Not Yo' Meds

Little Larry has been being... difficult. He's teething and we have also gone from having a gajillion pacifiers to ONE. One lonesome pacifier that I will strip search the house to find at bed time. So, to ease his teething pain I give him Nyquil Tylenol. (Like I'd drug him with Nyquil. I ain't that kind of crazy.) 

Mini Diva has what she calls "the coughs." She tried to get out of school today but with no fever or other symptoms and her cough calming down off the chick went to preschool. After a dose of cough medicine. Mainly because home girl hates to cover her mouth. Yuck. 

Mini Diva believes in sharing all things. Especially germs.

Fast forward to this evening: Little Larry gets his Tylenol and Mini Diva gets her cough medicine. After bath time my favorite little buddy comes around the corner with my girl's medicine bottle trying to outsmart or out power the child proof cap. Of course he screamed like I was stealing his precious when I pried his little fingers off of the bottle. Then proceeded to scream at me with flailing limbs. Yeah, I save your life by not giving you big kids meds and somehow I'm the bad guy. Makes perfect sense. Like I should let him eat Sharpies while running with kitchen shears. That boy is something else.

Oh yes. Your argument is convincing me to see things your way.

In the midst of this little show down I thought about how often we do to God what my earth angel did to me. We hold on to what we think we want, or what we think we need, or what we think we are ready for with a death grip. Screaming tantrum and all. Grown ups certainly act like children sometimes. Trust me, I worked in the sales and service industry: I know. 

Oh, right. You insulting my intelligence totally made me reverse that bank fee. Riiight... 

What are you holding on to right now? What dreams or ideas or hopes are you stubbornly refusing to relinquish? Do they line up with what the Lord and your conscience are telling you is right and right for you at this point? If they do: fantastic. If not, or if you have a nagging feeling saying something is off with your desires, allow me to challenge you to lay it down. Lay it down and let the God of peace fill you with fresh desires and dreams: allow him to direct your steps. His ways are better. I will leave you with a few verses to think upon. Let them comfort you and for crying out loud: don't pitch a fit if you don't get to take the big kid medicine today. 

Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart's desires.

Psalm 37:4 NLT

(I've heard this verse explained two ways: a)God will literally grant your heart's desires and b) God will give your heart things to desire.)

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.

James 1:17 KJV

Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6, 7 NLT

Mini Diva Speaks the Truth

Mini diva told me there was a girl who is big at her school. It was her teacher. And according to mini diva and her friends, teacher's got a big butt. Naturally, I laughed. Then corrected myself and asked her if she told her teacher about her big butt. Thankfully she hadn't. Phew!

When I was her age I told my grandma that she looked like prune face. And I meant it with all of the love in my heart: and I really loved my paternal grandma. She was patient and kind and warm and all the things a grandma ought to be. My kids' grandma is like that with them. Generous, loving, playful, and so merciful. I love that they have that in her.

Poor grandma. I'm amazed she didn't disown me!

Anyways: I had a point somewhere in all this. Psalm 8:2 says that The Lord has ordained strength out of the mouths of babes. There is strength and truth that comes out the mouths of little kids. My daughter loves her teacher: she wouldn't say she had a big butt to hurt her but probably to make her laugh. Just like I adored my grandma and would never have tried to hurt her ego by telling her she looked like a wrinkly mobster from Dick Tracey. I just thought she looked like a movie star. There is strength in honesty that comes from a place of love.

I had a friend ask me to be honest with her today. Not just any friend: but my sister from another mister. So to hurt her heart would be to hurt mine. I told her the truth with no buffer (there was none needed) and she took it with joy and sorrow. I trust she knows my heart is not to wound her but she quoted this scripture to me: faithful are the wounds of a friend. (Proverbs 27:6) My honesty hurt but in the big picture it makes her better and stronger than she was yesterday. Before you start feeling sorry for her know that she's inflicted some faithful wounds as well. But that's what friends do: tell the truth in a way that will help. Might hurt, but so does ripping off a week old soggy band aid: but that sucker's gotta come off sometime. Better to have someone who loves you to rip it off than a bully peel it away slowly relishing in your pain. Yikes. Gross analogy.

Be a friend. Be honest: but use wisdom and love in that honesty. Like with Jetta: her teacher may have a big butt yet wisdom says it is a loving thing to let that one slide. But if her butt gets stuck in a slide give her some help to get it out. 

Dudes, I'm LOL'ing.

Oops.. I did it again.

Well, it's been a few months since I've been on here. I've missed it, honestly. But we've got so much going on over here: I'm now working from home, mini diva's in school, we got adopted by a kitten, my hubby's in school and got a promotion at work, and I've been going to Zumba. So.. I'm pretty much doing a lot more than I was three months ago. Oh-and I'm still keeping little Larry alive and growing. Just a short little blurb tonight: here goes nothing!

I sprained my ankle last night. There was such a loud pop and shock of pain that I was actually afraid it was broken. Even my hubby thought there was a major issue with how badly swollen it was. After three x-rays, applying a frozen bag of peas, having the best "step in" grandma ever come get the kids from the hospital, and having the doctor examine my cat scratched and unshaven legs the diagnosis was given: yeah, you're fine. Take ibuprofen and stay off it a while. Nice. I could've bought a new purse. 

The worst part of the ordeal? Having to explain how it happened. Since I'm not telling you face to face I'll spill. After putting little Larry in his chair to eat I was dancing and jumping around, entertaining him and myself, when I landing on my ankle after tripping on a grocery bag. He thought the landing was hilarious. Mini diva loved playing nurse to me. Hubby did his best to keep me from crying (partly pain, mostly shame). The best part was my husband describing my dance to the doctor. It has become glaringly obvious why I have not been recruited to be a Zumba instructor: home girl can't dance like she thinks she can.

Hey now.. at least I know I'm more of a Finkle.

I wish this was the first time I had injured myself in an embarrassing manner. When I was five I rode my bicycle off of my grandfather's porch and into the bushes. My hands were filled with splinters. Did I mention I was riding my bicycle with my eyes closed? I was. And shocked that I fell off the porch. In my head I was envisioning myself as She Ra or Rainbow Brite or some magical character that I loved. In reality, I was a klutzy five year old headed for a world of pain and shame. By the way: this is the first time I admitted what really happened. Lets keep this between us, alright? ;)

I'm sure I'm not the only person who sees themselves in a more glamorous light than we are at times. And boy, is that mirror humbling when it turns out I'm not really Jem or that super coordinated dance teacher. Eh, it's still good to be a heidiva.