Silly Eyes


It's quite possible that you don't know how funny Tay is, and her intentional silliness, in order to make you laugh.  She is a pro at crossing her eyes (as captured above).  So at any given moment, say the dinner table, I look up from a bite to encounter...

The Silly Eyes

She says, "Wow, there's two mamas.  There's two cups."  Then, she proceeds to look up at me, in order to get a laugh from me.  

The same is true if I'm helping her in the bathroom with her pants or something as I look up.  She was patiently waiting for me to see her 'silly eyes' all googly.  


I know I can be serious, or quite introspective at time.  It's when I have this little girl to bring me to ground level to laugh, when I realize that 'play' and 'laughter' are gifts.  So, next time you're in need of a pick me up, ask Tay, "Can you show me your silly eyes?"  I'm sure you will be in a brighter mood.


Captured the Land of Play (presenting My Little Ponies)

When siblings happily play together, there's nothing quite like it in the world.



Smoothies & a Little Crazy

You know when your kids say stuff, and when I say truly appears to be such.  Today was one of those days from Tay to V.


After my workout tonight, the girls were getting ready to get into bed & I walked upstairs with a smoothie I just made.  If you know V, you know how much she loves smoothies.  I think she can smell them, and considering smoothies don't really permeate the olfactory--that's quite a gift she holds.  

V: "What's that?"

Me: While saying, "It's my smoothie!," she lifts her head in Jedi-like fashion and somehow I'm lowering my cup.

She continues to take a drink, which could turn into eternity only lasts mere seconds (this mama knows better).  I remind her of the smoothie she had earlier that night with papa, which makes little marking in her smoothie soul.


What seems like hours is really minutes as her persistence in beguilely asking for another drink pours on me.  She brought up a book she had read at school.

V chatters, "Remember, the fishy has scales and shares with his friends.  You need to be like the fishy sharing with his friends!"

Ben interjects: "V, did you share your smoothie with daddy?"

V unabashedly projects, "No!  And that's why mommy needs to share with me!"



Tay is my silly kid.  I often think, "God, laughter truly is a gift isn't it?"  He answers by pointing to Tay.  

Today as I was helping her in the bathroom, I placed my hands around her hips & hoisted her up high.  She squealed with delight and shouted, "Again!!"  

I replied while laughing, "Okay, get up.  You're so silly Tay!"

Her response was that double take moment as she said, "Yes!  I am silly!  I'm Jesus! (what?)  Jesus is crazy & so is Tay!"


I think she was intending to pay Jesus a compliment, believe it or not.


Snapshots into the Craziness I call Home

One thing I find intriguing about blogging is perception.  We all have perceptions of people and how they run their home, or how their children perfectly align with family rules, or (let's be honest) the mama & papa's sheets are plenty hot from all the action (you know like 5 times a week--modest estimation).  But it's all perception of perfection and needs to be thrown from a 10 story window.

The reason (like most people) I don't portray everything is because well, it's my family & not anyone else's.  It's personal & private (at least some of it), and should be kept a bit sacred.  However, there are those moments in which I share here, because it's good for everyone's soul. 


For instance, yesterday our friends from college who have been in the states from Berlin, Germany emailed to see if we'd be available for dinner.  Of course we make room for them.  They have two sweet twin boys, who are just a couple months younger than Tay.  Now, Tay has a fascination with all things "Poop."  Yes, she acts more like a boy and laughs hysterically if "poop," "fart," "poo" are mentioned.  Might I add that she has infectious laughter when discussing such talk, which inevitably leads me to chuckle.  

Earlier in the day when another round of "poop" talk came about as she laughed, I replied, "Tay, do you remember our new friends coming over tonight?  Well, you're older than them and you get to show them how to have good manners.  When we say words like "poop," they might start saying it and their mommy & daddy wouldn't be happy about that."

She shakes her head, "Oh no! That wouldn't be good."

Our friends came, we ate, shared life, played & upon seeing them to the door, I turned to Tay privately, "I like how well you shared with your new friends and showed kindness--thank you Tay!"  

Her face beamed.  She responded proudly (and a bit loudly), "And I didn't say POOP!"  


I could tell you of the million times I hear the word "why" in my house, or how little girls get dresses taken away when they say "no" to mama, but really, that's for the birds.  

I did ask V the other day, after she had responded with "Why" for the thirty-zillioneth time, "Sweetie, how come you always say 'why?'"

Very thoughtful & nonchalant in her response, "Well, it's just the word I use!"


Yesterday it was sunny and I took the girls to a park.  A little girl showed up with her father, and clearly this kid is some prodigy.  She was a whole 6 inches shorter than Tay and when my girls asked her her name, she replied with something.  Then, she pulled out a crayon sidewalk chalk and proceeded to spell her name in the most legible writing for most grown adults (let alone a three year old..or four).  

When the little girl asked Tay her name, Tay without skipping a beat replied, "I'm Uniqua!"  I was caught off guard.

I wondered, "do I let my kid just tell random people her name is a cartoon character or try to correct her?"

Well, it got a little more convoluted when she proceeded to inform them that her sister was "Tasha, that's my mommy Tyrone, but Pablo daddy is at work.  And Austin lives somewhere else, that's my Nana!"  


I plead the fifth or allow the people with the white jackets to take me away.  Either way, I'm sure this next little one inside will only add to the craziness of it all.  It's like Jack Handy said, "Father said laughter was the best medicine, I guess that's why we all died from tuberculosis." (and if you don't find that last line funny, well...)



Our Love isn't Poetic, it's Better than that



Steady & devoted.  Two words describing Ben by our pastor in his wedding homily.  

Yesterday as I was running errands with the girls, these two words penetrated within...steady & devoted.  Although we don't believe in "the one," I'm certain that God knew what he was doing weaving our lives, our stories together that June 12th of 1998.  

The day he would roll up the camp after a long week of finals & move-out, marking the end of his freshman year.  Little did he know, or I would know, that we would meet our future spouse.  Him, tired, reserved & extroverted out walked into the old camp hall to meet a rambunctious, loud and introverted out young lady.  This young lady, whom he would confide in later, considered to be "one of the most annoying people he'd met."  

She had spent two weeks by herself in what seemed The Shining, while he had spent the last two weeks in what would seem Animal House (not quite, just a rowdy dormitory).  Two souls meeting that couldn't be further from similar, and yet, God was intertwining his grace.  Taking a girl from unstable upbringing, dreaming of a guy who would sweep her off her feet & adore her (while looking mighty nice in a white T-shirt).  

Her image of a man was a little different from what she really desired, and what she really needed.  She dreamed of a man who could sing harmony or melody alongside her, who would write poetic, and get those deep inner mysteries that others would scoff at.  With God sized dreams & deep breaths, she finds grace in a man who isn't poetic, who can't sing harmony with her melody, and who doesn't always get the ponderings.  

Rather, God says, "I know something far more important than you can fathom.  You don't need a person who always 'gets' the inner mysteries, but appreciates them.  You don't need a man who is poetic, but brings reality to your poems.  You don't need a man who sings in perfect unison, but gives you a sturdy stage to sing upon."


My Valentine is a man who is steady & devoted.  He isn't all of those other things I read about with wives & husbands, but he gives me grace when I fall flat on my face.  He is my biggest supporter & encourager in this life.  He's my confidant.  He's my steady in this shaking sea of doubt & anxiety.  He is the man who writes my name in his monthly calendar to ensure that he provides me with something special.  It's not spontaneous flowers on the whim, but very thoughtful & meditated love.  His love speaks of actions.  

What I see almost 14 years later is a man who loves me like Jesus.  His quiet, steady, faithful love is reliable & Spirit filled.  He is God's gift to me, the one person who is constantly pointing me to Jesus, and does it with such gentle grace.  It's as if Jesus is shepherding Ben, in order to care for me.  Saying words like, "Kamille is my gift I'm giving to you Ben, love her well." 

And he is.