introducing the baby peas and/or the self-esteem of a little girl...

So you're probably wondering, "Who are these peas of which you speak?" Well, these are the baby peas. Kellen, on the left, will be three in September. Lorenne is seven. Yes, their hair is naturally curly. And they get it from their father. Kellen is going to be a pistol. He'll be jumping off the garage roof as soon as he figures out how to get up there. Mischievous little imp. Lorenne is my sweet girl. Very studious, loves to read, draw, and is a very good big sister, only occasionally aggravating Kellen. They were just sitting there, reading together. Kellen was looking at the pictures, but it was still very sweet.

I have a query... Are there many people out there who routinely perm their two-year old son's hair? Or make them sleep on curlers or something? Is that the case, or is it just silly questions from people? "Is his hair naturally curly?" geeeezzzzz...

I can understand questioning Lorenne's hair as she is old enough to have had her hair permed. But, I would never play on her self esteem like that. I try in every way to make her feel good about the attributes God gave her. Her beautiful hair, her big blue eyes, her dimples. And how smart she is, how funny, how kind and nice and thoughtful. We all must do our best to instill positive thoughts and comments in our little girls, make them see that no matter how they are made, or what they look like, they are all beautiful people. Pretty is as pretty does. I wish more people knew that.

my little job in town...

I mentioned that I had to get a little part time job to meet ends, and I was reluctant, to say the least. What was I even qualified for? I'd worked as a secretary for a time after high school, but the monotony of that particular job manifested itself into me being chronically late for work. The only other work I had done was in food service and taking care of my kids. I didn't really want to work in a kitchen again. But, I also didn't really want to babysit either. Dilemmas. So, in order for me to be at home, I decided to make up a flier for babysitting. I went that day to the library, put up my flier and came home with the town newsletter. (That's how small my town is. Not a paper, a newsletter.) Josh was flipping through it and saw an ad for the local cafe. Thrusting it at me, he said, "They're looking for a server. Call 'em up." So I called, and low and behold absolutely no one had applied for the job. (There's God's hand again.) I met with the owner, a small lady with a huge grin and an even bigger laugh. (Now, truth be told, I don't like waitressing all that much. I get tongue tied very easily. But, I was willing to give it a shot.) During the course of the interview, the owner explained that their current waitress, who was also plating up the food, would rather just waitress. Eagerly, I said that I would rather plate up food. And my job at The Wild Hare Cafe began. It's laid back for the most part. Everyone is very easy-going, very interesting to talk with. It's not every day a small town, midwestern girl gets to work for a lady who's lived in South Africa. And the hours are perfect. Ten-thirty to three, most days, Tuesday through Saturday. And I enjoy going to work everyday. How many people can say that?

our own little pod on the vine...

April sunset - - We moved into our new house in March of this year. Our own little pod. Funny how it worked out too. I'd been searching for two years, trying to find a house we'd grow old in. The house where our grandchildren would come visit us. Our true home was out there. I finally just gave up, half convinced we'd always be living in that single wide trailer. I left it up to God on New Year's. In February, my friend called me up, nothing unusual there, but she mentioned that this house down the road from her was still for sale. After church that Sunday, we drove up the 1/2 mile long lane. It was a two story (what we wanted) with new siding and a couple of outbuildings (what Josh wanted). We decided to call our realtor friend and schedule an appointment. (That Josh was eager to see it was probably our first hint. He'd never shown a bit of excitement over any of the other houses I'd brought to his attention.) We saw the house on a Tuesday. I remember walking around the property with Josh, waiting for our realtor to show up, looking in the outbuildings. While we sat on the front porch looking at the hill in the distance, we decided there was no way we'd ever be lucky enough to get this house. It was listed out of our price range, but we couldn't help ourselves. Plus it had been on the market for 8 months, so it was worth a try. We got inside and I could see us living there. Whenever we looked at a house I always tried to picture how I would decorate for Christmas. Sounds wierd, I know, but I can't help myself. (And it works.) We wanted this house. So we made an offer on a Thursday, and after some negotiation it was all ours by Saturday. We both cried like babies. I still get teary eyed thinking about it. And we didn't go past our budget. Now, I know you're saying that I shouldn't put so much emphasis on material posessions and I agree with you. I spent way too much time and energy looking for a house. (Especially when you consider my two years of searching with God's almost immediate answer. You see, the owners of the house had decided they were moving out west whether they sold the house or not. They were starting a church in Laramie and had delayed their departure a couple of times on account of the house. We were answers to each other's prayers. He was simply waiting for the exact right moment to bring this house to our full attention.) But, I felt trapped, claustraphobic in that trailer. I was starting to go into a depression because of that trailer. I felt like I was in some kind of psychological torture box. Yes, it kept us warm and dry, but I wanted a house for my children. A place for them to come back to and say, "This is where I grew up." We were running out of time. Our daughter was six; our son, two. And I didn't think that was too much to ask. Still don't. And God heard my cries. We've been a lot happier here. Nothing has really changed dramatically. I did have to get a part time job to make ends meet, but that has also been a blessing. But our lives are still the same, we just have our own little pod on the vine, now, and that's all the difference in the world.