Drive-in movie night

In these pictures, I am in my pajamas, sitting in a camping chair with a bowl of popcorn... and yes, we are outside. That is the beauty of not owning a TV. When your only option for movie night is your portable DVD player, you can get very creative. We called it drive-in movie night. The stars were twinkling above our heads as we watched Heath Ledger bite a man's jugular in Four Feathers. Very romantic. Our neighbors in the apartment complex teased us, but we didn't mind (they're just jealous). Of course, we had to have the subtitles on so we could follow the dialogue of the movie during the rumbling of a passing truck or the blast of the train whistle.

This is a such a precious season for us. The other night as we were clearing the dinner table, Daniel caught me up in his arms and we kissed and danced on the kitchen floor. We got to chuckling about it, because as he held me in his arms, he was holding a sippy cup of milk behind my back. The milk swayed in the cup as we danced. Precious, precious times. I really am thankful we live in this tiny apartment complex across from the football stadium. I'm glad we hear fireworks against our windowpanes on Friday nights when the hometeam scores a touchdown. I'm glad our neighbors aren't perfect...so glad they smoke and cuss and tell us about their problems. I'm so glad my baby son sleeps in our walk-in closet. I'm so glad we watch movies under the stars. If things were any different, I really think I might get bored.

Camp Potty: Day 3, and we are potty trained

Well, Laura Pinkstaff was right, you CAN potty train your kid in three days. Today he pooped in the potty twice and peed countless times...making it all the way to the end of the prize chart. That meant a trip to Chuck E. Cheese's!!! MoMo and Sue-Sue and Aunt KK and Uncle Philip and baby Eliana and little brother Zion and Mama and Daddy accompanied Bright for pizza and games - in his underwear! He asked to used the potty twice, all on his own, while we were there and he did great.

While he was sitting on the potty to go pee before bed, he said to Daniel, "Zion is Daddy's baby." Daniel said, "And Bright is Daddy's little boy." Bright corrected him promptly, saying, "Bright is Daddy's real BIG boy." And he's right. There is only one baby in the house tonight. Though I'm so very proud of him, I'm sad, too. I don't know where the time has gone. He sat there at Chuck E. Cheese, eating a slice of pizza, not using a booster seat, and not wearing a diaper, and I realized that somewhere in the last 36 hours he crossed a threshold, and we can never go back.

And just like that, the baby is gone.

Camp Potty: Day 2 of 3

Day two went well! We had one poopoo on the potty and several peepee's. The reward system is really key, otherwise I think he might lose interest. We've drawn up a road on a poster board with several stops along the way. Every time he goes successfully he gets another sticker further down the road. Yesterday he made it to the gas station, then over the rock bridge, and then to Luigi's tire store! Today we made it to the big wooden bridge. Hopefully soon we'll make it to our final destination - Chucky Cheese's!

Our favorite comment from the potty, said with confidence and a deep measure of certainty, has been: "Poopoo is gross, tooters are not." Have you got a memorable potty training moment???

(props to the Chaneys for the interactive comment idea - I love it!)

Camp Potty: Day 1 of 3

Good friends of ours in India potty-trained both their kids in three days. We decided to try the method with Bright. The fun began today. Daniel and I stayed up late last night coloring a prize chart and washing little white underwear. Daniel took three days off work. This is big time. This morning, Daniel laid plastic down over the carpet. We kept Bright's sippy cup filled all day and encouraged him to drink constantly. Now, at the end of the day, we can proudly say that he peed in the potty 6 times and pooped in the potty twice, with NO poopy messes and only ONE peepee mess. Unbelievable!!! This method rocks. Here is the photo documentation of day one. Enjoy. We will let you know how day two goes. Stay tuned.

Bambi's dad

This is a picture of Daniel on his first ever bow hunt, four years ago. As you can see, Dad blessed his efforts. And now every fall, before he heads out into the woods, we ask for a deer.

Can Daniel really be a follower of the One and a hunter? Can we actually think that Dad delivers deer into his hands? Absolutely. Though death was not supposed to be in the cards for creation, it is, temporarily, just as much a part of life as birth. Unless you are a very disciplined vegetarian, you and your family enjoy the fruits of death every day. I would dare say you've even craved that which death provides (did you ever order a pepperoni pizza after midnight in college?)

Alright, so we're all terrible, right? No. But I will venture to say that a hunter is the least despicable meat-eater of all. If we're going to talk methods of execution, then perhaps the grain-fed steer is killed more "humanely" (being that his death comes upon him suddenly and unknowingly). But what kind of life did he lead? He was born into slavery, his manhood was stripped from him so he wouldn't act like a bull, and he was forced into a life of gluttony and submission. A wild deer, on the other hand, might stumble and bleed for miles, with an arrow protruding from his side, but when he falls, he falls with honor. He lived free and died fighting. Ask any man which death he'd prefer. Not to mention, the steer lost his life for the profit of a commercial restaurant chain, and the deer lost his life for the organic nourishment of a grateful family of four.

And if we're talking honor, which "hunter" is more honorable? The man who hunts the best-looking cut of meat in the supermarket, or the man who practices his shot for months, wakes up at 4:30 a.m., and sits in a freezing cold tree for four hours, not moving?

In closing, I am proud to say that my husband is a deer hunter. And on top of that, I make a mean rosemary-lemon venison stew. You are all welcome for dinner at our house.

While the sun is in the sky

Yesterday, I finally took this banner down from my dining room wall. It is a quote from Mother Teresa, scrawled tearfully on pieces of scrap paper and affixed to the wall with thumbtacks. It got me through a very tough day that I never told you about. Some things are so big, they can't be reflected upon until hindsight has set in. Let me bring you back in time to October 16.

I called the pediatrician that morning because Bright had woken up twice in the night screaming. Both times I went to him, and both times he was holding his head in the very same spot and asking for me to kiss it (which meant it hurt). The doctor said we should come on in. Once in the examining room, Dr. Miller asked what part of the head it was. I told him the top back left side. He frowned.

"I don't want to alarm you," he said, "but we don't mess around with the back of the head. Pain there is always a red flag."
"For what?" I asked.
"You don't want to know," he said.

Dr. Miller ordered an MRI, but we were going to have to wait a week for the next available appointment. That meant I had to worry for a week whether or not, basically, Bright was going to live or die.

Daniel took the rest of the day off, and I tried to stay busy, but the tears would not stop falling. All I would do is look at my beautiful two-year-old and I would have to leave the room and cry. I decided to take a shower. A very hot shower. While I stood under the water, worry choking me like a weed, the above quote came to my mind. It has always been one of my mom's favorites. I realized that it was true. Worrying was not going to change the result of that MRI, but it WAS robbing me the joy of my son. How, I asked Dad, do I stop worrying? DECIDE TO, He said.

So I did. I dried off, put on comfy clothes, and pulled out a pad of scrap paper. As I wrote the quote and hung it on my wall, I cried the last tears of worry I would cry about that MRI. I decided, if this is the last week of Bright's life, then dad-gummit, we are going to enjoy ourselves. And we did.

The MRI, by the way, came back normal. But by the time the results came in, I had already come to grips with the fact that my son would die. And he will. Someday. We all will. Fearing that end is like fearing the setting of the sun. We should, instead, consider what we are doing while the sun is in the sky.

Wait for it...

My cousin Brian took me hunting on his family's place up in West Fork tonight. We had a blast. The further up in the Ozarks you go the prettier it gets. The leaves are starting to turn here and it was just a touch cool outside. I got up in the stand around 3:30, and as I was pulling up my bow, there were two does! Here's my bow dangling in the air 12 feet below me and four eyes staring me down from 17 yards away. Soon, needless to say, they decided that another area of the woods might suit them better.

At 4:50, I couldn't believe it. Up walk two more does. This time, I was sure not to mess things up. They moved right in, 15 yards, broadside, my heart was in the foliage about 5 feet above me. As I pulled back they busted me and probably went to see the other two does so they could all laugh and have a good time. At this point I'm coming to grips with shaming the family name...

Then, at 5:30, up the hill below me comes a lone deer. I knew it was small. I couldn't tell if it was a small doe or a yearling, but I decided to take a shot if I was given the chance. I remember whispering, "Dad, help me make good decisions." As she moved behind some covering, I drew back. Slowly, and very carefully she stepped right out - 15 yards from me on my bow side. I let it fly and had my best shot yet on a deer. She laid down just 40 yards away.

I'm thankful for her, that might sound odd to the non-hunters out there. But you always feel a strange but right connection to the animals that your given. Like Bright, Zion's first meat will be venison from his daddy's bow and arrow, from the One. Now it's 1:30 in the morning, I need a shower, and there are things under my fingernails that I'd rather not mention. But, I spent the evening Dad's woods and He's stocked us up with some good food. Thank you Dad for second chances, and third chances...