Sanford and Sons

This morning when I went outside to shut the garage door after my husband left for work (yes, my parents gave us a new opener for Christmas last year when ours broke - an awesome gift - but Mr. Shumway is installation-challenged, so it's still in the box), I noticed a large, decorative, arched window with a beveled glass design (the kind used for decoration, not for outside) in my neighbor Jeff's trash. I couldn't see the whole thing, so I thought maybe it was cracked. I really wanted to go across the street and look, but I just knew all the neighbors would see me going through Jeff's trash, so I caved to pride and resolved to forget about it.

I heard the trash truck in the distance. I closed my ears. It was getting closer. I glanced out the window. It was at our house. Jeff's was next. I poised next to my coat. Should I? The truck pulled forward. The man in the bright orange vest picked the window up. It was perfect! He tossed it in to the truck. I didn't think. I ran outside, no coat, yelling like a banshee.

"Sir, sir!" I called as I ran, coatless, across the street. "Sir, is that window broken?"

He heard me coming, raised his head, and gave me a sunny smile and shook his head.

Encouraged by his friendly expression, I yelled over the sound of the truck, "Can I have it?"

"Sure." He reached into the "well of the unknown" and pulled it out. It was five feet tall and I didn't know how I would manage it, but I was committed now.

"Oh, I'll carry it for you," Mr. Orange-vest said as he hefted the heavy object toward my house. If I was worried that the neighbors might see ME, what would they think when they saw Mr. Orange-vest carry the neighbor's trash to my house?

The man leaned the window next to my front door, gave me a cheery, "See you next week!", ran across my yard, and hopped on the back of the garbage truck.

The whole incident gives one pause, especially the see you next week comment. I'm just sayin'.

OK,OK I admit we're weird

You are looking at a picture of the meanest, weirdest Mommy and Daddy in our town. Or at least on our street. Yes, that's right. Miss Sniz and Robotface Shumway are mean AND weird. I admit it.

Random Buzzin' had a great post today about mean mommies. I've seen it before but it's just so timely right now as Robotface and I struggle through the whole parenting thing. We had an epiphany today and hope to write a book about it, entitled Un-parenting. I'll let you know when it's out. Anyway, I am certainly one of those mean mommies Random talks about in her blog, but I would like to add to her list.

We don't allow our young kids to play in their friend's houses unless we know the parents pretty well and they are invited.

We don't allow our kids to ring someone else's doorbell repeatedly until someone stumbles out of the shower in a towel and answers the door. If the neighbor's garage door happens to be open, we do not allow our kids to go and pound on the door leading inside.

We don't allow our small children to ask for food or candy at other people's houses. Nor do we allow them to invite themselves to supper. Nor do we allow them to ask for something, not like it, and spit it on the ground. Or leave the uneaten portion sitting out, wasted. Nor do we allow them to open other people's pantries or fridges and help themselves.

We do not allow our youngsters to stand and stare into the neighbor's window when they are told their friend "will be right out".

We do not allow our children to make a mess at a neighbor's house and then leave it for their friend to clean up.

We do not allow our 14 year old son to have a big screen TV with cable (including Showtime and HBO) in his room. I realize this makes us different than all of his friends' parents, but we're mean like that.

My husband and I home educate our kids. I told you we were weird.

We have the reputation of being "too strict", as our kids tell us. All of their friends say so. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Those *@!# parts of speech

Mr. Shumway and I were discussing our son's progress in Grammar after dinner this evening. During the course of our discussion, I said,

"Did you know there are only eight parts of speech? And one of them is expletives."

I don't think he bought it.

How do you like your coffee?

You Are a Cappuccino

You're fun, outgoing, and you love to try anything new. However, you tend to have strong opinions on what you like. You are a total girly girly at heart - and prefer your coffee with good conversation. You're the type that seems complex to outsiders, but in reality, you are easy to please

What Kind of Coffee Girl Are You?

I've seen so many of these things that are either kinda true or not true at all. But this one is me to a "T". Thanks for the idea, Kimmie.

Christmas decorations

Dana at Life Turned Upside Down just posted a picture of her Christmas tree. This made me want to post a picture of our living room. In church yesterday, I got all weird and shared that I am thankful that our Christmas decorations look so cozy. But once you see this pic, you have to agree. I love to light a fire and just be in here with the Christmas lights on in the evenings. My 14 year old son just told me today that our living room has never looked so good. It always makes me a little sad when we have to take everything down after Christmas and suddenly our old stuff looks so plain.

Notice the Colt's Santa hat next to the TV cabinet. A prime piece of Christmas decoration around here! At least we haven't changed our Christmas decoration colors to blue and silver!

On another note, our son turned 14 on Saturday. He got an X-Box 360, his Christmas and birthday gift. (And Mr. Shumway's too).


Isn't he cute? (Especially with his new haircut!)

artistic masterpieces

Artwork by children is special. Ask any parent. That's why we keep every hastily-drawn masterpiece produced by our children and do NOT throw any of it in the trash, way down under the coffee grounds so that they can't find it. Anyway, my friend at Life Unscripted obviously agrees with me because she recently posted a drawing by her son. After viewing said picture for a while, she is still understandably confused about what his drawing represents.

I recently experienced the same problem with a drawing my youngest daughter displayed on our dry-erase board:


But after a little thought, I hit upon the truth and I wondered why it wasn't obvious immediately. I must have passed down my fabulous artistic ability because I think it's pretty clear what this drawing represents--a person and a butterfly!!! What did YOU think it was?

That darn maniac!

I don't think I've ever gone this long without writing a blog entry or checking all my favorite blogs. I've been busy, but I also have been going through one of my "passively rebellious" times. My life is filled with "shoulds". There's nothing wrong with that. I chose this life...to give up a lot of my time and interests in my desire to serve the loved ones in my life. I do it because I love them and they need me and they are worth it. And it's only for a season of my life. Some day, God willing, I will have more time to pursue my own interests.

But there ARE things I still carve out time to pursue that I enjoy. Scrapbooking, writing, and blogging. Scrapping and writing are basically solitary pursuits, but blogging is a very social thing. I have made lots of wonderful friends and I really enjoy being a part of their lives, even "virtually." So what does all of this philosophizing have to do with why I haven't blogged lately? I've been realizing that I go though times where I am passively rebellious against the "shoulds". It's like the computer is a living thing and I feel like I'll show it! I won't pay attention to it! See how it likes it! I tend to do that to things or institutions that don't care. Like my visit to the library. (As a side note, as I was reading back through my old blog entries, I was amazed at how funny and interesting I used to be...what happened?)

Anyway, over the holiday, I happened to glimpse a blog Mr. Shumway was reading talking about how people sometimes flub the lines of a popular song because they don't know the actual words. It made me think of the time my sister and sister in law and I were in the car on our way out to eat. We were driving around the parking lot, looking for a place to park, when "Maniac" by Hall and Oats came on the radio:
She's a maniac, maniac on the floor.
And she's dancing like she's never danced before.

Have you ever been talking in a loud room when suddenly it gets quiet and what you are saying is broadcast to the whole room?

I was belting out the chorus when we pulled into a parking spot and my sister in law turned the car off. This is what came out of my mouth:
There's a maniac, maniac at the door.
And she's knocking like she's never knocked before.

Unfortunately for me, those words have now gone into "The Andreanisms" file and are never coming out. Like I've said before, I spread joy and laughter wherever I go. Not on purpose.

This and that

This is truly going to be an odds and ends post. So fasten that ole seatbelt and try to keep up!

Last week at our homeschool Thanksgiving Feast and Performance, a woman came up to me and said she'd been wanting to meet me because she read my blog. That is the third time that has happened and it always comes as a shock, but this time, her name triggered something in my mind and I realized that this woman and I had been commenting on each other's blogs for a couple of months. I had no idea that she was who she was and it was so exciting to find out! Hi Shine Again! (Waving) Her blog is awesome and it's so wonderful to meet her in person. (Her kids did a really neat recitation at the program...) I look forward to getting to know her better. God is good.

For those of you curious about my husband got the name Robotface Shumway, check this out: http://bigdoofus.blogspot.com/2007/07/origin-of-robotface-shumway.html
in which he shares about how he came up with that name. His blog is pretty funny, so if you want a good laugh, spend some time there. Plus, here's your chance to support male bloggers!

Here's a snippet of conversation from the back of my van:
Cousin: Babies come out of a mommy's bottom.
Daughter: That's why they have to get a bath right away.

I made my son get a haircut today. (I'm a meanie) He turns 14 on Saturday and I hope the days of deciding his hairstyle are not coming to an end. He argued with me about it all the way there (he wants to grow his hair out really long like his friends) but he looks SO HANDSOME now. I love it! And I think he does too, although he pretends he doesn't!

Last night I'd been asleep for over an hour when Mr. Shumway came to bed. He knelt by the bed, brushed my hair back from my face, and said tenderly, "I appreciate you so much. You are so sweet." I ask again, why do I deserve this?

Well, I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving! We have so much to be thankful for in this country! God bless you.

New Shoes

I am pretty sure I saw a woman shop-lift a pair of shoes from Meijer Superstore the other day. My daughter was with me while I was trying on some boots. We noticed a woman in the next aisle who had removed her shoes and put them in her shopping cart and was walking through the aisles in stockinged feet. I didn't think much of it but later I saw her with a pair of the shoes I had just tried on. She had them on and was walking around outside the shoe department. I thought this was odd but thought maybe she just really wanted to see if they were comfortable by walking in them for a while. But she got further and further away, then disappeared. I went to the saleslady and asked her if they had security devices on the individual shoes so that someone couldn't just walk out with them on their feet. (This possibility had never occured to me before.) The woman was Asian and didn't understand me. I repeated myself two more times and she said, "You want a box for your shoes?" Um, I wasn't buying shoes, thank you very much, and apparently the other lady wasn't either. My daughter and I walked through the store looking for her. I truly didn't know what to do. I remembered that when my mom was a teenager, she'd been falsely accused of shoplifting some lipstick and how traumatizing and humiliating it was for her. What if the woman WAS going to buy the shoes at the checkout and just wanted to wear them out of the store? Then I thought how horrible it would be if someone falsely accused me. What if the woman was innocent and I did that to her? So we saw a woman with a red shirt on who wasn't wearing the shoes and my daughter assumed it was her. I didn't tell Baylee otherwise, although I knew it wasn't her. It satisfied Baylee's little heart that someone wouldn't actually do something so wrong. But somehow, I knew the woman stashed her crappy old shoes somewhere and walked out of the store with a new pair. I mean, it's hard to believe people actually DO that, but it has to happen a lot. Still, it really shook me up and makes me wonder if people I know ever do it. I mean, it's not something people would admit. It's a secret sin. But I guess most sins are. (But really, don't they have camera's for that kind of thing?)

So anyway, I still need a new pair shoes but I think I'll go the traditional route like I always do and look everywhere for the perfect pair for the next month or so. Then around Christmas maybe I'll finally settle on a pair that are almost what I had in mind. (I'll pay for them of course.) But I guess when you're shoplifting, you can't be so picky.

Marriage

I love him because:

He loves me

He accepts me

He thinks I'm pretty

He loves me because:

I make food for him

I teach his children

I love him


But the truth is, we love each other just because we do.

It must be love

Why does he love me? I ask myself that all the time.

Get a job!

Our Seven Qtpies had a really funny post the other day that included something that was too good to pass up:

That time of the month

While walking up the stairs to my third floor college dorm room, I came upon a plain paper grocery bag sitting all alone and forlorn on the second floor landing. Curious, I peeked inside. The bag was full of packages of feminine napkins.

I continued up to my room, forgetting all about the poor grocery bag. Later, my dorm mate and best friend, Shannon, was brainstorming, trying to figure out a way to snag the attention of a certain upper classman.

Now, I never said this to my friend, but I also had a crush on said gentleman. In fact, there wasn't much not to like about this particular young man, and we weren't the only ones with crushes. But my friend was what you might call HAWT and rich and sweet to boot, whereas I was a shy, chubby preacher's kid. So I kept my feelings to myself.

Anyway, I suddenly remembered the grocery sack and all those feminine napkins and told my friend about them. We went to see if it was still there and lugged it up to my room.

"Hmmm," Shannon said, staring thoughtfully at the plethora of maxi pads. "I wonder what we could do with these."

I shrugged.

"I know!" she cried. "We could sneak to Mr. Hot-Shot's house and stick them all over his car!" (Mr. Hot-Shot lived in a house off campus.)

"But how would he know it was you?" I asked, already seeing where this was going and hoping to talk her out of it. "I mean, why go to all the effort to get his attention if he doesn't know who was responsible?"

"Oh, I'll tell him when I see him tomorrow," she said breezily.

"But it's cold outside," I said lamely. See, I didn't really think it was a good idea, or a funny one, or clever, or anything else. But she was my friend, and after all, I AM a good friend. Still, I dreaded sneaking around in the cold and dark, on a muddy country road with my pockets overflowing with feminine products.

But that's exactly how I found myself 30 minutes later, with my heavily padded coat filled to overflowing with maxi pads. We were giggling hard by this time, and I had warmed to the idea in the excitement. Shannon parked her car across the street and down the road a little bit. Since it was so dark and she had turned her headlights off, neither of us could tell that there was a pretty steep ditch on the side of the road where she parked, and as I got out, I nearly stepped into nowhere and slid down the slippery, muddy grass into it. But I managed to hang on to the handle and drag myself around the car.

Laughing in hushed giddiness, we made our way to Mr. Hot-Shot's car and began to execute our devious plan.

By this time, I was getting into the spirit of the thing, and had blocked out the windshield as my personal masterpiece. I was spelling out "I heart U", carefully sticking the pads onto the glass, and was almost done, when all chaos broke loose.

Simultaneously, a light switched on, there was a yell and a squeal and running footsteps. I turned and ran towards Shannon's car. Shannon was ahead of me, desperately yelling for me to hurry without ever turning around. Heavy footsteps were behind me. Shannon was in the car. She was starting it! She was taking off! I grabbed for the passenger handle and snagged it, running along side the vehicle. I caught one glimpse of Shannon's wild-eyed panic before I had to let go. I stood in the street, knowing there was absolutely no way to escape the complete and utter humiliation that lay ahead.

And I was right.

I turned around. Slowly. There stood Mr. Hot-Shot in bare feet and boxer shorts.

"Um, my friend will be right back," I murmured, hoping it was true. There were feminine napkins trailing from my coat pockets. I stuffed my hands in my pockets in a futile effort to hide the evidence.

"Do you need a ride?" Mr. Hot-Shot asked in a slow, kind voice. I think he thought I was retarded.

"No, I um..."

"You can call her from the house," he continued.

It was cold. It was dark. There was nothing else to do. I trailed behind him and sat, dejected, on the edge of his couch. This was one of the most popular guys in school and I was hanging out in his living room with limp, damp hair, muddy feet, and wearing an old coat of my brother's that had feminine hygiene products spilling out.

For the next ten long minutes, I pretended to find the shot glass collection on his mantel fascinating as I played the "avoid eye-contact-at-all-costs" game. Finally, the doorbell rang and Shannon, looking oh-so-cute and perky, stood on the doorstep.

"I heard my friend was here," she said. I got up and followed her out the door.

I never forgot that night. Not when Shannon and Hot-Shot got together. Not when they broke up. And not when Hot-Shot and I started dating later. Well, not really, but wouldn't that have been a great ending?

Adult Acne

I had acne as a teenager, just like many other kids. But Mom took me to a dermatologist and it cleared up in a relatively short time. Since then, I've only had the occasional pimple, and when I do, they are barely visible.

I have spent the majority of my adult life worry-free that a blemish might mar my complexion. Not so a few days ago. Thursday, something began forming on my face. It got bigger and bigger. Last night when we were sitting around the table playing a family game, my 9-year-old asked in concern, "Mom, is that a wart on your chin?"

I blushed a bright red and slapped my palm over my chin in embarrassment. "No, it's a pimple," I said self-consciously.

Everyone laughed but pretended they weren't. Nice.

Chocolate and Discipleship

My friend Mom Huebert at Chocolate After Supper tagged me last week for this fun meme. It's been rattling around in my head all week, but all I had time to do was jot off a few random posts here and there. So MH, forgive me, but I'm hoping you believe in the old adage, "It's better late than never."

Anyway, here it is:
Devise a list of 5-10 courses you would take to fix your life. It’s more fun to be in classes with friends, so include one class from the person who tagged you that you’d also like to take. Tag five.

OK, Mom Huebert, here's the class you and I are taking together:
Building Addictions To Housework
This would be a pharmaceutical class that would facilitate the use of synthesized hormones that have been found in women who love to clean. It would also teach how to use aversion therapy to train the body to not enjoy sitting and reading a good book, or watching a great black and white movie.

Dancing 101 (or How to NOT dance like a NERD)
OK, I admit it. I'm a big ole white honkey when it comes to dancing. Have any of you seen Elaine dance on Seinfeld? I'm worse. I shared my burning desire to learn how with my mom one time, and she got me a "learn to dance" tape that was supposed to be good exercise at the same time. I started it. I didn't get past the first five minutes. I rewound those five minutes for over an hour, determined to get ONE DANCE STEP down!! After an hour, I was NO BETTER!! So if there's a class out there that can teach a chick like me some rhythm, sign me up!

Learn to be Witty in Ten Easy Lessons
I grew up with a witty father and sister who could say something and have the entire room rolling in laughter. I would say the same thing and hear crickets. And to make matters worse, I married a very funny, witty guy. The only time I'm funny is accidentally. Once when I said something funny, Mr. Shumway said, "Awww, you said something funny, Sweetie!" Then he gave me a big hug, as if it were cause for huge celebration. Um, yeah. I need this class.

Cloning for Dummies
I would love to clone myself so that I could sit on the couch all day blogging while my clone did all the work.

How to Become Independently Wealthy in Ten Weeks or Less
Oh, wait. I can take that course in the comfort of home for 5 easy payments of $79.95. (Plus shipping and handling). I'm going to get right on that.

How to Stop Talking Too Much
I need this class. 'Nuff said.

Now for the lucky tag-ees:
1) Elisa at I Want a Home Now
2) Mom not Mum at Don't Call Me Mummy
3) KC at Mindless Chatter of a Busy Mom
4) Leeann at The World Through the Eyes of Me
5) Sarah at Sassyfrazz

Then, a couple of days ago, my BFF Toni gave me an award for being a disciple of Christ! I think my blog is pretty lighthearted and not an uplifting blog like so many others I've found. But Toni knows me personally and if she thinks I deserve it, that's a compliment indeed! I hope I live up to it. Now if I could just figure out how to put the little award buttons on my sidebar, I could put this one and the last one I received from my friend LeeAnn and actually display them. (The first one got on there totally by fluke---I have no idea how I did it.)






This award originated with Dan King over at Management by God, who states, "Mathetes is the Greek word for disciple, and the role of the disciple (per the Great Commission) is to make more disciples. The role of a disciple of Christ is to carry His message to the ends of the earth. It is with this heart that I have created the Mathetes Award."

Those who receive it are to pass it on to other disciples who are sharing the good news in their own bloggity ways.

Here are the rules: Winners of this award to pass this on to five other "disciples". As you pass it on, I just ask that you mention and provide links for
(1)the originator of the award (Dan King of management by God), (2) the person that awarded it to you, and then (3) name the sites of those you believe are fulfilling the role of a disciple of Christ.

Now then, I'd like to give it to these precious 'disciples' who share the Lord in awesome ways on their blogs:
1)Jeanine over at Roots.
2)Mayhem and Miracles
3)Missy at The Three Olivo's.
4)Rose at Starrs in Denver.

Um, wait, Toni already gave this award to these wonderful ladies.

OK, here's five more (and there are so many more than this!):
1) Denise at NeeNee's Blog
2) JAN at Midsummer Meanderings
3) Hunny Bee May at Life With Mikey
4) Barb at Barb the Evil Genius
5) Kristen at Mighty Morphin' Mama

I figured they were more like guidelines

I've never been one to follow the rules. Oh, I follow them if they make sense to me. But when a rule doesn't make sense, something happens in my brain. I start adding things like, "Don't take a cookie from the cookie jar (unless you're REALLY hungry). Don't walk on the grass (unless you wear tennis shoes and tiptoe). I'd make a good pirate. Argg!

Anyway, I passed this awful trait to my son.

I am also an arguer. I have a hard time capitulating in a battle with words. (It's because I'm so passionate and fiery. Do I hear an amen?)

I passed this on to my son too.

I am emotional and stubborn, traits that also found their way to my son.

But the funny thing is, I HATE it when my 13 year old son breaks the rules, argues with me, then won't give in. And Mom, don't you dare laugh.

Does the tooth fairy exist?

Did the tooth fairy leave you any money?

One dollar in an envelope that said, "I heard you lost a tooth. Don't lose an elbow too."

The tooth fairy doesn't like you very much.

Maybe that's because I don't believe in him.

Nerdy Love

This morning, Mr. Shumway surprised me with a special Halloween gift...a gigantic bag of Nerds just for me that I didn't have to share with the kids. Nerds are my favorite non-chocolate candy; because as far as I'm concerned, eating any candy that is non-chocolate is a waste of time, taste-buds, and calories. But chocolate has that pesky fat, so I needed to find something fat-free that would satisfy my occasional sweet tooth. I know they are pure sugar, but a small box now and then is better than a Snickers bar.

As he presented me with my surprise, I kissed him and laughingly told him he knew the way to my heart. He smiled and said,

"I know the way to the 50% off aisle too."

Another quote of the day

My 9 year old is in a phase where she thinks farting is really, really funny. Mr. Shumway and I have had to talk to her a few times about how farting at the dinner table may be funny to her (and all her siblings) but that is not ladylike behavior and she is a young lady and it is important to develop good manners. So she doesn't fart at the table anymore, at least not on purpose. :-)

One evening, through the door to the girls' room, was heard my youngest saying to her sister,

"You have to admit, farts DO feel good."

Now whether you are a person who doesn't like to admit farting exists or if you are someone who farts on purpose and laughs uproariously when someone else does, you have to admit that everyone DOES fart and my daughter's statement couldn't be more true. Do I hear an amen? We are teaching our kids to be honest and this comment proves we've hit the mark with this one.