Our 2010

Wishing you a peace-filled, spiritually prosperous, healthy, and safe 2011.

With love,

Chris, Renesha, and Sydney

Father Daughter Conversation

I wasn't able to hear this conversation in its entirety due to the obnoxiously loud rumbling of the 2 wheeled vehicle my 22 month old child is perched upon with perfect balance and admiration...but I think it went something like this.

You see baby, this is a motorcycle. It is a Harley-Davidson motorcycle to be exact. That extremely ferocious vibration you are feeling is unique to a Harley-Davidson and cannot be replicated by any other feeble attempt by any other motorcycle manufacturer.

You see baby, there are no other motorcycles besides a Harley. Repeat after me, "Harley, Harley." If you see a motorcycle and it doesn't say, "Harley," well, it ain't a motorcycle baby.

Your mama didn't like motorcycles all that much before she met me. She thought they were dangerous, wreckless, and for men going through mid-life crises...but after she took a few road trips with me and got some air in her hair and a little windburn, she was hooked. And you will be too, baby. We will take road trips just the two of us. We will leave mama behind to play on her computer.

Never let anybody tell you that riding motorcycles is bad. Loving motorcycles doesn't make you biker trash. Just promise me that the only man you will ever ride with is me, your daddy. And always remember to hang on real tight. And remember, the only thing I love more than riding motorcycles...

is you.

Christmas Day Lesson

Take a journey with me.

Take a short journey with a relatively new mama and her nearly 2 year old child.

Last year at Christmas time, Sydney ate the wrapping paper and wanted nothing to do with the carefully selected and developmentally appropriate toys under the tree. I will confess this left me a little confused and disappointed, but with the help of sinfully delicious Christmas fudge, I was able to handle my sadness.

So, with last Christmas in mind, we dialed back the number of gifts and had realistic expectations of how things would unfold on Christmas morning. Please keep in mind that there have been no REAL children at Christmas time in my family for at least 15+ years, so Sydney's presence makes everything just a tad sparkly for us.

My mom and dad bought her a slide and a stuffed frog. Great Grandma bought her building blocks. Chris and I purchased the tot-sized Cozy Coupe (which if I remember correctly has shrunk over the years) and a big girl kitchen. Uncle Rick came through with kitchen foods and accessories. Top those items off with a coloring book and baby doll, and that was Syd's Christmas loot. We left it at that...nothing too terribly overwhelming.

But here is where we made a mistake...a tragic mistake.

We put everything out...

With little children, it is best to not put all the toys out around the tree first thing in the morning. Take it slow. Start with the small, boring, wrapped gifts and progressively work your way up to the mammer jammer ones. If you start out with the fab-o-luscious ones, everything else is completely ignored.

For her, it was the CAR.

"You mean, I won!?"

It was just like she was on the Price is Right Showcase Showdown and Bob Barker (I just can't wrap my mind around Drew Carey, so pardon me) had just awarded her the grand showcase and she had dashed up to the stage to claim her red convertible. Nothing in the entire universe was able to peel her out of that thing. She jumped in that puppy like Luke & Bo Duke and it was over with, honey. OVER with...no other gift could get her attention. She got in the car. She got out of the car. She got in the car. She got out of the car. She patted the car. She talked to the car. To her, Christmas was the CAR.

"Go ahead...take me out of this car...make my DAY."

Chris had to take the car out of the room just to get her to look at the play kitchen. The play kitchen that was a labor of love...2 hours of bolts, screws, hinges, and graphic directions. (I shall post about this later.)

Sydney's Dream Kitchen set up in her room.

"Yes, my mother is soooo lame."

"Yes, Gigi, teach me your cooking secrets. Mom apparently did catch on to them."

"I guess I better get off this phone and get back to cookin." 

Sydney sporting her annual new Christmas Eve PJ'.s

This year, since she is fascinated with "happies" (puppy dogs),

it only seemed fitting that she have one on her jammies.

So, our lesson for this year was a classic mantra...
"Save the Best for Last" -or- "Cars are a Girls' Best Friend" -or- "First Time Parents Are Wack Jobs"

Take your pick.

"Cuwah"

Before she eats breakfast,
Before she has drinks her juice,
Before she starts her day,
My girl
wants to
cuwah. (color)

And this cutie pie dress was handcrafted by Mimi at Millie Pie Designs.

A Baby Changes Everything

Tonight was date night! Yippee! Pleae indulge me as a I share with you a few pics of former date night highlights...

Dinner...

Entertainment...

Now let me share with you a few pics of  tonight's date night highlights...

Dinner...courtesy of the red roof place 

Entertainment...courtesy of Crayola

Cute date night picture...awww...

Date nights sure have changed. Can't quite put my finger on the difference...Hmmm..

Why I Put Up a Christmas Tree

because in the eyes of a child...

there is nothing more beautiful...

more interesting...

more awe inspiring...

more wonderful...

than a glittering, sparkling, Christmas tree, covered in ornaments that are

huggable.

You Know You Live in East Texas When...

Two pitbulls are relaxing comfortably in the front seat of a dually diesel truck with the engine running in front of Walgreens at 10:15 at night...

and you think nothing of it....
and you wonder if anyone would be stupid enough to try and steal that truck...
and you take a picture with your phone...
and chuckle about it all the way home....
and you wonder if maybe you ought to get one to protect your one and only child...
cause afterall you have to admit they look pretty fearsome...
and would most likely eat you in small bites...
or lick you to death...

Parched

We missed Sunday morning church this past weekend due to sickness, and when church is missed, you better believe it is a sickness like no other. All 3 of us stayed home. I chased around my child catching fluids projectiling from her body in all directions.

It is so strange for me to be home on a Sunday morning.

You see, when I "came to and realized consciousness" way back when as a small child, it was under a church pew.

My parents were determined that every time the door was open, that I was going to be in God's House. It was instilled in me. It was pounded into me. It was drilled into my head...and I thank God for it. Unless you were sick or in Tahiti, you were in church.

My Dad tells a true story about a young man who needed weekly kidney dialysis in order to survive. His situation was dire and the only way he was going to keep his body from becoming dangerously toxic was to get to dialysis on time twice a week. He was undisciplined in many areas and often forgot to go to dialysis and became deathly ill on several occasions. And then, his parents set him down and drilled, pounded, and instilled in him the absolute necessity of going to dialysis. Rain or shine...whether he felt like it or not. He decided to make this a habit of his life.

After 21 days of leaving himself reminders, a habit was formed....and one day he looked up and realized he was at the dialysis clinic. He was already hooked up and his blood was already being filtered through the  machines. He never even remembered coming to the clinic or walking into the door. It was now a habit. A life-saving habit.

Is going to church a habit for you? Is missing church no big deal? Does every excuse in the book keep you from gathering together with other believers? Hunting season? Fishing? Shopping? Too cold? Too hot? The list goes on and on...

God knew that we would need to band together as believers in order to fulfill His will for our life. That is why he established the church and emphasized its importance in His Word.

The presence of God is powerful. If you can miss several Sundays and it not even phase you, you may need to check and see if your blood needs filtering. I can guarantee you it does.

There is just something spectacular about corporate praise and worship. When two or more are gathered, God is IN THEIR MIDST. His presence fills my soul and pushes out the worries. Singing and praising Him realigns my priorities, quenches my parched spirit, and recharges my battery. Even though I spend time worshipping Him and praying through out the week, there is just something about experiencing the sweet fellowship of other believers in His House where He dwells. It reminds you, "Hey, I'm not alone. I'm not crazy. God is really who he said He was and these other folks realize the truth as well."

So, needless to say, I am parched and ready for dialysis come Sunday.

Never Knew

I'm learning things this week I never knew.

I never knew the most horrible and frusrating feeling as a mother is to be:

1. puking your guts up
2. running a fever of 102
3. with an excruciating headache
4. listening to your child scream bloody murder behind you
5. as she yanks on your shirt
6. wailing, "Ma, ma! Ma, Moo!"
7. and all you can do...is keep your hair pulled back, lay on the floor, and cry.

That my friend, I never knew.

Strange Gifts & My Fave Ornament

Some people are good with faces. Not me.

Some folks are terrific with names. Not me.

Some people are excellent at recalling dates and song titles. Not me.

So, what is my gift? Well, a couple of things that are REALLY strange.

I can remember folks' license plate numbers. If I ever see you crawl out of your car and I glance at your license plate, I will forever connect you with your license plate number. I may not know who the sam hills you are, cannot for the life of me call your name...but I can say, "Hi, 783 R3F!" I think this gift stemmed from an experience I once had with my parents when we were checking into a hotel and they needed the license plate number and I was sent racing out to the carport to retrieve it and I had to remember it long enough to tell the clerk and I kept repeating it over and over in my head...and the rest is history.

My other strange talent is being able to remember who has given me a gift. If you have ever graced with me with a gift, and I looked at your beaming face as you gave me this gift, I will forever connect you with that item.

For example, I can tell you at this exact moment that my friend Martha gave me the set of salt/pepper shakers sitting on my stove top...and....that my Aunt Cecily gave me a Pampered Chef baking stone...that met an untimely death here......and...that a little girl named Maria gave me a beautiful silver beaded bracelet about 8 years ago and I still wear it regularly...and...

a little boy named Nick gave me this...a retired Christopher Radko ornament that probably costs more than my weekly trip to Wal-Mart which I have always been afraid to hang on  my tree until this year. If my house ever catches on fire, I will grab my child, my Bible, and this ornament...in that order.

and a charming young man named David gave me this...an acrylic eighth note because I was his favorite piano teacher at that time...well, his only piano teacher at that time, but that is beside the point...

and my adorable friend Kim gave me this personalized "we're expecting" ornament when we discovered we were pregnant with Sydscrumptious...

and my precious friend Valerie gave me this hand print making kit for Sydney to forever stamp her hand onto my tree...and permanently implant in my heart forever.

Golly... I suddenly want to have another baby REAL bad.