This is an ordinary blog about an extraordinary family...a pastor, his wife, four kids, a dog, a hamster, a few stray lizards, and, oh yeah, a squirrel upstairs.
We're a home-schoolin', Jesus-lovin', conservative-leanin', adventure-seekin', value-teachin', home-makin', slightly off-kilter bunch of Mississippians.
You know what's worse than having a sick baby on his first Christmas?
Having a sick baby on his first Christmas while traveling out of town.
He was a real trouper even though he was sick for our entire visit home. He is so good-natured that he still tried to be happy when he, I'm sure, felt like one of his poopy diapers. I am just so thankful that we took him in and that the RSV was only in the beginning stages. It can be so dangerous for babies.
Anyway, he's on the mend thanks to prayers and medicine, and we'll follow up with his pediatrician here at home this week to make sure nothing further needs to be done.
Here he is enjoying some "liquids." Get a load of those eyes, would ya? Yummy!
I feel the need to sing this loud and proud as we embark on yet another move. In less than a year. During the Christmas season. To another fixer-upper lovely brick home loaded with potential. On Possum Hollow Lane. In Mississippi. Can you really get more redneck rural than that??? At least I'm not pregnant this time, but I'm cranky nonetheless.
You see, in nearly 15 years of marriage, we have moved...let me see...how many times? These timelines are approximate. Not exact. But close enough. Get off me, ok? I think a have a mental block when I try too hard to remember.
* out of our 900 sq ft dump honeymoon haven which we lived in for a couple of years, to the first home we purchased (while pregnant)
* 3 years later to an apartment...after being struck by a tornado (pregnant again)
* 3 months later back to the repaired house (still pregnant)
* 1 year later, out of state
* 2 years later, out of state again
* 3 years later we moved our stuff 5 times (mini-moves) until our money-pit fixer-upper was ready to inhabit. (preggers again? yep, soon)
* 2 years later, we evacuated (moved) out of state with a 2 month old for that little storm, Hurricane Katrina (Our second natural disaster, third if you count the blizzard. In March. In the South. The day we were married.) It should have been a beacon, a herald, a harbinger of things to come. *sniff sniff* But I digress.
* 3 months later, another move in state
* 11 months later, out of state and knocked-up pregnant again
* and here we are, "On the Road Again"
Counting this move, we will now have a grand total of 14 moves. That is insane. Do you hear me? You would think I would be good at it by now. I'm not. I hate packing. And worse, I hate unpacking. The best I can hope for is a huge purge of junk perfectly usable, 'donatable' belongings. And for those of you who are wondering, NO! I AM NOT PREGNANT! That is so not funny. Did I mention I hate moving?
I know I am not in control here, but I am not kidding about this. As far as it is up to me and barring another tornado, hurricane, volcanic eruption, earthquake, ozone evaporation, nuclear meltdown, apocalypse and rapture, I AM NOT MOVING AGAIN. I plan to raise my ungrateful urchins precious children here. Our family can come visit. One day, our grandchildren can come visit their favorite grandparents us here. I plan to rot grow old here. You will find my cold, dead body on Possum Hollow Lane.
Aw man! That sounds about right awful. I don't want my obituary to say Possum Hollow. We may have to move just one more time. I don't want to die there.
If you've grown a little tired of all the "Happy Holidays" greetings, "Holiday" catalogs, "Family Trees" and the myriad of other so-called politically correct references for the celebration of the birthday of Jesus Christ, commonly known as CHRISTMAS, for Pete's sake, click here.
I am WIFE to the kindest husband. MOM to the cutest kids. CARETAKER of the dumbest animal. TEACHER to the brightest students. CHILD of the Most High King.
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