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Sick

We've been preparing for our Spring Break camping trip with some very good friends and now, last minute, two of the kids are feeling rotten. So, my Jessica (one of the sickos) wrote a cute poem about being sick.


Sick
by: Jessica Baker

Sick is sad, not fun, with all
the throw up and nasty medicine.
As you can see, sick is not fun, it is
merely a horrid virus that takes time
from parents, teens, tweens and kids.
I hate SICK!

One Minute of Wild Pandemonium Noise

None of us could stop making noise on the way home from church tonight. Seemed everyone wanted to say something...everyone wanted to be heard, to make noise and to jabber endlessly.

So...what do you do in those moments? I walked through the front door, in to the kitchen, set the timer on the microwave and yelled "YOU'VE GOT ONE MINUTE - BE AS LOUD AS YOU CAN!"

And so, all of us did that, and it was fun. And loud. I made noises I never thought I could, and so did the kids, and Jacqui did too. And then, amazingly, all of us got quiet and stayed mostly quiet. The kids tucked neatly into bed fairly quickly, and now I am here finishing a few things. Nice and quiet like.

We're doing that thing again tomorrow. Oh yeah, youbetcha.

Why I can't stand cats

I'm definitely not a cat person, so I'm a little caught off guard as to why this post, and my previous one were cat oriented videos.

Anyway, this one made me laugh.

Psycho Cat

Contents of my dresser

Yesterday me and two of my kids were stuck at the airport waiting for Kyle, a college student friend, to arrive from Germany. His plane was delayed, me and the kids hung around the airport, caught some Subway and talked. Good kids, good time.

That left Jacqui at home waiting for Nicole to call for a pick up when she arrived home from her away basketball game. So, Jacqui tackled our bedroom. Over the holidays our room became the Baker Family Closet and the receptacle for homeless piece of family junk. Wal-Mart bags, Christmas labels, receipts and tags. Jacqui dug under the bed and into the corners and cleaned. And, she hung stuff on the walls…new stuff needing a home after being exiled from my office.

That made my dresser a sloppy embarrassment. This morning I stood, my 6:15 am coffee in hand, drooly mouth opened studying my mess-er, which has become the home for the oddest assortment of things...

- An Air Hog remote control helicopter. Gift idea from Dr. Graff. Wasplike at full throttle.
- A spool of blue thread. I don’t sew; no idea where that came from.
- A large African ceremonial sword…about as big as my forearm, a gift from our much-loved missionaries-to-african-youth family Pete and Alice.
- A shark book I've been reading with Jake.
- Finger-cuffs. (I would have said “Chinese Handcuffs”, but I didn’t want to appear culturally insensitive).
- Old socks I need to throw away. Huge holes in the toes, but you never know when you'll need 'em.
- The Beautiful Mess by Rick McKinley. A good book I’m struggling to finish reading.
- Change…mine because it’s on MY dresser.
- A How to paint with watercolors kit.
- Ernie Ball Super Slinkies. Nicole got her Aunt’s guitar for Christmas, and I gave one of mine to Jess for Christmas. Both needed restringing.
- Seven candles. The four pink ones are not mine. Promise.
- Manshroom. It's what men wear to make themselves smell better. Man Perfume... manshroom... Jake made up the word.
- A bottle of coke from Mexico. Six years old and never opened.
- An old test paper about how America gained its independence. My oldest's.
- Tire plugs for flat tires. Extras because I thought I was out of 'em.
- Directions to a Spiderman Race car toy.

So, the dresser is kind of a picture of life 'round here. Each one of those things is tied to a memory. They're extremely important reminders of the incredible fun we've had as a family.

And that's exactly what I'm going to say to Jacqui when she wants to know why my dresser is still a mess.

New Year...New Everything

Sitting in my daughter's room today at my old desk. Nice calm, quiet, peaceful day and Jess keeps her room very neat. Why did I ever get rid of this desk?

Today is kind is a beginning of a new life. I've taught very consistently two wonderful local institutions for years. This year, the High School didn't really need me, and the University doesn't need adjuncts this semester. Honestly, I'm aching over this. I love the High School and University students, and I just do not like not being directly involved in their lives. I have a huge desire to be involved in the process of education, but more than that, I just love interacting with the students at both institutions. I think that, even though you know students you teach attend other churches, you mentally adopt them into your own little mental youth group, and you feel somewhat accountable for their lives. I feel as though I am missing out on experiencing the lives of very good friends.

I also feel a little scared. I'm leading my family through a wonderful time of very little income, weathering comments from several people asking "Why I am not employed" (which I am...by my church, who has been very patient with me in my journey of being octo-vocational, and by a few wonderful publishing friends). It's difficult relating to people that writers write...at home, at stinky restaurants, in closets and in the bathroom. And we write on napkins, white boards, and on little scraps of paper, and then spend time typing those thoughts into horrible machines that too often transform our poetic napkin-sentences into painfully ordinary, highly editable paragraphs. Writing often looks like nothing is happening when really everything is happening, just not in a way that makes sense to anyone else but the writer.

Anyway, I've got a ton of stuff to keep me busy...A lot of writing and editing to do, and then there's that whole plan I had for taking over the planet. I think I'll start with my fridge...then work on the laundry room. Once I get those settled, I'll work on invading Switzerland.