Apple for Teacher

Mrs. Cotter reads the blog, so here they are--Lily and her fabulous teacher from MES Eclipse last year! I credit that entire group of women for making Lillian tolerable at Big Girl School this year.

And, drum roll please, we have lift off on the potty training! WHOO-HOO! We've tried toys and new Dora underwear and we've read books and done the Poopy Party Dance and bought glitter to flush--all to no avail.

Completely exasperated, knowing that I'm going to have the only college student who is still using Pull Ups, I finally told my four-year-old daughter, "Honey, if you'll start using the potty like a big girl, we'll do whatever you want--you name it and Mommy will buy it for you."

She tilts her head and thinks on it for a second and says, "Okay, Disney World."

Eight hours later, she's refusing to put on a Pull Up and using the potty like a professional. Great, so that only cost us $4,000. Awesome.

It is totally worth it. :-)

Ma'am, Just Remain Calm.

Those of you who know me well impatiently wait for the Annual Adventure that I have at the Christmas Village. This year did not disappoint in any way. I went with two girlfriends on Friday afternoon to downtown B'ham to the Civic Center for the annual arts and crafts show better known as Christmas Village.

We'd driven around in circles for 10 minutes or so looking for good parking without any success. It was about to rain, so we collectively decided to sit in the car at the entrance to the parking deck and wait a minute or two and see if someone else came out--it would beat walking back to the car in the pouring rain trying to carry our purchases.

Now, there were these orange cone things that the parking lady had come out and moved to let some cars in when spaces were available, and I just pulled the bumper right up to them, planning to idle there for a few minutes rather than sit in the turn lane waiting in the middle of the street. We weren't blocking the street or the entrance (already closed off by the traffic cones); we were just hoping for some folks to come out so that we could go in. No big deal.

Well, I guess that the parking attendant thought we were being aggressive just because we were sitting there (listening to the Carpenter's, incidentally--it's hard to be aggressive while singing along to Leaving on a Jet Plane).

Anyway, I guess she called the parking police, because after we'd been sitting there for a minute or so, a cop on a bike pulled up, a parking police woman blocked us in at the rear, and a security dude for the BJCC pulled up in a very big hurry on a golf cart and blocked our car at the front. It was like some sort of weird security guard SWAT attack.

They were all eyeing us and finally, (keep in mind that I've got both hands on the wheel, the stereo on, and the front windows rolled down--and visualize we are three white women dressed like the Gap exploded all over us in a 2007 vehicle about to go into the Christmas Village, not like we're in militia-wear headed into a gun and survivalist show) and the policeman riding the bicycle (carrying a GUN) gingerly approaches the car and says, "So, what's up?"

I look at him not having any clue what is going on and say, "Um...what? We're waiting on a parking place?"

I say it like a question, have both hands in sight, the music is on in the background and I'm smiling--we've been laughing and giggling and chatting about our kids and grand kids and what we hope to buy inside the BJCC this whole time--we haven't been plotting a terrorist-style overthrow of the government or Bourne-Identity thrill ride through the parking deck--just swapping recipes.

Now, this is the part that could sound like I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. Mr. Policeman raises both of his hands like I'm dangerous and he's trying to talk me down off of a ledge and he says, "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."

I actually laughed out loud and said, "What? Calm down?"

Then I look at Shelley and at Wanda (the girls in the car with me) with my eyebrows raised, and I am still giggling and say, "What do you mean? I'm not upset in the least." I gesture to the parking deck, "We are just waiting here for the parking deck to open up a spot."

He backs away from me a full, exaggerated step, hands still palms out and up, and says, "Ma'am, we are just talking here."

I swear, I hadn't even raised my voice! (And you know that I'd completely admit it if I had gotten smart.) I was still smiling (at this point). So, now I realize that the security man who has blocked us in at the rear is taking down our license plate and is circling the back of the car. Those of you who know these women realize how terrifying Wanda and Shelley can be when they get their Mad On--I'm sure his taking down my tag number was because they were so scary. All 100 lbs of them in holiday wear is terrifying to behold.

The policeman says, "You are going to have to move your vehicle."

Okay then. I'm shaking my head yes, I'll move the car and say, "Okay, no problem, but I'm blocked in here, and I can't move."

"Again, ma'am just remain calm." (Maybe I was a little sarcastic about the being blocked in thing?? Who can tell at this point?)

I turn to Shelley and say, "Am I acting like I'm upset?"

She shook her head no and gave me this what-in-the-world-is-happening-here look. I certainly don't know.

So, at this exact moment, when I am in fact, about to get angry with this guy who keeps telling me to calm down, the parking attendant who'd been so scared that we were threatening her by sitting at the entrance to the parking deck, comes out of her booth and yells up at the cop, "HEY! I've got a space open for that car if they want to come in now."

It's clear that Deputy Dog here thinks we are causing a ruckus of some sort. We're getting the I'm-dealing-with-vermin once over for a second or two, then he nods slowly at the Parking Lady and turns to me and says, "I guess she's going to let you park in there now, even after all of this."

And because I can't help myself, I say, "Because of all WHAT? What is THIS exactly? Do you get a lot of angry, white, middle-aged women committing violent crime in the parking deck before entering the Christmas Village, an ARTS AND CRAFTS SHOW???"

Now, he should be telling me to calm down because I'm actually getting wound up, instead he moves the cones and lets us into park. HA!

So this confirms that I am indeed on some sort of list somewhere. Nothing else explains that weirdness. Who knew that the BJCC is profiling soccer moms?

The Rolling of the Yard

Yard Rolling




For Pastor Appreciation Month, most pastors get a card or a love offering (we got both of those in spades), but the added bonus this year was from the youth department. In a show of love and support, they rolled our yard. Now, for those of you not from the South, you may not even know what “yard rolling” is, so I’ll define. It’s when you hurl mass quantities of toilet tissue all over the lawn and trees.

I’m not sure what the youth have against giving us a nice plant or say, maybe babysitting for us for free, but it seems that the traditional rolling of the yard in our part of the world is some sort of ritual indicating that we are Part of the Crew. It’s a high compliment. (Which we intend to repay in a mighty way at some future date. Hey, we didn’t go through the purgatory of youth ministry without learning a thing or two about the concept of retribution.)

We’d just gotten home from camp with the kids, and Ms. Shelley and her family loaded all of the Shorties and took them away from us on Saturday night (probably sensing through divine intervention that she was saving us from committing murder, because I’d had ENOUGH of screaming children at that point.) My mother went to stay at her sister’s house over the weekend. It was a glorious, child-free, mother-free evening at the Johnson house. I actually read a book, ate my dinner by myself with no one wanting to take a bite off of my plate, and got to spend some Quality Time with The Husband. (What? What do you call it at your house?) So, waking up to a yard full of toilet paper was a quick trip back into My Real Life.

It’s never a dull moment, folks.

And that morning, The Husband from the pulpit picked on the Yard Rollers by accusing them of not spelling "Roll Tide" correctly, so they came back again that night and did a repeat with the letters spelled in extra large font right there on the lawn. So, if you drive by and see a dude dressed like a tree in our bushes, don't panic. That would be The Husband on night patrol laying in wait for youth armed with Charmin sneaking around our house.

Halloween, er, I Mean The Fall Festival

We are a Dress Up For No Particular Reason sort of people at the Johnson household. We just like costumes. They are fun. Just because.

Here are the Shorties in their self-styled costumery

Lily in her cat suit.
Elise as a Movie Star (her Daddy was so proud of that outfit)

And Elaina as a boy. Carter as Anakin Skywalker. We are all about trick or treating and fall festivals and dressing up in costumes and just enjoying our community.

I don’t think that Lily really remembers the entire Halloween experience last year very clearly. She enjoyed it so much more this year. Every time they dropped a piece of candy in Lily’s bag, she gave this little maniacal laugh and shook all over with glee as if to say, “All I have to do is say ‘trick or treat’ and they GIVE me the CANDY???!!! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” It was hilarious. She also tore it up on the bobbing for apples deal.

Someone glancing through wanted to know why I didn't have more photos of Carter. Honestly, that Anakin Skywalker mask freaked me out. It was like taking photos of some midget, not my son. So, he only got one or two the whole night. Poor kid. I'm going to give him some sort of complex.

Why We Didn't Have Ten Kids

Fall Missions Camp at WorldSong

They say that moms get some sort of amnesia a year or so after giving birth, because if you really remembered how it was to be pregnant and deliver a baby you’d never again in your right mind voluntarily submit to that particular brand of torture. But some time passes after you give birth, and you find yourself ogling at babies, offering to hold them because you like the baby powder smell, and glancing longingly at the infant clothing as you wander through stores. It’s like God’s special little way of tricking us into procreating again; without this amnesia, one time on that ride would do most of us for a lifetime.

I guess that God does that same selective recollection modification thingy to former Youth Pastors too, because as though four years in youth ministry wasn’t enough torment, er, I mean to say wasn’t a source of great joy in our lives, we loaded up 12 elementary-school aged kids and headed to overnight Camp in Cook Springs, Alabama for a missions weekend learning about Venezuela.

Now, learning from the missionaries and eating the food and singing the songs were all very educational and enjoyable. But more than that, we had a brutal reminder about camp food and camp lodging. Let me tell you something. There is nothing to really bring you back to counting your blessings as quickly and as harshly as eating a camp hot dog and sleeping in a bunk bed in a large room full of squealing 8-yr-old girls. Those people at Gitmo better shut up or we’ll move them to summer camp in Alabama and see how they like that.

All in all, we had a great time, an uneventful trip, and learned a lot of information about missions in Venezuela. Yea!

The Fashionista Show

In no particular order, I’ll start with The Fashionista Show.

The girls’ mission group at church put on a fashion show in October to raise awareness and collect pajamas for the Pajama Program—a ministry that provides kids in shelter situations with new pjs and books. (www.pajamaprogram.org) Instead of just putting out collection boxes in the foyer (like sane people would have done), we put on this fashion show--the price of admission being a package of brand new pjs and books.

We had this elaborate stage put together by Ms. Summer and Ms. Bridgett (two highly talented women in our church). It was seriously a work of art. Summer had the idea to decorate the runway like a canopy bed, and boy, did that concept work out. The girls felt like princesses, and we raised a TON of pjs and books for the Pajama Program.

The categories were a little different than you might expect. We had “sportswear” where the girls actually wore the uniforms from the sports they play. And an entire grouping of pajamas, naturally. It was a lot of work and a lot of fun at the same time.

Here are my fashion divas on the runway. Victoria Beckam and Katie Holmes better move on over, because here come the Johnsons.

Daylight Savings my Ear

Wow. I can’t believe I started the month off like a blogging maniac and the let it fall away like that. No excuse, but it has been a crazy month. Where did the time go? I’m ready for the holidays so that I can rest (snickering while typing).

I survived all of the back-to-back events that I had scheduled (which is saying something). I had a woman at church this weekend, hustling to set up for the Fall Festival that we host, cut her eyes at me and say, "So, what will you have us doing next weekend, Charlotte? I think we have a free day or two that you’ll be wanting to fill up with another huge activity." Ahhh...they know me so well already! Well done!

So, I'll be working on some updates this week to get everyone caught up on the month of October.