Friday, September 23, 2011

A Real Superhero

I had to miss the high school football game because The Little Flower has a toothache. When she told me that she couldn't make Apple Day in First Grade because she "needed to go to the dentist", you can get an idea of how bad it was. (This is the chick who needs a Valium to get her teeth cleaned.) We couldn't get her in for an appointment today; evidently, the Pediatric Dentists voted unanimously at their last annual conference to close on Fridays. Sort of like beauty shops are closed on Mondays

(Side note: if your hair cutter works on Monday, don't get your hair done there--it's not a beauty shop; it's a salon and you're paying too much). All of the pediatric dentists in our area are closed on Friday, so she's medicated and waiting on Monday. Lovely. Anyway, I couldn't exactly leave The Husband with Pitiful Lilly, so I stayed home. I got to take a nap and while I was asleep, he made chili dogs. This is romance after 17 years of marriage. (And that's not sarcasm either; I'm serious.)

Oh, and he sent me flowers at school with the most interesting note.

See, I watched Thor last night with the kids. Now, I know some of my Christian brothers and sisters have a problem with fake gods, but we don't. It's MYTHology and is a fairy story, so we're all good with that. Like Tinkerbell is welcome at Casa Johnson, so is Thor. Anyway, the movie was cheesy goodness down to the very core. Good guys, bad guys, betrayal, good triumphs over evil, but what really hit a note in the film was the sweetness of it.

The love interest (and by the way, that dude who played Thor was built like a Norse god for sure) never once even made eyes at the girl. He didn't look at her butt. He never even touched her. He didn't hold her hand or kiss her or brush hair out of her eyes. He didn't make crude jokes. He didn't come on to her. He simply enjoyed her company. He talked and listened. He helped. He cooked. He served. He was ALL man. He was forceful and protective without being degrading. He was spiffy bob fine too. 

And when the big moment came in the movie for him to rush off and defeat the evil and leave the damsel in distress behind to wait, he pulled her close to him and...kissed...her...hand.

Yes, that's right, the most intimate moment in this film occurred when the handsome, hot, built, strong, powerful hero kissed her HAND. And it was the sexiest moment in any movie I've been to in forever. Because he hadn't touched her the entire movie, and she was CLOTHED the entire film (and I'm talking jeans and layers including a jacket--not a hint of cleavage or so much as an ankle flash), when he took her hand and held it to his mouth and just breathed her in, it was intimate.

What a lesson for our young people! The less you do physically while dating, the more important it is when it happens. (And I encourage families who aren't allowed to watch this sort of film to reconsider; don't narrow-mind yourself out of magnificent teaching opportunities. There is only One True God and His name sho' nuff ain't Thor.)

I was waxing poetic about this scene in the film to The Husband. (He was at a work event and missed the family night thing because he was working to provide for our family.) I told him how special it was and how romantic and chivalrous it was--this entire hand-kissing thing, I mean.

Today I received flowers in fifth period class. Pink roses and carnations and little greenery. The note was the best though. "From your Thor Wanna-be". And he wasn't referring to that dude's abs either. I am beyond thankful that my husband wants to be that guy who takes my breath away. Gentlemen--dating, married, or otherwise--women want to be wooed and won. We want to be special and cherished. We want to be celebrated and adored and prized. We want to be protected and desired and chased. So, if you want to impress your woman why not try a little hand kissing and flower sending?

Steve Johnson: You are better than Thor. :-) I love you.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Decisions, Decisions

Every day you make a thousand little decisions. What to wear, what to eat, whether or not to do your homework/projects, what to read, what shows to watch...

You even make tiny decisions like what kind of make up you buy, what kind of toilet paper you prefer, what kind of gas to put in your car, and what to make for supper.

Sometimes the choices are much, much bigger like who to marry, where to buy a house, what career to choose.

I'm about to make a controversial statement, but I stand by it.

You ARE the sum of your decisions.

I think it's even what Christ meant in scripture when He told Christians that we would know each other by our fruit. If I look at a tree, and I see peaches, it's a safe assumption that it's a peach tree and that the fruit it produces is a direct result of what it IS at its roots. From the most basic point in its genetic structure, it IS a peach tree.

For some folks, life is "happening" to them, like a cosmic accident. They wander around aimlessly, never knowing how they misread so many signs along the way. They blow to and fro with the wind, claiming, "But I didn't know that was going to happen to me." We all knew that was going to happen to you; you just weren't paying attention to your decisions.

Nothing just "happens" to you. Nothing. You made a choice that led you to that moment. Now, sometimes other people's choices impact your life. I'm sure that the grandparents who are raising their grandkids feel this way, but no, they still had a choice to take on that responsibility or to adopt that child out to another family. At some point we have to take responsibility for our actions and lives.

What you choose to do, or choose not to do, will tell others down to your roots who you are and what you believe. If you are a Christian, or claim the name of Christ, I challenge you (just as I challenge myself) to be careful that you are making choices that honor the Lord God, because God is not amused by idle talk. And we will know you by your fruit.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I Am Old

They say that kids keep you young, but that's a lie. At the very least, it's a misleading statement.

I watched cheerleaders last weekend at a public school and all I could think was that their clothes were a) too tight and b) too short and c) thank God my girls don't have to wear that in public.

There are only three songs on pop radio, and they play over and over and over. They make no sense. They are loud and irritating. They only talk about sex and drinking. What in the heck is getting slizzard? No, on second thought, never mind. I don't want to know.

Pizza is not a food group.

I can't imagine going to bed without brushing my teeth first, even if it meant a trip to a mini-mart at 2:00 a.m.

I am not sleeping on the floor for any reason.

I need an afghan over my legs to watch television.

I keep my classroom like a meat locker, because I'm having a personal, tropical heatwave. Bring a jacket, because I'm cranky and intend to be comfy even if your hands turn blue and you freeze to the desk seat.

I find myself watching news over entertainment. I thought that Jerseylicious was a comedy show with actors.

I wouldn't consider a vehicle without four doors.

I turn into a pumpkin at 10:00 p.m.

I want to go to the early movie and then dinner so that we can be home before I turn into a pumpkin.

There is no band alive worth standing in a smoky club to watch. (Well, unless it's Duran Duran. Again, old.)

It took me two hours to figure out Twitter. I'm still not sure why I signed up for that except that someone told me I should.

I still purchase music CDs.

I also like a real book. Like with a cover made out of paper and stuff.

I'm not going to an outdoor concert in the summer even if it's free and even if Duran Duran is playing.

There are no good flavors of Nerds.

Ice cream tastes worse the more colors that are in it.

Something was actually 'Too Sweet' for me to eat. I didn't think that was possible until it happened.

I purchased a pair of shoes last week for comfort instead of style.

That is the official beginning of the end. I am old.

It's 9:04. I have to fold this afghan, brush my teeth, and get in the bed now to watch the news before I doze off. Next stop: the nursing home.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

In Charge of Everything

School is off to a rousing start. The kids I teach English to are freaking out in my high school classes because there is so much work (gasp! not work! oh, the horror!). Toughen up. The poor lightweights don't have a clue what it was like to have Mrs. Swindle for English class. Now THAT was work. Humph. (I'm becoming a grumpy old lady at an astonishing rate.) I guess I'm due a little grumpy, though.

Monday: Football practice, volleyball practice, Dave Ramsey is going on at church on Monday nights. Guess who is facilitating that and managing the money and organizing the food? (I'm still confused as to how that happened exactly.) But we all need better financial control, so here we are. Yes, I can do that.

Wednesday: The new church mission classes kicked off this week. We played kick ball and freeze tag. A little light on the whole "missions focus" thing, but we had fun. And I got to sit for thirty minutes. (Praise Jesus). Sure, I will teach the 1st-6th grade girls about missions, because I love them and it's fun (when I'm not exhausted and they actually pay attention).

Samford University
Thursday: I led my first-ever school field trip to Samford for a journalism conference. Only lost a couple of kids for a few moments, so I count that entire experiences as a success. (Hey, 48 youth, four adults, three different buildings on campus, food court, four vehicles drove an hour drive each way through Birmingham at rush hour in the construction, so, misplacing some goofy girls for a few moments was sort of no big whoop.) Our school paper was praised for design and layout. I love doing the school newspaper. Now if the staff would just be as excited as I am...

Fashionista at the top
Tuesday, Thursday, Friday: I am up to my eyeballs in football stuffs. Booster club, traveling with the team, rushing to and fro for T-Shirts, receivers gloves, donations, working the booth.  Ironically, none of my children actually PLAY football, just my bonus kids. Well, the Fashionista is cheering, so, we load up and go to the away games too. Why not? We're already on the road for volleyball several times a week...might as well go every night instead of just some. :-)

Saturday: Tonight is the first youth event at church. I think I'm supposed to be leading some sort of question/discussing thingy after we have movie night. Wonder what I'm going to talk about four hours from now?

CCA Football!

School newspaper. Me.
Booster club. Me.
Team mom. Me.
Senior Trip Advisor and chaperone and travel agent. Me.
English teacher. Me.
Yearbook. Oh, yeah. Me again.

So, if I seem a little distracted, it's not your imagination. I am. Go figure.  I tell you what--if I didn't have The Husband, I couldn't do a single thing. He drove kids everywhere (even some who he didn't sire), made suppers, took kids to the dentist, picked up groceries, came to events, did homework, gave baths...he's the Man.)

Pom Poms one for two or two for three! T-Shirts $15.00! Spelling test on Friday. Lunch is pizza, so do you want me to make you a sandwich? No, you can't have anyone spend the night. Articles are due on Thursday. I have no idea where you left your backpack. Do I look like I carry your backpack around? It's in the laundry, so get it out of the dryer. I don't know what's for dinner. No, we can't buy a squirrel. I have no idea what your English average is. No, I haven't graded the spelling tests you took an hour ago. Do you want to buy a yearbook ad? Play auditions aren't until January. Go back into the house and brush your teeth before we go to school. Here's your field trip money and signed form. Yes, I'll go over your spelling words after I finish making this volcano out of clay and vinegar with your brother. Don't forget to take the canned goods to the church. Yes, you can give me the mission money for the Pure Water Pure Love project. I have no idea where your cheer tennis shoes are.

I'm sorry, what were we talking about again?