The New Mr. and Mrs.

My husband and I always joke about being "average". We really don't "stand out" in anything. I have friends and relatives that can: cook gourmet meals, run marathons, make scrapbook pages that would blow your mind, decorate beautiful homes, have flower gardens that are gorgeous, make a bookcase, paint masterpieces, sew wonderfully.....you get the idea.
I suffer from "good, butnotasgood" disease. We've given ourselves new names. My husband and I are now, "Mr. and Mrs. Mediocre". I can't speak for him, but there is one thing that I'm good at. It is my gift . It is the gift of silliness. Those who don't have it, don't want it. Those who have it, might choose something else, if they could. I happen to like being silly. It tends to make the career of parenthood a touch easier. Even before I was a parent, you'd always find me a the "kid's table". Little kids used to flock to me like I was the "Pied Piper". I truly love them and I learn so much from them. It's fun to be silly and it's not that hard. Besides, who wants to make a bookcase anyway?

My Signature

My oldest son has a cast on his right arm. This is what I would sign on his cast if there was room:


"Dear M- I was hoping that this cast would slow you down a bit. Sort of like an imaginary shackle to keep you chained to me for awhile longer. Then, I could hold you like I did when you were a baby. I could look into your beautiful, striking blue eyes and enjoy your infectious smile. You would say, "Mommy, I need you" or "Mommy, I want you". Everyone used to laugh at you because you would say those words so fast, it sounded like one word. Well, you're not a baby anymore. You're my big boy with a broken arm. It hurts me to see you hurt because I love you so. I love your tender, compassionate heart. I love the way you view the world. I love how you would help the hungry, needy, and oppressed by simply inviting them to our house so that we could care for them. I love your spirit. I love you. Love- Momma"

I opted to write, "MOM" on his upper arm. Like on of the old homemade tattoos. He didn't like it though, because I put a heart in place of the letter "o". Big boys don't have hearts on their casts.

Planned Obsolescence

Overnight, I became "Mom" instead of "Momma". I think my five year old tried to set a record by using the word "mom" in a sentence as many times as she could to drive this point home. She is through with the whole "Momma" thing. She has been her own person since day one. If I could write a sentence to describe her, it would be: "I'll do it by myself!" *emphasis not mine. Most mothers would be thankful for her independence and self-motivation. I am to a degree, but I start thinking, "what does she need me for?" The truth is, she does need me. She needs me to be an example to her. To tame her little wild heart, to help her to realize God's plan and purpose for her life, to prepare her for marriage and parenthood. To teach her. There, I feel better already.


"Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God." Titus 2:3-5