Pancake memories...

As mentioned in a past post, my Daddy was an alcoholic. Looking past that, looking to the sober times, there are memories to be cherished. And one of the things I talk about often are his pancakes. That they were so yummy. That he cut them into perfect squares and triangles. I was with my brother (pictured with Fep above) recently, and something came up about Daddy, and he mentioned Dad's pancakes. I smiled and commented, and he said, "You know that's about all we have left of Dad are his pancakes." And while I can remember more good things about my Daddy than just pancakes, my brother confirmed our love of his pancakes.

This Christmas my brother came over early Christmas morning because he wanted to cook my Daddy's pancakes for us. I have to say I never knew the exact recipe until this year. I've always just used a box mix when I make them. And the pancakes my brother made were good, but I have to say....they didn't taste like I remembered. And I think I like the box mix better. And that made me sad. Cause those pancakes were the bomb diggity (yes, I just said bomb diggity) growing up, and with my Daddy's alcoholic history, I did cherish that memory of when he made those. But then I realized that's whats really important anyway. It's the memories. It's the good memories not the actual taste of the pancakes themselves. And now with the memories of my Daddy and pancakes, I also have a sweet memory of my brother, too. He was so pleased with himself cooking up those special pancakes for us. And it was all done in much love....love for me, love for my children, and love for that special memory of my Daddy.

Ooops! I did it again...

When I made that cake 9 months ago, who would have thought? Who would have ever thought that I'd actually misspell "birthday" again? Not me. That was good for a one time laugh, right?
Enter birthday cake #2.....

MMMMM HMMMMM. I misspelled birthday again!! Good grief. And I got nothing this time. I was putting those candles on that cake, got to the end to put on the "y", and thought, "Why do I have two letters left?" And then I saw what I had done....more laughs....more smiles...more memories.

Yes, I homeschool my children. Don't judge me ;)

Ohhhhh! And today, just happens to be my sweet husband's birthday. He loves me even though I can't spell "birthday"!

Goodbye Woobie. You'll be missed....

The Woobie did not originally belong to Moose but Fep. Fep was not a baby who needed much. No paci, not too dependent on a bottle, no lovie of any sort. She cared nothing about the white crocheted blanket made for her by a lady at church. Moose on the other hand was much in need of creature comforts. He was a paci lovin' kind of baby. And he did not settle easily. One day as he was down for his nap, he was just a fussin'. And I stood over the crib wondering what to do and I thought about a friend who said her baby loved to be covered up from head to toe. So, I took The Woobie and draped it across Moose face and all. He immediately quit crying. And that began the love affair with The Woobie. He and The Woobie, or Woob for short, were quite inseparable.

But now nine, almost ten years later, The Woobie is worn. Just last night as he was snuggled in bed with his Woob, he said, "Look what the cat did." And he pulled out a very long piece of yarn from his Woobie. Today when I found his Woobie, I saw that it had a large hole. The yarn has been so thin for a while, and I'm not surprised it has a large hole in it. Even though he's been too old for it for quite some time, he has shown no signs of wanting to put it away. So, I did what I hated to do and told him it was time. It was time to put The Woobie away or there would be nothing left of The Woobie. I took out his baby box and knew this was it. It was the last daily visible, physical reminder of all those precious baby memories. It made my heart hurt. Still does.

So, in the box on top of the ultra sound picture, cards, hospital paper gown, etc., etc. lay The Woobie. Moose said, "I'm okay right now. But I know I'll really miss it tonight." And then my heart filled just a little more......

To Hear the Quiet....

By nature, I'm a homebody. So, that I love being a wife, mother, homemaker, comes rather naturally for me. I love having my house in order, routines, etc., etc., etc. I love every day kind of every day stuff. That December through the first week of January was none of that was rather trying for me. I tried to embrace the season, and there were moments that surely I did. But overall it was rather stressful for me. In the end, I was depleted by too many places, too many people, and too much busyness. Nothing that looked routine. Except maybe a day here or there. Probably that the Lord knew I needed that just to keep my sanity.

Now in this second week of January, I am reclaiming that life I love. This morning as I prayed, I prayed over routine, structure, and order. The people are gone, the chaos has calmed, and I find myself already being filled. Sunday evening we had a snowfall like we haven't in quite some time. Maybe 5 to 6 inches here. And I always think of winter as quiet. There is such a huge difference when you go out at night in summer and in winter. Summer nights are filled with bugs, frogs, locusts all harmonizing together. And I like that. But winter...winter nights are so quiet. There is just not a single sound to be heard. This morning as I was making my bed and looking out the window, seeing the blanket of snow which still covers the ground, I could literally hear the quiet. And I found my soul being filled...and I look forward to quiet days filled with routine, family, home, and Him.