*After being notified of another practice scheduled within church hours on a Wednesday, I will be sending this letter (though slightly modified for this blog) to whoever may be in power to consider a change to the schedule. I hope other Christian families feel the same way as I do. If we don't take a stand now, sports on church nights will become a common practice. I hope this is not a defeat Christian families are willing to accept.*
To Whom It May Concern:
I am typing this letter in response to the decision to have middle school baseball practices on Wednesdays and Sundays. As you may, or may not know, these are days in which many Christian families- though becoming more and more rare- choose to worship by attending church services.
I realize my opinion may not have much of an impact as “church” is quickly becoming an “if we feel like it” event among American families. However, this truly is a topic which is becoming more of a concern among the faithful church-going families, who are increasingly finding themselves in the predicament of choosing dedication to a sport over their longtime commitment to God and their church. In times past, many people who grew up playing sports can testify to the fact that sports events were rarely- if ever- scheduled on Wednesdays or Sundays, unless conducted during a time well outside the bounds of church hours.
As you read this, you may be asking yourself, “What is the harm in missing a night of church for a sport’s practice?” Easily enough, many pastors and youth leaders in our churches are asking the same question, “What is the harm in missing a night of sport’s practice for church?” It all depends on what side of the fence you are standing on. Yet there is a deeper thought to the former question. When the compromise for replacing church for sports has been made, the precedent is set. Our children soon learn, if there is something deemed more important than church, it is acceptable to miss the church service. The standard is lowered; they grow up with the embedded understanding “I only go to church when it is convenient for my schedule.” Imagine if businesses were run this way! Imagine if doctors conducted their practices in such a manner. Imagine if children only went to school when they wanted to go. Yet, this is how America is beginning to treat its church attendance. Now, as a turning point in this letter, imagine that the unthinkable tragedy strikes.
Will it matter then, how fast they can pitch? In the midst of crisis, will it matter how far they can hit a baseball? When their world is crumbling around them by the things that this life can so easily bring, what will really matter? You see, it is in times like these that we turn to God for comfort, for answers, for the peace that we need to bring us through the storms of life. However, if our priorities have never been centered on Him, and our children see Him only as Someone they worship and talk to in their convenience, will they even feel close enough to Him to call on Him in their trouble? Will they even think to turn to God for comfort during their time of distress?
It is scenarios such as this that strengthen our family’s belief that it is vital to preserve a deep dedication to God within our children. The Bible instructs us in Hebrews 10:25 “Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.” Even in centuries before ours, Paul instructed Christians not to forsake their attendance to church. The Bible also says in Hebrews 4:14, 16 “…let us hold fast our profession. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” Yes, grace is there when we need it; help is there when we seek it; but the command is to “hold fast to our profession.” What is our profession? That Jesus is our Lord and Savior over our lives. We must hold fast to it; guard it, preserve it, hold onto it as if it were the most precious gift within our possession- which- He is, isn’t He?
I realize it is possible that you may think the arguments within this letter are a bit drastic. Yet I am convinced that the ease at which we replace our attendance to church is a viable concern within our country. One need look no further than Europe, whose young people are laying aside church attendance and long established religious truths at alarming rates. We must ask ourselves, where did their lack of concern for the faith originate? Did it begin in the home? Is our commitment to church worth saving and preserving within our American youth? One more question- are two nights reserved for church too much of a sacrifice to ensure our children's faith in God stays strong and steady?
Finally, I would like to point out that it simply does not have to be the reality that faithful church attending families with children in sports should have to choose between their midweek worship service and sport’s practice. Sundays really need not be spent on a field, working like all the other days of the week, but could be honored as one day set aside to worship God and spending time with family. There are five other days in the week that can easily be spent in games and practices. Most of our local schools have been advocates for Christian principles. It is because of that standard that I believe our community's sports programs is capable of the consideration that church families deserve. Perhaps not only capable, but gracefully willing to remove the tough choice of church vs. sports that Christian parents are currently having to choose between. Our community has strong roots and respect for the House of God, and I am hopeful that this letter will provoke thought and discussion about the decision to have practices on Wednesdays and Sundays. In spite of the ultimate outcome of this situation, the voice of Christians are undeniably being disregarded in the world we are currently living in. I feel it is my duty, and one that I humbly, yet willingly accept, to be a voice- small as it may be- to advocate the preservation of the dedication to God and the good churches of our community.
Thank you for your time and patience in reading this letter. I pray my petition will be thoughtfully considered.
May God Bless,
Andrea K. Bailey
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Goo-Goos, Pookahs, and Buttercups, Oh My!
Yesterday was the "big day" for our new little baby. It was GENDER day. Only, we didn't find out its gender. Trust me, I know what you are thinking, "I could never do that!" Believe me, I never thought I could either. Yet imagine being shocked twice by "goo-goos" on the ultrasound screen after you were convinced you were having a girl once; then secretly hoping for a girl the second time and "Whoa! There's the goo- goo!" You just don't want to have to face the "goo-goo" again. For the third. Time. Maybe I should elaborate before you all think I'm an ungrateful, unloving mother to my sweet boys. I truly am not, and to cut to the chase, I wouldn't want my life any other way right now without my little boys.
So here's the story. For five years, my husband and I wanted children, but it just didn't happen. My husband's son would tell us every now and then how bad he wanted a brother or sister. Month after month passed, we hoped and prayed, but no baby. In the meantime, I would occasionally step aside to the baby department while shopping, just to touch the tiny clothes and imagine my own baby in them. For five years, do you know the only clothes I looked at were girl clothes? When I was told that I should start collecting things for a nursery out of faith, I decided to do so, and of course I chose a neutral theme of "Peter Rabbit" with lots of greens. However, I mentally picked out a few pink things to accent the room with that I knew I would purchase if our baby was a girl. Perhaps the desire for a girl had something to do with my childhood pledge to give my daughter the middle name of "Rose" as a tribute to my dear grandmother, who had died of brain cancer when I was 12. In fact, any girl name I've ever considered was tossed if it didn't match up well with "Rose."
In spite of all this, and even telling people I could see myself with all girls, I completely adored my nephews. Yes, I loved the nieces, but something about those baby boys pulled on my heartstrings. Foreshadowing, maybe? I watched my sister-in-law one day with her two little boys, and somewhere in my heart I thought "I would love two little boys!" I was shocked the thought entered my mind, and I suppose I brushed it away, because finally- I found out I was going to have a baby, and of course- I just knew it was a girl. I was so convinced that I began making bows, and even bought some inexpensive girl clothes at yard sales. Then came gender day. As soon as the tech placed the ultrasound on my baby belly- there HE was. I remember gasping, and then laughing. "It's a BOY!!!" I squeaked. I remember walking toward the elevator after my appointment in blissful shock. Looking back, the most wonderful thing about finding out my baby was a boy, was that I had already lived through a girl for 5 years. I knew how I would feel, I knew what I would buy; I was consumed with GIRL, but "it" was a BOY. Everything I felt from then on was new and exciting, and something I had never considered but found myself loving everyday. Mommy's little boy. It was just as thrilling as finding out I was pregnant all over again.
Skip to baby #2. I just had that feeling. It was another boy; I kind of knew it. I felt content because brothers would hopefully be the best of friends, but I also felt like- I suppose- everyone else on their second time around, you would like to have what you haven't experienced yet. Sure enough, first thing on the screen was BOY. And I laughed again. Only this time, I felt a pang of disappointment behind the laugh. I was so happy for Drew and Javan that they would have a new baby brother to play with, but I also had 20 more weeks of getting big and miserable, and the suspense was over- another boy. For 20 weeks, I lacked the sheer excitement I had with my first. I knew what to expect, I knew what my experience was going to be like. I washed and organized the same clothes my first baby wore. Then, on September 21, 2012, the most precious little boy was born, and surprisingly, my experience with him was special in a different way than my first boy. Instantly, any lingering desire I had for a girl completely vanished. He could not have been more perfect or beautiful, and at 15 months, he is still the easiest baby to care for. Everyday I admire his chubby little cuteness, and I watch his adorable mannerisms, and I would never, ever, EVER trade him for the most beautiful of baby girls.
Now we have #3. The pressure is ON. So I want to turn it off. Simple as that. This time, on gender day, I wasn't surprised by a goo-goo staring back at me. Instead, I got to enjoy our little baby as it was- a baby- playing peekaboo with its hand and shaking the umbilical cord like its own little womb rattle. Of course, my husband and I were both on high alert that the baby was going to show itself without warning. At one point, we both thought we might have saw "boy" in a split second. Then, after the tech had looked for herself while we shielded our eyes, she said minutes later, "Oh look at 'iz hand!" To which my husband and I discussed afterwards in the car whether she said "his" or "its." However, in favor of a possible girl, as the doctor was clicking through the pictures the tech had taken, I thought I saw what looked to be like a girl on one of them. I quickly looked away as I realized there really could be a gender picture in there- which there was- because the Dr. playfully told us at the end of the appointment he knew what we were going to have. However, I could not be more pleased with my decision to wait. The excitement of having a third baby is still there, not to mention it is just plain fun in this "instant" world we live in.
Yes, I must admit, there are days I honestly long for a daughter. In particular, days when we are all seated around the dinner table and I am just completely surrounded by boys... 13 years to 15 months, who don't care that we are eating. Scientifically, eating starts up the digestive system, which apparently releases- you know- as a side note, I have always dubbed "flatulence" as a "poohder." It just sounds so much more friendly and cutesy as opposed to its other crude names. There you have it, the dinner table, boys, and poohders. It's lovely, I tell you. {Note sarcasm.} While we're on this rabbit trail, my three year old's version of a "poohder" is a "pookah." Like, hookah with a p. It fits so well as gas really is a boy's own toxic drug. So, pookah. And I don't mind, because when we are in church and Javan declares to me he just "pookah-ed" during prayer request time, no one knows what in Sam's hill he's talking about. So anyway. Yes, there are days I'm just surrounded by boys and their pookahs, and their buttercups (ask my 13 year old step son what that is if you have no clue. I'm sure he would love to show you,) and I just want a little girl that I can take by the hand and say, "Yes, darling. We've had our share of pookahs and buttercups today. Let's go shopping." {Sigh...}
However, I am preparing myself for that moment when the baby is born in June, and the Dr. says "Another boy, Mrs. Bailey!" I know that mommy instinct will kick in, and once again, the thoughts of girl will vanish away. We will marvel at how tiny and precious, and debate on who he looks like. In the years to come, there will be a lot of basketball games, camping trips, and horseback riding. I don't mind; I've always enjoyed those things anyway. I think of what my former teacher told me a couple years ago when I told her my husband and I were expecting a third boy into the family. She said "That is wonderful! You know, some women are meant to be the mother of boys." She gave me a definitive nod and added, "That's just the way it's suppose to be." True, that is. My dear grandmother was the mother of four boys, no girls. So, you just never know. Maybe I am meant to be the "Rose" among all these thorns... and pookahs.
So here's the story. For five years, my husband and I wanted children, but it just didn't happen. My husband's son would tell us every now and then how bad he wanted a brother or sister. Month after month passed, we hoped and prayed, but no baby. In the meantime, I would occasionally step aside to the baby department while shopping, just to touch the tiny clothes and imagine my own baby in them. For five years, do you know the only clothes I looked at were girl clothes? When I was told that I should start collecting things for a nursery out of faith, I decided to do so, and of course I chose a neutral theme of "Peter Rabbit" with lots of greens. However, I mentally picked out a few pink things to accent the room with that I knew I would purchase if our baby was a girl. Perhaps the desire for a girl had something to do with my childhood pledge to give my daughter the middle name of "Rose" as a tribute to my dear grandmother, who had died of brain cancer when I was 12. In fact, any girl name I've ever considered was tossed if it didn't match up well with "Rose."
In spite of all this, and even telling people I could see myself with all girls, I completely adored my nephews. Yes, I loved the nieces, but something about those baby boys pulled on my heartstrings. Foreshadowing, maybe? I watched my sister-in-law one day with her two little boys, and somewhere in my heart I thought "I would love two little boys!" I was shocked the thought entered my mind, and I suppose I brushed it away, because finally- I found out I was going to have a baby, and of course- I just knew it was a girl. I was so convinced that I began making bows, and even bought some inexpensive girl clothes at yard sales. Then came gender day. As soon as the tech placed the ultrasound on my baby belly- there HE was. I remember gasping, and then laughing. "It's a BOY!!!" I squeaked. I remember walking toward the elevator after my appointment in blissful shock. Looking back, the most wonderful thing about finding out my baby was a boy, was that I had already lived through a girl for 5 years. I knew how I would feel, I knew what I would buy; I was consumed with GIRL, but "it" was a BOY. Everything I felt from then on was new and exciting, and something I had never considered but found myself loving everyday. Mommy's little boy. It was just as thrilling as finding out I was pregnant all over again.
Skip to baby #2. I just had that feeling. It was another boy; I kind of knew it. I felt content because brothers would hopefully be the best of friends, but I also felt like- I suppose- everyone else on their second time around, you would like to have what you haven't experienced yet. Sure enough, first thing on the screen was BOY. And I laughed again. Only this time, I felt a pang of disappointment behind the laugh. I was so happy for Drew and Javan that they would have a new baby brother to play with, but I also had 20 more weeks of getting big and miserable, and the suspense was over- another boy. For 20 weeks, I lacked the sheer excitement I had with my first. I knew what to expect, I knew what my experience was going to be like. I washed and organized the same clothes my first baby wore. Then, on September 21, 2012, the most precious little boy was born, and surprisingly, my experience with him was special in a different way than my first boy. Instantly, any lingering desire I had for a girl completely vanished. He could not have been more perfect or beautiful, and at 15 months, he is still the easiest baby to care for. Everyday I admire his chubby little cuteness, and I watch his adorable mannerisms, and I would never, ever, EVER trade him for the most beautiful of baby girls.
Now we have #3. The pressure is ON. So I want to turn it off. Simple as that. This time, on gender day, I wasn't surprised by a goo-goo staring back at me. Instead, I got to enjoy our little baby as it was- a baby- playing peekaboo with its hand and shaking the umbilical cord like its own little womb rattle. Of course, my husband and I were both on high alert that the baby was going to show itself without warning. At one point, we both thought we might have saw "boy" in a split second. Then, after the tech had looked for herself while we shielded our eyes, she said minutes later, "Oh look at 'iz hand!" To which my husband and I discussed afterwards in the car whether she said "his" or "its." However, in favor of a possible girl, as the doctor was clicking through the pictures the tech had taken, I thought I saw what looked to be like a girl on one of them. I quickly looked away as I realized there really could be a gender picture in there- which there was- because the Dr. playfully told us at the end of the appointment he knew what we were going to have. However, I could not be more pleased with my decision to wait. The excitement of having a third baby is still there, not to mention it is just plain fun in this "instant" world we live in.
Yes, I must admit, there are days I honestly long for a daughter. In particular, days when we are all seated around the dinner table and I am just completely surrounded by boys... 13 years to 15 months, who don't care that we are eating. Scientifically, eating starts up the digestive system, which apparently releases- you know- as a side note, I have always dubbed "flatulence" as a "poohder." It just sounds so much more friendly and cutesy as opposed to its other crude names. There you have it, the dinner table, boys, and poohders. It's lovely, I tell you. {Note sarcasm.} While we're on this rabbit trail, my three year old's version of a "poohder" is a "pookah." Like, hookah with a p. It fits so well as gas really is a boy's own toxic drug. So, pookah. And I don't mind, because when we are in church and Javan declares to me he just "pookah-ed" during prayer request time, no one knows what in Sam's hill he's talking about. So anyway. Yes, there are days I'm just surrounded by boys and their pookahs, and their buttercups (ask my 13 year old step son what that is if you have no clue. I'm sure he would love to show you,) and I just want a little girl that I can take by the hand and say, "Yes, darling. We've had our share of pookahs and buttercups today. Let's go shopping." {Sigh...}
However, I am preparing myself for that moment when the baby is born in June, and the Dr. says "Another boy, Mrs. Bailey!" I know that mommy instinct will kick in, and once again, the thoughts of girl will vanish away. We will marvel at how tiny and precious, and debate on who he looks like. In the years to come, there will be a lot of basketball games, camping trips, and horseback riding. I don't mind; I've always enjoyed those things anyway. I think of what my former teacher told me a couple years ago when I told her my husband and I were expecting a third boy into the family. She said "That is wonderful! You know, some women are meant to be the mother of boys." She gave me a definitive nod and added, "That's just the way it's suppose to be." True, that is. My dear grandmother was the mother of four boys, no girls. So, you just never know. Maybe I am meant to be the "Rose" among all these thorns... and pookahs.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
My New Year's Resolutions... For Everyone Else
So. It's January 2nd, and I am just now writing about New Year's resolutions. I've wanted to do this for about a week now, but you know, kids happen. So yes, that's right...fixing my procrastinating ways and figuring out how to make my children self sufficient robots were not on my list of resolutions.
Anyway, it's that time of year again. The time of year when the most read book of the Bible will be read again--Genesis-- and by mid February we will all be trading Leviticus for the good ol' New Testament. By mid February, we'll be all down on ourselves because our new Christmas treadmill hasn't been used in 2 weeks. By mid February, the mail will still be cluttered on the kitchen table instead of being neatly categorized in the cute bill organizer we created from Pinterest. Mid February is coming, people. All of our resolutions will be buried away in the sea of just trying to keep everything and everyone clean, and keeping the kids alive.
All of this resolution stuff got me to thinking... I wish I could make resolutions for other people. That would be fantastical. For instance, my New Year's resolution for my husband would be to clean out the garage. Every time I have to open the garage door, it seems like my perfect, busy beaver, German neighbors are outside... and they stop sweeping their driveway to gawk at the... at the... STUFF.
Just, STUFF.
STUFFED.
EVERYWHERE.
Ah, the Germans. I know they talk about the garage, because I always get to hear about how "in Germany, no junk allowed in yards or on porches! You get fine! No junk! Everything neat!" (Now, we don't have junk in our yard, but I can't vouch for others in eastern Kentucky.) I am also told "I see your mom come over. She help you clean, yah? Hahaha... I see her come. I tell husband, 'Her mom help her clean!' Hahahaha!" So yes. They talk about the garage. These are the people who grow their own vegetables, catch their own rainwater, hang their clothes out to dry, cut their grass EVERY OTHER DAY. And they sweep their driveway. Oh, I know. Some of you are like, "I sweep my driveway." I'm sure you do. And you probably keep your New Year's resolutions until at least June, don't you? Well anyway. I think we out did them on our Christmas decorations, at least. And their decorations are still up. Which leads me to resolution #2 for the hubby... get the Christmas decorations down before the Germans.
Meanwhile, back in the jungle...
My New Year's resolution for my sweet, 3 year old little Javan, would be to not WHINE. ABOUT. EVERYTHING. I mean, who needs to exercise and eat healthy if your kid will just NOT WHINE. That in itself would lower my stress level and blood pressure significantly. A typical example of his whining? He wants juice. I take the lid off the juice. "NO!!! I WANT STRAWBEEZ MOOK!!!" (Translation: strawberry milk.) I commence mixing the strawbeez mook. I put the lid on his sippy. "NOOOO!!!!! I WANT TO SEE IT! I WANT TO SEE MY STRAWBEEZ MOOK!!!" I take the lid off. I show him his milk. "It's pink!" Yes, it's pink, I say. It's always pink. It's pink today. It will be pink tomorrow, and next week, and the week after that. It's always pink. But heaven forbid I put the lid on without showing him the strawbeez mook and all its pinkness.
My New Year's resolution for little 15 month old Trace is harder to come up with because he's kind of the perfect child. However, if he would just stay out of the toilet for the year, that would be nice. I know, I know, I should keep the bathroom doors closed... but remember. I have a potty training 3 year old. Sometimes he forgets to put the lid down, and sometimes I forget to make sure he puts the lid down. Hence my resolution for the little fisherman.
For baby #3... I hear these stories about people who had a full term baby and didn't even know they were pregnant. If I could make it to my 9th month and not feel or look pregnant like these supposed people... that would be glorious. So that would be my resolution for baby #3... don't make me fat, and don't kick my floating rib. Please.
This has all been fun, but back to reality. Any resolutions for myself, you ask? I really haven't gotten there yet. I'm just now getting over the fact that Christmas is over and so is Holly on SirusXM radio. *Sigh* I did, however, start a new, made from scrap mail organizer that is still in an unfinished mess on my kitchen table. I suppose if I really wanted to get down to business, then my resolutions would look a little something like, #1 Clean out the garage and put away the Christmas decor myself, #2 Think of ways to always one-up the Germans, (giant, inflatable, Snoopy snow globe for next year, maybe? They should be 80% off by now...) #3 Try to have more patience with my whiny toddler, #4 Be extra vigilant to close the toilet lids, and #5 Accept my impending, miserable fatness.
Really. Who am I kidding??? I think it would be better if I just made resolutions for the day and forget the year. I think I'll just start with keeping everything and everyone clean, and keeping the kids alive. (And maybe check on those inflatable Snoopy snow globes...)
Anyway, it's that time of year again. The time of year when the most read book of the Bible will be read again--Genesis-- and by mid February we will all be trading Leviticus for the good ol' New Testament. By mid February, we'll be all down on ourselves because our new Christmas treadmill hasn't been used in 2 weeks. By mid February, the mail will still be cluttered on the kitchen table instead of being neatly categorized in the cute bill organizer we created from Pinterest. Mid February is coming, people. All of our resolutions will be buried away in the sea of just trying to keep everything and everyone clean, and keeping the kids alive.
All of this resolution stuff got me to thinking... I wish I could make resolutions for other people. That would be fantastical. For instance, my New Year's resolution for my husband would be to clean out the garage. Every time I have to open the garage door, it seems like my perfect, busy beaver, German neighbors are outside... and they stop sweeping their driveway to gawk at the... at the... STUFF.
Just, STUFF.
STUFFED.
EVERYWHERE.
Ah, the Germans. I know they talk about the garage, because I always get to hear about how "in Germany, no junk allowed in yards or on porches! You get fine! No junk! Everything neat!" (Now, we don't have junk in our yard, but I can't vouch for others in eastern Kentucky.) I am also told "I see your mom come over. She help you clean, yah? Hahaha... I see her come. I tell husband, 'Her mom help her clean!' Hahahaha!" So yes. They talk about the garage. These are the people who grow their own vegetables, catch their own rainwater, hang their clothes out to dry, cut their grass EVERY OTHER DAY. And they sweep their driveway. Oh, I know. Some of you are like, "I sweep my driveway." I'm sure you do. And you probably keep your New Year's resolutions until at least June, don't you? Well anyway. I think we out did them on our Christmas decorations, at least. And their decorations are still up. Which leads me to resolution #2 for the hubby... get the Christmas decorations down before the Germans.
Meanwhile, back in the jungle...
My New Year's resolution for my sweet, 3 year old little Javan, would be to not WHINE. ABOUT. EVERYTHING. I mean, who needs to exercise and eat healthy if your kid will just NOT WHINE. That in itself would lower my stress level and blood pressure significantly. A typical example of his whining? He wants juice. I take the lid off the juice. "NO!!! I WANT STRAWBEEZ MOOK!!!" (Translation: strawberry milk.) I commence mixing the strawbeez mook. I put the lid on his sippy. "NOOOO!!!!! I WANT TO SEE IT! I WANT TO SEE MY STRAWBEEZ MOOK!!!" I take the lid off. I show him his milk. "It's pink!" Yes, it's pink, I say. It's always pink. It's pink today. It will be pink tomorrow, and next week, and the week after that. It's always pink. But heaven forbid I put the lid on without showing him the strawbeez mook and all its pinkness.
My New Year's resolution for little 15 month old Trace is harder to come up with because he's kind of the perfect child. However, if he would just stay out of the toilet for the year, that would be nice. I know, I know, I should keep the bathroom doors closed... but remember. I have a potty training 3 year old. Sometimes he forgets to put the lid down, and sometimes I forget to make sure he puts the lid down. Hence my resolution for the little fisherman.
For baby #3... I hear these stories about people who had a full term baby and didn't even know they were pregnant. If I could make it to my 9th month and not feel or look pregnant like these supposed people... that would be glorious. So that would be my resolution for baby #3... don't make me fat, and don't kick my floating rib. Please.
This has all been fun, but back to reality. Any resolutions for myself, you ask? I really haven't gotten there yet. I'm just now getting over the fact that Christmas is over and so is Holly on SirusXM radio. *Sigh* I did, however, start a new, made from scrap mail organizer that is still in an unfinished mess on my kitchen table. I suppose if I really wanted to get down to business, then my resolutions would look a little something like, #1 Clean out the garage and put away the Christmas decor myself, #2 Think of ways to always one-up the Germans, (giant, inflatable, Snoopy snow globe for next year, maybe? They should be 80% off by now...) #3 Try to have more patience with my whiny toddler, #4 Be extra vigilant to close the toilet lids, and #5 Accept my impending, miserable fatness.
Really. Who am I kidding??? I think it would be better if I just made resolutions for the day and forget the year. I think I'll just start with keeping everything and everyone clean, and keeping the kids alive. (And maybe check on those inflatable Snoopy snow globes...)
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