For almost all of their lives, the people I love (kids, spouse, family) got the credit for me getting up each morning. I have since learned, God is my greatest motivator. He is the reason I get up each morning. Every single day is one more chance to thank God for all that I’ve been blessed with. Every single day is more chance for me to sing God’s praises. Every single day is one more day with the people I love.
Every single day my husband and I get one more chance to teach these young boys/men to grow into God-loving, faithful men who walk with great passion for Christ, integrity, and love for all people. I pray that we are teaching them to make sound decisions, to be steadfast and to solve their problems with goodness for another in mind rather than themselves.
Only through God can we accomplish the task of raising sons obedient to the Lord.
These words, which I am commanding you today,shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up. ~ Deuteronomy 6:6-7
(if you know him, you know what the initials stand for)
Wt: 8 lbs 5 oz
Ht: 21″ long
Blue eyes, Blackish-Brown hair
Wt: 150 lbs
Ht: 5 ft 10 in
Blue eyes, Brown hair
As a baby, he was colicky so he cried a lot. He liked to be snuggled close, held tightly. He was a nervous baby, but he was funny and loving and excited by the world around him. When his little brother came along a couple years later, he helped soothe baby brother during baby brother’s crying bouts (which weren’t often, he was much happier baby). Mr. D was quite protective of baby brother and loved to play with him, make him laugh, snuggle him. In those toddler years, Mr. D was easy to potty train, loved being outside, was picky about his food, and enjoyed playing anything with a ball — as most toddlers do 🙂 He was always excited when his dad got home, wanted to ride the motorcycle with his dad, and couldn’t wait to ‘help’ his dad…..you know! Tools! With me, he wanted to be helpful with baby brother or whatever else I was doing, wanted me to keep him entertained, and wanted to play at the park.
Over the next few years, as he entered elementary-age childhood, he became more independent, he got involved in sports from a very young age. He enjoyed swimming, track, basketball, football, wrestling, and gymnastics (maybe a few more). With each passing year, he became a little more of who he is, his friendships grew stronger, and his sports involvement became more focused. In those elementary years, he discovered more about himself: his likes/dislikes, his comforts/sorrows, his strengths/weaknesses, and he accumulated some successes/failures.
As he entered middle and high school, he had pretty much narrowed down his sports activities to basketball and football, with football being priority. He has developed his own values based on what he’s been taught and what he’s fine-tuned for himself at his age. He’s spent more time building his friendships and one special relationship (she knows who she is ♥), meeting his responsibilities of work and school, and cementing the familial bonds over the last few years. He’s still an anxious person who worries all the time. He’s still a joy to be around and one who can make people laugh, but is not afraid to say what he thinks — within reason, of course. He’s got a wonderful personality and will only continue fine-tuning the fine young man that he already is.
It all seems to be going so fast now. To soon the little booger will be graduated and off to college.
I love this young man with all my heart and I am so very proud of him ♥♥♥
More boys coming up in the house, but tonight I was at the first home game of my Picadilly’s last year of high school football – senior year.
First, before the mushy tribute to my 2016-2017 graduating young man, I’d like to say how exciting this game was. His team lost, but there were some very thrilling highlights. And, of course, it was awesome just being there to watch my son play!
Now for the mushy……
All the many years ago, when this little guy was still just a wee-wittle guy (crying all the time which could have been colick or the nerves/patience of your parents), my mind never looked to his future. Not because I didn’t envision a future for him, but because I was so busy — busy trying to get us both through those first couple of years (looking back, maybe I was more anxious than I realized), busy loving him, caring for him, raising him. When his dad and I broke up, I just got busier being his mom because time with him became limited as he lived/s with his dad. Over the years, I’ve watched him grow and change, throw fits and get mad, laugh and cry. I’ve watched him succeed and fail. I have watched him take what his dad and I have taught him to heart and to fine tune those teachings into what makes him who he is — his values, his convictions, his strengths and weaknesses, his quirks, his views. I watched as maturity began to set in. No, I am under no illusions that he’s as mature as he will ever be….only time and life experience can do that, but he’s as mature as any other kid his age.
I’ve witnessed his hurts. I’ve held him through his tears. I’ve nursed his broken heart episodes. I’ve bandaged his boo-boos. I’ve spent 17 years building a relationship with this softer-than-he-will-ever-admit soul who changed my world. I wholeheartedly and happily admit he’s the momma’s boy in our home who isn’t so momma’s-boyish that it hinders his growth (as I’ve personally witnessed with some of the male species I’ve met). I have been cause, a time or two…., for some of his sadnesses, angry outbursts, tears, smiles, and laughter. I’ve prayed endlessly for him. I continue to pray for him, his life now, his future – whatever it may be. I’ve been there for him and I’ve been selfish. I wasn’t there with him on his first day of grade school, but I volunteered in his classroom numerous times through his grade school years. I haven’t made every game of every sport that he’s ever played, but I’ve tried to make it to most of them. I’ve been his biggest fan his whole life, but I haven’t been the most visible one at times. I’ve sat quietly, for the most part, in the background – greedily taking all the time I could have with him. Throughout the years, that time has been consistent although at different points more frequent. Whatever it was, it was every bit appreciated and cherished. As with any parent, I have years of memories that we’re created sitting tucked away and safe in the Picadilly vault that comes built within every parent for his/her child.
And now we are here – his senior year.
I am not sure about most parents and their feelings about the first senior, but me….
Me – I am excited and sad. I am anxiously awaiting the impending date of his graduation. Anxiously, I say, because my heart is heavy with the thought of him beginning his life as an adult, stepping into this big world without a thought of what is to come. Anxiously because my heart is full of joy at the young man he is now, the young man he is becoming, and the future for him. I have all the doubts of any mother. I have all the hopes of any parent. I have all the dreams (my own and ones he’s talked about) for him. I am trying to convince myself that he’s ready to be in this world. However, the confidence that his dad and I properly prepared him is somewhat lacking.
Then, I have to remember, my dreams for him are not as important as his dreams for himself. My fears are big, but his are just as big, possibly bigger (although he will never admit it). As I sat to watch his first home game of his last year of high school football – his senior year, it took me back. Back to my senior year. Back to his father. Back to that moment in time, senior/junior year, when his father and I found out we were going to become parents.
Never, ever, ever have I regretted the decision to bring that precious little boy into the world. In fact, nothing else but delivering a healthy baby ever occurred to me when I found out about this wonderful bundle of joy. I have never regretted the relationship that allowed him to be created. I have loved every moment (even the hard ones and being a young mom there were plenty) of being his mom. As I sat and watched the game, I watched my ‘little’ big young man out on that field, willing him to enjoy every moment of this year. I said a prayer to the Lord, as I sat cheering in the stands, that he would make this year one of his most memorable ones yet, but one in which he remains safe and continues to make the right choices. As I sat and watched my not-so-perfect, but oh-so-perfect son scuff his cleat through the grass with some disappointment after a dropped ball , I witnessed – one more time – his strong personality, strong as it can be for his age. I looked at him to see what I’ve seen a million times over – my little boy who is now living in an almost full-grown body (a little more growing yet, I think).
My little boy.
My little boy with a heart of gold.
My little boy who cried at the boo-boos who now brushes off the boo-boos.
My little boy who gets anxious when something changes in his routine — I wouldn’t ever believe the anxiety if I didn’t witness it myself. (I am not an anxious person ??? – at least I don’t think so – and I am not sure about his dad as the years since our break-up are many).
My little boy who wanted to be just like his daddy when he was still a little boy, but grew up so different from his dad in so many ways, yet, not so different really at all.
My little boy who seems so gruff and cocky at first meeting, but who’s heart melts as he scoops up his little baby sister in his arms, to give her loves after not seeing her throughout the week. The very same little girl who’s nails he painted when she asked.
My little boy who has made mistakes because we all do, but never been in any real trouble. He’s shown much maturity and responsibility in his teen years. One thankful momma right here!
My little boy who shows much bravado, but a little boy who I know the ‘real’ him, that part of him he only shows to the people that mean the most to him.
My little boy who is so fiercely protective of those that he loves.
My little boy who’s never been in a fight with anyone other than his brother/s (that ever popular sibling fighting/wrestling), who (I’m hoping) tries to avoid fighting, but who would (I know) stand his ground when needed, who would defend someone who needed defending, who doesn’t anticipate a fight (encourage a fight) but would defend himself in a fight without succumbing to fear.
My little boy who deflects uncomfortable situations with trying to make others laugh.
My little boy who likes to be ‘in’ the attention at times, but who also likes to give the attention at times.
My little boy who shows strength, character, selfishness, love, laughter, forgiveness, rudeness and/or opinionated-ness, and kindness.
And I love each and every part of who is. I love the kindness in his heart. I love the love he spreads around him. I love – don’t always like, but always love – the stinky attitude he gets. Chalk it up to some rudeness just because, teenage angst, and being a boy (yes, because he’s a boy! wired completely different than me – a female counterpart 😉 ).
My Picadilly, this is written especially for you, for the first person I fell in love with without expecting anything back – the epitome of love. I was but a child when I had you who grew into a young woman, a mother, overnight. Being pregnant was the first step in my motherhood journey, but you made me into a mom. You have taught me a lot about myself, about life as a parent over the course of your life. I love you, buddy. I love you more than you will ever know. And I am so very proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far and of all the future accomplishments you are going to achieve. I am so very happy that I was blessed to be your mom, to bring you into this world, to watch you grow, and get to continue to be your biggest fan, now and in the future.
I am praying that you will make this a great year. In fact, I am demanding that you make this an awesome year. As they say, you only get this year once. When it’s over, it’s over. You can’t go back. You can’t undo. You can’t relive. So live it. Stay out of trouble but don’t be afraid to make mistakes — small ones ;). Enjoy this year because being a senior is a BIG stepping stone into the adult world. After this, you are pretty much accountable for every action you take, every reaction you make –even more so than in these previous years because when you graduate, the law (maybe not the world and never me, but the law) will see you as an adult.
Love mom ❤
One mushy writing down, a few dozen more to go.
Happy Senior Year, My Picadilly. I love you to the moon and back ♥♥♥
One popular comment I hear when I tell people about the number of children we have is:
“Oh, you must be so busy.”
For a very long time my conclusion was this:
“If you have more than one child, the number doesn’t really matter. A mother with only two kids can be just as or even more busy than me with 8 children.”
Pretty much all my time is spent with my children, taking care of my home, or doing something family oriented. Times away from them include date nights with my hunny, trips mu husband and I have taken, or visits with friends or family when my hubby is home. Then there’s the times that my hubby takes the children with him which is something that happened most recently. He took five of the eight kiddos with him for the day to the county fair. I knew it was going to be a long day with no rest time or reprieve for the young ones so I decided to stay home with them.
Turns out that two kids for the day was very simple. I reached a new conclusion:
Yes, I am busier with 8 children than I would be with 2, 3, etc. etc.
And that got me to thinkin’…..
I have grown so used to having all the kids with me pretty much all the time because that’s what my husband and I have decided is best for our children. And I love it! I am so very thankful that I am able to stay home with them. The day he had most of the kids with him, I felt……I didn’t quite know what to do. The girls and I enjoyed that time together. Reading, coloring, playing, going for a couple of walks, visiting my sisters….it was a great day. It wasn’t different than our run-of-the-mill days except there were only two kids and I realized how much quieter it was in the house. Less arguing, less door slams from running in and out, less food to prepare……just less work in general and this brought to mind my early motherhood years when I had my first child.
I enjoyed that day when it was just the two girls and I, but I appreciate having all my kids. I wouldn’t change it for all the gold in the world. For anything. I would have each and every one of them all over again if I was given a re-do.
Twelve years ago I met the man I am blessed to call my husband. He wasn’t a prince by any means. He came from a working class family who attended Mass multiple times a week. They have a deeply rooted faith in God that extends to every facet of their life. He was taught to work hard and earn an honest living which is evident in everything he does. He worked hard, but he also played hard. His interests were wide and his responsibilities low. He had no wife — obviously. He had no children. He had no debt. He worked for his money and he saved it. At that point in his life, he was able to pay cash for most purchases. His work required him to travel so he didn’t put down roots of his own. When he was home (the town where he was born and raised) from a job, he stayed with his folks. When he wasn’t home, he was working. As I said, no prince by Webster’s Dictionary definition, but he WAS, IS and always WILL BE my prince. We fell crazy mad in love and have been together every since. We had to work at it. A LOT! But here we are, 12 years later and still going strong, through outside issues, children, etc….you know, just life.
But, the focus here is not he and I per se, but what we created. I brought three children into the relationship with me and we proceeded to have five more, as most of my readers know. So, there it be….what we created: our first creation turned out to be twins. Boys! When we found out I was pregnant that first time, he told me a story. Without including all the detail, the story basically consists of his prayer to God that he not have kids until he was 25.
So, here we are, 12 years later and quickly approaching the birthday of our first creation: our twins. What a blessing that pregnancy turned out to be. Don’t get me wrong, all my pregnancies have been a blessing. How could they not? Almost every one ended with a beautiful, tiny little human being placed in my arms. We did have a miscarriage at one point, but that little blessing who didn’t make it into my arms was surely welcomed into his/her forever home: heaven. Anyway, the pregnancy with the twins turned out to be a blessing for multiple reasons:
They were twins! It was scary, but exhilarating. We were super excited!
They were their dad’s birthday present as the three of them share a birthday, and….drum roll please….
They were born on his 25th birthday!
Now, someone please tell me that God doesn’t answer our prayers!
We have created many stories in our years together, but that story has to be my all-time favorite!
I love my wonderful husband to the moon and back.
And I love the family that we have created as he has loved the three whom I brought into the relationship with me without skipping a beat. We are truly gracious for the wonderful man that my husband is. Servant to God. Wonderful man. Amazing husband. Fantastic father.
Happy birthday to the man I love, the man who taught me the true meaning of lifetime love. I wouldn’t want to share this life with anyone else. Every day I wake up to a prayer that gets answered over and over with each rising sun. For that, my heart leaps with joy.
Happy birthday to our twin boys who added more of everything into our lives. Twin A and Twin B, yes you are twins –identical even — but don’t think for one second that one is less valued because both of you are unique, created exactly as God planned. We are grateful for each of you.
Who I am now is not exactly who I used to be, but I Am Exactly That Girl.
I am exactly that girl who will stand up and take the side of the little guy even when the little guy is wrong just because he/she is the little guy. And everyone picks on the little guy!
I am exactly that girl who will fight for what I believe in even when it means proving that I am in the wrong because admitting our faults is (or at least should be) commendable.
I am exactly that girl who will love another with all my heart and soul through most anything. I say most because I haven’t been through everything that one can go through.
I am exactly that girl who will admit that I’m wrong after fighting for minutes or hours just to prove otherwise.
I am exactly that girl who will say what I think because thinking comes later although I am getting better at thinking first and controlling the urge to say exactly that.
I am exactly that girl who forgives over and over and over again only to forgive again. I can’t fathom a life in which forgiveness is withheld. They say to grant forgiveness to another is to make oneself feel better, more at peace. But (and it could be skewed), in my way of thinking, I forgive another not only because God forgives me, but also because –in some small way — it gives the other person the ability to grow the relationship. For instance, if I wrong my husband in some way for him to grant forgiveness to me, he is opening his heart to the Lord, but it also opens my heart to him again as well as to the Lord. Does that make sense?
I am exactly that girl who may not offer the most eloquent advice to another in times of need, but I will offer the kindest piece of advice that I can in hopes of making said person feel better. I am not knowledgeable in the ways of the world so my advice will seem like the small state of Rhode Island as akin to the large state of Alaska, totally dwarfed by more worldly people than myself, but you can bet whatever I do say comes from deep within my heart meant to make the other person feel better and aren’t just words to fill the void.
I am exactly that girl who will argue over absolutely nothing if I feel that another is trying to pacify me, but is not really hearing me. Oooh, that’s so frustrating.
I am exactly that girl who will get the stupidest grin/blank stare on my face, or just giggle at another in moments when I don’t know what to say in response because no matter what I say, it’s not going to do any good. Ask my husband, he will tell you. And it drives him nuts!
I am exactly that girl who will cry with happiness, laugh with nervousness, and get angry with hurt feelings. It’s all backwards!
I am exactly that girl who enjoys dancing in the rain, sitting outside in 90 degree heat, or listening to country music. All. Day. Long.
I am exactly that girl who looks at my children in awe that God blessed me as their mother. To explain, they are the blessing that I received.
I am exactly that girl who looks at the world with a child’s innocence, seeing everything with excitement for the first time. For example, my husband and I traveled to St. Louis a few years ago for a short stay and during this trip, I got to see Denver for the first time (a quick layover). And I was like a child in a candy store! Being in a city that size was exhilarating and eye-opening.
I am exactly that girl who makes a hasty decision which often times goes bust and is considered strike 1, or 2, or 10 until lesson learned. 10 may seem like a lot, and it very well may be, but sometimes, 10 is needed. No examples right off hand though 🙂
I am exactly that girl who carries more in my heart than anyone close to me will ever really know. What I am saying out loud is probably not even half of what is actually in my heart (feelings, thoughts, dreams, hopes, etc).
I am exactly that girl who may say a whole lot at times, but not really be saying anything at all or vice versa.
I am exactly that girl who will try to avoid confrontation with others (this doesn’t always pertain to family — I’m more mouthy with them).
I am exactly that girl who is shy until I get to know you then you can’t get me to shut-up.
I am exactly that girl who can be silly and weird, but serious and stern when needed.
I am exactly that girl who thinks the push, the fight for women’s rights has taken or forgotten the very heart of what makes us women, the very heart of what separates us from the male species to make us the equal of that same population. We are not meant to be a man’s equal in the way that it’s pushed. Women and men were created differently because the roles each sex fills requires the strengths or weaknesses of the sex it applies to. God created all humans equally in terms of His likeness, but He created male and female in order to populate the earth and to live the relationship of and as such as that of Christ and the Church. Quite simply, the two roles are not and not meant to be interchangeable. Appreciate God’s wisdom and gladly accept the role you’ve been given as you are the only one that can fulfill the duties of that role. Women are not less, women are not more than their male counterparts. They simply fulfill the demands of their given roles, as do men. If male and female roles were meant to be interchangeable then God wouldn’t have seen to it to create a male and a female.
I am exactly that girl who, through devotional readings and daily prayers, strives daily to be the kind of person that God created me to be, the very best version of myself.
I am exactly that girl who digs in her heels at the most inopportune moments for reasons that make no sense to another, but make all the sense in the world to me.
I am exactly that girl who is easy to get along with but just as hard to deal with once in a disagreement with.
I am exactly that girl who lives every aspect of life with the same gusto: emotionally charged and mentally relaxed. I am an intelligent person who can hold my own when needed, but excitement of me is not found so much in my intelligence as it is in my emotions. There are few things in this life that get me riled and most all of them stem from my relationships with others (the more important I consider the relationship, the more riled I get).
I am exactly that girl who is loyal to those closest to me. If you are someone I hold close to my heart (friend, family or even foe depending on nature of being foe), I am loyal to you regardless of how loyal you may be to me. My loyalty stems from my own beliefs of you, my faith in God, and of myself. Your loyalty to me has no bearing on that.
I am exactly that girl who keeps most, if not all, commitments that I make. I hate to let people down and I hate not following through on my word. If I have any doubt as to whether or not I can or will do something, rest assured I will not say that I can or will.
I am exactly that girl who will take what is said to me with a grain of salt from someone who doesn’t know me. I firmly believe that those who matter don’t mind and those who mind don’t matter, but more importantly, God matters at all times so what He minds always counts.
I am exactly that girl: that woman with all them kids, that friend who shows up unannounced just to make you feel better, that wife who is not perfect in any way but loves her husband with all her heart, that daughter who needs her mother during moments of heartbreak, that sister who will tell it like it is because sometimes that’s how it needs to be said, that child of God constantly asking for His forgiveness while seeking His love, and that girl who appreciates kind words, big hugs, and quiet time.
I have to say that this daily prompt is kind of fun.
And, yes! It has everything to do with being a mom. As many of you know, or at least I hope it’s known, I am a family person. I love anything family. Cookouts. Celebrations. Reunions. Vacations. My life revolves around my family, namely my husband and children. Most of my posts are in some way tied to family, mine or someone else’s.
Anywhoo, this post is about…..
You guessed it!
I have 8 children which includes a set of twins. I have given birth to all 8 of these children, but the twins came by c-section.
I once heard someone say or I read somewhere – I can’t really remember – that if a woman has children by c-section then she’s not really mom.
Ummm, what? Can you say that again? I’m not sure I heard you correctly.
So, I guess me giving birth naturally to six children only makes me a mom to those six children. The twins….well I guess we would consider them motherless children is as they were born via c-section.
Let me tell you, I distinctly remember being pregnant for 34 LOOONNGGG weeks with my twins, through the HOTTEST part of the summer. I distinctly remember how miserable I was in the heat outside as well as inside because the window AC couldn’t keep up. I am certain I remember trying to shave my legs with a watermelon X2 in my stomach which as any woman knows is NOT an easy feat. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that emotional roller coaster ride of pregnancy, my husband (their dad) and I divorced about 1000 times and we weren’t even married yet! I also have pretty good memory of the nausea that kept me in bed for 3 solid months. I could barely get up long enough for a potty break during those early months. I distinctly remember going to each and every appointment to hear their heartbeats, take tummy measurements and yes, step on that dreaded scale. I also remember going into labor not once, not twice, but three times before the doctor would allow them to be born because we wanted them to be as healthy as possible. I also remember on the last round of labor, the nurses pushed on my stomach ALL NIGHT LONG trying to find heartbeats and the pushing around on my stomach caused two angry babies to switch from both heads down position just a few days earlier to one head down and one breach resulting in the emergency c-section that somehow makes me less of a mother.
Boy, it really is amazing all the memories that come to light for someone who isn’t a mom.
Okay, enough with the sarcasm. Now for encouragement…..
For all of you giving-birth-by-c-section-non-moms out there, be loud and proud with your right to carry that very special and well-earned title of MOM because honey….
You Are Most Definitely a Mom!
Okay, I may not be the brightest bulb in the box about many things in this so-called life. I’m terrible at politics. I know almost nothing about vehicles or gardening or the computer for that matter. I don’t claim to be a whiz in geometry, english, or catterwalling (sorry, I thought that was funny and had to throw it in there 😉 ), but I know mothering and I do it well. Very well, actually.
It doesn’t matter how you’ve become a mom: natural birth, c-section, adoption, whatever has struck your fancy in that regard, if you have a child or children that you care for on a daily basis, that you’ve nurtured from the moment that little person was placed in your arms, that you love with every ounce of your being, that you protect with every fiber of your body, and that makes you replicate the same feeling that said child/ren is having at the very same time, all without expecting a darn thing back in return then you are most definitely a mom.
So don’t worry moms or non-moms (by the opinion of some very unintelligent people),
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace
Where there's hatred, let me sow love
And where there is injury, pardon
And where there is doubt, then faith
And where there's despair, then hope
It's in dying that I will be born
And in giving that I will receive
It's in loving that I will be loved
This is my faith, it is what I believe
Lord, make me an instrument
Make me an instrument
Lord, I am a stranger traveling
In a brutal yet wondrous land
Far from the promise of home
On a journey led by Your hand
To where the lion lies down with the lamb
Father, grant that I'd never seek
To be comforted as to console
Let the blood of Your Son cover me
Touching my spirit
Seizing my soul
Lord, make me an instrument
Lord, make me an instrument
Lord make me your instrument
Let Your divine mystery guide my heart
It's in dying that I will be born
And in giving that I will receive
It's in loving that I will be loved
This is my faith, it is what I believe
Christ within me
Christ before me
Christ behind me
Christ above me
Christ beneath me
To my left and my right
Christ where I lie and where I arise
Christ in the hearts of all who think of me
Christ on the lips of all who speak of me
Christ in the eyes of all who see me
Make me Your instrument, Lord
Make me Your instrument, Lord
Make me Your instrument, Lord
Make me Your instrument, Lord
Make me Your instrument
However, my husband and I have made tremendous efforts in relying on God for parenting skills.
In church, we are encouraged to trust in God because, as the Bible states, “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.” ~ James 1:12
As we know, boys look up to their fathers. They try to do most, if not all, things that their fathers do. Learning, loving, playing, living for a boy reflects what he has seen from his father. Therefore, as parents, we know we must set good examples for our children. Although, our words may hold value with our children, it’s our actions that build children into what they will be because as the old adage says, “actions speak louder than words” Therefore, we must mind our actions.
My boys are interested in all things motor, wheels, wings, speed……anything mechanical. So, the other day, one of my twins was working on his little sister’s bike (trying to replace the wheel/rubber) so she could ride it — like a good big brother would do.
At one point, he needed the air compressor. Now, the one he has is his own because, as any mother of boys knows (the boys better know it too!) the kids better not mess with dad’s tools! To hopefully deter the boys from messing with their dads tools, they’ve started collecting their own.
So anyway, the compressor……
He retrieved the compressor from the garage and plugged it in.
However, rather than plugging it directly into a wall outlet, he plugged it into the extension cord.
Oh no! It started a small fire. Without missing a beat, he handled the fire as he has been taught to do. It got no further than some sparks from the prongs on the cord. (shoo–wiping sweat from my brow).
Anyway, when their dad got home that evening and they delivered the news to him he handled it like a pro.
Rather than lose it like I was pretty sure he was going to do, he ever-so-lovingly spoke with them about the compressor drawing so much power that it needs to be directly into an outlet. Granted he doesn’t always act in such a calm manner, he did that day.
And, yes, I was darn proud of him.
And I was thankful to God because the Lord is working in him.