Second Generation of Daddy Bears

Because sometimes a photo tells it better than you can say it.

Whole crew at a church event

Daddy and Naynuh

Putt Putt golf in Gatlinburg on vacation

Germantown in Tennessee on a trip

Christmas Fantasy Land, Lilly and Daddy

Getting a lift at the park

Playing monster with the Shorties



Fourth of July Fireworks



Elise, Daddy, Lilly

Taking Naynuh to the Trick or Treat

Watching Elise play at the rest stop while on the way to Mississippi to see relatives

The very first "finger game" with Carter

Like father...like son

Whole crew at the beach

he's under there somewhere...

Daddy and Lilly

Daddy and Lilly (still in the hosptial)

Daddy and Carter

Daddy and the Wonder Twins (Elise/Elaina)

Happy Father's Day 2011!

Lessons from My Daddy Bear

Daddy had never, ever held a baby before he held me.

My daddy and I have this very odd relationship. I almost worshiped the man when I was young. He was my hero, and in many ways, he still is. He was a difficult man (and in many ways he still is). He was demanding. He was harsh. He was exacting. He had high expectations. He was a strong force. He was funny and physical. He had a great sense of humor. He was powerful. But I never, ever wanted for hugs and kisses and bedtime tuck ins. He loved me and my brother fiercely. It was, and is, an overwhelming relationship. I'm thankful for my father.



 

 

 

  I'm thankful that he tried. I'm thankful that he didn't quit. I'm thankful that he didn't say "I told you so" as often as he could have. I'm thankful that he forgave me. I'm thankful that he told me "no" more than "yes". I'm thankful that he loved my mother. I'm thankful that he still provides for her because he loves me (and her). I'm thankful that he was and is such a strong force, because I was made stronger for standing in his presence and leaning into that wind.

And with that, I want to share some of the most important life lessons I learned from my Daddy Bear:

It's okay to be goofy. In fact, goofy is more enjoyable than serious. You also better stay on your toes, or I'm going to make you look goofy on purpose, and I fully expect you to laugh with me when I'm laughing at you. So, go ahead and laugh at yourself first. (I hope I have given this same gift to my children. Smart people have quick wit. And empathetic people find themselves to be the biggest laugh of all.)



Playing on the "Rock Chiff"

 I remember curling up in the green chair with him, secure in the knowledge that nothing could ever get past my Daddy. (I never, ever turn my children away for a snuggle. One day they won't want to sleep with me or sit with me, and that day is rapidly approaching. And I will protect them and their interests with every breath I take. Nothing will get past this Mother Bear. Nothing.)

I have seen every Western ever made, because that's what we did on Friday nights--we had significant amounts of family time, and he never watched anything we couldn't see also until we were asleep. (To this day, our house revolves around a never-ending family time that we are quick to schedule and guard zealously.)

I read because my father insisted. He handed me the first book I ever loved: Gone With The Wind. He is the very reason that I am passionate about literature. (It's important to teach your children to love reading and to participate in the things that make your life richer.)


Same game "Rock Chiff" with Conrad, my brother.

He taught me to memorize poetry just because you ought to. I still memorize something every single month. (Some things you should do not because they gain you wealth or education or position--you should just do them to improve yourself as a human being. They make your life richer just for doing them.)

I see him bringing me Godiva--For Special. (You should show the people you love with physical gifts.)

I hear him saying the Tucked Up Their Paws, rhyme, his voice hiding laughter right before tickling me silly. My children think that everyone knows Tucked Up Their Paws and Special Kisses. (What? You don't?) (You need to develop your own private language in your family unit. Your own traditions. Your personal folklore bonds you together deeper than any trip or thing you own.)

Raccoon, me, Daddy

In that same voice, I hear him cursing and yelling, but still turning the car around, after only thirty minutes into the 15-hour drive, to go back for Raccoon, my very special bear. (Always go back, go extra for your children, even if it costs you something and you get absolutely no personal gain.)

I smell freshly cut wood and see us stacking it behind the car we washed earlier in the day. (My father taught me that hard work is good for you, and I hope that my babies are learning the same.)

I taste Eggs Benedict on Saturday mornings (and it's still my favorite dish), because after washing the car and cutting and stacking the wood, it was time to get cleaned up and go to brunch.  Just him and me. (Because the most valuable thing you have to spend on your kids is time and shared experiences.)

I know Bear folklore, because I am one by blood and by birthright. (And I'd tell you what that means, but then I'd have to kill you, because some things in a family are private and should be kept that way.)

And I love my Daddy Bear, because he first loved me. Which is the most powerful lesson there is.

Smart and Talented do NOT Equal Gifted

I hate it when people think their children are "gifted". It's probably the most overused word of this decade. Everyone can't be special.  Having an aptitude for something doesn't even come close to being "gifted". Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't encourage excellence at everything we try, but seriously? Gifted? (Snort.) So, with that said, we may actually have a quasi-talented Shortie or two lying around the casa Johnson.

The Fashionista (one half of the dynamic duo) has developed quite an interest, and a tiny bit of an aptitude, for the piano. She's been playing for a couple of months and is already performing at church. Her teacher only took on a handful of summer students, and E made the short list. It's so bad (er, I mean good) that a friend loaned us one of these spiffy keyboards with the 88 fully weighted keys, so that it feels like you're playing a real piano. Now, it's got all of these crazy synthesizer noises to choose from. Before we think Mozart has entered the building, first thing the Shorties learned to do was make farting noises with the keyboard. Naturally.

The Little Flower is an art making maniac. She draws all of the time. She is obsessed with dry erase boards and markers. She can't wait for a blank piece of paper. She paints, sculpts, draws (sometimes even on paper instead of the furniture). She's on fire about it too. When I announced that she was taking summer art classes, she put it on the calendar and made a countdown day thing like an Advent Calendar counting down to Christmas. I kid you not. We bought these really cool personalized autograph books for Disney World. She used hers as a sketch pad, announcing that she didn't want autographs, she wanted drawings. She went on to explain that she would be willing to give out HER autograph, however. Okay then, so she might show a little bit of aptitude in art.

The Number One Son has taken apart every single thing with a motor or mechanism in this house apart and has re-fitted it for some new and interesting purpose. Such as the portable CD players are now fans, and my night light is now some sort of complicated spy equipment. Here is an example of one such contraption. It's a simple circuit. He saw the high schoolers building circuit boards and came home to figure it out for himself. It's bizarre especially in light of the fact that I won't let his father use a hammer inside of the house. His genetic line includes a man who is almost a handyman handicapped person. I'm not exaggerating. So, the Number One Son is pretty good with his hands and building things.

And Naynuh? Well, she's decided that in light of playing on the volleyball team, endless trips to the swimming pool, shopping, movies, and spa visits, she's going to spend the rest of the summer of lying still and being calm. I knew that one of them in the pack had to take after me. Now that's what I call aptitude. She might be the only gifted one in the bunch!

Too Intense for Me

 

Perhaps these people need to get more intense about their spelling skills.

I've discovered something about myself the past few weeks. I know that this is going to be shocking to some of you, but I'm not intense enough as a human being. I know, I know, there are people falling out of their computer chairs all over the state, but it's true. I'm not intense enough.

I went to that pageant last weekend, where I assure you, everyone was more intense than I was. Then, last night, I took the Bonus Child to her cheer competition center for practice, and again, EVERYONE was more intense than I was. There were people in the room--more than one family--who drove two hours one way for their child to train with So-n-So, the Yoda Jedi Master of All Things Cheer.  Two hours in the car ONE WAY for CHEER practice. THREE TO FOUR TIMES A WEEK. That kind of intense.

(I'm thinking to myself, who are these people, and how can I learn to identify them from a distance so that I don't accidentally sit by them anymore?)

Everyone who knows me for more than five seconds knows that I adore my children. I'm on the outskirts flirting with worshiping them, but I'm also a complete realist about my babies. They are talented. Smart. Funny. Precocious. Clever. Witty. Bright. Beautiful. Handsome. And I could go on and on about their brilliance. But I hold one truth dear in my heart--they are only viewed this way by me, their father, and God. This viewpoint is completely and totally based on one thing--how much I love them.



The Number One Son--football star.



They are goofy. Make ten stupid decisions daily, each. Are silly, stubborn, argumentative, difficult, crazy, loud, and smack when they chew. They forget to say 'yes ma'am' on a daily. They fight, yell, run, and sometimes don't listen. They back talk. They whine. They argue. (Sometimes even with me.) They are selfish and complicated. I completely believe that they will lie, steal, cheat, and backbite if we don't stay on them consistently, not to mention constantly. It's just the truth. Your precious angel is no different, My Friend. Perhaps you just fail to recognize it and/or admit it. The deal is that you LOVE them more than you SEE them as what they are. Thank God that He does the same thing for me! He loves me for more than just what He sees in me on the surface.

So, here's the deal. These parents in that cheer-viewing aquarium who drove two hours (each way four times a week) were having an obsessive compulsive sort of conversation while analyzing the minutia of their 14-yr-old daughter's back handsprings. I kid you not. I looked out there on the floor, trying to spot Nadia Comaneci, only to see an average height, average build, average looking white girl with brown hair. She was cute as a button, but just sort of...well, average. I could have mistaken her for either Wonder Twin from the back. And her back handspring was, okay, I'll say it, Average. She  bobbled. She righted herself. She went on to the next station. Big whoop. Then the Parental Units had an extended conversation about how little Suzie needed to work on her form, her stance, her confidence, her lift off, her extension, her arm strength.

Okay, I'm a big girl. I have no trouble at all with this. It didn't just happen to me, I was this size when The Husband married me, and I'm all good with that. But these two parents next to me were...were...in need of a full-length mirror and a Moment of Serious Life Evaluation. They were HUGE. And the woman was drinking an extra large milk shake. Like 40 ounces of milk shake. I'm sitting there listening to them down grade their child's accomplishment (I'd like to see some of you try a back handspring from a dead stand still without a bobble), and they both clearly needed to do something as simple as take a walk and eat a salad or just back away from the gargantuan shake. Hello?

Then they went on to chew on their child's splits because she wasn't all the way to the floor (missing by oh, I don't know, a millimeter). Um..ma'am? You can't get out of that chair without pushing with both arms and huffing a little, and you're worried about your child being a paper's width from having her tail on the mat? Hello? HELLO!??? IS ANYONE HOME?????

If you are living vicariously through your children, you should at least make some sort of attempt to join them in their endeavours. I couldn't discuss my child's activity level if I also didn't walk and do aerobics. I couldn't encourage them to try new foods if I turned my nose up at everything offered to me. I would feel like the worst possible kind of role model and example. The very definition of hypocrite. We need a serious priority check in this culture. This is sort of brutal and direct, but perhaps you need to work on you instead of living through your children.

Oh, and Shorties? I'm not ever, for any reason, driving you two hours each way four times a week so that you can practice anything temporal. Ever. Because, quite frankly, I'm all good with you being average, so long as you excel in the things that matter; the things that last.


The Fasionista about to put one over the net.



Galatians 5:22-26 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.  Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.

I'm not sure that God is all that concerned with your back handspring or your coverage of third base or how you hustle that ball into the end zone. (Perhaps we ought to keep that in mind when we berate our children for their inadequacies.) Before the Sports People have an aneurysm-sized freak out, I'm all about sports. My girls are on the volleyball team, cheer, and play basketball. My son plays every kind of game with a ball that he is eligible for. We are enrolled in piano and art classes. We are McWane Science Center and Zoo and Children's Theater membership people. We go and do every single day of the week on this activity or that activity, because I think those things have amazing, powerful life lessons attached to them.

Wonder Twins on the Spirit Squad

But this is the question we ask ourselves before every single thing we put our children into:

What lasting things are my children learning in sports and activities, and do they reflect what God would have for their life purpose? Am I putting the things of the world before my service to the Lord? Am I modeling what I would have my babies learn and live, or am I living vicariously through my children instead of doing it for myself? Okay, so maybe I'm intense enough. Perhaps we're just on opposing teams. :-)



The Beauty Pageant Manifesto

Well, I had one of the most interesting experiences of my life today. I drove two hours each way in support of our county's Mrs. Senior Representative as she participated in the state-level beauty competition. She's such a cool lady. She said that she wanted to do it because she was finally old enough and just wanted to try it. It's a beauty pageant for the over 65 set, and it was something to see, Folks.

Now, I'll go out here on a very tiny, rickety limb and admit that I'm not a pageant person. Okay, it's worse than that--I'm an anti-pageant person. I hate them. They are completely ridiculous. Your daughter is NOT the prettiest one. She WASN'T robbed. And I can absolutely guarantee her loss wasn't political. She's just an average kid wearing too much make up with a hairdo that belongs on Dolly Parton who did a terribly cute, if a little precocious, version of that Judy Garland song that all pageant people seem to know. We thought it was cute after the Thanksgiving turkey; we didn't think it belonged on a stage under lights. And before the pageant people go nuts, don't think I'm prejudiced about the girls. I feel the same way about people who are too bent out about sports. Seriously, it's a ball. Get over it. Your kid probably isn't getting a scholarship or going pro. He's just a kid who hits the ball pretty good. Whoopie for you. You are confusing my politeness with interest. (Snarky but true.)

With all of that out there in the open, it goes almost without saying, but Our Girl was robbed. She was gorgeous, poised, talented, and clearly the winner. (I'm not even related to her, and it was obvious to me.) She beat the fire out of that piano, wore an elegant dress (her legs were spectacular), and she was well spoken. She did our county so very proud. I was glad to know her in that moment.

Now, to be fair, the woman who won today completely deserved it--she tap danced for four minutes straight. Just the endurance alone was worth a win (remember, these are women over 65 years old). And she looked marvelous too. It's just...well, the entire process is just so subjective. I mean how someone wins or loses is in the eyes of some judges. Who is fit to judge my daughters and deem them worthy or not? Certainly not other humans...(and this is why I call it ridiculous).

Here is some random, meaningless commentary from someone with absolutely no pageant experience--just some things to note in case you are ever considering a run for the crown:

1)  For your talent, never, ever, ever put on Halloween angel wings borrowed from your granddaughter and piece together a dance routine while quoting random unrelated Scripture over a Kenny G song. There are not enough margaritas in the world to excuse this behavior. You couldn't have been that drunk.

2)  I can now die in peace having seen a 70-year-old woman do the splits. I mean the full splits. In a leotard.

3)  70-year-old women should never, ever wear leotards. (Or sleeveless gowns.)

4)  Flashdance is a questionable music selection if you're 18. If you're 71, you might need to adjust your meds.

5)  I'm so glad I know how to post to YouTube from my phone.

6)  I'm not sure that apricot antebellum ball gown was the most appropriate choice for the African American candidate. Her stylist is so fired.

7)  When that woman's microphone went out while she was murdering a completely innocent song, I was praising God. Then they let her have a do-over because of the equipment malfunction, which was God clearly mocking me. Josh Grobin had a brain freeze somewhere in the world, thinking that a rabbit ran over his grave. No, it was someone killing his song. Twice.

8)  I still hate beauty pageants.

9) But I had the best time this afternoon! I hope I get invited again next year!

10) And I better get started right now if I'm going to be in any kind of shape to compete in that thing in 20 years. Seriously.

Disney: The Johnson Experience

We took the crew to Disney again this year. We go every two years. There was this guy named Brady I worked with who took his family like that, and I distinctly remember making fun of him. What are you doing? Don't you know that there are other places to go? I take all of that back. It's our favorite. I figure we've got two or three times before the kids "outgrow" it, and I'm going to take them back as many times as they'll go. It's our favorite. So, now you've seen and heard all of our traditional photos and stories, I'd like to share some of my favorite moments from this trip.

This year we went with the Littletons and Brookers--together they still don't have as many Johnsons as are in our crew. This is our first official Disney photo upon arrival.

One of my favorite things to do is to take the "posed" photo and then keep on snapping afterwards. You'll see that it works--you get the most interesting photographs when the kids think that the moment is finished. This is on the bus on the way to Epcot--our first stop. The Wonder Twins did a nice pose, then Elaina shoved part of a Poptart into her mouth and saw me about to take a photo. She's trying to tell me "no" while her sister laughs at her. Priceless.

 



Most excellent photo ever--this is the swankiest hotel at Disney by far. We went there for a princess character meal. Right before us, this magazine gorgeous blonde family wearing khakis and white shirts went before us. Everyone was tan, matching, magnificent. Like model perfect. Right behind them, we stood in the same spot. When I went to take the photo everyone struck a pose and Elise said, "Because we're Johnsons!" Awesome.

The kids tell us that The Husband and I never take silly photos. Look at Elaina's hands behind my  head--this was the theme of all our photographs this year--the Photo Bomb. In almost every shot of Johnsons, you've got other Johnsons in the background being, well, Johnsons. 

Another brilliant Photo bomb by the Number One Son



Maybe the only serious family photo we took on the entire trip.

 

Loved, loved this photo of Elise holding Lillian's hand into the 4D show It's a Bug's Life. The Little Flower was scared, so her big sister helped her into the deal. 



This trip happened to fall during Noah Brooker's b'day. Lillian's was earlier in the month, but if you think that was going to keep her from getting a free cupcake, you've got some serious catching up to do on what it means to be a Johnson.





Does this really need a caption?



Lilly was obsessed with "Mickey's Power Show" this trip. We had to buy the doll, take photos everytime he had the hat, etc.



Our ancestors would be so proud.

 

Love it!





What is remarkable about this photo isn't the girls, look at their clothing and accessories. Who says you can't tell twins apart? lol

 

Perfect Photo bomb. People in the front have no clue.

 All in all, one of our best trips yet. We ate, we rode, we traded pins, we fought, we saw, we laughed, we were rained on, we threw up...We are Johnsons!

God Answers Prayer--even the little ones

I didn't fall off the face of the earth in May, well maybe sort of...I had high school graduation and final exams on a Friday night, then we rolled out of here for Disney World for 8 days the next morning. (Nothing like stacking big events right on top of each other.) I should learn some moderation. (snort)

This blog entry will need some sort of a preface. I worked outside of the home for fourteen years. I drove over an hour each way commuting from home to work; I worked by myself in an office that was isolated and had minimal contact with coworkers. Because I was so far away from home, I missed most of my kids' major events like field day, awards day, grandparent's day, etc. I missed every summer. I worked while they went and did as a family either with their grandmother or father or with trusted friends and family. It was good, but it was equally bad. We ate tons of convenience foods, Daddy did all of the Mommy stuff, and we saw each other for a whopping two hours every evening provided there wasn't church, basketball, piano, etc.

I was caught up in a lay off from my job two years ago. At the time, I was devastated. What will I do? How will we eat? Since my husband is in full time ministry, I made close to the same income that he did. It was a huge financial hit for our family. We decided that we'd take the entire summer off and not worry, just be happy. (Thank you to Dave Ramsey and his Emergency Fund advice.) With all of that said, being laid off from my job was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was given this amazing opportunity to own a travel agency. (I can't thank my friend Sonja enough for what she did for me.) I work from home, get to be with the shorties full time, and our overall quality of life improved dramatically, even though our income went down.

I then had the opportunity to teach high school English where my kids attend school. The teacher who was in the position just became burned out, so I took over last October 2010 sort of as an emergency fill in. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it's the best job I've ever had. I can't wait to get up in the morning and get to school. I adore the kids. I love the work. I can't believe that God trusts me enough to let me teach. What a miracle! They're bringing me back next year. The funniest part to me is that with the two jobs combined, I made exactly what I did before. No commute. I never miss a kid's school event. I'm home during all of the hours they are. We ride in together and home together. I eat lunch with The Little Flower. I'm there for every program, play, luncheon. I'm in school the exact dates they are. It couldn't be any better.

We're preparing for a busy, but relaxing summer this year. We'll have summer camp for the Shorties, Vacation Bible School, and lots of lazy afternoons by the pool. The Best, Jerry, the Best! (Obscure TV sitcom reference.) The reason that I love summer so much is that I finally get to exercise some homemaking skills (limited as they are).

I get to cook almost daily and manage my own household. I get to go through closets and re-organize everything (aka "relaxation therapy"). I get to watch movies at night, read as much as I want, and sleep until 9:00 every day (understanding that we are up until 11:00 almost every night all summer). I can't imagine how I worked all of those years full time without being a homemaker. Don't get me wrong, I loved working, but this is fulfilling in a way that can't even be compared to my "career".

Today, for example, I've had a cup of coffee, done my prayer and devotional quiet time, and am now writing. I'm going to check in on about 12 client travel plans, follow up with some Disney people, and do several new quotes (the only thing better than going to Disney, is helping other people go to Disney). Then I'm going to sweep out the storage unit, do my Wii aerobics, then take the kids for a swim. We're watching movies tonight for a Girl's Night, since the boys are going camping. I'm making homemade Spanish rice and burritos for supper. There's no rushing, no crazy, no deadlines, no panic, no stress, no traffic, nothing at all to spoil the buzz of just being "Mom". And guess what? If I don't clean the storage unit or do the aerobics, it'll still be there tomorrow.

God has blessed me far, far beyond anything that I would have imagined for myself. He replaced my income, gave me the desire of my heart, all in ways I never dreamed. I'm fulfilled in my work, happy as mother and wife, content in all things. When I faced uncertainty, He told me to trust Him more. What is it in your life that you are worried over? I challenge you to give it up to Him and see what He does with it. I'm a walking, talking, breathing testimony to the power of God to hear and answer. To quote Sheryl Crow (who was taking the thought from the apostle Paul), "It's not having what you want; it's wanting what you've got." Rock on.