on days when kites fly, so does Judah!

Just a short story today, but one that made Rachel and I howl on an otherwise chippy day!

    The boys had been a bit... challenging.  So it came as no surprise that eye-gauging mayhem was the order of the hour, when finally Elijah settled a bit and began to play with his balloons.  Hearing no yowls, screams or other yodeling noises, Rachel and I ducked around the corner for a bit of sanity.

    This lasted about fifteen seconds before Elijah bellowed at us, "Come look!  I make the kite fly!"

    I won't lie.  My first thought upon hearing this wasn't positive.  In fact, I was pretty sure that there would be ten to fifteen minutes of cleanup involved.

   Instead, we turned the corner into the kitchen to see a balloon "kite" hovering in midair with Elijah, the 'windmaster' himself, keeping it aloft by switching a fan (what else?) on and off.

   Enthralled, we watched him for a good five minutes as he dazzled us with his ingenuity and imagination.  It was pretty cool.  Our reverie was interrupted by another yodel from behind us.

   And what was this phenomenon?  While Elijah had been enthralling us,  Judah had seized the moment, climbed atop our kitchen table, and was swooping up and down on it!

  We might sleep with one eye open for the rest of our lives, but thanks to these little knights, we'll probably have fun doing it!

a wedding in pictures

So, because it happened almost two weeks ago.....

    I decided that it might be time for a wedding post.  This time it was my middle sister Kristin getting married.  If you're counting at home, the brothers got married oldest to youngest, and (if Catherine so desires) the sisters would get married youngest to oldest.  At least Kristin could drink the toast at her wedding... so naturally, we didn't have one.  Instead, we got the LJ and I (seen above) dancing down the aisle at the rehearsal.  This happened mainly because we got there twenty-five minutes early and the groom got there twenty-five minutes late, so we had some time to kill.

      But when it came time for the real deal, LJ was all business.  He's a professional, or as he says it, "a perfiesanal."  I think that the good behavior was really due to the fact that there was a string trio directly in front of him-- you could have waved chocolate chip cookies in front of his face and he wouldn't have blinked.

        After that, the Queen got to spend three hours or so hobnobbing with the other royalty while we lower nobility went straight to bed (with supper, at least!)

  The morning of the wedding we really didn't have much to do-- unlike my brother, who went shopping for car parts.  All we did was get prettified.  (Is that a word? Of course not... although spell check has no problem with it.  I hate computers.)

                         Above is Rachel looking all dazzling... with the LJ below.  "I see your lavender and raise you -- one shade of violet."  

 The only thing dazzling about me was my tie, but it was bright enough that in the right light you couldn't see me. :)

                                

The ceremony was lovely, with a timely (read: not too long) homily and beautiful music by the sisters.  Humorously enough, the bridesmaids wore basically the same color dress as my lovely bride, but in satin, while Rachel wore silk, so the sheens were quite different.  We joked that other than that, she could have been a replacement bridesmaid.

    Speaking of car parts, I'm taking the time to officially invite my brother to do a guest post on how he ended up timing his entrance to his reading so perfectly...

            and here we are at the reception.

               The only thing left to do was breakdance!

     The only person at the reception looking smoother than Judah was of course, the bride, who is now the lovely Kristin "only my husband can call me Krissi" Carroll!  Congratulations on the first steps to a long and wonderful marriage!  In closing, I think I'll just quote the groom, who posted this six days after on Facebook,

     " Thanks to all that helped make Krissi and mine's wedding the greatest day it could be.  On a different note, I'm contemplating retiring from work and staying on my honeymoon 
for the rest of my life :) "

              Have a good night all!

resurrection :)

    I am pleased to report that after a three-day ordeal in which his very 'life' hung in the balance, Sandyman J. Bear has made a remarkable recovery (thanks in no small part to the wonderful readers of this blog... I mean seriously, I had no idea more than 5 people actually read this thing) and is currently cuddling with his new best friend-- who ironically is the one that ralphed all over him in the first place... too cute!

    But the resurrection that I wanted to talk a little bit more about is the relationship between Elijah and I tonight.  He's pictured here two years ago at Judah's age (or just a bit older) and while they aren't twins, they  sure are brothers.  I think that these two knights may be mistaken for each other by sight in the future if they keep it up.

    They will never be mistaken by personality, however, and that's why tonight is pretty awesome.  Elijah had been challenging me all night at every turn, but especially about eating his dinner (he didn't until 7:00pm, which isn't remarkable until you consider that the rest of us ate it at 5:15) and harassing Judah.  Finally I prayed that one of the things that God would do is help our relationship to be built on respect and love and not just me chirping at him.

    I didn't even think about this as we three boys had a crazy finish to the evening at Dunkin' Donuts where we stood in line, me holding two shoeless boys until my arms nearly fell off while some snippy corporate suit in front of me traded in his kids' donuts more times than politeness should allow... long story short, I didn't even think about my little prayer again until I was wrapping up bedtime and Elijah gave me a huge hug and begged me to stay.  Normally, at that point I am out of there so fast to FREEDOM!  FREEDOM!  FREEDOM!  that Wile E. Coyote couldn't catch me, but a little voice in my head said, "isn't this what you asked for?  Here you go."  It didn't sound anything like I expect God to sound, but truthfully I'm a really bad listener, so I don't hear him talk that often anyway.  I decided to stay in any case.

    It was the best five minutes I've had all week.  We giggled together about nothing; he read me a book that said "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" of the outside, but turned out to be about two children going to the dentist and went on for four minutes on the same page before he remembered he had to turn the pages to maintain the farce of actually reading it; we even sang together.

 

       When I get a gift that good, it seems to call for a thank-you blog... which this is, coincidentally.

                Have a good night all!

the train of his robes

    Every once in awhile, a word pierces through my thick skull, and today the word came from the pulpit, of all places.  Church sermons aren't necessarily where I hear or see God the most, but today-- it happened.


    This Sunday, all I want to leave you with is a picture of the exalted and exultant King of the Universe-- and what he says about our guilt.




     Isaiah 6:1-8:


        In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Master sitting on a throne—high, exalted!—and the train of his robes filled the Temple. Angel-seraphs hovered above him, each with six wings. With two wings they covered their faces, with two their feet, and with two they flew. And they called back and forth one to the other, 

   Holy, Holy, Holy is God-of-the-Angel-Armies. 
   His bright glory fills the whole earth.
The foundations trembled at the sound of the angel voices, and then the whole house filled with smoke. I said,

   "Doom! It's Doomsday!
   I'm as good as dead!
Every word I've ever spoken is tainted—
   blasphemous even!
And the people I live with talk the same way,
   using words that corrupt and desecrate.
And here I've looked God in the face!
   The King! God-of-the-Angel-Armies!"
Then one of the angel-seraphs flew to me. He held a live coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. He touched my mouth with the coal and said,

   "Look. This coal has touched your lips.
   Gone your guilt,
   your sins wiped out."

Now that's something that even a rotten week can't destroy!

        Have a good night!

farewell to a true friend?

 

    It is with great sadness that this family may mark yesterday, June 8,2012, as the passing of a great family friend.  Sandyman J. Bear, affectionately known as Sandy, was a stuffed animal of great dignity and patience, a companion to all, and a good listener.

     He had lived with our family long before it was even a family, being given as a present in the 'courting stages' (thanks for chortling at the pun) of our relationship and growing his heart in affection first for the wedding of ourselves to each other and subsequently to each child born thereafter.  He is shown above as a lump under a blanket two years ago cuddling with Elijah, but also made trips to the hospital for visits with each newborn and has consoled both young knights to sleep on many an overtired night.

    It was, in fact, his great compassion that finally may have ended his tenure with us at eleven short years.  Two nights ago -- read the interruption in the most recent post here http://lifeonkingarthurscourt.blogspot.com/2012/06/this-side-of-heaven.html -- Judah threw up seven times before he finally ran out of steam.  Sandy survived the first onslaught, ducking to the side, but snuggled in minutes later only to fall prey to a second round of a child's nauseated onslaught.  As a result, he awaits either you to enlighten us how to clean him without a washing machine, which will destroy him completely, or        
being placed gently into that good night (the trash can) with a hero's farewell.  We can't bring ourselves to part with him, but frankly... he can't live in the house anymore.

         Can anyone offer any ideas??   Else, R.I.P Sandy Bear.  We will miss you.

this side of heaven

         Every once in awhile I think that you come to a crossroads as a parent where you're not sure what to do.  Sometimes it's a big moment; sometimes it's a big more sedate.  My trouble is that most of the time even after the moment passes, I'm still not sure if I did the right thing-- and today was yet another doozy.  Sometimes I wish that life was a bit more like school.  At the end, you get a multiple-choice exam with clearly marked RIGHT ANSWERS.  (I'm sure that you amateur psychologists have at this point figured out that something is horribly wrong with my psyche; oh well.)

                                      

     Today we went to the inaugural Picnics at the Park ((that's 5:30 on the 1st and 3rd Thursdays at Lynch Park for anyone interested; anyone (but especially families with parents that otherwise couldn't make it to play stuff-- like me-- invited!)   Since it was cold and rainy, only a few of us showed up, and pretty soon Elijah was bored of sitting at table with people ten times his age.  Seeing a cohort of 8-year-olds playing football, he tried to get them to play with him.  Once he figured out they weren't interested in teaching him, he wandered over to a tree and started to climb it.  

      He successfully navigated up about ten feet high the first time, but a little cavalierly for me.  I tried to impress upon him the necessity of looking where you're going, but eh... he couldn't really be bothered.  He was too busy showing me where his tail was because he was a monkey.  Doing a pretty good impression of it, that's for sure.

    He was so good that we dismounted, came over to tell the beautiful mama just what we were doing and ran all the way across the wet grass to do it again.  And that's when the trouble started.  

  That beautiful boy went even higher with more nonchalance.  It takes quite a bit to get me nervous with him, but I think that the heights got to me. 

         << Real-time update: At this point in the post, I heard Elijah screaming with a night terror.  I sprinted upstairs, calmed him down after 5 minutes, but he had awoken Judah.  I stuck my head into Judah's room to make sure he was ok-- he projectile vomited six times and I actually freaked out and called Rachel back from her wine-and-schmooze party where she was having so much fun to help me because I'm just having that kinda night... I tell ya, you can't make this stuff up>>


      I gently talked him down, and on his way down he ran into a bit of trouble.  I don't even know if he thought he was in trouble, but he got down to about 4 feet, and lost his footing. He started regaining his footing while hanging by his little arms, and totally lost his balance and fell, essentially doing a cannonball into the mulch.  


       Here's the troubling part: I didn't try to catch him.  I might not have been able to anyways, but as he fell I was consciously thinking: here's a good life lesson.  I had warned him, he took a risk and suffered the (albeit minor in terms of pain and suffering) consequences.  But now I feel a little unstable about it.  Should I have just caught him -- and continue to try to catch everything life throws at him?  Or is this the first of many lessons that I will watch him learn with pain and tears?


       I don't like it-- and if the update is any indication, the pain of watching my children learn that the world is not heaven won't be over any time soon.

why yes, we are ripped ;)

     Elijah has a keen eye for details, and today was no exception.  While he was not wearing the exceptionally loud tam seen above, his focus was nonetheless on his wardrobe.  "Daddy," he said looking down at his jeans, "you and I match!"

    For the record, we didn't match at all.  He is infinitely more handsome than I (blame his mama for that one), and he was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, while I was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. But... he's almost always right on these sorts of things, so I let it play out.  "How's that, LJ?" I said.

  "Look at this!" he said, pointing to his knee.  "You have one too!"  And lo!, like every other time, he was right.  Directly above each of our right knees was a big old-fashioned hole in our respective trousers.

  "You're so right, LJ!"  I said, proud of his little inner Sherlock Holmes.  "We're both ripped!"  Offhandly I said to Rachel, "You know why, right?  God made us that way."  With a wink and a little flex, we were both on our way.

     Rule #22:  Children hear everything.

         The above story, while funny, would have been a bit of a footnote except we had a trip to Target right after supper to kill an evening and try to forget that we hadn't seen the sun in four days.  After a very productive half hour of shopping, we were on the home stretch.  Judah sat contentedly in the cart, while the oldest knight-in-training was plunked down on my shoulders.  I had almost forgetten he was there when he bellowed, "Mama!"

       "What is it?" Rachel said.

      "Do you know who put the rip in my pants?"  LJ said.

      "No," said Rachel.  LJ loves loves loves playing the 'somebody' game ("Mama, somebody just pulled the blinds up for you"... "Mama, somebody just gave you tickles..."), so it was pretty obvious where this one was going.

     "God did!"  Elijah hollered.

      Rule 22a:  Even when children hear everything, they understand only half of it-- and that NEVER stops them from repeating it.

                        So whether you're looking at his tiny biceps or the big hole in his jeans, Elijah would like you to know-- God made him ripped!

                       Have a good night all!