The SBC Annual Meeting or Being Married to Joel Osteen

Four days after getting home from the beach, we piled in the van and drove on a Friday to Mississippi where we dropped the kids at Cousin Sandra's house. Then we turned around and drove back home to Alabama the same day. (We were worn out and hadn't even "been" anywhere yet.)

On Saturday, we drove Biscuit to the vet, dropped the dry cleaning, ran through the drug store, then hit the road to the airport to fly to the land of "Indiananapolis" for convention.

We had a GREAT time at the convention and were spiritually fed and felt like we did some Kingdom work, but the highlights had to be the meals, time alone with The Husband, and the hotel.

We arrived at around 5:00 p.m. Saturday evening, settled into the room, changed clothes, and hunted up a good place to eat. At least once when we are out of town, The Husband takes me somewhere on our dime that we can't begin to afford, but we call it a once-in-a-lifetime experience. When is the next time I'm going to be in Indianapolis? Seriously, might as well give it a go in case we never go again. :-)

We ate at some fine restaurants in Indiana. One in particular was off the charts--the Capital Grille--in the hotel. We had crab cakes and steak and creme brulee for dessert (again, before anyone panics, we paid for this meal). Everything was unhurried and cooked perfectly and the atmosphere was wonderful. It was very romantic and just lovely.

But the topper on the evening was when the waitress came over during dessert and tentatively asked the Husband, "Me and my assistant have been trying to figure something out--are you on TV?"

The Husband rared back in his chair and responded seriously, "No, but I should be!" (HA!)

She said, "Well, we all thought you might be that TV preacher from Texas."

You got it.

Someone thought that The Husband was Joel Osteen. HA-HA!!!!! Okay, this is so funny, I can't begin to discuss it adequately in this forum. The Husband shook his head laughing, and responded, "Joel's gonna be in some trouble come next week on the TV when someone reports that he had dinner with a stunning brunette instead of his blonde wife." We got quite a bit of mileage out of that one. Joel Osteen. HA!

The hotel we stayed in was unreal. The room we had was covered under the convention special rates, so we paid what everyone else did, but they upgraded us to a king suite. Huge bed with an enormous flat screen TV and sofa and desk...really spiffy. But what took the cake was the bathroom--There was a TV and a telephone in the toilet. My first thought upon seeing the flat screen TV mounted on the bathroom wall was, "What in the world do you need a TV in the toilet for?", then that night I took about an hour-long bubble bath bath while watching a chick flick and completely Got It. (Of course, this would NEVER work at home since all we'd receive on the TV would be Spongebob Squarepants or Scooby Doo and no amount of bubble bath justifies that.)

The telephone is still a mystery though. What do you do when you're finished with the program and the phone call is still in progress? I'm not sitting there another fifteen minutes chatting, and I'm certainly not flushing. What is the etiquette while talking on the phone and using the facilities? Do you cover the phone and flush? Do you say you've got a call waiting beeping through? Ugh. And who wants to touch a phone that's in the toilet? Ick.

We had to walk through a huge four-story mall to get to the convention center every session, so that was a mighty good excuse for some recreational shopping. (I'd be dangerous with some actual money.) :-)

The actual convention was up and down. We LOVED the preacher's conference and enjoyed the preaching and the evangelism conference. The business portion was boring but necessary. Oh, and the Upward luncheon was motivational. The pastor's wives thing was sort of weird. It may warrant its own entry, because I took issue with some of the things said from the stage (no surprise there). Have no fear, congretation, Sister Sunshine Charlotte stayed in check. :-)

We flew home on Wednesday and didn't get in until really late. The plane was delayed on the runway due to bad weather. We didn't really mind sitting there two extra hours too much--beats taking off in bad weather and not coming down in one piece. (Incidentally, on hour two of sitting there I poked The Husband and said that I could pitch a fit and get us thrown off the plane and then everyone would REALLY think that he WAS Joel Osteen. ha!)

Then on Thursday we drove back to Mississippi to collect the Shorties. Whew. I am SOOOOO glad to be home!!!!!!

No more travel for me for awhile. I need to decompress a little and hang out and enjoy the summer and the Shorties. Speaking of Shorties...happy Daddy's day to my precious husband and happy birthday to the Twins! It is good to be The Mother Bear.

The Beach is Back

Johnsons at the Beach 2008

It was good to go away, and it’s good to be home again. We had a wonderful trip to the beach this past week full of nothing but sun and sand and sea and seafood and shopping! Yea! The kids were good and the weather was custom ordered—it couldn’t have been a nicer trip. It was very relaxing.

We ended up taking a Bonus Child with us on the trip. (Once you get to four Shorties, adding one more really isn’t such a big deal.) Everywhere we went people would ask us if they were all ours. The Husband got to telling people that no, they weren’t all ours, we just saw some kids we liked in Wal-Mart and picked them up along the way.

Lily, Carter, Elaina, Hannah (honorary Johnson), Elise We got to the condo at around 5:00 on Monday and the kids were crazy ready to get into the pool, so the first thing we did before unpacking even was haul everyone down to the ocean and the pool to swim. They were pretty wound up from that five hour car ride. (Weren’t we all?)




The condo was super nice—very well appointed and lovely. The only issue I had the entire week was being 15 floors up. The kids were under strict orders that Lily’s feet had to be on the floor on the balcony every single time they stepped out there. We also pulled the chairs away from the rails and faced them to the wall just to make me feel better. But the trade off for this fear factor was an unbelievable view. I mean amazing.


We ate at great restaurants too…the Hangout was this really cool nightspot that during the day became a haven for families and kids. They have these huge canvas beds outside to lounge around on and a 7-ft-tall sand bar with a tunnel through it—just lots to do. (Although, seeing those beds out by the area where the band sets up, Steve said that he had a sudden wave of nausea thinking about our girls coming down here at Spring Break alone. Ditto.)

We also spent an afternoon riding gokarts and those water boats and kiddie rides. The kids had too much fun (so did the Big Kids).

And as usual, Lily was following in the footsteps of her fashionista sisters. (See photo illustration below:)She found these shoes at Claire's, pulled of the tags right there in the store, sat down on the floor, put the shoes on her feet, and confidently annouced while tossing her hair back over her shoulder that they were now Lily's shoes. And that was that.
(That's Mother in the family photo. She had a great time and held up very well with all of the travel.)
And on our 2008 Johnson World Tour, our church is generously sending the Husband and me to the Southern Baptist Convention this weekend. I’m really excited to go to the pastor’s conference stuff and hear the preaching! We need to be fed some too, so we're looking forward to a big time. We’re flying off and the kids are going to Mississippi to stay with the Apple Bottom Jeans Cousins, so pray, pray hard. Ha! (Love you Sandra and James!!! No one else is stupid enough, er, loves us enough to take the Shorties for an entire week!) Mother is going to stay with her mother for a visit, which will be fun for both of them and for the family.

The Johnsons are on the move this year big time.

Biscuit and the Beach

Beach Trip 2006


Well, we're about to be off on our next Grand Adventure of the year...A trip to the beach. The last time we went to the ocean was in the summer of 2006. I was so exhausted from that time, it's taken me this long to get back in the saddle again.

The Husband and I are hauling Mother and the four Shorties to the gulf coast next week for a little "vacation". (I put it in quotes because it's really more of a working trip for the Mother Bears of the world. Packing, unpacking, cooking, cleaning, washing, bathing kids twice a day after the beach and again before bedtime, putting sunblock on seven people, finding beach towels and beach toys and putting this one's hair up and mommy-where-is-my-favorite-fill-in-the-blank...a real "vacation" involves sleeping in and shopping and eating in nice restaurants, not laundry and cooking. Can I get a witness?)

I'm excited about it for many reasons, but one source of joy is a little more obscure than that.

Having given away the other yard dogs at our house--Peanut, Snowball, and the seven puppies--we are down to one dog living in our yard (the church sighs collectively in relief). Since we are going on vacation, I talked The Husband into letting me take Biscuit the Yard Dog to the vet to get his shots and get him groomed. We are going to board him while we are gone out of town. (This is like making a time-warp leap in the world of dogs.)

When I registered him at the vet's office, they asked me what his last name is. So, when we return home from the beach, we no longer have a yard dog, we will be bringing home Our Dog, Biscuit Johnson. I'm excited about it. He's the sweetest little thing ever, and I love him, er, I mean the kids love him very much. Yeah, that's it. :-)

Tomorrow, I have to run around getting the last of the stuff together before beginning the adventure known as Packing. I can vaguely remember being able to throw some stuff in an overnight bag and being ready to roll in 30 minutes. Now, it's like planning a three-month jungle trek hauling a bunch of wild monkeys on leashes behind you.

To take the Traveling Road Show on a trip like this requires tremendous amounts of planning and list making, otherwise you spend half of your trip in the Wal-Mart shopping for all of those forgotten items like socks and diapers and toilet training rings. (I'll be having none of that on my "vacation".) So, I make check lists and packing lists for the Shorties and The Husband and The Mother and Myself--it's quite a little production. It's gotten so bad that my 7-yr-old wrote me an e-mail reminding me to make her her own checklist this time so that she can pack herself. (It's in the gene pool.)

So, it'll be a week away from the computer, but I'm sure I'll have interesting tales from the seashore to regale you with come the first of June. Tune in next time when you might hear The Husband say, "Did you say we are having biscuits in bed? Why on earth would we do that?"

Luau in Alabama

So, what does a Spongebob Monkey Luau look like, you ask?

What, When, Where, Why, Who, and How

My life is exhausting. It’s like some bizarre calendar-scheduling-highlighter-and-sticky note-obsession that will require electroshock therapy at some point. I have something like four calendars going all at once (and you thought you needed Happy Pills? Get in line, Sister). As if that alone weren’t sick enough, I’m compelled to fill them all up. An empty calendar is a sad Charlotte.

See, the problem is that there are these ridiculously tiny calendar squares that hardly hold a word or two, and I have my entire life recorded in that space, jammed in there like a fat lady in a bikini--stuff spilling out of the sides and over the top; it's an ugly sight to behold.

To keep it all straight I have developed a color-coded system.

My mother lives with us, so her business is written in red ink. Things like her medication schedule and doctor’s appointments and shopping excursions for supplies and when to order more medical supplies and when to refill prescriptions and when I did This Procedure and when I did That Application and when she had What Pills. Oh, and I track her blood pressure and SAT levels and pain medications in there somewhere too.

Then there’s black ink for work, where I have this strange part-time schedule that involves regular hours and filling in for my co-worker’s vacations, plus we have these flexible hours sometimes. It’s a mass of scribbling on the checkerboard of the calendar pages.

In bright green ink there is the rotating schedule for the nurse who comes to sit with Mother and Mother’s brothers and sisters who all come and sit when I need to get out and about. That’s crammed in there sideways sometimes actually written on top of other things.

We can't forget my personal stuff written in pink letters like meetings for the seventy different things I’m involved in outside and inside of church, hair cuts, scrapbook crops, baby showers, weddings, contractor meetings, WMU, and church.

And then there is the topic of the The Husband’s schedule, which is recorded in blue with mileage and meetings and outreach and deacon’s meetings and church events and who’s in what hospital and what they are having done to them or what’s wrong with them (no, I don’t write about all of your personal psychoses on a 1-inch by 1-inch square, so you’re secrets are safe--even if I did write them down, no one could read them).

And the kids. My Great God in Heaven, the Kids.

There’s so much of this business to write down that it’s written like a big explosion of ink. School parties and field days and field trips and report cards and parent/teacher conferences and orthodontist appointments and dentist appointments and check ups and illnesses and gymnastics and what-day-is-corn-dogs-because-you-know-I-LOVE-corn-dogs-mommy-and-can't-miss-it and art class and outings and play dates and birthday parties and who-is-going-where-with-whom-while-we-are-here-and-there-with-part-of-the-kids and hair cuts and, is that my eye twitching or did the power flicker on and off?

It looks like the Care Bears threw up on my calendater.

Then there are sticky notes layered on top of all of that mess with things like birthday gifts to buy and when to mail birthday cards and thank you cards and the next party invitations, and personal notes like "go buy stamps" and "pick up dry cleaning", and reminders for The Husband. (Incidentally, I don't have to make a grocery list, because I ALWAYS need something from the grocery store.)

Excuse me, Miss, but I need to find the section of the store where you sell purses big enough to hold a wall calendar. And I could use a huge change purse for all of those pens and highlighters. And I probably need to make and laminate a Key Code so that if something happens to me they can hire a hieroglyphics professor to decipher what in the world all of that text crammed into those boxes actually stands for. Come to think of it, I’m not sure what some of it stands for myself, so I need the dude’s number when you find it.

Does anyone know where I’m supposed to be right now? Clearly, I don’t have the free time to be writing this down.

I guess they are worth it. :-)

Focus on the Entertainment Factor

It’s been an odd week. Mother hasn’t been feeling particularly well, so that’s been a bit of a strain, and work is a little weird, so it’s been an all-around prickly feeling creeping around my edges.

But hope is on the horizon. We’ve got a wedding featuring a mariachi band and the potential for some inebriated uncles on Saturday and a baby shower on Sunday featuring a mom-to-be who is planning a natural birth, which should provide HOURS of entertainment as people gasp and shudder and try to talk her out of it, so sunshine is right around the corner in my little world.

In case you misunderstand, I’m not being facetious, it’s just that there’s nothing more thrilling to a soul who journals than good material, and that’s a staggering amount in two day’s time. Especially since I'm bringing the Shorties in part and in full along to both events. That ups the entertainment value by like, oh, one million percent. I may have to take a pad and pen to make notes.

I think I’ll tell a little funny Just Because. A couple of weeks ago my friend B and her family moved into the most beautiful new house that they built mostly themselves. It’s gorgeous. (I coveted the bathroom mirrors and tile on the back splash in her kitchen to the point that I need to get in the altar on Sunday.)

The Husband and I are sort of the opposite of “handy” (as in run screaming if you see either of us carrying a hammer or gardening implement--Danger, Danger, Will Robinson), so we knew that it was best to stay far, far away from the new construction, lest we set something on fire or spill a gallon of paint on the new hardwoods (you think I’m joking again—-I have anecdotal evidence to these truths).

Being a Good Friend, I didn’t want to destroy their new home, but I wanted to do something special for them, I asked her to let me know when they would be taking up residence so that I could bring by dinner.

She immediately pooh-poohed me with, “Oh, you’ve got so much on your own plate, you don’t have to do anything.” To which I put my hand to my chest and pulled away, making a shocked face and said, “Oh, Honey, you didn’t think that I was going to COOK for you, did you? I was thinking more along the lines of walking through the grocery store and bringing food to you.” Then I laughed like I was making a funny. But I wasn’t.

Does this make me a good friend or incredibly lazy? I guess both. Is there some sort of etiquette breech if you take cold cuts instead of homemade cake? I can assure you that ham tasted a boatload better than any cake I’m baking. So, B, I’ll bring you some pie eventually. My family certainly won’t eat it. :-)

Well, I’ve got to go now. Lily just came in here to the home office at 10:18 in the P.M. and gave me a big toothpaste goodnight hug. No, that’s not a misprint, not a toothpaste goodnight kiss, a toothpaste goodnight hug, as in she’s squeezed an entire tube of Crest on the sofa and her pajamas, so I have to go salvage what’s left of the furniture and the Dora nightie and change my own nightgown. Dirty Word. (Incidentally, that felt completely inadequate. You should probably all pray for me. And for Lily. And for the sofa.)

(Note to self: breathe and focus on the entertainment factor, Charlotte.)

The Boogie Man doesn’t live under the beds at my house—it’s the Little Flower we fear around here. Does anyone know how to get toothpaste out of sofa? Anyone? Anyone?

Spongebob Monkey Luau

The Divine Miss Lillian Grace turns the big 4 tomorrow. She asked for a Spongebob Monkey Luau for her birthday. (Yeah, it beats me too.)

This is the invitation:

"So, when you ask your three-year-old about to be four-year-old small child what she wants her birthday party theme to be and she says, "Ummm....hmmmm...I want a Spongebob Monkey Luau, Mommy!" your immediate response is naturally to smile and say, "Oh, sure, Baby Girl, no problem. Mommy will get right on that, Honey." What? No? (This is why I get all of the Perfect Mommy Points. Watch and learn, Grasshopper.)"

Then I go on with the information about the party. Cute, eh?

Only we've got a little problem. It's supposed to rain in a most serious way on Saturday, and that's going to put a damper on the luau (which are traditionally OUTSIDE). We are supposed to play on the Banzai (a back yard waterslide thingy) and grill crabby patties (I told you I'm totally winning that contest this year). So, now the dilemma is whether or not to rent big jumping house things and use the gym at church as a back up plan or roll the dice on the weather holding out for the water slide, because the water slide thing IS the entire entertainment plan. (Sigh)

I can't change the theme or program at this point. See, the Spongebob folks aren't making the luau-themed plates and napkins anymore, so I had to actually bid and win them on ebay, not to mention the sparkly hanging palm trees I purchased and tropical monkeys and birds on straws and leis, we're a little stuck with the theme at this point. It's definitely a Spongebob Monkey Luau.

(My husband says I need therapy.)

Then he sent me to www.BirthdaysWithoutPressure.org which is like some rehab/therapy for children's birthday party junkies. The folks who made the site have some valid points.

When did it become mandatory that the birthday child give out goodie bags to guests? I'm buying lunch, cake, ice cream, a water slide and/or some jumping house things, and you want a bag with some candy and junky toys in it too? Who do you think you are? ;-) So, I'm taking up that part of the advice, and it's no goodie bags for you. Have another piece of cake.

I think we need to set a price ceiling on gifts too. Seriously, $5.00 is enough to please any four-year-old kid alive. McDonald's gift certificates. Sidewalk chalk. Crayons. Hairbows. It already looks like Toys R Us exploded in our playroom and she's got hand-me-downs from TWINS. What I should have put on the invitation was "Bring a gift, and I'll make you take a toy home with you from the basement. Try me."

Hey, I just had a GREAT idea. We're having goody bags afterall. Do they sell Spongebob goodie bags at Pet Smart to put puppies in? Well, there's always next-day- air on ebay...