It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

You know that part in "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" where the singer sings, "And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again." (I think I already wrote a blog on this.) I'm ready for school to start again. I ADORE my children. I love to be with them. Summer is just a little too unstructured for our ilk. We don't know what to do with ourselves. We are starting to be a little sick of one another.

Right now Colin is watching programming aimed at the 3-5 year old set and Baby D is emptying Colin's golf bag of the balls which are now rolling all over the kitchen. The golf bag is in the kitchen because Colin and I had a show down over piano practice. Apparently guys who are going into 4th grade don't practice. Guess again. It is 4:45 and I am trying to think of something to serve for dinner besides chicken . . . again.

We need the lovely rhythm and order of a school day. We know what to do. We know what is expected of us. Of course, once school starts, it's only a matter of time until winter . . .

What I did last weekend.

LPL Minneapolis from Rich Kalonick on Vimeo.

Let the truth set you free

Apparently some dude named Michael Savage, of whom I had blissfully ignorant of until today, said on his radio talk show on Friday that 99 percent of autistic kids are brats who don't have fathers to tell them to stop it. Anyone who knows me at all will know I am a staunch supporter of the First Amendment. Thank goodness we live in a country where we are allowed the freedom to say what we wish. It's a sword that cuts two ways, though. If I am allowed to say my autistic child is a loving, smart, talented child who has a difficult time expressing his emotions, then someone is certainly allowed to say they think autism is over diagnosed. I might go so far as to agree. But some ignorant jerk with a big mouth apparently called him a "moron," Brent a dead-beat dad and me a "lax" parent. Really? Huh. See, now that's just going too far. You go ahead and say that in your safe, dark little radio studio in Los Angeles, but you come to my home and say that to our faces, you who had to change your name to something more aggressive sounding than Michael Wiener.

Power! Everbody's . . . talkin' . . .

All I can think about is VBS. It's like my own Jacob Marley. I look into door knockers and there's a cheery little scientist singing, "GET UP! GET UP! SOME PEOPLE HAVEN'T HEARD!" I like doing it and I hope I am a blessing to someone somewhere. I just can't stop thinking about it and saying, "AHA!"

Power! Everybody's talking 'bout the power!

Today's theme at VBS was Jesus gives us the power to be thankful (Aha!). Believe me, no one was more thankful than I was when the science experiment WORKED!

Shoot! I took physics!

Tomorrow I resume my role as leader of what an old school gal like me likes to call Vacation Bible School "opening and closing exercises." That's not what it's called, of course. It's called "Sonic Sing and Play" and "Faith Fusion Finale" to go along with the science lab theme of the week.

Am I nervous? -- Does a bear poop in the woods? Is the Pope Catholic? Do stupid humans get out of their cars and run up to wild animals in Yellowstone National Park. Yes, yes, yes and YES!

Here's why: I have no trouble leading the estimated 300 children in a time of excited and amped up worship while wearing a lab coat and my Chuck Taylors, but at the end of the day, I have to do a science experiment. It involves dry ice and Dawn dish washing liquid and NO practice ahead of time. I like to practice. I like to know what I'm doing. I like control. Tomorrow's theme is thankfulness and if the experiment works, I will be shouting out my thanks.

Pool Update

Baby D refuses to stay in the pool. He wants to play with the garden hose -- the plain, ol' dirty garden hose that has always been there, not the beautiful new pool with attached shade canopy.