Aim for your Best

Soggy Saturday, here.

Thankfully hubby and I made our weekly grocery jaunt in time before the latest downpour hit.  Now, he's napping and I'm snug in my chair with a new show in the Netflix queue and blogging to you, sweet friends.

Highlights of this morning - saving 57% at Kroger and having breakfast out with my man.  Our brunch spread was a not-yet-used Christmas gift from Grandma.  And the savings were a stock-up of my favorite low carb frozen pizza made with a chicken crust.  ...It's the little things.

Last night was the final archery meet for our senior.  He had his best shooting set ever -aside from an unfortunate snafu.  Right before the last round, there was a medical emergency, causing chaos on the floor.  (Prayers that the girl is recovered)  Of course, he wasn't focused on his score and a lane judge pulled his arrows before recording them.  We'd videoed the round and know it was maybe one of the sharpest aims he'd had at a tournament.  Our best guess from the distance is 47 or 48 out of 50.

Sadly, they won't count a phone recording for state qualifier so he had to re-shoot all alone with a packed gym watching.  Between the stress of a classmate unwell and the pressure of hundreds of eyes gazing, he did not duplicate the same score.  In fact, it cost him at least 10 points.  But, he did have a memorable senior shoot.

We are going to miss rooting for our guy.  From the time he was able to run, we've been cheering from the sidelines for some sport. Soccer in preschool, basketball all the way to middle, mixed in with softball and a brief trial of football, finally settling with archery. He began in the 7th grade, walking over to the high school for practices because there was no team for his class.  We've watched him grow in ability and stature over the years. 

I'll admit this momma got teary in the stands thinking about the end of the season.

Though I was frustrated for him and the unfair hand he'd been dealt, his character shined through.  He was calm and professional with the judge, focused on the final five arrows of his high school career, and never complained.   I'm continually proud of the young man he has become.

And my final joy, this week...
It's no secret I love to write, always have.  Since the days of "dear diary," to moody teenage poems turned songs, to soaking up every creative writing class as a student, my passion to share in written form has been with me since I could structure a sentence.  And it is still my dream to publish a book -someday.

In the meantime, I'm honored to have opportunities like the most recent, writing for a local online magazine, OC Monitor.  As a community contributor, I'll be able to share snippets of life in a small town.  If you'd like to read my first post, click here.

But don't fret, I'll continue sharing on this happy little blog.  It's my outlet for a rainy day or one full of sunshine, wherever joy is to be found...

Count Your Blessings

We've had a roller coaster of emotions the past week.  Snowstorms and cancellations, busted pipes and clogged sinks, fluke injury and crippling back pain, topped with a dollop of financial stress, all in the midst of planning a surprise party for our son who would turn 18.

To say tears have fallen would be an understatement.  

Perhaps the obstacles came at the same time to keep me distracted from the fact that my baby was all grown up.  If you've been around this blog for more than a minute, you know he is a special guy and tugs at all my heartstrings.  18 was a milestone this momma wasn't quite prepared for and I don't know if it has truly sunk in even still.

As I browsed through old photos for his party, it seemed forever ago and just yesterday.  They tell you kids grow fast, you know it as a parent, but the reality still seems impossible.  I've told him a dozen times this week though...no matter how many birthdays he has, he'll always be my baby.

check out that cute photo bomber (tee hee)

In the middle of our messes, it is so easy to lose focus on the blessings we have.  

When I was soggy socked and stressed, watching water gush from our pipes (for the second time in a week) it was hard to see hope.  Dishes were piling in every direction, my hubby (our handyman) was out of commission from hurting his back at work, and due to the snow, every plumber in the area was booked for weeks.  But the hidden blessings through this mess would be a sweet dinner provided at the most perfect moment because a friend responded to a whisper from God.  Quality father-son time, as Noah was off from school (due to the snow) and got one on one plumbing lessons from Dad.  And a kick in the pants from the "big guy" to remember not to take my eyes off Him when the water rises, or else I may drown. 

Writing this morning, the events of the week that caused me such stress seem so trivial now.  A dear friend shared some horrific news of what she's been privately enduring.  And the unimaginable happened just miles away from us with another school shooting and young lives taken too soon.  I found myself ugly crying all the way to work, thanking God for reminding me of all the reasons I have to be thankful - and that there are others facing so. much. more today.  

That's how the enemy works, my friends.  he wants us to stay so bogged down in the stressors of every day that we can't look up to find the One who can pull us out of any storm.  And if we stay swirling in our own messes, we can't help (or even see) someone else who might need rescue.  

Sometimes the events we weather are mild, sometimes torrential but despite the downpours of life, God can be and is our constant calm.  

Prayers and Joy... 

and I'll leave you with a few moments of sunshine we shared.

the boy in the blue is one of Noah's best friends
 - and he came to the rescue for his party.  Being my heavy lifter, with Tim unable to help.
Bonus blessing - my sweet cousin thinking to snap precious memories like this <3 br="">
  

Records from my childhood my mom dug out to go with Noah's new record player.
We've enjoyed dusting off the memories and sharing music from my past.

And last but not least....a #simplejoy

Buffalo balls - a recipe that I "winged" (ha ha)
meatballs, ranch dip mix, and franks hot buffalo sauce
Yum Yum Yum

Hairy Adventures

When I was pregnant with Noah, I suffered horrible heartburn.  Every. Single. Day.  There's a wives' tale this causes your baby to have lots of hair.  In Noah's case, it was very true.

He was born with a head full of dark hair.

As a toddler, he had the sweetest curls and his hair began to lighten a bit.

Though he was blessed with good, thick, curly hair he was cursed with a double crown. When he was younger, he called it a "double crayon" and would pout when I'd lick my hand and force it to tame.

One year, as I was cutting his hair, he asked if he could have a "real person" do it.  That ended my days trimming  -but not styling.  Through all the years, he's asked me for help with his hair.  I too have thick curly hair and know what a pain it can be.  You either cut it short or learn to work around it.  As a boy, he doesn't have the patience but he likes having different hairstyles.


And like most with curly hair, you always long for something different.  He played ball with a boy who had slick straight hair that flipped when he dribbled across the court.  Noah wanted his hair.  Much as I tried, his tight curls wouldn't give.  So we had a chemical straightener applied at a salon.  Though we pulled it off, those mornings were torture.  He was convinced I was going to burn off his ear with my flat iron.

As he grew older and started to drive, he began to branch out more on his hairstyles.  In the summer, he's usually more adventurous and tends to let it grow out.  Which in his case, can become pretty hairy.

This is a version when the curls are "tamed"...

I love running my fingers through those curls.  Though these days, the older her gets, I wonder what other girls might as well. 

This summer, he shocked us by coming home with a mini mohawk.  Though it startled me when he first came in, I quickly fell in love.

             

I wish I'd taken photos since the start of the school year because almost every day he asks me to do something different with his hair.

We've slicked it back old school style, straightened to the side, let it be curly, afro-like, and this morning it's grown long enough to full spike it.

He kept his eyes closed the whole time and was shocked it got so high.  He's already so tall but with the spike it makes him seem even bigger.  I love how it turned out but, most of all, I love his confidence and willingness to be himself.  In a world of copycats, I'm proud he marches to the beat of his own drum.

 

 

And I'll happily be his stylist as long as he allows because our mornings bring me lots of JOY!

Fancy Dance

My baby attended his junior prom this past weekend.  It's hard to believe he is old enough for such a thing.  I'm still getting used to the fact he can drive.  Goodness, how quickly kids grow...

Seems like just yesterday he was preparing for his first grade school dance.  In fact, while attempting to search for a photo from long ago, I stumbled on a funny story.

(Gotta love Facebook for a history log of memories!)

I asked Noah what he wanted to wear to his

 Valentine's Dance tonight. 

He said, "Mom, it is just a 4th grade dance, 

not the Jr Prom...who cares?!" ...such a boy!

After reading it, I remembered the occasion, and thought it was timely to find, since he just went to his actual Jr. prom.

Being one of his first dances and on Valentine's, I expected he would want to go all out.  Noah was quite the romantic in grade school.  In first grade, he actually had five "girlfriends" - one for every day of the week!

And even though he commented he didn't care what he wore, pictures don't lie.  He was stylin and profiling.

He certainly changed his tune for this event, as he had definite ideas for how he wanted to dress for the occasion.  Purple became the main color because it is his favorite but each piece, even the suit, had stylish details.  He chose a pop of orange, despite the frown of the clerk measuring him, just because he wanted to.  I loved the end result.  And of course, as you'll see below, he had to include funky socks from his ever-growing collection.

Seven or eight years may have dramatically changed his height, maturity and looks but he still has lots of spunk and character.  We were rolling in laughter Friday night, while trying to take photos.

     

Oh, how I love his spirit.

This boy sure brings me joy!

Not having a current girlfriend, he contemplated even attending this year.  Momma talked him into it though, as I didn't go to prom and always regretted it.

Going with friends made for a unique experience.  They met up for sushi and went bowling afterward but neither were really planned.  I'm sure there were lots of laughs and stories he didn't choose to share through the night.  The only thing he didn't do a lot of was dance.  Mr. Social, he said he spent most of the night just making rounds and talking.

However, I'm sure there was a girl or two there that wished he had asked them to dance.  This mom may be biased but he is a cutie pie.

I asked him later what he thought about prom.  He said he was glad I nudged him to go but that in the end he decided it was just an expensive homecoming.  Aka - a Fancy Dance.

That's my boy...

Day 26: Solo Eagle

This momma bird is teetering on emotions today.

Her baby just took one big leap out of the nest.  After six months of being his co-pilot, he is now a licensed driver, able to be in the car solo.

Normally my guy is cool and collected, but this afternoon, moments before the test, I could sense his nerves had him shaky.  I tried to joke around to distract him, he turned up the radio to tune his goofy mom out, and I doused him in oils to settle and calm.  In the end, I turned to what we should've from the start.  We prayed.

Huddled together in his car, awaiting the instructor, we prayed for peace (for both of us), for calm and focus to do well in his test, and for safety on the road.  It wasn't the first prayer I've said for him concerning being on the road and now it most certainly won't be the last.  In fact, maybe God was thinking of moms of teenagers when he said, "pray without ceasing."

As he ran in the house later to show his dad and drop me off, I even put my hands on his car in prayer, envisioning God protecting it and him in angel bubble wrap.  He's a smart kid but there's crazy people on the road and this momma just needs to know he'll be safe.

Not surprisingly, his big brother sent lots of signs today.  More butterflies than I could count on my route this morning and on the way to pick him up.  A huge yellow one sitting on the window box as I opened the door to get him for the test.  We counted the stops on his exam route and there was, as you may have guessed, 23.  And as he proudly handed me the test showing he passed, his full release date is 1/23 of next year.  I have no doubt big brother will always be watching over him from above.

So many moments of joy, seeing him fulfill a huge milestone, the excitement and pride on his face as he pulled in to pick mom up at the courthouse, and watching him drive away on his own for the first time.  But perhaps the biggest - or at least the most emotional - was him calling his dad to share the news.

Tim works nights so he was deep into sleep on Noah's test.  We were in Noah's car for the test so I had him drive by my office to get something out of my trunk, a surprise "driver's survival toolbox" for him.  I noticed he was on the phone but it didn't register what he might be doing.  When he returned with damp eyes, my mom alarm went on alert.  Instead, he sweetly shared that he had to stop and call his dad, because he taught him so much about driving and Noah wanted him to be the first to know.

Not one to show his emotions, it was a touching moment that again revealed what a big, sweet heart he has.  It was special that he thought enough to stop and wake his dad, just to share the good news before anyone else heard.

We're so blessed to be his parents.

Drive safe, big eagle. 

And remember these life lessons along the way...

NashVegas Birthday

Normally, I'm all about planning birthday parties.  Since my boys were little, I would get as much enjoyment out of selecting a theme, choosing games, and coordinating decor as I did watching them experience their day.  As Austin grew older his standard request was a pool party at our house with the family.  Being a winter baby, Noah wanted adventure.  And truly, we needed something to entice people to trudge out in the snow.

Over the years we've done sundae and pizza making parties, lazer tag, surprises, excursions and numerous other themes.  One of my favorites (and most popular posts) was Minute to Win It.  The adults had as much fun as the kids.  Noah's all time fave was the hotel trip with his buddies, aka "bachelor" party, although he was only 12 at the time.

But my baby's 16th sort of snuck up on me.  Maybe I was in denial.  It doesn't help that holiday festivities, Christmas, and my birthday are stacked right before.  This year I struggled to figure out just exactly what to do to make his day special.  And he wasn't much help, as "i don't know," or a shrug were the only two answers he seemed to give on how he'd like to spend it.

Realizing we had a three day weekend with the MLK holiday, I offered him a get-away.  A mini vacation in a hotel from the city of his choice.  This idea enticed him.

He opted for Nashville so we wouldn't spend a chunk of our trip driving and because there are so many options to enjoy.  Dog/house sitter confirmed, bags packed, and we were on way.

The only concrete plan we had was where we were staying.  My aunt introduced us to Drury Inn a few years back and it has become our favorite hotel chain.  One big perk is that they serve a hot breakfast and a hot nighttime snack.  For us frugal gals, that means we only have to buy one meal a day and that is my kind of traveling.  Truthfully, with a mini frig and microwave, you could even get by with bringing your own.  At this point, I sound like a paid representative, so I'll move on to the rest of our trip!  (but seriously, if you're traveling, check them out!)

In the lobby, Noah picked up a few visitor brochures.  Between that and a Facebook plea for "fun teenage options" we were ready for wherever the wind took us.

And oh, what a whirlwind weekend it was!

Night one would see us at a glow in the dark teen club-meets-American Ninja.  Noah bounced, tight-roped, jumped, flipped and plopped his way around for a couple hours.  Just watching him exhausted us.  Once back at the hotel, I would've gladly retreated to the bed, but my birthday boy requested midnight waffles.  A tradition he's seen my cousin and her girls do while vacationing together, we bundled up and dodged traffic for craters of maple syrup.

Bellied up to the bar, midway through scrambled eggs, sausage, loaded hashbrowns and three waffles, he manages to get out, "New tradition, mom.  This is awesome."

Day two = Science. Sharks. Sauerkraut. And Statues.

Hoping he wouldn't be too old, we opted to go the Adventure Science Museum.  Noah's always been a fan of anything science and they had a planetarium, although we watched sharks instead of stars.  Three hours later we left impressed and glad to have spent the morning there.

Lunch was an adventure, more in surviving the trip than where we ended up.

Busy downtown venues are not my cup of tea.  One way streets, a delayed GPS, two men barking directions, and nobody wanting to pick a spot had my nerves frazzled to the core.  Finally pulling into the lot of a restaurant we knew and loved, we were shell-shocked to discover parking was around $25!  In the many circles and loops we took to find an empty space, I spied a German eatery and made an executive decision.  The big selling point was that parking was free; however, Noah's always up for a new culinary experience.  Also, he's recently been enamored with the culture, discovering our family tree has some roots there.

With our bellies full, we headed for our final stop, the Parthenon.
Or as I like to call it, the steps of death.

Heredity and old injuries from a wreck have my legs in terrible shape.  As such, steps are not my friend.  The picture above shows before... all smiles, since I'm currently dumb to the fact that those giant doors behind me are locked.  We walk down, around and up the other side only to find that isn't an entrance either.  Back down steep concrete monsters into the basement entrance, I'm grumbling (and hobbling in pain) about the lack of signage this place has.  My physical state at this point certainly didn't enhance the visit but I was grateful to see ramps and elevators once inside for the tour.  The only replica in the world, it was a been there, done that experience.  

By the time we made it back to the hotel, everyone crashed, though I did set an alarm for the free kickback snack.  Tim laughed at me, still full from our enormous lunch but by golly, free is free.  I told him he could eat and store it for when he became hungry later.  

Noah wanted to end the evening in the pool/hot tub but apparently so did everyone else in the hotel.  Every 15 minutes or so he'd trot down and scope out the situation, returning to the room with a frown.  At 9:20 he bounced back excited to report that only one kid was swimming and four grandfatherly figures were watching.  Tim bowed out and opted to relax on the couch bed.  

He didn't miss much.  

The pool was freezing, in my dysfunctioning thyroid opinion, as it connected to the outside.  Noah kept ducking under the wall and escaping into the frigid night air.  My common sense and claustrophobia would not join him.  As my teeth were chattering by the semi-heated flow of water I managed to find, a couple enters with a dog, just as I was about to escape to the hot tub.  Somehow, the thought of eau de wet pooch didn't appeal to me, so I didn't join them.  Yet later, said wet dog jumped in the pool with us to cool off.  Noah thought it was amazing, of course.  Upon returning to the room, I opted to lather, rinse and repeat.  Twice.

With Tim's nap, he was on his second wind so the boys stayed up late watching tv and wrestling each other.  I was thankful for the suite we splurged on and escaped to the quiet bedroom and a comfy bed all to myself.

Our final day, after lingering over our last free meal we traveled to the giant mall that is Opry Mills.  Never one to spend much of his own money, Noah treated himself to a shopping spree.  He's been such a saver since getting a job this past summer, so it was a joy watching him waste a little cash.  True to what I've taught him though, he didn't buy anything that wasn't on clearance!

Last stop was Dave & Busters for some arcade fun.  Noah and Tim enjoyed shooting at zombies and each other, competing over hoops and an aggressive game of ice hockey.  I snuck off to rest in the car, knowing they'd sleep all the way home.

Between the giant bear hug he gave us more than once and the uncharacteristic Facebook tagging of a slideshow with, "Loved today, thank you so much (mom) and (dad) for this amazing trip," I'd say Birthday 2016 was a success.

Hope it brought him a fraction of the JOY he continually brings us.

Trust me, he was laughing just moments before I snapped.  

This is his "seriously, how many pics are you taking of me today" face.

Sunday fun

29 photos

Blue Jean Baby

When my boys were little, a squirm was enough of a sign for me to know they needed a tag in their shirt cut out.  Their body language told me everything without the need for words.  If I delayed in getting the scissors, the squirm would increase and sometimes a whine or two would escape.

Both always had very definite opinions about their clothing choices, once they were old enough to voice them.  No dressy or itchy shirts, no khakis, no matchy-matchy outfits.  I wonder if they were in a silent torture back in the Garanimal days.

My baby will be sixteen in a week.  For Noah, once puberty hit, the pants came off.  Part werewolf, he lives in shorts and a T-shirt 365 days a year.  And still complains he is hot.

In the beginning, I feared a visit from social services, as I was convinced every mother was shaking her head at the school drop-off each morning and mentally noting my license plate.  I would beg him to wear pants, even sweatpants would be sufficient.  At times, I offered pajama pants just for being out in the cold.  He could cram them in his backpack once inside.  Hoodies became a bargaining chip.
'My legs will get frostbite but my arms will stay warm' reasoning.

After awhile, I just gave up.  He's a big hunk of a boy and I figured if he gets cold enough, he'll wear more clothing.

Aside from wearing shorts, he also makes some very colorful choices.  Remembering my all-black phase from 7th grade, I bite my lip and let him express himself...most of the time.  Bright basketball shorts, a t-shirt that does anything but match, and knee-length boldly colored socks.  All three pieces usually opposites on the color wheel.  Add in a pair of size 15 shoes with neon orange stripes and it is impossible not to notice him.

The other night, he comes to my room and says, "Mom we need to talk."

This, of course, puts me on alert, but I play it cool.  Don't pounce, let him come to you.
I sleepily set up and nonchalantly ask what he needs.

"My boss pulled me aside tonight...new policy changes...dress code...asked if I even owned pants."

At this point, I'm rolling (and also internally worrying if the question of owning pants was sincere or meant to be funny) but mostly in a fit of laughter from the way he describes their conversation.  He's moaning now, the squirm already inching up his shoulder as he thinks about having to cover his legs.
Tim and I pick on him a few more times before bed and I promise to help him look through his closet in the morning.

The next day he begins the fashion show.  Again, no words are needed as he marches, stiff-legged, out the hallway.  His entire body is tense, as if the blue jeans are physically freezing up his muscles with each step.  One after one, the parade reveals busted zippers, too tight-won't close, and ripped pants.  Two of his jeans have gaping holes in the upper right thigh.  What are you doing to flex and burst through denim fiber in exactly the same spot?!

We manage to find the one decent pair of jeans he was forced to wear to Sadie Hawkins in the fall.  (Seems his girlfriend has more persuasion than momma)  And make a plan to go shopping later that day.

Unsure of his size, as he hasn't been forced to choose a waist/length measurement for quite some time, we load up on a few possibilities and he creates a fort in the nearest dressing room.  Being that he will literally only wear these to work (and probably strip in the car on the way home), I'm going for cheap and scrounging the clearance aisles.  I manage to find a couple under $10, which for the amount of material it takes to cover his football frame, is a steal.

I'm quickly informed; however, they are in fact an impossible color choice.  Apparently, even for a uniform, style matters.  White is not acceptable.  I think about correcting him, as truly they're just a faded washout, but I calculate the irritable scale and decide it is against better judgement to push further buttons.  Under my breath, I do mention that they are a good deal and just work pants but let it go at that.  In the end, we leave an hour later with a couple choices, a few twenties missing from the wallet, and a flustered, red-faced boy.

Saturday night would see his first shift with fully covered legs.  I prayed it wouldn't be too typical of a slammed evening, considering the snowy weather.  Thankfully, he got out in record time and managed to remain fully clothed all the way into the house.

Here's hoping he can survive Tuesday's shift.

And learn to regulate his body temperature before summer arrives.  

Laughter Spree

I'm a simple gal.  As such, it doesn't take much to make me smile.

And though Friday was jam-packed, the grin I still carry is from quality time, not the quantity of things we did.

(However, in the eight short hours we had, we did get a lot accomplished.)

The day's mission was back to school shopping, specifically shoes for my son who is now wearing a size 15.  Although I could've done it on a Saturday, I took vacation time to spend some one on one with my towering teen.

Now, I don't know many teenage boys who willingly want to spend a day out with mom, much less shopping, but "Mom & Me" days are somewhat of a tradition in this house.  Hearing Noah's excitement this week, when he talked about our plans, brought joy before the day even began.

The only thing that would've made the outing better is if we weren't on a time limit but my hard-working boy had a 4:00 shift to clock in to.  And I got him there with minutes to spare!

We crammed a day of shopping, sushi, a matinee, and a stop for frozen yogurt in the few hours we had.  Noah asked for none of it, being so thankful and frugal our whole trip.

Well, actually he did simultaneously say "Orange Leaf" when I leaned over and said, "You know what would cap off this day?...."  And then we both laughed.

Laughter was a big part of our day.  Noah had me snickering at purchasing every color of shorts Academy Sports had, when we found a great deal.  Not one to care about labels, he gasped when comparing the savings shorts with a name brand.

"Why would anybody pay that much just for a logo?" he exclaimed, "I can get six pairs to this one!"

He was so price conscious, I had to persuade him to buy much of anything.  I'd watch his body language for things that caught his eye.  And then I'd show him how we'd go online, find a coupon, and save 20% at the register.

At Shoe Carnival, I walked in hopeful but worried we wouldn't find anything in his size that he liked.  To my surprise, we were in and out in 15 minutes.  Although I could've hand-picked the bright orange tennis shoes he wore out the store, he shocked me by buying some stylish slip-on canvas shoes.  My face must've questioned him because he shrugged and said, "I'm unique, Mom."

One of the highlights of the day was our ride home.  Running behind, because Noah had to sample every flavor of frozen yogurt before choosing, I was attempting to eat my treat and get him to point B on time.  Safely.  I'd scoop in a few bites (coconut and pistachio - yum) at every stoplight.  In the end, I drank the melted mixture.  Of course, mine went quicker because it was only a swirl or two.

Noah's was a heaping mound of weird concoctions.  Peanut butter and mango bobos.  Strawberry cheesecake and marshmallow creme.  For whatever reason, he thought it'd be funny to stuff a spoonful in my mouth just as I was yawning.  Now, there's two reasons this received an odd reaction from me.

One, it was gross.  I don't even want to recount the weird textures and flavor combinations my taste buds experienced.  Second, I have a really, really small mouth.  Although it was a "normal" size for him, I had ice cream coming out of my ears.  But it was too gross and cold to just swallow and I couldn't spit it out because I was driving down the road.

I was gagging and snorting.  He was laughing.  In the end, I was all but peeing my pants.  As we cornered his pizza parking lot on two wheels, he rolled out gasping for air.  It was a wonderful day that will always hold fond memories.

For after all, he reminded me this week..."Just three more years, Mom," as we were making plans for start of another school season.

Yes, this momma knows.  Much like he has a countdown to turning 16, I am holding tight to every precious moment, because I know one day I'll blink and he'll be full grown.  I'm already pushing in the brakes before this sophomore year even begins.

Time seems to go quicker with every passing year.

Working the Weekend

Somewhere, over the past couple months, my 15 year old decided he wants a job for the summer.  Perhaps it was a reminder of boredom from last year or the dreaded chore chart mom created.  Truly, he's just always enjoyed working - or rather making money!

Noah's mowed yards for several years, but summer sweat equity is difficult and undependable.  Not yet driving, he's limited to our neighborhood and the need varies each year.  Plus, mowing is not his passion.

When he set out to putting in applications, I secretly worried about his disappointment, given his age, but I prayed he'd find something.  He never hesitated though.  Honestly, I don't think age has ever been a factor for him.  If we wants something, he goes for it.  And that makes me a very proud mom.

Noah's passion, from the time he could climb up to the kitchen counter, has been cooking.  While I assumed whatever job he found would involve food, I expected it to be of the fast version.  Yet God had other plans a huge blessing in store for him.

He ended up securing a job a local pizza place that's walking distance from our home.  At first, he figured he'd be taking orders, bussing tables, or washing dishes. And he was fine with that - it was work.  What thrilled him was learning he'd be able to help in the kitchen!

On his first night, we'd planned to give him distance, not wanting to embarrass him with overly excited parents lurking in the background.  But a text came in from him begging us to come down, ironically after we'd already eaten.  A true salesman, he gives us the pitch about how good the cookies are, so we try a couple.  And then asks if we'd like some bread sticks, the station he was working at that night.  Although we were full, we couldn't say no.

My little chef is all grown up.  Insert heart tears!

And even though already stuffed, we gobbled down each yummy morsel.  My boy knows his way around some dough!

It's been such a joy to watch him from a distance, as I wait in the car for his shift to end.  I can sneak views of him sweeping the floor, taking out the trash, and chatting with co-workers.  He's loving every minute of it.  

Yesterday, I asked what he liked best about his job and instantly he said, "Just working."  How lucky he is to be in a job that matches his passion at such a young age.  I pray that trend continues throughout his life.

He's been there long enough now to earn his first paycheck, which he proudly presented to me last night in the parking lot.  

"Did you know taxes took part of my check, Mom?  What's up with that!"

...Welcome to the real world, son.  Welcome.

Sharp Dressed Man

The night before graduation I called Noah on my way home to see if he was ready for his chiropractor appointment.

"Yea, and Mom....what do you think about stopping and buying a suit on the way home."

A suit?  From the boy who thinks shorts, a muscle T, and a baseball cap are appropriate attire for just about anywhere?  Who wears shorts literally 365 days out of the year, if he can get away with it?

A suit!

I chuckled and honked, signaling I was in the drive.  In record time we needed to make three stops now, two of which he just sprung on me.  First to the barber, to get his curly hair trimmed back before the big day.  Fully thankful he was trimming the fuzz ball that was growing on head, but wondering how I'd cram this unexpected trip in before his chiropractor closed.

Normally, I wait in the car.  It is after all a room full of testosterone.  This time though he tossed me that puppy dog face that gets all things and asked if I were coming in.

The fact that I know someday he'll not want Mom to accompany him to trips like this and because I was already welling up thinking about graduation, I agreed.  Entering the shop, I got my usual, "Hey Sis!" from the owner and settled in between auto magazines and sweaty guys and fidgeting boys.

Our next stop was a late stop to his chiro, where I slid into the parking lot on two wheels.  I despise being late.  If I'm on time, I'm late.  And this time, I was ten minutes late, even though we called.

From the lobby I can hear Noah replaying my interactions with his doctor.

"Mom was freaking out because we were late.  Fr-eak-ing out...."

I chuckled again.  This kid.  I love him.

And last, but certainly not least, the new store in town that sells, of all things, suits.  He heads for the tux ordering booklet and I sweetly explain that is for another milestone down the road.  We turn to the row of suits, and he spies the price tags.

"Are you kidding me?  Just for a coat!?," backing away he says, "It's ok Mom, I can just wear my Easter shirt."

Because I know how hot-natured my son is and that he seems to grow an inch or two a year, I was somewhat thankful he was reconsidering the idea.  But I did want to treat him to a new dress shirt.  Again, this boy's boy does not change out of his joke attire willingly.  So this momma was taking full advantage of playing dress up with her sweet son.

Pointing out a few shirts, I mentioned not knowing his neck size.  Strange looks came from his face signaling he had no clue you bought dress shirts this way.  Smiling, I had him try one on but it wouldn't attempt to close around his giant throat.  As I looked for a bigger size, he spied a tie.

"If I can't do a suit Mom, I should wear a tie.  I feel like really dressing up tomorrow," he says swinging the black and white spotted fabric.

"Sure," I tell him, "We can do a tie."  And I hand him a bigger size to slip on.  This one fits!

Those pesky water holes begin to fill on my face and I scrunch up my nose, then make a quick joke to help them subside.  My word, he looks so handsome.  And so grown-up.  My baby....

As he slings the tie around his neck he spies the price tag and again offers to leave it behind.  I point out that it's 1/2 off today and this deal-shopping momma has a coupon on her phone.  We can do this.

And I'm so glad we did.  Because this young man is a heart breaker in a tie.

Faithful Friday: Teenage Birthday

This is the last night my little-big guy will be 12.  Saturday I will awake to a teenager.  Big. Sigh....

Of course, to look at him, one would already think he was a teen.  I look up to him (literally and figuratively) already.  All 6 ft and size 13 shoes of him.

Hard to believe he's so grown up.  I feel his childhood slipping through my fingers. 
Twelve years so short but so far away. 

Noah.  Our little lifesaver.  God sent him at just the needed moment for our family. 

We'd tried for years until we just stopped trying.  (Knowing what I know now about PCOS, he's even more of a blessing) But one day, unexpectedly, he appeared.  In two sweet little blue lines.

Our lives have been a whirlwind of joy and laughter ever since.

You have filled my heart with great joy. - Psalm 4:7

Noah.  Our funny guy.  Our little tornado.  Our heartbreaker.

From the moment he was born, a handful of spunk and wit. His crib was positioned in his room that when he awoke he could see us in ours.  He'd jump up alert and happy, smiling, "Mama, Dadda" until we put him bed with us.  As a baby, I'd tried to sneak in veggies, peas mixed into potatoes, but he'd swirl and spit the peas out rapid action. 

A toddler, little mind full of imagination, he was a different superhero everyday.  When mad, he became the Hulk and with a scrunched face would say, "my getting mad!"  Aggression moved to passion as a youngster.  In the first grade he kicked off the first week of school by getting a different girlfriend for each day.  This concept backfired the next year, when two girlfriends showed up at his birthday party!

Throughout his life he's been our jokester, the family comedian.  Always filling our home with laughter. 

Like the day we took him for shots, a recap in his words:..."When I got in the room I was getting a little freaked out. I told the lady, I don't think I can do this today. Maybe we should reschedule." :)

Or the time he found this adorable black hat that looked even cuter on and had to have it.
He said, "Mom! It is a deal, only $3 normally $15!" How can I say no to that?!

A 10 year old convo:

Me: Are you about ready?

Noah: Well, I'm a little frustrated right now, so no.

Me: (trying not to laugh) Why?

Noah: Tina came in to get me and didn't knock or anything - just walked right in. And then she just walked on into the bathroom all the way to the shower!

Me: (laughing) Did she see more than she needed to?

Noah: well I should think so! I'm going to have to go so I can pull myself together because they're waiting.....but I'm gonna have a talk with her about men and privacy!

Oh, so many funny moments.

Twelve years old saw the return of baseball...our first camper camping trip...a broken finger, we didn't think was broken (he will never let that go)....Andy Griffith...Middle school...First deer, second deer - same day.

How I wish, I pray, I hope that his teenage years are filled with just as much fun, as much laughter, as many memories and as much JOY as he can hold.  And then some.

However many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all. Ecclesiastes 11:8

Happy 13th Birthday, Noah.  We love you so!

Cheeseburger is Back!

We've survived our first week of baseball season.  There's been tears, frustration, excitement and about every other emotion in between.  We've braved 40 mph winds, rain and winter-like temps.  And I've become a Martha Stewart in the laundry room, perfecting the art of removing grass stains from white pants.  All have been memories in the making!

I can't deny that with Noah's first game we weren't filled with reminders of Austin.  Baseball and Austin just went together.  It was touching that Noah asked to have his jersey number, 23, but I don't know that I was prepared to see it in the field again.  The fact that, at only twelve, Noah already has the build and frame Austin did at 14 added to the resemblance.  For a moment, Tim and I both were transported back four years ago to watching Austin play.

But ever his own individual, Noah quickly reminded us we were watching him.  Although he has many of his brother's best traits, (physically, character and athletic) he is 100% Noah. 

Unlike Austin, Noah's favorite sport has always been basketball.  As a young child, he enjoyed baseball but it wasn't his passion.  He played, partially I think, because of Austin.  It was something they shared.  And now maybe he's playing again as a way to remember him. 

It's been nearly four years since he's played and his hiatus was evident in his first few games.  Rusty, but ever the sportsman, he grew with each swing, every catch.  We've watched him transform in only a week's time.  Last night's game was his coming out party!

Noah's last season in baseball he earned the nickname, Cheeseburger.  It started as a joke.  Before each game, Tim would place a bet with him.  Make a base hit, get a buck.  Home run earns you a cheeseburger from the concession stand.  Now what Tim failed to remember is that Noah is and always has been good at every sport; but most importantly, that boy loves him some cheeseburger!  One game he did so well, the coach offered him a full meal deal.  By the end of the season, everyone was yelling Cheeseburger from the stands and he had an open tab at the stand.

While Noah still enjoys a cheesy meat patty, what speaks to him most at this age is dough.  Green dough that is....as in CASH!  The first time Noah went up to bat last night, he struck out, but not without hitting a foul, which if straightened would've been sweet.  Tim retreated to the dug-out, whispered something to him, and returned.  I would later learn he offered him $5 for every base he reached on a hit. 

This was shared with me, as nearly weeping, Tim added up his debt with an amazing triple Noah hit in the last inning.  This, added to the $5 for a wow moment catch Noah made in the outfield, cost him a total of $20 for the game.  (Personally, my bank account suggests we go back to cheeseburgers!) 



But then again, seeing Noah's smile - both after his hit and especially all the way across the field after his catch was worth every penny.  In fact, it was priceless!