I Hate My Job... sometimes

Sometimes I really, really hate my job.  My responsibility.  My calling.  My role.  Yesterday was one of those days... yet, the job must be done.

The job, the calling, the role, is parenting.  Being a parent is tough.  It is truly not for the faint of heart or the sap - especially when it comes to discipline.

I had to punish two of my boys; more extremely than a simple talk, sending to their rooms or taking something away for a while.  This was physical.  Yes, I am aware of the possible risk of publishing physical discipline in a blog.

Know this, we are spankers [you can say it like the Farmers Insurance commercials if you want - We ~ Are ~ Spankers! bum--bum,bum-bum,bum,bum].  I know that does not sit well with all parents, but I don’t care.  We are not abusive.  We do not punish in the heat of anger.  We use only a specific tool for the job - a paddle [not a belt, spoon, stick, water hose, inner tube, lit cigarette, etc.] all of those items have different jobs, and I do not use them to strike my children.  I know that sounds condescending and pointed; good.  I have strong opinions on various forms of physical discipline. 

Discipline is the point, of course.  The point is not to have an outlet to express my own frustration and anger, it is to correct and straighten my child’s incorrect behavior and understanding of what is acceptable.  Yesterday, I hated having to do that job.  I always hate having to do that job.

Two of my boys were disobedient with me to a degree that not only made me angry, but also seemed to indicate they had no care that they were out of line.  That is a huge problem.  It is one thing to need to modify behavior, and another thing entirely to modify attitude.  See, the minute my verbal instruction and cues are disrespectfully disregarded and then that behavior [and attitude] left unattended, a downward spiral of continuing disobedience and disrespect can ensue.  By itself, that moment of disobedience may be blown off by me as “no big deal”, but that demonstrates a lack of self discipline in me as a parent [and biblically you might say it also demonstrates a lack of love].  Over time that in itself "disciplines" them into an entirely different way of thinking.  As Barney Fife would have said, “you have to nip it in the bud.”  

We were 20 minutes away from home when I began my speech about how disappointed, angered and deeply bothered I was by what had just happened.  I could see it all over their faces, they knew they were in for it.

They knew that when we got home, they would be sent to their rooms immediately.  They knew they would sit their wondering what would be next.  Would Dad just come in and talk?  Would Dad take something away?  Or, would Dad come in with the spanking paddle?  

I guess to some degree I contemplated all of those things as well.  However, I knew.  I knew my step was to go in with the spanking paddle.  The sheer terror of that alone is disabling... for me that is.  It kills me to have to do so.  

I hate having to crack open that door and see a face change from hope to conclusion.  I hate seeing that instant when the reality of the next few moments sets in.  I hate the sound of the pleading, the crying, the begging for a stay of execution.  It makes my heart hurt.  Let me also clarify that these moments are actually pretty rare for our house.  There are many forms of penalty that we implement before and instead of spanking.  But sometimes...well, anyway.

I always know my plan before going in.  I also strike my own leg to remind me of the “feel” of the paddle and the sting produced.  This is a practice I have always done to reinforce and remind myself that it is the effect, not necessarily pain that matters.  That being said, it does hurt.  This form of punishment requires so much energy, and focus, and enough time to be correct in it.

The worst part, for me, is immediately following the punishment.  I dread what may come from the mouths of my children.  Are they going to scream that they hate me?  Are they going to declare that I don’t love them?  Are they going to weep in a pillow and refuse to listen to anything else I have to say?  So far none of that has happened.  None of those words have been verbalized.  Tears? yes. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth? Dramatically yes.  Grabbing and rubbing their own booty?  indeed.  Saying things they regret?  No, never.

They will will ultimately come to me, sit next to me, climb into my lap, rest their head on me, snubbing (mostly from fear and anticipation more than actual pain), and then... they listen.  

This is where it all comes together.  This is when the effect of mature parenting and discipline must take place.  It is at that moment when the full lesson of the importance of self-discipline, obedience, and love is fully reinforced.  It is at this moment when they see an authoritative, stern, focused, restrained, and loving father communicate the importance of good personal judgement.

I always tell them how important my job as their Daddy is.  I always tell them how much I hate having to punish them.  I always tell them how much it hurts my heart.  I always tell them how much I love them.  And, I always tell them that I love them too much to allow them to get away with whatever they want.  And then, there is repentance.  There is forgiveness.  There is restoration.  There is course correction.  And there is peace.  

Most times, one of the greatest opportunities to demonstrate God’s attributes to our children is in times of discipline and course correction.  After all, God disciplines us as well... because He loves us too much to not correct our course.

Hebrews 12:5b-6; 11

5b MY son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor faint when you are reproved by Him; 6 for those whom the Lord loves HE disciplines, and HE scourges every son whom HE receives.

11 All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.

A Little Box of Soap Today

Yesterday I was listening to a conversation between two men about duck hunting.  Of course, too far into a conversation about such things gets me a little lost.  I usually nod like I know what they are talking about and locations they reference, but usually I don’t.  I did pick up on one statement from one to the other about duck hunting with his son; “If you teach him to do it, you’ll never have to do it for him.”

The other man has been spending the last several years doing just that.  Teaching the skill.  I stood there for a moment thinking about the statement and wondering to myself if there is something to the sport of duck hunting that makes that statement especially significant.  I mean, that makes sense to me when I think of fishing and cleaning your own fish.  Who really wants to spend time cleaning someone else's catch?  But, isn’t that true with any type of game?  who wants to field dress (that’s a term I know) someone else’s deer?  I’ll just have to ask one of my hunting friends when I get the chance.

Anyway, as I stood there I began to think upon the wisdom of the statement when it occurred to me that such a precept is true in all areas of parenting.  I suppose it is the same concept of teaching a man to fish instead of giving him a fish (might as well stay with the sportsman metaphors).

I began to imagine what it would look like if I was still tying my 9 year old’s shoes.  What about when he is 20?  What if I were to still be hand feeding my daughter, as a perfectly heathy and capable little girl when she is 15?  Sounds stupid, I know, but this is the truth in other major developmental stages of parenting.  I know of parents who currently do the homework of their high school students...they literally do the work for them.  Are you kidding me?

I immediately began to think upon the application of this principle in other areas from the most basic tasks on:  Teach him to clean up after himself.  Teach him to manage his money.  Teach him how to relate to others.  Teach him how to think for himself.  Teach him how to exercise common sense.  Teach him how to read and write.  Teach him how to eat with utensils.  

So many dysfunctional parenting relationships have rolled out of childhood and into adulthood because the concept of teaching instead of doing has not been followed beyond the basic skills and into the more complex areas of living.  Too often this reality becomes a terribly enabling relationship between parents and their children, and sometimes the cycle is never broken.  In many cases, adult children still act like children because they have never been taught to be adults.  They have relied on a parent to do things for them instead of learning the skill.  Both suffer the difficult consequences of that arrangement.

I know my readers who have adult children may not agree, or may feel there is nothing to do about it now.  While I’m sure it feels that way, changes can be made; perhaps that is a discussion for another blog.  In the meantime, for my readers who still have younger, impressionable children in their care, be diligent in training them in all things of life and living.  What profit is there in being a champion duck hunter and a worthless husband or father?  

The Bible instructs us to train up our children in the way they should go.  Such instruction is not limited to learning to tie shoes, button coats, or use the correct duck call.  It is a direction of self worth, right living, integrity, and building character.  It is teaching them what it means to be a man or woman.  It is teaching them what it means to follow a godly code of living.  It is teaching them to be well rounded individuals ready for this thing called life and culture.  It is teaching them to be a contributor to family, church, and community... not filling in the void and making excuses for them over and over, and over, and over.....  

1 Corinthians 13:11

When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.

August 13th

I love my wife for so many reasons (see last years blog 17 Years and Counting).  One of the things I love about her, and our relationship, is that in all our years of marriage, we have neither become tired of each other’s company nor exhausted our conversations.

I remember when we were dating, we would look around a restaurant and notice seasoned couples who seemed to have nothing to talk about.  They just sat and looked at their plates, eating and never said anything to each other.  I remember telling Jennifer many times that when we are older and married a while, I don't want to be like that.  I don’t ever want to sit in a restaurant across from her and have nothing to talk about.  That would just make me feel so sad.

We always have something to discuss.  We always have stories to tell each other.  We always have things to laugh about.  We have spent many nights over the years sharing a bowl of chips and Queso or salad and endless baskets of breadsticks while having the best conversations of our lives with each other.  I love those moments.  I love those memories.

Those orchestrated moments have been farther apart and fewer in number in recent years, but Monday I look so forward to having one again.  We will celebrate 18 years of marriage on that day and though there are many things about that to which we look forward, the thing to which I look most forward is sitting down across a table for lunch and just enjoying our conversation.

We will sit and discuss the fact that it is just the two of us and we will try our best to recall what we did with our time before our children required it.  We will joke about what it is like to simply ask for a table for two instead of seven.  We wont need kids menus or high chairs.  We will be excited that the cost is significantly less as a result, and we definitely will not be getting stared at while seeing our kids being counted by others and the details our life theorized.  People are funny.  

We don’t have that rule you hear in sit-coms about not discussing the children on our date - we love to talk about them.  While doing so, we will also reference the fact that we are without the constant need of our children wanting crayons, trying to reach the chips, playing with the salt & pepper shakers, or having to go to the restroom at the same time.  We won’t have to worry with forks loudly banging on the table, spilled beverages, straw sheathes blown from the straw at us, or deciding whether to bribe with ice cream for good behavior.  We will find ourselves enjoying the moment of childlessness.  It takes a little bit for the stillness of that moment to sink in.

For me, the alone, adult time is nice, but not so much because they are not around.  It is because when the children  are not around, I also see that it is each other we still so deeply enjoy.  Moments such as these are not void ones either - there is no awkward spot where suddenly we don’t know what to do with ourselves.  Though our children are missed, they are not what holds our relationship together.  Their absence from us, even for a little while, reminds us that it is not our children that have kept us committed in our relationship - it has been the relationship itself.  Our calling to submit to oneness with one another.

My bride has been my bride since before the foundation of the world, and I have been her groom.  We have weathered many things together by now and anticipate an array of experiences to come.  Our life has been so full and blessed with surprises thus far, and has been an adventure beyond anything we would have knowingly signed up for 18 years ago.

I love my wife, and I still love calling her “my wife”.  I love that she loves me.  I love that we love being together.  I love that I love her far more today than I did back then.  Back then I didn’t think I could possibly love her more...but, I do.

I Corinthians 13:13

But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.

A Word from the Lord? Forget about it. Put it out of your mind.

No, this isn’t a word to you from the Lord...I guess it could be on some level, but this is about a word from the Lord to me.

A few weeks ago while away at a conference I was in a moment of deep reflection, meditation, and prayer (sounds extra spiritual, right?).  Though maybe sounding cliche, it is the truth - I was in the midst of all three of those descriptions when I felt a tremendous prompting of the spirit to do something when I returned home.  I decided that perhaps I was simply caught up in a moment and dismissed the prompting as my own thoughts.  Actually doing so proved difficult.

I remember back when I was wrestling with my call to ministry.  After having come to a breaking point of conviction, I shared the news with my personal mentor, teacher, and minister.  His words to me were, and I quote, “Just forget about it.  Put it out of your mind”.

What?!?  Are you kidding? After all this struggle, rebellion, denial, disobedience and running?  No way! 

He told me that if God was truly calling me, then such advice would be impossible for me to follow.  He said “God wont let you forget it”.  It was an interesting measure to help me affirm the Holy Spirit’s quiet voice among the resounding noise of my own thoughts.  I have used the same advice for others over the years now.

Well, after my encounter a few weeks ago I chose to take a similar approach to what I believed to be the Holy Spirit pressing upon me in a specific area.  I knew the spirit seemed to be telling me to do something, but nothing about what I was hearing really made sense.  I felt like God wanted to use me in a particular event, but in order to do so, I would have to explain this to the organizers of the event... and I would have to come out and ask to preach it.  This thing has been in the works for months, and the details (or at least the major ones) have been worked out.  I decided I may be letting my own heart and desires interfere with my moments of reflection.  

For weeks now I have been unable to release the thought of this prompting and have since decided it is a genuine word from the Lord with no ambiguity.  But how?  How was I supposed to do what I felt like God wanted me to do?  All I could think of was to simply ask, but asking would feel so presumptuous.  Almost egocentric.

I’m a pastor and a preacher.  For those who might not realize, those are very different things and not everyone is good at both.  Some excel in one which helps allow for the tolerance of weakness in the other.  It is my personal desire to be excellent at both - I am still a work in progress.

For the preacher side, the opportunity to preach outside the normal week to week church environment is usually a welcomed one, but is also an opportunity preceded by an invitation by another.  I have never requested to preach anywhere.  Yet, I felt God’s leading for me to ask to do so.

I have kept this a matter of personal prayer for a couple of weeks and finally decided I needed to bring it to the attention of the event organizers.  Knowing that preachers are lined up pretty early, I decided to share the story of my realization and simply offer myself as a back-up in the event the booked preacher could not attend suddenly.  

I decided I need to prepare something in case something unexpected occurred and he could not show.  I am absolutely convinced that I am specifically supposed to preach this event (This doesn’t mean I would have sabotaged another preachers travel ability to force the situation, i.e. slashed tires, syphoned gas tank, give him the wrong address, etc., I was just thinking ahead in consideration of God’s providence).  Anyway.

As it turns out, I was in a meeting where the event was being discussed to discover no one had been booked.  Are you serious!  I couldn’t believe it.  It had been accidentally neglected and the man in mind had never been contacted.  As I sat in the room, I felt myself become fidgety and nervous with excitement.  As with other times in my life, I was seeing God’s plan coming together before my eyes and in my presence.

I finally decided to speak up and tell the story I just relayed in this blog.  I ended with saying that I know it is not up to me, but I believe God wants me to do this.  Just then another man in the room made the statement that “this is definitely a God thing” and that he was planning to ask if they might ask me to do so anyway instead of the other guy.  My heart feels like it skips a beat just recalling it all.  I tell people all the time that God has no trouble communicating himself to his people, and here I am once again experiencing just that in a real and immediate way.

I have no idea what will come of this event, but this I know - I am not going to miss it for anything.  Doing so will be me stepping outside the very will of God.  That is something none of us should ever want to do.

A Burden's Prey

Recently I have felt heavily burdened with a ministry concern swelling through my mind and heart.  It is interesting how burdens seem to take on different characteristics for us.  I feel many burdens in ministry that are simply burdens of the mind.  They hold a place in my thoughts for processing and may even give me a headache as I think upon them.  They are often burdens requiring calculated thought, logic, and problem solving.  They may even be suitable for the old “pros and cons” assessment.

Sometimes there are burdens of the heart which seem to manifest themselves through emotion.  These are those burdens that may result in a tug of heartstrings, sympathy, empathy, compassion or heart-ache, and often all at the same time.

Then there are burdens that prey upon our whole being.  They fall under all possible categories of expression. Burdens that pressure the intellect as well as the heart in ways that are difficult to articulate.  My bones feel weakened, my body fatigued, my mind spinning in thought, my eyes burning in concentration, my heart breaking and my stomach in knots.

I feel just such a burden.

I was standing in the kitchen looking out the window and thinking that I was actually feeling that feeling of pressure upon my shoulders that people often speak of when describing turmoil.  It’s not that I haven’t felt that before, it just always amazes me how literally physical it feels.  I was standing there thinking it feels like a tremendous weight pressing down upon me.  I was thinking that I actually felt as though there were two hands - one on each shoulder - pressing upon my frame.  

As I stood there I finally decided to call in the troops, so to speak.  I thought for a moment and decided I needed to let someone else know that I needed prayer.  I know prayer works. I know prayer matters.  I know there are those who will pray for me in a moment, and they don’t even have to know the details, they’ll just do it.

I sent texts to four of these people.  My text was a generic, non-alarming text requesting prayers of wisdom.  Within minutes... nay, even seconds I began receiving replies of prayer affirmation, each with its own personal words reflecting four distinct prayer personalities in the texts.

I’m so thankful for such people in my life.  I must admit that I was quickly misty eyed to see the response texts back to back.  The burden is still there, but with the prayers of others, it is significantly more bearable.

I write this with no particular intention of conveying any universal truth to possible readers, but rather as a means to express myself - I’ve grown to understand that people identify more with our weaknesses than our strengths.  We Christians should always remember the importance of interceding on behalf of others and seeking such intercession when needed, which is really more often than not.

“For this reason also, since the day we heard this, we haven’t stopped praying for you. We are asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding, so that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him, bearing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge of God.”  - Colossians 1:9-10

Lottie Approach - Stupid Me

I have been thinking about Lottie Moon lately.  She was a missionary to China who ultimately never made it back to the states for medical attention.  We honor her name and work with an offering each christmas given to international missions.

Not long ago I was having a conversation with someone on the related topic of sacrifice.  I brought up the story of Lottie to illustrate a point in the conversation to which my friend replied “well she was stupid to do that” - meaning allowing herself to starve by giving away her only food to others.

I suppose in a practical sense, that is true.  She is no good to anyone if she is sick or being shipped back to the states, or dead.  The “stupidity” appears in the ability to do something about it and choosing otherwise.  

But her sacrifice was for the sake of others.  Naturally, we see a difference.  Our minds allow for such noble and selfless acts of personal neglect.  We see a sacrificial display of love for others, especially when we remember she did so for the sake of hungry children.  

Children always change the way we think.  We think of sweet little dirty faces wandering the streets until someone like Lottie comes along to meet a need and minister to them.  Those of us who are parents imagine children the ages of our own and ache over the demises they encounter, and though sad, we are thankful it is not the fate of our own.

But here’s the thing that occurred to me the other day as I was being prayed over by other men.  We (ministers in particular) sometimes have this Lottie Moon mentality.  We feed and nourish others to the severe, starving neglect of our own spiritual health.

As these gentlemen were praying over me and lifting up my struggles and challenges, I found myself almost weeping as I listened.  I choked back a lump in my throat and the urge to break loose in tears.  The familiarity of their prayers was overwhelming.

I listened to the words they used and the prayers they expressed.  I listed as they used scripture in their prayers to reinforce God’s promises to me.  I listened to the authenticity in their voices and realized I have prayed the same prayers many times before... over others.  

I knew what they were going to pray even before it launched from their lips.  So many times I have prayed prayers over others in a hallway, a home or the setting of my office.  So many times I have quoted “just the right passage” to someone at the point of their greatest need.  So many times I have prayed over the phone.  So many times, and so simple to execute... for others.

As we stood there with their hands on my shoulders, a scripture passage was read from the worship leader over us.  It was a passage I, myself, had preached on only a few weeks ago.  I almost broke in two as I heard the words being spoken.  I read those same words in a similar environment over others.  I had people come to me afterwards to thank me for the message.  I had a man in tears after the service telling me his story of why that scripture was so special to him.  I left the service that day knowing that I had delivered the message God gave me to the people needing to be fed that morning.  I did so methodically.  I did so mechanically.  I did so technically.  I did so passionately.  But I also did so hungrily.

I cannot afford to have a Lottie Moon mentality in ministry.  It does me no good to have all the right words for others and sacrifice my own feasting for the sake of that mission to others.  It is easy to justify.  It is easy to non-admittedly be a martyr in that area.  It is easy to get caught up in the ministry to others and sacrifice my own personal care.  It is a false martyrdom.  More importantly, it is unnecessary.  Unlike Lottie who sacrificed in the environment of limited resources, I have an unlimited source of nourishment from God.  I have unlimited access to him through prayer.  Why do I struggle so to get personal prayer over my own needs revved up?

God spoke to me earlier this week about this neglect in my own walk and clearly told me to simply pray over my own needs the same way I pray over others.  In simple terms.  In simple phrases.  With simple passion.  With simple scripture. With simple openness.  With simple vulnerability.  Anything less is simply... stupid.

Party of 7 Minus 1 Very Significant One

“Mommy said this is the first day you will have had all five of us by yourself.  She said you might need my help today.  I’m here for you, Dad.”  

These were the words from my thoughtful, incredibly helpful, 9 year old the other day when Jennifer took a much needed day trip by herself to Memphis to spend some birthday money, have her hair done, and visit with her sister.

My first thought was ‘oh, is that what she said?’ with a surface desire to feel offended but a much deeper felt feeling of appreciation for her looking out for me.  


My wife works very hard every day of her life to manage the lives of our five children.  She would say she has 6 children to deal with, but I don’t like to have that conversation very much.  She is amazing.  

She is also a nurse.  And, I don’t mean in the sense that her motherly duties require the occasional first aid efforts in our home, she is an actual RN.  She used to work in the critical care unit of Lebonheur Children’s Hospital in Memphis, TN.  She has tended to countless children suffering from the worst things you can imagine.  She has had to talk with grieving parents.  She has celebrated recovery as well as watch children die.  She has seen the greatest medical successes and the worst nightmares in families of all walks of life.  I’m not sure she could now return to that type of care for children, even if she wanted to.

She hasn’t practiced in an official capacity since after our oldest was born.  We decided a long time ago that if/when we had children, our desire was for her to be home with them.  We are both thankful that we have been able to stick to the commitment of that decision.  I believe our children are better for it.  I know such belief is not popular or even appreciated in today’s culture of dual incomes, divorced environments, single parenting and even me-ism, but it has worked and God has blessed us in the process.  

Our family is a community developed in the context of relying on God to provide - which he does - and looking out for each other - which we do.  It is a constant pursuit requiring discipline and tremendous resolve.  

It is for this reason among others that I have no room for personal offense by my wife’s coaching of my son to give me a hand in the approach of that day.  I took the liberty of chronicling the day to help me get a glimpse of her daily challenge.  It also helped me answer the barrage of questions sure to come with her return at the end of the day.  I have posted it in this blog.

Chronicles of Main-ia

5:00-6:00a -

I awake to tend to our 2 month old.  Nothing new to me since I sleep heavily, I usually do not stir in the night (and I produce no milk).  My “shift” is early in the morning so Jennifer can sleep a little longer.

6:30a -

Breakfast for all who are awake - usually everyone between the ages of 2 and 10.  This too is a regular part of my routine for the same reasons listed above.  Breakfast in our house may consist of anything from cereal bars out of the pantry to full fledged pancake breakfasts depending on the flow of things and my personal mood.  Normally after breakfast I shower, change, and head off to work.  I am discovering what an actual hiatus this can be.

8:50a - 

This is where everything changed for my day.  Jennifer headed out instead of me on this day.  She took our oldest with her in order to drop him off for his rescheduled piano lesson.  His lessons are 30 minutes and it will be my responsibility to pick him up when he is done.  I kissed her bye while feeding addison from the bottled milk supply for the day.  All smiles.  “Bye Mommy! Have a great Mommy day.”

9:15a -

Addison fell asleep in my arms.  I placed her in her carrier to be ready to leave to pick up Cayson from piano.  Smart thinking on my part I think.

Sent Karis to put some clothes on.  Griffin is going through a phase of sleeping in clothes to be ready for the next day, so he is dressed.  Mylan can just go in PJs - I don’t care.

9:35a -

After returning, fed Griffin and Mylan cereal (they slept through earlier breakfast options).  Sent Cayson to change clothes for art class that begins in less than 30 minutes.  Left Addison in her carrier on the table.  Perfect.

9:55a -

Loaded everyone back up in the car for art class.  Deliberated the ‘shotgun’ call for my two oldest.  I have grown to hate that game and rue the day I introduced it to my children.  Even my two year old calls shotgun now and he can’t even ride in the front seat yet.

10:05a -

Back home with two.  A nice average I think to myself.  I set Mylan up in front of one of his favorite shows (show #1), Dino Dan.  Personally, I think that show is stupid, but it is harmless viewing.  One child parents have no real appreciation for the simple technique of TV babysitting.  I know... that’s bad.  True, but bad.

Addison is awake so I lay her in the floor of Mylan’s and Griffin’s room while I start to fix their indoor basketball goal - it needs sand in the base to keep it upright.  It occurs to me I should set a reminder for myself to pick the kids up from art so I set the alarm on my phone.

10:15a - 

It occurs to me Jennifer is going to ask me later what we did all day so I decide to journal the events, hence the source of these notes.

I talk and coo with Addison and then move her to our bedroom to a safe place on the bed.  She doesn’t need a TV show.  I checked to make sure the baby monitor is on, grab it and hook it to my pocket and get back to the goal repair.  The goal requires me to go outside a bit. Nice.

10:30a -

Still working on the goal (outside) when I hear Mylan through the baby monitor.  How sweet.  Wait ---- WHAT?!?  How did he get in there?  Did I leave the door open? Has he now, today of all days, learned to get passed the child proof knob?  His show must be over.

I ran upstairs to find Mylan laying on the bed patting Addison on the head.  “Hey buddy.  What cha doing in here?  Let’s go watch a show.”  The pocket monitor is squealing with feedback from the transmitter so I turned it off to avoid such hideous noise.

I turned on a new show for Mylan (show #2).  

Back out to the back porch to work on the goal.  I should really just forget the goal.

10:40-11:00a -

I realized I forgot to turn the pocket monitor back on.  After turning it on I hear Addison is crying - oops.

I go back up stairs to get her and walk around the yard with her.  She enjoys doing that.  We turn the water hose on in the garden and I look around and think about the yard work that needs to be done.

Eventually I set her in her bouncy seat by the back porch so I can continue the stupid goal repair.  It gets too hot for her, so I take her back in when I discover Mylan is in the kitchen messing around (His show must be over, man they are short).  

He has climbed the child gate, retrieved cereal from the pantry, and poured some on the floor.  “Oh... come on buddy... let’s go watch a show.” (Show #3 - I know...I KNOW!  Don’t judge me).

11:00a -

I placed Addison in her swing where she is relaxed and going to sleep.  I was really trying to avoid sleep in the swing time since we have to go pick up the others from art soon.

11:05a -

I called the doctor about Addison’s gunky eyes we have been treating and haven’t gotten better since the last office visit.  Our pediatrician is out today, so I left a message for the nurse to call me back.

Hey!  Everyone is quiet.  I think I would like some coffee.  I prepared a nice, quick, hot cup of coffee - thank you Keurig.  Now what should we have for lunch?  Something quick, easy, not messy... maybe we won’t eat today.  

I stepped on spilled cereal, crushing it beneath my feet which reminds me I still needed to clean it up.  I also realized I left the water running in the garden.  It’s not a big garden and it floods quickly.

11:20a -

I went back outside to turn off the water and retrieve the repaired basketball goal.  While doing so, I missed the call back from the nurse.  Seriously?  Timing is everything.  I called the doctor office back for additional information to learn that she needs a new and different eye drop prescription and they are calling it in.

Hey, there’s Mylan - “I’m on the phone, buddy.  How about another show?”  Turned on show #4 (THEY ARE REALLY, REALLY SHORT SHOWS, OKAY!!!!!)

Emptied dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen from breakfast. 

My sister called - this may take a while.

11:50a-12:15p -

We loaded and picked everyone up from art. At this point, Addison is crying, probably hungry.  We went by the pharmacy.  I'm thankful for drive-through window service.  Addison is still crying... loudly.  The lady at the window asked if my baby is crying in the back.  Yep!  That’s rocket science.

Finally back home to feed everyone, especially Addison - she is screaming by now.  Cayson offered to make PB&J sandwiches for everyone.  He is awesome.

12:30p - 

I finished feeding Addison and laid her down to sleep and sat down to sandwiches. I guess I’ll drink that coffee I made (good thing it is in that insulated cup; it is still hot).

I look at my plate for a minute to see a pitiful concept of a sandwich and then hear my son say: “Daddy, I made your sandwich with the two ends of the loaf, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“No son, not at all.  Thank you for making me a sandwich.”  Cayson is awesome.

1:10p -

It is time for Mylan to nap (TV shows can be exhausting for a kid).

I Begin cleaning up from lunch when my sister called again - this may take a while.  She wants us to live closer so our kids can see more of each other.  I happen to agree... especially today.  Did I mention my sister keeps children in her home.  That would be perfect on Daddy duty day.

2:00p -

The kids pool has a small leak in the inflatable part.  I found the leak and am thankful for duct tape... it’s pink.

Addison awoke again, so I moved her to the swing.  She is happy, and so am I.

Griffin and Karis are pleading to go outside and swim in their pool.  They have been waiting for Mylan to go to sleep.  We lock him in his room, but he is bad about getting up and going to the window to watch everyone play outside.  They have to wait a few minutes.

In the mean time, we applied sunscreen to Griffin and Karis and set up sprinkler in the front yard to water a thirsty ground.  

2:30p -

I gathered clothes to wash a load. I’m trying to think of something for dinner, and I’m still drinking on the same cup of coffee.  Ridiculous!

I get a text from Jennifer telling me her appointment was changed to 3:45 and checking on the kids.  I text back that they’re great, have a good time.

“Wait, 3:45?  Her hair appointments take like 4 hours!”

3:00p -

I decided to sit on the patio and watch the kids play for a bit - this is a nice break.  Griffin asks me the time then says “Daddy, it is snack time.”  Great! so much for the break.  Cayson says: “Daddy, I’ll go in and get everyone a snack.”  Cayson is awesome.

I cleaned out Mylan’s kiddie pool, Mylan and Addison are still asleep, and Jennifer calls to chat while driving to her appointment.  It is good to hear her voice in the middle of a hectic day - note to self.

4:20p - 

Mylan and Addison are still asleep, and I am still wondering what to have for dinner.  Too bad it’s not half price pizza night.  I put off that thought and decide to spray Round Up on the sidewalk cracks to kill the grass.

4:45p - 

Addison wakes and needs feeding.  She sure is demanding.  I get everyone back inside and dried off.  “Daddy?  What’s for dinner?”  I still don’t know.

Mylan wakes up and comes downstairs and we all watch a recorded Wheel of Fortune while I feed Addison (I don’t count this as a show for Mylan).  And, I personally hate Wheel of Fortune, but Cayson likes it and Cayson has been a great help.

5:15p -

“Hey everybody!  It’s breakfast for dinner tonight.”

“Yay!!!! Dad is great!  He can make pancakes?”

“No, we’re not having pancakes.  We Don’t have any buttermilk.”

“Can we make biscuits?”

“No, we don’t have any buttermilk.  How about eggs, bacon, and toast?”

“Yay!! Bacon!”

“Daddy, can I help?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to do this quick in case Addison gets restless.”

“Please”

“No”

“Please”

“No... and stop asking.”

“Well, I don’t know what Mommy is having for dinner, but it is probably better than what we are having.”

“Probably so, smart aleck.  Would you like a bowl of crickets for dinner?  Now get out of here and go pick up your wet clothes.”

5:30p - 

I make breakfast for dinner.  It was so good... sooo good.  Mealtime prayers make me smile “Dear God, please, please, please bring Mommy home safely.”  I think we all prayed that same prayer.

6:30p -

We watched a previously recorded show of American Ninja Warrior.  My kids love that show.  “Dad, you could so do that!”  I’m thankful for their delusional optimism, and it reminds me that I need to begin a workout program.

7:15p - 

Hey!   A text from Mommy - “Stopping at Target, do you need anything?”  I’m thinking do they still sell Calgon?  Because I probably need that.

We have our family Bible story time, prayer time, and everyone is in bed by 7:30.  Yes!

7:30p -

Clean up kitchen from dinner.

7:57p -

Jennifer calls and tells me she is making another stop to look at a purse her sister found.  I tell her to be careful.

9:26p -

Jennifer calls to say she is on her way home.

10:00p - 

I Get off the phone with Jennifer and whisper a prayer for her safe travel and thankfulness for the great Mommy and wife she is.

I watch a show while looking at recent pictures from our zoo day and catching up on emails as I await her return.  What a day indeed.

I really don’t want to forget the feelings of the day because it is so easy to take for granted all that my wife does.  She does such a better job than me and I am so thankful for who she is.

Oh... at 11:35 PM my alarm goes off to remind me to pick up the kids from art.