his head! I am telling you this to tell you how Great He is. Without the Holy Spirit’s control, I would have gone into Wal-Mart and attacked him like a chicken on a bug. Fox News headlines would have read “Crazed Middle Aged Hormonal Woman Attacks Wal-Mart Assistant Store Manager and Is Charged With Pre-meditated Bodily Harm” or worse “Local Blogging Mom Dragged By the Ankles From Wal-Mart Store Screaming.”

That was nearly two weeks ago and I now have peace about the incident. I have not gone back in Wal-Mart demanding justice be served. I cannot explain why. I am praying for that man and I truly believe we will have one of those chance encounters sometime where God leads me to share Love with him. Only Jesus could make that difference.

Thanks for reading this looooooog post, Rosie.

Creative Writing

I am teaching a creative writing class to Little I this school year. It is so fun to read his journal entries on assigned topics. I thought I would share today's entry with you. The following is from "The Journal of Little I" and I am typing it just as he wrote it. Please do not judge the cleanliness of my house based on this entry!

9-23-08
My Bedroom

My Bedroom is pretty big, not huge, but normal sized. I love it except for one thing, it smells like dog pee. (don't ask.) It's normally very cozy. It sometimes gets hot and sometimes its cold depending on the weather. It has sort of a low roof especially if you're sitting on the top bunk. My beds are very comfortable and are "T" shaped because the upper bunk is a loft which is not connected. My closet is very big and holds tons of clothes but the strange thing is that on the right side there is a white square little stump. I don't know about you but that just blows my mind. The grand prize of all is that my furniture is all cedar and in my cedar locker there are lots of toy guns and two BB guns. One last thing, if you ever come to my house, watch out. I have a pair of bedroom slippers that have a mind of their own so you better "Watch were you step or else you will trip."

Sadly, his room does smell a bit like dog pee. I clean all the time, but it does no good. The white stump in his closet is the central air conditioning's air return. It actually makes a nice little shelf. His room temperature is never just right. It is either hot or cold. I don't know why. Yes, I do allow him to play with toy guns and he does have a couple of BB guns and target shoots in our back yard. The rule at our house is not to point the gun at any living thing. He is a twelve year old boy and that is what they do. If he didn't have a toy gun, he would use a stick and say "Bang! Bang! Bang!" all the time. It is a male testosterone phenomena. Those elusive bedroom slippers are every where I seem to be and I trip over them often. My evil twin sister has been known to throw them. He does not own a "ton" of clothes. He owns a "ton" of Legos and Star Wars action figures. His furniture is cedar and the locker he talks about is actually a chifferobe. There is nothing quite like a child's perspective.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

They Sure Can Paint

My much older brother and my sister-in-love are artistically gifted; around these parts we would say "they sure can paint." My brother uses canvas and oil, while sis dabbles in water color. They each have their own unique style. My brother has been commissioned to do a few pieces, but mostly he paints because this is his way of expressing himself. He is very quiet. He is very smart. Sis on the other hand loves to talk; therefore, she expresses herself more verbally, painting is just a hobby but she is extremely talented. I thought you might like to see some of their work. Can you guess who the artist is of each picture? BTW, my photography skills do not give justice to their gorgeous work.

Mothers, Pantyhose and Quilts

I attended a Women’s Conference on Saturday in Duffield, Virginia. My precious gray haired mother insists that we attend this event every year and being the good obedient daughter I am, I take her; but only because she is almost 80 years old mind you. Truthfully, I am not a good obedient daughter, but a grouchy rebellious daughter, I just know when to keep my mouth shut, bite my tongue and smile about certain things. I did threaten to wear jeans, which caused a gasp from her (I like messing with her tradition), and I was reprimanded severely about taking pride in myself and wearing appropriate clothing when going to a church function. I did finally put on a skirt and wrestled into a pair of pantyhose so I would not cause her to have a stroke. Modest southern women do not go without pantyhose under a dress even in 103-degree weather. I told mother we might be the only crazy women to attend since Tennessee decided to announce Friday that there was a “gas shortage” due to Hurricane Ike blowing through Texas. Gas or no gas, my mother was going to Duffield, Virginia, Saturday if she had to walk.

Just so you know my world is not completely boring, it was madness and mayhem in my little town on Friday with cars lined down Main Street at the local Amoco station. The citizens in this fair city acted as if Mr. Ike was en route for the mountains of Northeast Tennessee. Everyone decided to go on a milk and bread run except Unleaded Fuel Only was the hot item. It was crazy! Rumors were running rampant about men and women out on the streets punching each other in the nose for a tank of gas. I tell you the truth nothing this exciting has happened here since the local family diner sold out to Wal-Greens.

Despite the fuel shortage, almost 300 other crazy women joined us on Saturday, and I pointed out to my mother that several women had indeed worn jeans and the church was not struck by lightening. She gave me that “shame on you” look that only a daughter could recognize from their mother’s eyebrows.

I dreaded this event so much that my stomach churned unmercifully. I found myself gulping straight from the Pepto Bismol bottle. Besides that, I am not a morning person. Duffield, Virginia, is approximately one hour from our house. Taking into account we had to be there at 9:00, this put us leaving at 8:00, which put me getting up at 6:30 on a Saturday morning. MDH got up and made coffee for me while I stumbled around in the shower. He likes me to believe he was gravely concerned about my welfare and wanted me to have plenty of caffeine in my system before I got on the road, but bless his heart, secretly, I knew he was happy to see me leave. The University of Tennessee was playing football and I have no use for football. Even though he whispered, “I’ll miss you,” in my sleepy ear as he gently shoved me out the door, I knew he was really thinking inside, “YES! I can scream, stomp, and chew out the refs without her rolling her eyes!” I love him anyway.

Despite my bad attitude, I did enjoy the program. This year’s conference theme was “God’s Grace – Day by Day, Stitch by Stitch.” The analogy of God being the Master Quilter is one of my favorite ways to think about how God can work in a seemingly “useless” life. The speaker and the music lifted my spirit, but the details that the women of this church put into decorating the place was what captured my heart. What a lovely reminder of God’s handiwork. He is so capable of taking the scraps and creating a work of art. The sanctuary of the church was decorated with colorful quilts, detailed needlework pictures, and lovely sewing projects women had painstakingly made. Old, new, quaint, and tacky - just like individuals. Thrown together and used, but loved despite their appearance. Worn out, ragged, tired and faded - no wonder I can relate! Simple - yet profound. That is the message of Grace. I am glad I made the effort.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.