Share N Tell Time

In the last month, I have:

*Thrown a Mickey Mouse themed birthday party for my baby boy...between the handmade invites, Mickey ears and cupcakes, I spent a good 6 weeks in preparation. No one wanted to wear the ears that caused me many hot glue gun burns and the cupcakes were mediocre at best. At least the invites were cute and I convinced the group to wear the ears for one picture.








*Attended 18 baseball games for my big boys and provided a ridiculous amount of snack food to a very uninterested little brother who cared nothing about a double unless it involved a burger, cheese and a bun.

*Lost aforementioned baby boy…at an aforementioned baseball game…during a thunderstorm. I do have a defense and it’s a rather good one but you’ll have to buy me coffee before I share the horrifying, every-mothers-worst-nightmare details. The sad part is that it's not the first time I've lost a child. I guess I should keep that to myself but who could forget the Disney monorail incident....

*Ran a 5k with some besties and ROCKED it, if I do say so myself, at an average of 10 minutes/mile. Yes, I can say I rocked it because I’ve always and forever loathed running so to do it at that pace is an accomplishment for me. Who cares if I walked with a painful limp for 2 weeks after the race? That’s not important.



At least I ended with a bucket list item….

So, what have you been up to? Can you top my Mother of the Year confession? I'm all 'ears.'

Come on, now. That's pun-ee.

Hodge to the Podge

Although I have a lot to say, little of it has any substance. Still, I have things to say…or blog, rather. These days I seem to be treating my web page as an ongoing post-it note. There are just some things that go on in the day to day that I don’t want to forget so I’m jotting it down in cyber world.

*This morning I attempted to read ‘Jesus Calling’ devotional with the three boys after Dallas had already left. The two older boys were very attentive, which isn’t usually the norm. It may or may not have had something to do with me keeping Dayne in a headlock in order to fulfill my purpose. When it was over, I asked to pray with them. Dagen offered, instead, and it went something like this –

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for this day. Please be with us at school and be with Mommy and Daddy at work. Thank you for always loving us, no matter what we do. Even if we kill someone, we know that you still love us. Thank you for that because we know that you will never stop loving us, even if we kill someone. I pray that we will always follow you and that we’ll live in you….er, I mean, you’ll live in us. Yeah, inside us, not you. Okay. Amen.

Oh gosh. I have to admit that I was a little, uh, concerned after that prayer. I mean, we teach these boys that a sin is a sin and, in God’s eyes, no one sin is worse than another but….um….hmmm. So I just took a moment, praised him for his awesome, honest prayer and then proceeded to clarify that just because we know that we can’t ever lose God’s love, it is not a license to kill. He said he understood and we went on our way but, in the moment, it was a little, well, awkward.

*Last night after Dagen’s game, the boys were all looking for snacks. Since it was almost 9pm when we were finally heading home from the field, I told Dagen that it was late anyway and that the mom responsible just probably forgot. As it turns out, I was that mom that forgot. Boo for deadbeat moms. And contrary to what Dallas says, it was the first time that I had done this. Considering the fact that we’ve had two boys in sports for 3 years now, I’d say I’m not doing too bad. There are worse things I could forget, right? I have never forgotten a kid anywhere...yet. I guess there was that one time I drove all the way home, talking on the phone and, as I pulled in the driveway, realized they were still at school. But that only happened once and was a long time ago so....

And since we’re on the subject of baseball, I’ve got a couple of sluggers in my house. They’ve each got homeruns under their belt and we’re only 1/3 of the way through the season. I couldn’t be more proud of these fellers.

I have no idea why my video and photo are posting like this but they are. I like things symmetrical and uniform and this is really messing with me tonight.

*I’m running my first 5k next Friday. I’m in my 7th week of training for it and I feel ready, although it is definitely not on my list of favorite things to do every other day. My knees hurt, my right ankle swells a little and I just don’t love to sweat but anyone who knows me well knows that for me to run 35 minutes straight is a pretty big deal. Seriously. In middle/high school, I was a P.E. teacher’s worst nightmare {and yet I married one!} No, really. There was nothing that could make me run or even walk for that matter. I preferred activities like scooter football or scooter soccer….something that didn’t involve me doing much physical work. When it came time for the one-mile run, I probably broke the school record but it was not for fastest time. And when they would try and force me to do the long jump or hurdles, I generally found some excuse that revolved around a monthly cycle. Yep, like I said, a big pain. So, as you can see, the fact that I’m willingly running 3.2 miles in one stretch is quite the accomplishment for me. Stay tuned for my actual time.

In other news, I am absolutely loving my new job and am reminded daily of God’s grace and mercy that I do not deserve. My life is crazy but filled with laughter and joy. And even on those hard days, I can rest in knowing that God is still God and God is still GOOD.

That’s all for now, folks.

A Weekend to Remember

Have you seen National Lampoons Christmas Vacation? You know that part where the tree catches on fire and you’re thinking, ‘Seriously? Can’t the dude catch a break? All he wants is a little bonus and a big tree!’ Well, with confidence, I can say that I can relate. Or we, rather. The only difference is that we were on a camping vacation, not Christmas.

I don’t even know where to begin, really. My intention was to give you a detailed play-by-play but I’ve decided to just do a summary recap of events to avoid any bitterness that might form again from too thorough of a review on my part.

Okay, so we got a camper about a month ago. It’s a 2001 Jayco Pop-Up and was in excellent shape for being 11 years old. We were super excited {yes, even me} to take it out for the first time to Calhoun Falls, a state park set on Lake Russell which is down on the Georgia border. We headed out on a Friday afternoon and the hour-and-a-half drive went great. Dallas proudly drove the van that was towing our prized possession and threw a few nods at other drivers as they admired our camper {or so BigD thought}. All in all, we were off to a good start. The next 48 hours, however, was a horse of a different color.

5:30pm – arrived at state park with zero signal for my phone. Yes, that is a notable tragedy

6:30pm – during water hookup, Dallas discovered leak #1 that occurred thanks to the faucet being in the ‘on’ position {courtesy of some little hands fiddling with them} which caused water to pour in on the floor that just so happened to be where our couch cushions were sitting

7:15pm – hurricane-like winds blew in while Dallas was still setting up; boys were starving; I rushed everyone {minus Dallas} to the van and fed them half-frozen mini pizzas and Slim Jims for dinner as they asked me if Daddy was going to blow away in the camper

8:00pm – we all entered camper while rain continued to pour, Dallas discovered that he broke a piece on the door which allowed unwanted bugs inside, and the boys were bouncing off the walls sides. I think this was the first time I said that I wanted to go home

8:15pm – I heard something break outside the camper. Next thing I knew, Dallas came in and told me that he had been mildly electrocuted and, as a result, dropped and broke our only flashlight

8:30pm – portable toilet was set up in the kitchenette. Keepin’ it classy, folks.

9:30pm – everyone was cranky and put to bed, including myself

1:30am – leak #2 sprouted sometime in the night due to another faucet issue and, once again, flooded the floor

The next day was not nearly as bad. I mean, I obviously don’t love the ‘bath house’ concept but the weather turned out pretty nice, the leaks were repaired and we enjoyed some nice time with family. I learned a few lessons when it comes to packing for these types of weekends. For example, one bath towel is not enough, especially when said towel was used to clean up leak #1 and we were left with no towels. Thankfully, Dallas’ aunt came to our rescue. Oh and probably the most important lesson I learned? Either bring 10 pairs of socks per child or only bring sandals. They were forever getting dirty and, for whatever reason, these crazies thought it was okay to walk around in the dirt with only their socks on. It’s like they left their brains at mile marker 42 or something – why on earth?!? Yes, I let little things like that stress me out but, as I’ve already said, it was a lesson learned. Here are the only two pictures taken because…wait for it…my camera battery was dead. Naturally.

All set up...

Isn't it ironic that I took a picture of the sink, given the grief that it caused? I was actually just admiring my cute little 3-in-1 griddle/toaster oven/coffee pot...

And the final day – oh, what a day it was. As did the first one, it started out really well. The weather was beautiful, the boys went out for a boat ride with Uncle Joe, we ate fried bologna, egg and cheese sandwiches {hold your vomit, please – it was quite tasty} and just hung out. The boys rode their bikes, we took nice walks and just enjoyed time where we weren’t running here, there and everywhere.

But then we headed home and that, my friends, is where it all bottomed out. As we were traveling on I-85, about 20 minutes from home, a lady drove up next to us, rolled down her window and was trying to tell us something. It sounded a whole lot like, ‘Your tag fell off’ and she was pointing to the back. We assumed the license plate had fallen off and were bummed we might have to pay the $20 replacement fee but just thanked her with a smile and a wave. It wasn’t long before we realized that she was saying, ‘Your ENTIRE BACK END {and spare tire} fell off.’ Or something like that. You see, when we pulled in to park the camper at home, this is what we found -



It was just like the lady said - the back is gone! From what we can gather, a family of Japanese hornets made their home in the tail end of the camper at some point in the last 11 years and hollowed out one of the main boards holding it all together. For whatever reason, maybe the weight of the spare tire on the back {which is still MIA} was too much for the tail but it all flew off somewhere between White Horse and Laurens Road on the interstate.

Apparently searching for old hornet nests is not a part of a standard camper inspection. One more lesson learned, I suppose.

This is where my, ‘Seriously? Can we not catch a break here?’ Clark Griswold comparison comes into play. Because how exactly does this happen? Let me break it down for you – IT DOESN’T. Ever. Even the multiple repair men we talked to last week had never heard of it. Listen, I’m all for setting ‘first time’ records but not so much in this category.

Alas, we're just going to get back on this horse and ride. We've already scheduled our next camping weeked over Memorial Day, assuming, of course, the replacement parts arrive in time. Here's the good news - it can't really get much worse than this, right?

Out of the Mouths of Babes

As I was driving the boys to school today, I was privy to an entertaining conversation between Dagen and Davis. And, for the record, they are not all entertaining but every now and then, they change it up for dear ole’ Ma.

Davis: Bubby, do you know my friend Cass said a bad word at school yesterday?
Dagen: He did? What did he say?
Me: Um, whatever it was, let’s not repeat it.
Davis: {in a quiet whisper} He said the ‘F’ word.
Me: {insert head spin} HE SAID WHAT?!?
Dagen: Oooh. Did he have to flip a card? Calling someone fat is really bad.

Now, not to discount this at all because I’m obviously not okay with any sort of name calling but given the fact that I almost fell out of my driver's seat when I heard them refer to the ‘f’ word, I was a bit relieved to find out what they were really talking about.

Seriously, though. Had one of them dropped the real ‘bomb,’ I would have died. They are 7 and 5 and think that the word ‘stupid’ is also known as the ‘s’ word and I’d love to keep it that way for, oh, another 10 years if possible.

It’s funny. Most days, I find myself wishing they would grow up in hopes that they would pick up after themselves and properly clean out their own crack {although their father is only 1-for-2….or so I assume}. However, when I hear conversations like these, I want them to stay young forever.

Needless to say, I'd like to see Jesus come back before these boys hit middle school. I'm really not so sure about those years.

Where's that darn fountain of youth anyway?

A Divine Intervention

These last few days of my life have been an amazing roller coaster ride. Not in the losing-your-lunch sort of way because who in the world could call that amazing? I’m talking about the are-you-serious, I-am-in-total-disbelief, get-out-of-town kind of way. I just {heart} hyphens - don't you?

Go back with me about two months and you’ll recall an update on how I was able to work out a new schedule at my job. I was ecstatic. It really was a dream come true – to be able to maintain my career in the number-crunching world and still be able to endure enjoy the carline every day at 2:30.

Sure, I still had to get up every morning at 5:15 and make the 30-minute commute with a crabby pre-preschooler {who would also lose a half-hour of his nap when I picked him up early in the afternoon which made for super-fun manic meltdowns on I-85} in order to put in my hours so that I could face aforementioned carline. And although I was working reduced hours, my workload wasn’t decreasing which meant 120% when I was in the office or it went home with me {boo!} Oh and the work….well, let’s just say that it’s not all peaches and petunias in the world of physician finance. It’s a tid bit stressful. Okay, that’s a lie. It’s a whole lotta pressure and anxiety. One might not understand why but just trust me when I say that it is. And once you factor in healthcare reform, the load wasn’t looking any lighter in the foreseeable future.

Reading back over that list, coupled with all the other activities going on in our lives right now, I really shouldn’t wonder where the cardiologist visits came from. It’s pretty clear. Even if it is a technical condition, my lifestyle was clearly exacerbating it. It’s probably no fluke that many of the ‘episodes’ occurred while at my desk. Nope, not when chasing Dayne over, under and through the clothing racks at Target or giving out disciplinary spoons to Dagen for backtalk {yes, Davis gets in trouble, too….every now and then}; instead, they usually came after another ‘long’ day at the office where my task list was long and my fuse was short.

I know, I know. You’re probably wondering when I'm going to get to the amazing ride. Well, that’s the thing. In one person’s eyes, you may not see it as that but it really was an answer to prayer that I hadn’t even prayed. When I got the call about a possible job opening at our church, I immediately thought it wasn’t for me. Not because I didn’t want to work for my church. I mean, come on. I LOVE my church. I have lots of friends who are on staff. I hear about their meetings and they sound NOTHING like mine. Prayer and praise time over cookies and coffee? Huh uh, I'm not familiar.

No, it wasn’t because I didn’t want it. Quite the opposite, actually. It was a combination of two things – 1) I didn’t feel worthy and 2) I didn’t see how it could work out financially.

The first reason is pretty normal, right? How could this large church want me on their team? It was an honor I felt I didn’t deserve. To join such an awesome team seemed out of my reach. However, after lots of time alone with the Lord and prayers for discernment, I felt such a peace about the decision. It was like God was reminding me that I don’t always have to ask for blessings before He will give them to me. He knows us better than we do which means He knows what is best for us. Isn’t that comforting?

And then there’s that second reason that’s a bit on the silly, superficial side - finances. How could I go from senior rank in the corporate world to a position in the church and still make ends meet? Don’t be misguided – we don’t live this superstar lifestyle that I felt we needed to maintain. In fact, that just gave me quite a chuckle. Seriously, though. We have what I would consider a modest house {that just happens to be in a very nice subdivision and which we bought at a great price}, we drive cars that are making some very noticeable noises when going through the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru {ahem, husband – please take note} and, since I just mentioned fast food, we rarely eat out unless we either have a coupon in hand or it’s a kids-eat-free promotion. Instead of purchasing new, when possible, we hold out for a deal on Craigslist or at Goodwill. Our date nights consist of a Netflix movie and Japanese take-out. Don't be jealous.

Now don’t hear what I’m not saying because I am not even trying to brag. We aren’t always smart with our spending habits, either, but we really do try and be good stewards with what God has blessed us and have, just this year, increased our offerings above our normal tithes each month. So after working the numbers out for a few days after this opportunity came about, it’s like it all mysteriously fit together. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I’ve heard the saying, ‘You can’t outgive God’ and I am seeing it in living color. I also just read somewhere that if it is God’s vision, He will show provision.

Obviously I took the job. I mean, there is no question in my heart that this was from the Lord, which excites me even more. For those that don’t know the logistics, our church is 5 minutes from our house, Dagen & Davis’ elementary school, Dallas’ school and Dayne’s new preschool. The close proximity will allow me to still pick them up every day and, for that, I am so grateful. Sadly {insert sarcasm}, I will be saying farewell to the long commute with flying books, rising gas prices and Dictator Dayne who doesn’t understand why I can’t just snap my fingers and make Mandisa’s ‘Stronger’ song cue up on the radio every morning and afternoon. Oh yes, I’ll miss those times…PSYCH.

As my friends, please pray with me during this transition. I really did/do love my job working with physicians but am grateful for the chance to serve my church in this capacity. I just hope that I can bless those that I will work with, that I will become an integral part of the staff, that I will bring useful talents and traits to my team and that, above all, I will honor and glorify Jesus. After all, I’m just along for this amazing ride.

*Ready for a ‘crazy’ example of provision? I have unclaimed property in Missouri. Not like a piece of farm land but some overpayment of a utility bill or something that warrants them to send me a refund of about $100 that I just found out about today. YES, PLEASE AND THANK YOU!! {thanks, CS!}

Me and My Big Mouth

Remember the awesome fanny pack that I was prescribed? Well, I am happy to report that a) I am done wearing it and b) I managed to not drop it {or all its little plugs and wires} into the toilet. That in and of itself is a huge PRAISE. And now for the results….

Okay, before I tell you what Yogi said, I have to tell you that this was just another humorous visit. Not because of what the doc said but because of my sick lil’ sidekick that escorted me this morning.

Thanks to an annoying little cough and a sudden fever {remember how I had just bragged on our health?!?}, I didn’t have any choice but to take Dayne with me this morning. And {insert sarcasm} boy was that fun and exciting.

When we first walked in to the doctor’s office to check in, I honestly wondered if they were offering a 2-for-1 Senior Citizen special because there was no one under the age of 55. Now, I’m not hatin’ on the oldies; however, when I’m rolling in with a little guy bearing a big cough, I don’t get the Goo Goo Grandma looks – I get the Mean ‘Ole Margaret looks. It’s like they left their compassionate red hats at home or something….

And when I say big cough, I mean BIG cough – the kind that sounds like he’s hacking up a hairball {and since he has no problems eating off a floor, it’s quite possible}. It also didn’t help that Dayne just frowned at the first lady that would even give him the time of day. Seriously, kid. You’re not helping the cause.

After we got called back to the room and my stats were taken, we waited. And waited. And waited. Since Dayne being with me was not so much planned, I had limited forms of entertainment to keep him happy. All I could conjure up in a pinch from the backseat of our car was a book with many rips, a package of wipes, a couple of broken crayons and a dried up container of Floam. We looked through all the pictures and tried our hand at some toddler-type games on my iPhone but he wasn’t interested. My normal go-to with the boys, especially Dayne, is food. However, all I could find was two red-and-green peanut M&Ms in the bottom of my purse.

Obviously after waiting about 30 minutes, we were both getting restless. I may have mumbled a question to myself but fortunately Yogi arrived a moment later. Unfortunately, it happened to come right after said conversation with self which apparently was overheard because when the doctor said, ‘Good morning, Mrs. Darnell,’ my sweet son said, ‘What took so long?’ Note to self - Dayne has no filter.

After we reviewed my results, he informed me that I do have PVC’s – premature ventricular contractions. Basically that means that my ventricles contract first which then makes the circulation inefficient. Bored yet?

The good news is that I’m not crazy AND I’m not at risk for heart attack or stroke. However, the bad news is that there is nothing they can do. He told me that typically he would put a patient on a beta-blocker medication to help but apparently those meds lower blood pressure and, because mine is already very low, it would do more harm than good. He confirmed that some things do exacerbate these PVCs, namely smoking, alcohol and stress. Since I only struggle with 1 out of the 3, I should be in good shape right?

I’m sure he had to laugh a little on the inside. Here he is telling me that the best way to control these episodes is to reduce my stress while, at the same time, Dayne is repeatedly telling me that he has to poop and that he wants to go home and watch Mickey Mouse and that he's hungry. Obviously I would love to eliminate stress and I am actually very fortunate to have some changes coming that will help in a BIG way but there are some that cannot be controlled which means I just have to deal with the icky feeling I get when the episodes come over me. Oh and he did say I should increase my salt intake. I guess that helps. Of course, in my mind I’m immediately thinking, ‘But then I’ll end up a water buffalo from the water retention.’ I chose to keep that thought silent.

All in all, I’m very thankful for the diagnosis. It could have been much worse. I won’t lie – a part of me was hoping some miracle drug would fix it all but I’m good with this. My trust is in Jesus and I just have to work harder at simplifying my life and surrendering daily.

Oh but the funnies weren’t over when we left. As we’re walking down the hallway to the check out desk, something caught my attention and I looked away from Dayne. MONUMENTAL MISTAKE. When I turned around, he was opening a door to another patient room. Luckily, I did not make eye contact with whoever was in there because I might have fainted right there and it wouldn’t have had anything to do with PVCs.

Just as I thought my mortifying moments had ended for the morning, Dayne proved me wrong. As we made our way out to the parking lot, a cute old lady was sitting in a wheelchair waiting for someone to pick her up. As we passed by, she waved at Dayne. He didn’t wave back. Instead he stared and, unlike me, didn’t keep his thoughts to himself. He said, ‘Why you have those things in your nose? What are those?’ As luck would have it, she couldn’t understand him but I did. Loud and clear.

Nope, never a dull moment. Oh and in case you were wondering….

Yes, I fed him the Christmas candy and no, I don’t wonder why he’s sick right now.

The Same One

Davis: ‘Daddy, what’s for dinner?’
Dayne: 'I'll tell you what's for dinner. A punch in the face. That's what.'

I’m sorry. What has happened here? When did my little boy turn into a mouthy little monster?

In case you didn’t know, that was a hypothetical. I know what happened. It’s the same thing that has happened with all my boys. Their 'goob' of a father…..

…the same one that forces me to call a weekly Pantry Pow-Wow for the two of us to discuss his recent pile driver technique on the boys.

…the same one I have to remind that hitting soccer balls with the baseball bat in the dining room is probably not a good idea.

…the same one that has taught them how to make their spit stretch to the ground.


However, this man is also

…the same one that plays baseball/soccer/football/kickball/Nerf guns with these boys EVERY.SINGLE.DAY until it’s dark and/or his shoulder/knee/thumb is aching.

…the same one that thoroughly enjoys eating popcorn and watching silly movies with them.

…the same one that reminds them daily who they are in the eyes of Jesus, not the world, and encourages them to be different.

I don’t deserve such a man but am extremely thankful nonetheless. I just pray my boys grow up to be the same kind of 'goobs' as their daddy.