My first Mother's Day...

On Mother’s Day 2011, Trevor and I told our collective families that we were pregnant.  We got our mother’s Mothers Day cards for grandmothers, and wished them a Merry Christmas.

Of course, it ended up being more like Happy New Years (and then some), but back then I envisioned nursing a newborn on Christmas Eve while Trevor finished baking the brie for our annual holiday party with the family. 

There is a video that Spencer’s girlfriend, Allison, took of the big announcement at our request.  Watching it makes me a little teary.  It is amazing how much has changed since then.  The past year has gone by a warp speed in some ways and has crawled by in others, and in no place is that more apparent to me than that video.  The hardest part is seeing Gran.  She was still going strong last May.  I think the main reason we decided to have Mother’s Day out at Pamelot was because she had invited herself out there again (as she was known to do from time to time).  And since everyone would (mostly) be together, Trevor and I figured it would be our best opportunity to disclose our little secret.  We also got Gran a great grandmother’s Mothers Day card with Merry Christmas on the inside.  It is hard to believe that she would be gone a mere three months later. 

I’ve only watched the video once before last year in Colorado.  Honestly, I had forgotten about it until I unpacked my Flip recorder and turned it on.  It was right after finding out the sex of the baby, and only days away from Gran’s sudden passing.  I remember watching it with Trevor after charging the camera, turning it on and seeing the thumbnail.  Oddly enough, after going to trouble of having Allison record the event, Trevor and I didn’t actually get around to watching the footage until that day.  Trevor got teary as we relived the moment, while I flushed with embarrassment.  I had forgotten how much I cried that day.  Plus, I really wasn’t looking or feeling my best.  The first trimester can do that to you.

Now we are a year out from that Mother’s Day, and I look at Banner and realize how much my life has been forever changed.  I know it is cliche, but having a baby makes you realize how much you have grown as a person.  Even though the last year has gone by quickly, it somehow seems much, much longer than a year since that video was recorded.  Granted, many parts of my life are exactly the same.  Trevor, the Awesome Pawsome, our house, my job - all examples of the constants in my life during the last 371 days.  It is amazing how the addition of one very small person can make all the difference.

When I was still pregnant around Christmas, so many people told me to appreciate the last few days as a family of two.  At the time, I was too physically uncomfortable to appreciate this advice or really even act on it.  But what no one tells you is that the first step into parenthood is a doozy.  There is nothing you can read and nothing anyone can say to ever prepare you for it.  And for the first several days (weeks, months) it can be absolutely terrifying.  But then you fall into a routine and things start feeling more like normal (albeit a new sense of normal),  and you start to realize that you can’t really remember what life was like before the baby.  And I don’t mean that in the way most people take it, because of course I can remember what life was like before Banner was around.  I can recall vividly how much easier and simpler everything was.  I could go to the movies without scheduling a sitter a week in advance.  I wasn’t tethered to a breast pump, and subjected to things like feeding and nap schedules.  I could sleep for hours uninterrupted, and, really, only had to worry about myself. 

What I mean is that I can’t imagine life without Banner NOW.  As hoakie as it sounds, that little guy completes me.  I just didn’t realize that I wasn’t whole until he showed up.  And I could never imagine going back.  When I look at myself in the video from a year ago, I almost feel like we don’t have very much in common anymore.  It is like watching a video of myself from a lifetime ago, not just twelve months.

But enough about all that.  I’m not doing a very good job explaining it, and aren’t really sure there really are words to describe what I am experiencing.  All I know is that all those nights I stayed awake worrying that I wouldn’t love or bond with my baby were (apparently) unfounded.  Because I am smitten and look at my son every day and wonder how I was lucky enough to get to be his mama.

But back to Mother’s Day 2012…

Last year, Trevor gave me a silver cross from Tiffany’s to celebrate my first “Mother’s Day” (even if I was only mother to something the size of a blueberry).  I had lost my other silver cross that I had purchased years before at Irish Festival, which was devastating since I wore it almost every day.  I felt naked without it, and was so happy to have a replacement with sentimental value.

And, a year later, I wore that same little, silver cross to Banner’s baptism. 

That’s right.  Banner was baptized on my first official Mother’s Day.  Exactly one year after we told our family we were pregnant.  It was all pretty awesome, if you ask me.

The Mother’s Day baptism was actually a bit of an accident.  I hadn’t intended to get the little guy christened until closer to six months, so everyone could recover from Amy’s wedding and it wouldn’t feel so much like one major life event after another.  But then I found out that the Dean of the Cathedral (who married Trevor and I back in 2009 and Amy and Adam last month) was retiring.  I had always assumed he would baptize Banner, and since his last day is June 3^rd, we had to fast track the baptism to accommodate the Dean’s suddenly very limited schedule. 

So, Banner was baptized on Sunday with another baby named Beatrice.  Beatrice went first.  Thereby, barring any emergencies between now and the end of the month, Banner will be the last baby that Dean Kevin will ever baptize. 

The B-Man was a trooper throughout the entire ceremony, and never fussed or cried.  He actually seemed fascinated by all the singing and was captivated by Dean Kevin during the sermon.  It didn’t even bother him when water was poured on his head.  I always thought babies cried when baptized, but in this case, neither Banner nor Beatrice made a sound.  In fact the only near baby drama was when Banner was almost dropped.  When the first bit of water was poured on his head, Banner twisted in Dean Kevin’s arms to look at the baptismal font (is it bath time?).  It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that he almost wiggled out of the Reverend's arms.  Afterwards, Dean Kevin joked that he had been baptizing babies for decades and had never almost lost one before.

Banner passed out immediately following his baptism.

The baptism was followed by a reception at our house with quiche, shrimp, muffins, crumb cake, fruit, dip and cheese.  It was great to have so many family and friends over to celebrate the occasion.

And, after everyone went home, Trevor let me watch whatever I wanted on the TV.  Which was really whatever channel he left it on, because I’m unaccustomed to having control over the remote.  He claims I got to watch two "chick flicks", although I'm not sure Midnight in Paris qualifies.

Trevor also got me several thoughtful presents including a book of baby sign language, a baby proof necklace and a package of Zombie fruit flavored gum.  Because nothing says Happy Mother's Day and  "Let's get that baby baptized" like zombies.

And that, my friends, is how I spent May 13th, 2012.  If I still hadn't had laryngitis, it would have been absolutely perfect.

Lately...

It has been awhile since I made a list, but it seems appropriate now that I don't feel very good and I am completely over this whole pregnancy thing.

In other words, forgive me. Pregnancy has made me lazy. A possibly a little bitter. At least at the moment.

The following list of fifty observations and happenings is in no particular order:

1. My linea negra is both crooked and off center. I find this annoying. Almost as if it is mocking me.



2. My belly button is still an innie. It is rather shallow now, however. And if I roll it just right I can get it to pop out. Trevor described it to my sister as "looking like a water weenie", which is just plain wrong.



3. The first time I rolled by belly button out, it was just as dirty as I had feared. I am not ashamed to admit that I spent almost an hour cleaning and otherwise exploring its depths.



4. I've already told this story once, but I do not think I did a very good job the first time around (seeing as though I left out an important part of the story). Take two: Trevor got himself uninvited to the birth of his first born by informing me oh-so matter of factly that I am not allowed to ride in his new car if my water breaks. He later amended this statement by saying that I could ride in The Lexus, but only if I sat on a trash bag. When this elicited a scowl from me, Trevor dug the hole even deeper by stating, "Or, you know, we could just take your car".
   
   He still thinks I am overreacting.



5. Speaking of Trevor, he has been the primary nester in the family. He loves nothing more than to work on the nursery. I've never seen anyone so excited to be a father before. All the books and websites keep mentioning that first time dads start to get nervous around this stage in the pregnancy. Not Trevor, though. When I asked him outright if he was getting scared about being a father, he just looked at me and said, "No! Not at all! Why? Are you?"
   
   (Yes)



6. I still haven't packed my hospital bag. This is driving my husband crazy. He has even tried to jump start the process by moving my overnight bag into our bedroom and sticking things in it that he thinks I might need (breast pads and nursing bras. He is apparently very concerned that I might leak. Oh, and the Christmas socks with glitter that Gran gave me last year. You know, the important stuff). Since I've decided that I'll be in labor FOR HOURS, I keep thinking that I'll have plenty of time to pack once I realize labor has begun. Trevor doesn't agree that this is a good plan. It probably isn't, but the more or less empty bag will probably sit in the corner of our bedroom until the eleventh hour. I'm stubborn that way.



7. Gypsy has started to spend her days lounging on the rug in the nursery. She's never shown much interest in the room before, so I think she knows what is coming and is excited about it. Haskell, on the other hand, will sit in the hallway - paws literally on the nursery's threshold - and stare into the room for minutes at a time in silent contemplation.
   
   And Alley? Well, she's shown little or no interest in the room, but has suddenly decided that her role in life is to rip the fluff out of all of Gypsy's favorite toys. "Mad Cow" no longer has a squeaker and "Pink Piggie" may need a stuffing transfusion.



8. I. Can't. Breathe.



9. Last week I burned 2979 prepregnancy calories. About 700 of these were at the gym. The rest were from bathing the dogs and cleaning the house. So far, I've been working out three times a week (on average), and during at least ONE of these workouts I burn 1000+ calories before I leave the gym.



10. And, yet, I've officially gained 30 pounds. I hate the world.



11. My ankles continue to swell after a long day on my feet. Because of this, my doctor has asked that I restrict my sodium intake and avoid Asian and Mexican food. Which, as far as I am concerned, is pretty much the end of the world. All major food groups are now stricken from my diet: Chocolate, Caffeine and Salt.
    
    (And, yes, I realize that none of those are actual food groups. And, no, I am not very good at following doctor's orders.)



12. My doctor is going to Hawaii at the end of next week. Which is fabulous since the full moon is on the tenth, and I'm pretty sure that I'll go into labor the second he steps on a plane and turns off his pager.



13. As of Wednesday, I am 50% effaced and a fingertip dilated.



14. My doctor commented on my lack of a belly at my appointment this week, which he finds funny since I am still measuring large and ahead of schedule.



15. Speaking of which, I had to tell someone TODAY that I was pregnant. AND HE DIDN'T BELIEVE ME. Honestly, I thought this would all be a little more obvious by my ninth month. Especially considering I FEEL approximately the size of a house.



16. I've been craving pomegranates and pickles. No, not at the same time, but they both taste fabulous to me at the moment. This is much, much better than my first pregnancy craving back in June: Ketchup (that one was seriously disgusting. Food was just a vehicle to get the ketchup in my mouth. I could have DRANK the stuff. Yes, seriously). And much more agreeable to other recent cravings for foods that I don't normally like (i.e. chicken salad), which, ew.
    
    Oh, and I can't seem to get enough of cheese lately. MMMmmmmm...cheese. But I've always been fond of cheese, so this is more of an observation than anything else.



17. I've been suddenly preoccupied with keeping the baby warm when he arrives. Oh, and my subconscious is really worried that Thor will come out a girl. Not that a girl is a bad thing. It is just that the nursery has a whole lot of blue in it at the moment.



18. I can't remember the last time I had a really good night's sleep. I'm guessing this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.



19. This late in the game, it seems a little all or nothing when it comes to pooping.



20. We've taken two prenatal classes. The first one was on Baby Basics where we learned, well...the basics (swaddling, bathing, changing diapers, etc.). The second was Baby CPR and the Heimlich for infants. No lamaze, but not for any good reason other than the fact that the classes were late at night and I get tired around nine.



21. Going to the doctor every week is a little tedious. And all the good appointment times are taken.



22. Oh, how I miss wine.



23. Trevor managed to maim himself and draw blood while installing the car seat in the back of my car. And, no. I still have no idea how to get the blasted thing off of its base.



24. The car seat installation went so poorly in my car that Trevor has now decided to have the Lexus dealership install the other base in his car. But he seems in no hurry to have this done. I think it is all a ploy to force us to take MY car when I go into labor (see #4). Which shouldn't matter since, again, he is uninvited from the birth.



25. I only have one more week of working full time to go. Technically, I could be off for the entire month of December and still not have my maternity leave kick in until January 1 (which is the plan since my day care can't take Thor until late March/early April). If the baby hasn't come by then, though, the plan is to continue working half time. At this point it seems best to avoid boredom. Plus, being a Department of ONE means there are lots of loose ends - even if I have been training a part time person to oversee everything in my absence. Guess it is hard for me to effectively outsource when I've never had help before.



26. I think our pediatrician kind of looks like a smurf. Especially when he wears blue scrubs.



27. I am so sick of the constant back pain. Sciatica is no joke. It is getting harder and harder to tolerate without tears.



28. Ever since my doctor told me to avoid chocolate, that is all I've wanted. I think I've eaten more chocolate in the past ten days than I've had during my entire pregnancy.



29. Sunday was our last day to teach Sunday School before taking a leave of absence this spring to figure out the whole parenting thing. If you had asked me if I thought the kids in the class were getting anything out of our lessons BEFORE last Sunday's class, I would have dubiously said maybe. But we quizzed them before class last week and - I kid you not - the little boogers have been paying attention! I was shocked! Maybe we have been making an impression and the kids have been learning more than, you know, the whole Jesus/zombie thing.



30. My cousin-by-marriage is also pregnant and due in May. At Thanksgiving she made the comment that she was already bigger than me and she was only 3.5 months. I didn't believe it until she pulled her maxi dress taut around her middle, and well...I was so shocked that I may have laughed out loud. I honestly didn't mean to be a complete a$$. I was just amazed at her obvious roundness - especially in comparison to my fat rolls.
    
    (Yeah. Whatever. I am such an a$$.)



31. It is officially difficult to do simple things like bend over, tie my shoes and shave my legs.



32. Little things leave me winded. Like sitting up. Or getting off the couch.



33. I may have bought Thor two different Syracuse onsies just in time for college basketball season. Trevor responded by having a bunch of Red Raider gear shipped to our house. This might get ugly.



See?!


34. I've written over 85 thank you notes for baby gifts. We have the most generous friends and family!



35. I randomly panic. I think it has something to do with the position I am in at the time. Maybe it is causing fetal distress? Or maybe it has something to do with my heart and body? All I know is that all of the sudden, I have to move. I have to escape. It is terrible and sometimes it is all I can do to compose myself like a normal human being and shift positions. The easiest way to relieve it is to simply sit or stand up. Once I do, the sensation goes away almost instantaneously. Isn't pregnancy fun?



36. I didn't think it was possible, but my boobs might be getting bigger again. Either that or my bras have start to shrink in the washer...



37. Trevor says I am in an exceptionally good mood all the time now. That is just because I can't remember why I am so stressed out.



38. I am perpetually hot. Trevor, for the first time since he met me, is cold. Welcome to my (usual pre pregnancy) world Trevor.



39. Trevor has been consistently more interested and opinionated as it pertains to the nursery than I have ever been. No one believes me, though, until they try to make suggestions. He is a man with a vision.



40. Advanced pregnancy means a lot of gas and acid reflux. As if I wasn't sexy enough with my cankles and unshaven legs.



41. Pregnancy also means random skin tags. I may or may not have found one in my navel that might have hypothetically been removed by force with tweezers because I thought it was caked on dirt from thirty something years ago.



42. I cannot wait to get up to pee in the middle of night without having to hold on to the bedpost for support. I learned the hard way that sciatica means sometimes your upper body moves and your lower body doesn't get the message. This makes walking challenging.



43. Speaking of pee: I think I got up fourteen times last night. Not cool, Thor. Not cool.



44. I've never been graceful, but my clumsiness recently is just plain embarrassing. I tripped over nothing today. NOTHING.



45. Despite my lack of a hugely distended belly, I've had to recline my seat more and more to be able to breathe while driving. I feel like a pimp.



46. I took a sip of Trevor's beer recently and ohmygoodness was it ever delicious. Which is super odd because, much like chicken salad, beer has never tasted anything but disgusting to me. Thor has hijacked my taste buds.



47. Thor really hates my ribs. I am sort of surprised I don't have bruises up and down my sides. One rib almost feels like it is poking out a little. Not a big fan. Plus, it is on my left side, which USED TO BE the most comfortable position in which to sleep. Figures.



48. The kiddo has been in position for weeks now (head down, butt up). More recently he likes to roll so I can feel his spine just above my navel. When he is turned this way my tummy is rock hard.



49. I feel bad for people who see me eat when I am really hungry. That can't be pretty.



50. I miss having sweaters that don't fit like mid ruff mini tees in my closet. Especially now that it is more consistently chilly here in North Texas.

I am sure there are many, many things that I am leaving off this list, but (again) my memory isn't what it used to be.

TGIF, everyone!

Okay. Maybe empire waisted clothing makes me look pregnant...

The following are the latest batch of belly pictures from over the weekend.

The first group are from last night at Idlewild. That's right: I wore a summer maxi dress to a white tie ball. To be fair, though, I just couldn't justify buying a maternity ball gown that I'd wear once for a matter of hours.

But, to dress it up, my Aunt Mimi lent me Moo's fur stole. Which nearly made my father faint when he saw me. Guess he never figured he catch me dead in fur anything. Normally, this is the case, but I was desperate to dress up my black, cotton dress. Plus, the stole itself is AT LEAST 60 years old. Wearing heirloom fur seems somehow more acceptable than "new fur". But maybe that is just me making excuses because I actually thought it looked pretty.

In either event, I got lots of compliments on it, and it made me happy to be wearing something that was once my grandmother's. Apparently, I got my broad shoulders from her.

Anyway, these pictures are post event, so I am looking a little worse for wear. I can't remember the last time I was out until nearly midnight:






The second group is from this morning after Sunday School. We had an intergenerational event for all of the kiddos instead of regular Sunday School by grade. There had been discussion of Trevor and I having to dress up like Joseph and Mary (since our church decided to kick off the advent season a week early), but somehow we got out of it and only had to help the kids with their craft projects instead.

My sister thinks it is because I didn't look pregnant enough.

You be the judge:





Depending on which due date you are using, I am somewhere between 34.5 and 36.5 weeks. I've decided to average the two together and just go with 35.5. Soon I'll be considered "full term" regardless, and I'll be happy as long as I start 2012 with a baby.

Yet another example of why the people in my family aren't mature enough for church...

On Sunday, Amy and Adam joined Trevor and I at 10:30 church.

One of the lessons was from Jonah:

The Lord God appointed a bush, and made it come up over Jonah, to give shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort; so Jonah was very happy about the bush. But when dawn came up the next day, God appointed a worm that attacked the bush, so that it withered. When the sun rose, God prepared a sultry east wind, and the sun beat down on the head of Jonah so that he was faint and asked that he might die. He said, "It is better for me to die than to live." But God said to Jonah, "Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?" And he said, "Yes, angry enough to die." Then the Lord said, "You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?"

(Jonah 4:6-11)

Except all the talk about bushes and worms made Amy start giggling uncontrollably. The harder she tried to stop, the worse it became.

Trevor, upon seeing Amy, also started to chuckle and - before you knew it - all four of us in the pew were trying desperately to stifle our laughter before anyone around us noticed.

It is sort of amazing we didn’t get kicked out of church.

To be fair, when I was little, the bush was always “ivy” or “a plant” in Sunday School. Of course, I was also at an age where a worm attacking a bush (or Ivy for that matter) would never have been misconstrued to mean anything other than what was intended.

Sometimes I miss the literalness of childhood.

Speaking of: Last Sunday's Sunday School lesson was about Adam and Eve eating from the tree of knowledge. Trevor and I have been watching a lot of TRUE BLOOD, Season II recently, and one of the characters on the show said Eve was short for “EVE-IL”. Trevor thought this was hilarious. So, every time Eve came up in the lesson, Trevor would turn to me and mouth, “Eve is short for EVE-IL!”

It is amazing none of the kiddos caught him in the act.

[Shakes head]

This week’s lesson involves Lucky Charms and searching for treasure. I’ll try to figure out how that relates to the Bible later on and get back to you.

Almost as good as the time we accidentally turned Jesus into a zombie...

Today in Sunday School we taught the kiddos about the book of Genesis and the creation of Adam and Eve.

We were at the part where Adam was tending to the garden before God created all the animals and had Adam name them:

Other teacher: "Would you like to garden alone or with other people?"

Elton (2nd grade boy): "I don't really like to garden period. I'm a boy."

Me: "You don't have to be a girl to like flowers."

Other teacher: "Yeah, plenty of men like to garden. Can anyone name an example?"

Trevor: "Hippies."

We also had a bizarre (and utterly random) conversation with the kids about men who wear skirts. I think we were trying to teach them about Scotland and kilts, which - now that I think about it - has absolutely nothing to do with Adam, Eve or the Garden of Eden.

We might be the worst Sunday School teachers on the face of the planet.

Anyway, the kids had never heard of men wearing skirts in Scotland or anywhere for that matter, so we tried to come up with other real world examples of men donning what the boys in attendance this morning might otherwise interpret as "girly clothes".

And this would be the point when I equated the robes the Dean of the Cathedral wears during church to a dress.

Other teacher: "Yeah, that's called a 'robe', [Deals]. Not a dress."

Oops.

So, just to recap: Adam was a hippie and men of the cloth are cross dressers.

Fan-tastic.

On backhanded compliments and whatnot...

I wore a dress to Sunday School yesterday. While it is true that I normally wear something resembling chinos and a sweater, I have been known to dress up on occasion. It is just that it is easier to work with kiddos while wearing pants - especially while sitting on the floor or in micro chairs built for six year olds.

But you would have thought I had had a full body make over the way one of the ladies carried on:

V: "You look so nice today!"

Me: "Thank you."

V: "I had no idea you owned any pretty dresses!"

Me: "Um, yeah, well...thanks."

And then I got home and discovered a piece of sour apple jolly rancher stuck to said dress and was immediately reminded why I normally stick with my normal, old, ugly clothes.

Sigh...at least I tried.

How I accidentally turned Lazarus into a zombie...

Last week in Sunday School we were supposed to teach the kiddos about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.

If there had been a word of the day, it would have been “resurrection”. We all but hit them over the head with it.

First we played a version of hot potato. The rules were the same as regular hot potato (i.e. the person caught holding the ball when the music stopped was out), with one major difference. Randomly the word “resurrection” was called, and everyone who was “out” was allowed to come back in to the circle. The kids really enjoyed this activity. The teachers would have enjoyed it more if there was a good way of ending it. After all, it is hard to find a good stopping point with all the constant resurrecting of old players.

We also had the kids draw butterflies by tracing the outlines of their hands on a piece of construction paper, and then decorating them.


This activity drew heavily on the kids understanding of the whole caterpillar-cocoon/chrysalis-butterfly cycle. The idea was to have the kids connect a butterfly emerging from the cocoon as being reborn or, you guessed it, resurrected.

Additionally, the kids read the Bible story about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, and wrote down their weekly bible verse. Basically: Resurrection, resurrection, resurrection.

Finally, it was my turn to teach. I drew a picture of tree in winter on the dry erase board, and asked the kids if the tree looked dead or alive. They all yelled, "Dead", so I asked them how I could make it look more alive. "By drawing leaves on it", they called out.

So, I had them come up and take turns decorating the tree. We only had one green, so the kids also drew lights, flowers and whatnot on the branches. We even had Steve the Squirrel, Tom the Turtle and a random butterly represented, although I am not quite sure how they came to be part of the drawing.






After the tree was finished, the kids returned to their seats and I asked them again if the tree looked dead or alive. This time the answer was, “Alive!”


Me: “So before we drew leaves and decorations on the tree it looked like it was what?”

Kids: “Dead! Like in winter!”

Me: “Exactly! And what do we call it when something is dead and it comes back to life? Like in the story of Jesus and Lazarus? Resur…”

Andrew (one of the kids): “…ZOMBIES!”

Me: “Wait, no…”

Other teacher: “Well, kind of…”

Kids: “Zombies! When something is dead and it comes back to life it is called a 'zombie'!"

Trevor: “[Shaking head] I am never going to think of Easter the same way again.”

Sigh...

I can only imagine what the kids told their parents later on:

Mom or Dad: “So, what did you learn in Sunday School today?”

Child: “Well, we played hot potato and drew pictures of butterflies and learned about Jesus turning Lazarus into a zombie."

Mom or Dad: “That’s nice, hon…wait. What?”

The first coherent line ever spoken was ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

This Sunday we got to teach the kiddos about Jesus walking on water. The lesson involved a craft where each kid got to cut out his or her own Saint Peter and glue/tape him to a popsicle stick. Once this was accomplished, they could each individually reenact the Biblical scene by using their Saint Peter-on-a-stick and moving him between a drawing of a boat and an illustration of Jesus walking on water.

The girls, by and large, took the lesson seriously, while the boys seemed to get the most entertainment out of making dear, old Saint Peter sink dramatically to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee.

Obviously, some got more out of the story than others.

Cut to the end of the class when, while packing up their completed crafts, Bible versus, etc., the students started stating the following:

"Where is my Peter?"

"She touched my Peter!"

"His Peter is on the floor!"

"Whose Peter is this?"

"Uh, oh! I broke my Peter!"

"When I get home, I am going to play with my Peter!"

Good thing that the kids were too busy packing up to notice that their teachers were all laughing so hard they were crying. And even if they had, none of them would have understood WHY we were laughing. You gotta love six and seven year olds.

And that, my friends, is why Trevor and I might not be mature enough to teach Sunday School.

Thank you for flying Church of England, cake or death?

"People are going, 'Remember kids, Jesus died for your sins.'
'Yeah, I know, it's great.'
'No, it's bad.'
'It's bad. lt's terrible. Whatever you want. Just keep giving me these eggs.'"

- Eddie Izzard in Dressed to Kill

Thanks to the bizarro weather and rolling blackouts of late, the other Sunday School teacher that has been training us was unable to make it to class yesterday morning. A pipe in her house froze and the water to her house had to be cut off. And since she hadn't showered and the plumber was "hopeful" he'd be able to make it to her house on Sunday, Trevor and I were on our own.

So, armed with a giant bag of candy, a flashlight, two cups of coffee and a promise from my husband that he would do all the praying, Trevor and I prepared to teach 1-3 graders about being salt and light. I am pretty sure the kids that came (all TWO of them) left thinking that Jesus literally wants them to be pint sized salt shakers or rays of sunshine. But they DID get to go on a scavenger hunt with their eyes closed, write on the dry erase board and eat candy, so I am thinking it was a win-win for everyone. Plus, both the kiddos seemed especially interested in the fact that salt melts ice and snow. So, if nothing else, they are now prepared to help deice their sidewalk the next time "winter" happens in North Texas. Which is more than I can say for the entire City of Dallas.

So, yeah...pretty much spreading religion and practical knowledge wherever we go. That's just how Trevor and I roll.

Godly play...

Somehow Trevor and I are scheduled to help teach Sunday School this spring. Our first class is tomorrow. We thought we were going to be substitutes, but then an email was circulated around the congregation with a list of "prayer concerns". Trevor and I were on it following the announcement that we were the new teaching assistants for the 1st-3rd grade class. This prompted me to call Trevor in a panic and scream into the phone, "OMG! Trev! They think we are helping to teach Sunday School. And they have already started PRAYING for us! That means we are committed! You can't get out of something when prayer is involved!"

I just wish the lady in charge of Sunday School would stop referring to it as "SS". Whenever I see "SS" I immediately think of Nazis, not small children. Especially when it is used in a sentence like, "There is a variety of ways that you can serve in the SS." This isn't good.

The kids are pretty funny, though. We sat and observed a class or two over the fall, and Trevor and I spent most of the Sunday School hour trying not to laugh at the things that came flying out of their mouths. One boy who announced - somewhat randomly - that he didn't know what Hell was, but he was pretty sure it was like a "really big time out".

But my favorite was when another little boy turned to his friend who was having a hard time not speaking out of turn and said, "You know what I have to do when I'm having a hard time staying quiet? I have to lock my mouth like this [pantomimes turning a key in his mouth], and just throw the key away. You gotta throw it out the window, Elton. Just throw the key out the window."

And he wasn't kidding. The look on his face was 100% serious.

It was pretty awesome. Trevor and I had tears in our eyes, and tried to pretend our stifled laughter was really some sort of random coughing attack.

So, yeah. It's gunna be an interesting spring...especially since my immediate reaction to the term "Godly Play" was "What in the Hell is that?"

On second thought, maybe it is a good thing that they are praying for us.

Hell in a handbasket...

One of my coworkers has the somewhat arduous task of going through all the links sent to her about the museum on Google Alerts, and scrapbooking all the relevant ones for institutional memory.

I say "relevant", because not everything Google sends to her has anything (at all) to do with the museum, our events, etc. Some are just plain random.

But sometimes random is good.

Take the following, for example:

I dedicate this image find to Heather of The Donut for obvious reasons…

I have absolutely no idea why this image from the Beginner’s Bible Coloring Book popped up, but I am probably going straight to H-E-double hockey sticks for finding so freaking hysterical.

Your welcome.

Ash Wednesday...

It is that time of the year again.

Lent. Or as my sister calls it, "Lint".

The time of the year where I willingly give up everything good. Mainly, to see if I can do it.

This season, I am giving up the following:

1. Cheese


2. Sugary foods and all deserts


3. Fried food and everything battered, breaded or otherwise dipped in oil

I am still undecided about alcohol. I've given it up in the past, but I really don't drink that much. Just a glass of wine every now and again. It doesn't seem to pose the same challenge that cheese does (note: I really love cheese. Mmmm...).

Anyway, I am also planning on "improving" myself by eating more small meals throughout the day (I have a tendency to forget to eat), drinking more water, and generally being more aware of portion sizes. All this really has nothing to do with dieting. I've done all this before in the past, and - somewhat tragically - I have never lost a pound during the Lenten season. Not that I am opposed to loosing weight, mind you. It just doesn't work that way for me, apparently.

I am already missing cheese...