Parading

"It's costume parade day!" I said.

 "Go put on a costume!" I said.

"I don't care which one! Whatever makes you feel fabulous and confident!" I said.

And thus, the skeleton ballerina in witch socks was born.

The Wonderful Adventures of Nils and Other Assorted Things

I found Nils wearing one of Carolena's hats. I thought he looked so cute that I snapped a picture. I have tried like 800 times to upload the photos here, and it just isn't happening. The computer goes haywire (haywire? who says that?!) every damn time. Perhaps it is a message from Future Nils who has some kind of 2030 computer device that is blocking my ability to upload them. Considering the story behind the photos is that I found him wearing a big pink straw hat and took a picture and he insisted that I take about twenty-seven more, yeah, I would say Future Nils is happy they aren't getting posted. He heard the "click" of the camera, turned, posed and said, "Again! Cheeeese!" so I took another one and then smiled and got up to walk away.
And he screamed, "Again! Again! Cheeeeeese!!!"
So I laughed, he struck a pose, I took another photo, and got up to walk away.
And he screamed, "Again! Cheeeese!!!"
This went on for quite sometime eventually ending in a tantrum and fifty million photos of Nils in various pageant poses. And I do mean pageant poses.
What are they teaching this kid at school?

Aw, speaking of Nils at school... poor Nils pet an asp yesterday at school. Does that just break your heart or what? That sweet little guy. He saw one of those fuzzy little devils walking by and reached out his pointer finger to pet it. That just breaks my heart in both that my poor Nils was hurt and in its sad innocent cuteness. Evidently in addition to the pain of an asp, his feelings were pretty hurt as well. He told Carolena and me all about it when we picked him up that afternoon. Oh, sweet Nils.
If you've never been stung by an asp before, then chances are you are reading this from somewhere north of the land of anoles, asps, and humid Halloweens. Asps are venomous caterpillars. Yes, really. And you only purposely touch one of those dudes once. They're like crazy mini-porcupines (Casey science, not real science) who have quills instead of fuzz (Casey science) so when you touch them the venomous fuzz gets stuck in your skin and someone has to get it out (real science). Yikes!

Yeah, Future Nils is definitely using some sort of fancy technology to ensure Present Day Casey can't post embarrassing photos. Look, that cute pumpkin one uploaded in a cinch.

Blog updates: 
Reading: I finished Into the Wild (which turned out to be almost too fast of a read) and started The First American: The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin which is going to be fabulous. The prologue was so good that I read the whole thing aloud to Chris. I then settled in to start reading chapter one and promptly fell asleep (it was 920... waaay past my bedtime).

Caffeine: I remembered the big container of 1/2 caff and this morning drank plenty of coffee but far less caffeine... so that's good... except that I had four scoops and now I'm about to get up and go make some REAL coffee. Hmph. That didn't work. 
Also, I've been thinking about how I have memories of my grandfather Clyde's (aka "Pop") coffee mug burned into my brain. The fact that all of my memories of Pop involve him with a brown coffee mug (which I wish I now owned) with the dredges of a cup of coffee in it, combined with my father's, sister's, and brother's, and my coffee... ummm shall we say "habits" (aka horrible life controlling addiction) is making me think there is something coffee related in the gene pool. Perhaps that's where the Rush name came from in the first place? I'm beginning to think someone overly caffeinated just got dubbed "Rush" somewhere back in our family history when humans were doling out last names. 
*Also, for those of you who think I'm just obsessing... you've just forgotten that I looovvvee coffee and my neurologist doesn't think unlimited pots is a good thing. So there is a legitimate medical reason for the obsession. Otherwise I would cease to drink water unless it had dripped through beans. And also I like to obsess about things. That's also in the gene pool *cough*jimmers*cough* AND also it's my blog so I do what I want. Start your own blog and talk about boring non-coffee related things. 

Hey, speaking of obsession and non-coffee related things, anyone want to talk about polar exploration?!

Tarantula holes in the front yard count: numerous. 
Number of tarantulas I'm excited to have living around our yard: all of them. That's one fuzzy bug! Those suckers eat roaches, y'all. Bring on the arachnids!

After asps and tarantulas who else is going to spend the rest of the day saying over and over, "that is one fuzzy bug!"? Well, if you clicked on that then you are now...

Caramel Corn Dogs: Bragging AND Complaining

Each year for the kids' school carnival I sign up to contribute "a lot" to the bake sale. The form comes home asking parents to commit to bringing baked goods and I return mine with my contact information and a note saying I will show up with "a lot - whatever that ends up being." This was my third year in a row so by now the women running it just know to expect me. Don't feel guilty if you don't bake for your school bake sale. Other people contribute things like underwriting professional face painters. This is my contribution. Everyone just does something and it turns out great.

This year, I filled a laundry basket and a huge bag full of cellophane wrapped goodies, looked at all of it and decided to add caramel corn. Why? 

Yes, why indeed.

So then I made a crap load of caramel corn. A quadrupedal batch for those of you who have the recipe. For those of you who don't... don't ask. I'm no longer giving it out. I've realized the gift of caramel corn is that it is a labor of love. Part of the gift is that YOU didn't make it and I did. So, not giving you the recipe? You're welcome.

 After babysitting the caramel corn for an hour, I started bagging it and laughed as the thought "caramel corn dogs!" popped into my head.

And then, "Ha, caramel corn dogs... damn, I have to make them now."

The good news is that they were lots of fun to look at and turned out fabulous (in my ever so modest opinion) and a lot of them sold. The bad news is that... they took FOREVER.

FORR. EV. VER.

Why did I think that making and attaching tags and gluing googly eyes and cutting and gluing ears and making puppy faces would be a quick activity?

So, the good news is that they were cool and different and overall fun to make. The bad news is they were a huge time-suck and stole my entire morning.

The awesome news is: google "caramel corn dogs" and see what comes up.

 Ha! Take that Pinterest (aka the place where imagination and creativity goes to die *ahem* not that I have strong opinions on that or anything...)! Originality wins again!

The Best Part of Waking Up

I have a new friend who has become one of those people with whom we say, "me too!" too often and I have the sense that we (or I know I for sure do) sometimes stop ourselves from agreeing because of it. Not that I then disagree - I just don't say anything and instead do a robot dance. Hm... with my personality now you don't know if I'm kidding or serious about the robot.

Judge's rule? I'll leave you guessing.

Last week her response to my comment that coffee has a strange power over me was, "me too. I even set mine up before bed and then think about it when I'm going to sleep because I can't wait to drink it again."

Me, "Yep, me too. Totally. I don't understand how other people don't get that. There are too kinds of people in this world: people who love coffee and people who don't."

Her, "Agreed. My husband gets up even earlier than me (she's an early bird) so I hear it percolating and get insanely excited when I wake up!"

Dear Chris,
I only wake up at 440. The 438 time slot for plugging in the coffee is available.
Love, Casey

Blog update: Current daily coffee intake is up to three cups minimum. Damn. I'll let Future Casey deal with that.

I'm Being Swallowed By a Boa Constrictor...

Oh no, oh no, he swallowed my toe! He swallowed my toe!

With two little ones under the age of five and a second (very loveable but sometimes somewhat demanding) spouse named "the Church," life involves a lot of squeezing right now. Squeezing in the things that have to happen like laundry and dinner and vestry meetings and working to fill them with love as best we can rather than stress. My little helper monkeys folding laundry help to fill that task with love (and wrinkles) and the combination of working ahead, a freezer, and a crock pot sure does fill our dinners with less stress and more love. And pizza and a movie as the standing vestry night activity around here will forever be what my children think "vestry" means. Someday they'll be active adults in a parish, run for vestry, and be disappointed to discover that the meeting doesn't mean hitting up the redbox (or future equivalent), tossing on pajamas, and spreading "the pizza blanket" across the living room.

I don't have time for squeezing in Facebook or watching tv or movies. But I do have time for crafting with my kids. And baking a freezer full of baked goods for the school fall fair. And squeezing in the library, and decorating for Halloween (it's an on-going creative process around here), and more baking for the school fair. I've squeezed in time for reading for fun falling asleep snuggled with my book (Into the Wild at the moment) and am exactly one week ahead in my work on the Gospel of Mark... which isn't as good as it sounds because I really need to squeeze in the end of that and get to work on Luke! Yikes!

We've squeezed in ballet lessons, and pumpkin patches, and plenty of spontaneous family dance parties... most of which are initiated by Nils hearing a song he likes on Pandora and yelling "come on! come on!" dancing around the den. He loves my "Proud Mary" station. We're also squeezing in more than enough time for preschool humor knock-knock jokes. Nils loves those as well and has already added his own to the mix... spoiler alert: boy humor evidently begins before the age of two. You don't want to answer the door if he says "knock knock!"

I'm squeezing in my early morning workouts. We're squeezing in special family time being sure to mark it off in advance on the calendar... because we're taking the wisdom of older, wiser clergy families and refusing to let our family get squeezed out. And in the midst of all of the squeezing we find rejoicing and prayer and thanksgiving. Constant thanksgiving.

I'm being swallowed by a boa constrictor... but I'm a Syltherin so it's just fine. We're doing alright. We'll just toss the boa a party hat and invite it to the next Proud Mary living room dance party.

Grace-Full

Some days I nail it. Some days I have a seemingly unlimited amount of patience for critters in my household including but not limited to cats, children, a husband, and a plethora of spiders. Some days I am creative and fun and resourceful and kind. Some days I am generous and compassionate.

BUT...

But some days I have a secret (until Chris finds me) crying melt down in the laundry room because someone *cough*not-me*cough* unknowingly spilled bleach on the edge of the kitchen counter and I got it on my new shirt and one of only two pairs of shorts that fit me well. You know, my new shirt that I found at Goodwill this week (and is thus not replaceable) that says "think positive" across it.
And no, the irony of hiding in the laundry room to cry over bleach on someone else's cast-off "think positive" shirt is not lost on me at all.

Some days I have stressing melt downs over the fact that the work that I literally did not have time to get done until Saturday morning (scheduled to be done between the hours of 440-7am) was interrupted by the early rising of a chipper nugget who refused to "go snuggle with Daddy." It is a universal law of motherhood that any work left until the early morning hours of the last possible minute will be interrupted by a random early riser.

Some days I awake tired because of the Halloween festival that I forced everyone to go to at bedtime the night before which was not really even fun. Some days the coffee just isn't strong enough. Some days the scheduled on the calendar "family day nothing else!" turns out to be a day when everyone should really just hide from my wrath.

And days like this are the days I'm reminded of grace. Free, unearned, undeserved, free flowing love.

Chris took the kids to the park for the morning so that I could finish my work. Pizza dough is rising. Beer is in the fridge. Aggies are on tv much to the glee of Nils who cries out "football! football! and is happily eating two suckers and a box of Nerds while watching the game (duh, didn't I already convince you it's that kind of day around here?). Supergirl is flying around ready to "save the people!" and now that my slightly postponed work is finally finished I know that a good book and a calm bed are calling my name.

Yes, grace abounds. Grace abounds.

Rhino Hide

I just went to retrieve my single cup of coffee from my coffee maker and found a cup of water sitting there. Was the Holy Spirit trying to tell me something in some sort of coffee into water type miracle? Surely this was a sign from heaven telling me it's time to back off the caffeine.

I stared into the cup of water for a few minutes and then realized I just forgot to put in the grounds. Coffee full steam ahead!

Don't buy that coffee pot. It sucks. And I don't often say something "sucks." But if you have any respect or love for coffee at all, for the love of God, steer clear of the Bella. It is atrocious. My environmental side finds the Keurig abhorrent for my own daily minimum two cup use (yeah, I said it) and my inability to regulate coffee means I need something small. *sigh* This is one of the many reasons why I told Carolena recently to just never get addicted to caffeine when she's a grown-up.

Someone recently asked me for advice on how to not take everything to heart. "How do you not let everything get under your skin?" she inquired (she's a fellow clergy spouse).

I blathered on about taking the advice that I give to my daughter "no matter what you do not everyone is going to like your shoes, hair, (fill in whatever) so you might as well just do what you like" and just about general confidence in the fact that I can't help how other people act; only how I react.

But really I should have just said, "I drink a ton of coffee and it might be turning my skin into rhino hide and that's why nothing not everything sinks in. Tough coffee rhino skin."

You're Welcome Future Casey

Hallelujah I did it! After dropping the kiddos off at school yesterday I spent an hour and a half in the grocery store and came home with ingredients to fill the freezer.

Then this morning I slept in. Yes. I, Casey, THE MOTHER, slept in.

*til seven*

You might be laughing that I consider 7am sleeping in... but my alarm goes off at 440 everyday... soooo... that was major sleeping in for me.

We cleaned the house this morning. Really. We did. Shocking, I know. Evidently, announcing "let's invite a friend over right now!" gets us to move our fannies. The friend wasn't able to come, but the house is now clean. Mission accomplished. {maniacal laughter}

So we went to the park and upon returning home I managed to make a ton of shredded chicken taco meat (thanks crock pot, duh), a huge pot of southwestern vegetable and chicken soup (sans green beans because... really? green beans? and with more cumin because if a recipe doesn't call for at least a tablespoon of cumin I assume it's a typo), AND a pot of white bean soup. The white bean soup is for consuming over the next few days as I highly doubt its freezability. Dang it - and I also bought ingredients to make Bean and Barley Soup but just now realized I haven't made that one yet... better get those beans soaking. PLUS, there is bread on the counter, dutifully rising and awaiting the hot oven. I think I might try baking it most of the way through and then totally cooling it and freezing it to pop in the oven another night. We'll see how it goes.

Or I'll bake it all of the way through and it will come out of the oven and we'll sit down, eat the whole thing, and then not eat anything for dinner. Yeah, that's more likely.

Bible Study Day: The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day Solution

I led Children's Chapel at church today and if I do say so myself (and it's my blog, so I do) - the lesson was a good one for people of all ages to hear.

These were the readings we heard in church today. Read them or don't. None of the kids listened and Children's Chapel worked out just fine so don't feel bad if you don't feel like clicking on a link to the lectionary.

Ever read Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day? That's pretty much what the lectionary readings were. So we read Alexander in Children's Chapel. And here's the deal:

People have terrible horrible no good very bad days. That's a part of life. Luckily, scripture shows us time and time again that having a complete melt-down over them is just fine. Ever read the Psalms? Melt-downs. Seriously. I took a class on the Psalms in seminary and there is an entire category in which you can label a Psalm "complaint or lament." God is just fine with people sitting on the end of his bed and sobbing about a terrible horrible no good very bad day. Just fine. In fact he will probably pass you some bon-bons and a tissue and let you wail as long as you need to.

And it gets better. Not only does God want us to give voice to our sufferings (seriously, he invites people in scripture to it all of the time), he often has a plan. A new plan. A better one. How about Hagar who was pregnant with some old dude's baby (sorry Abraham, but really) and had to live as a servant in his household and wait on his wife who "dealt harshly with her" (Genesis 16:6)? Hagar meets none other than God's angelic diplomat in the wilderness who says to her "what's wrong?" (Genesis 16:8). The angel knows Hagar's name and that she is Sarai's slave-girl and yet still asks, "what are you doing?" If that isn't an invitation to vent a terrible horrible no good very bad day(s) then I don't know what is. So Hagar does. She is asked to return to the home of Abram & Sarai and later ends up hanging out with the angel in the desert again where God makes a new plan for Hagar(that's a terrible summary, just read it lazy bum: Genesis 21:8-21).

You know who else vents a terrible horrible no good very bad day to God and gets a new plan? A little guy we like to call... oh... maybe you've heard of him... ELIJAH. Elijah has pissed off the people in power (specifically Jezebel) who then gives him a death threat (1 Kings 19:1-2). Once again God comes and says "what's happening?" to which Elijah is invited to give voice to his suffering. "Everybody wants to kill me!!!" he says (which mmmmaaayyy have been a slight exaggeration but is for sure how he felt). And what does God do? He makes a new plan for Elijah. 1 Kings 19 if you want to pick it up.

So, what should you do when you are in the midst of a terrible horrible no good very bad day? Vent. Pray about it like the Psalmist prays (today's Psalm included "My God, my God why have you foresaken me? and are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress?" and that's just the intro! Psalm 22). Give voice to your suffering and tell God all about it. God wants to be in relationship with his people. We all know relationships require some venting.

And then prayerfully get a new plan. As the kiddos talked about at church this morning, there are plenty of people in your life who love you and want to help you. Think about who those people are. Ask them to help you make the new plan.

And for heaven's sake, remember: EVERYONE has a terrible horrible no good very bad day sometimes. Even in Australia.

Dear Nils,

Seriously?
Love,
Mommy

How To Win Friends And Influence People: Not Afraid of Anything

Remember how I was looking for a book to read at C's school Halloween party?

Found it. Today we checked out The Little Old Lady Who Wasn't Afraid of Anything from the library. It should surprise no one that once I borrow my parents' gray wig (what? other people don't think that's a normal thing to say?*) I have all of the pieces to put together a costume and BE the little old lady.

YEESSSS!

Plus, I have everything to pull together all of the things she isn't afraid of in the book and have a really interactive book reading. The shoes go clomp clomp? Well guess what kid? You get to "clomp clomp" some of Chris' shoes.

The little old lady wasn't afraid of anything... and evidently neither am I because I just sent an email to people who don't know me (and thankfully one who does) depicting the details of my plan. THIS is what they're getting in response to "hey can someone find a Halloween book for us to read to the kids?"

{maniacal slytherin laughter is appropriate here}



*I also have been known to say, "Oh this old thing? It's my banana costume on permanent loan from the Jim Rush Collection."

Clergy Spouse Confessions: Spousal Support

Every year I know that the fall is going to be busy. And yet every freaking year I do nothing to prepare for it. It's like I see the hurricane icon swirling on the map and all of the little lines projecting pathways only to my house, and then I'm like, "oh hell let's just see what happens." Maybe some year I'll think to fill up some water bottles and purchase some batteries, but alas, once again, we're swirling around in the hurricane winds wondering where some damn dry matches might be.

Every clergy spouse reading this right now is nodding.

The fall is just BUSY. Busy might be an understatement though. Busy as in, sometimes the person who makes up the clergy portion of the clergy family works everyday kind of busy. I don't mean to lesson the busy-ness of others. And actually, *helllooo hypocrisy* I hate when people talk about how busy they are. I'm lucky enough to have a spouse that isn't a work-a-holic. But busy is just how it is.

I'm not the kind of spouse that is "anti" everything. I'm actually totally into it. I love the Episcopal Church. I'm the one who raises her hand when asked on the spouse retreat, "who's kind of into the whole church thing?" as opposed to raising it for "who wants to just sleep in on Sundays?" So that means that I'm teaching Adult Christian Education every week and leading Children's Chapel here and there along with all of the other things that pop up. Plus I can't stop signing up for things for the fall. What the hell is wrong with me?!

But I'm actually not complaining right now. I kind of like the franticness. Is that sick? I love fall in the clergy family. It's crazy and insane and busy and ministry ministry ministry. And it's an exhausting blur of signups and smiles and love and feeling too tired to function and scheduling days on our calendar that say "family day! nothing else!"

I just need to remember to be better prepared for it. I thought about it this year. In August I filled the freezer with frozen meals and crockpot dinners and muffins. And then I was so proud and excited to be ready for September and October that we ate them all.

And by that I mean we ate them all before life got too busy to deal with dinner.

Crap.

Luckily we (the kids and I) don't have anything that we have to do tomorrow. So Halloween crafting and cooking to refill the freezer are on the agenda. Except just the former and not the latter because I really can't handle going to the grocery store for a third time this week. It is only Monday night after all. And returning library books... we've got to do that for sure. And hopefully go get flu shots. Because dear Lord we do NOT have time for the flu around here.

A few months ago (like last spring) I was thinking about contacting other minister's wives of all denominations in Katy and starting some sort of group. Then I blew it off because, eh. Reasons. Excuses. Life. The usual. Anyway - I guess the Holy Spirit started the group anyway because randomly THREE of us all exercise together at 515 in the morning three times a week. Weird, huh? A methodist minister's wife, an episcopal priest's wife, and a nondenominational pastor's wife all walk into bootcamp... sounds like the start of a lame joke to me.

Thanks to the 515 meeting of my clergy spouse support group I know that I am not the only one who didn't put together the hurricane preparedness kit this year. Whew. Next year... next year...

#WINNING

Some days you just feel like you're on top of the world. The weather is perfect, your outfit fits, the kids are well behaved. #WINNING

This morning I managed to get both kids to and from church without any major meltdowns. I taught Adult Christian Education, read the New Testament lesson, and told the story in the children's chapel. #WINNING

Kids got to eat donut holes and play on the playground. I got to talk to my sister for over and hour on the phone. AND neither of us screeched "gotta go!" and hung up on the other one to take a kid to the emergency room. #WINNING

I brought a gift to a friend, went to women's group at church, and came home to dinner I'd miraculously prepped and popped in the crockpot earlier. #WINNING

I got both kids fed and into bed. #WINNING

I loaded the dishwasher and finally, finally, decided I didn't feel too lazy to take apart the five million pieces to one of Nils' cups and pop it in the dishwasher. It has too many pieces for me to maintain my sanity and was thus tossed into the sink and ignored for the last few days. I popped off the lid and stared down at the sink at the contents of what came out of that cup.

Lemonade? Try again.
Moldy water? Nope.
Stinky old milk? Nadda.

Plain yogurt? Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a #WINNER.
I was fascinated. It was yogurt. Truly. Just yogurt. It didn't smell at all or even look remotely gross. I just stared at it, not in repulsion, but rather wondering why I put yogurt into a lidded cup in the first place.

And then I realized it must have been milk. Damn. Guess you can't #WIN em all.

Unnnlesssss... maybe I should start making homemade yogurt...!

*kidding grandmothers* i jest.

Nailed It

There are somethings in parenthood that I think are surprisingly easier than they sound. Giving medicine to a sick kid (they just suck it right down), dropping off a crying child somewhere (mine usually get over it before I'm out the door though), haircuts (I just cut it myself)... all of these things sound hard but (for me), most of the time, are easy.

And then there is the task of cutting fingernails.

With Nils, it's no big deal. He's happy to have his fingernails cut and sits mesmerized by the clicking nailclippers. Carolena is a different story.

It's not the actual cutting that is difficult - it's convincing her that they need to be cut. Once I convince her that it's time for a trim, cutting them is no big deal. But it usually takes a day or two of "hey, your nails are getting long..." before she will give in and let me cut them. There is also usually some light bribery of nail polishing involved.

A week or so ago I screeched out when she accidentally scratched me, "yikes! you've got claws!" (a phrase she made up to say to Nils). She frowned at her nails for a minute, shrugged, apologized, and changed the conversation. I brought up her nails a few more times, warning her that it's time to cut them. Her (daily) response? "We'll cut them tomorrow."

Yeah, just like I'll give up coffee again tomorrow.

I finally realized something is up. So I plopped down next to her and asked, "Are you trying to grow your nails out long?"
"Yeahhh..." she sheepishly replied.
"Well," I told her, "most grown up women who have long nails... those are fake."
She giggled and glanced around the room as though looking for the hidden cameras. I had to be joking right? So I explained to her the concept of fake nails.
"I don't think your nails are going to get that long" I said, "I really think we need to keep them short so that you don't accidentally scratch other people."

And that was when she revealed to me what she's really up to...

She scrambled off the chair and grabbed a Highlight's magazine, quickly flipping to the page she wanted and handing it to me. "This is what I'm doing" she said. And handed me this:

Ah yes, that explains it. Of course. She's going for a Guinness World Record.