A Tasty Nugget from the worldwide Internet Webs 

I have been thinking a ton about family lately. Parenthood. Childrearing. Extended family. Blessings. Curses. You name it. I decided to turn to the “internet webs” for a little research and boy, am I glad I did. I stumbled upon a grammatical little gem which hacked the english language to death and left it to suffer first. Before I expound and include some excerpts, allow me to apologize up front for being snooty, snobby, jerky, mean, and maybe a tad childish. Clearly English isn’t a first language here and if I tried to publish a blog in Spanish, I’d butcher it too. But that’s the thing. I don’t try. Since he did and published it on the internet, and since it’s 12:22 on Thursday night while my dumb iPhone updates, I figure this article is fair game.

The name of the blog is fantastic. It’s http://www.worthofread.com with the subtitle, “A blog which worth to read.” That right there is worth it. He’s right. It’s worth to read. Just for the title.

The article I used in my deeply scientific research was “Top 4 Reason Why Family is Important in Our Life.” Without saying too much, I’ll just hit the highlights for you and you can thank me later.

  1. Family Make Children Future.  When babies come out from mother’s womb, they see their parents first and thereafter they spent most of the time with their family until go to school. None of you going to teaches bad habits for your baby, I believe. Parents have to be careful in actions in front of their babies, because your baby learn habits and discipline from you only.

Good to know. I was getting nervous about where he was headed with that womb and habits in front of babies business. 

2.  Family stay with you at any situation.  This is one of the great advantage from family and none of us never realise this at any time. Do you know what?, your mum and dad are the only one who understands you much more than any other people in the world.

Huh? None of us never realize this at any time? Then why are we talking about it? 

3.  Family make better society. A perfect family is the great example for the whole society. Father, Mother, children all of them have to work in order to build a perfect family. If any one of them failed then the whole family collapsed. This is happen very much now a days. The good name of the whole family ruined by a single member of the family. That is really sad but nothing to do for that. But if every family member work hard and build a optimal family then they are the good example of that whole society. Family impact very much in society and society impact very much in country. So an ideal country not only build by government but also each and every family member. So each family is the principal key of the society. This is why family is important in our life.

I just quoted that whole paragraph because it was too good to leave anything out. When your family reputation is ruined by a single family member, “that is really sad but nothing to do for that.” Darn. And I was feeling so hopeful tonight.

4. Family celebrates your happiness. Finally an agreeing verb tense. In short if you are happy then some people get jealous on you. But family is different and they encourage when you pass every steps. Moreover they celebrates with you in your every happy moments. Especially parents always looking forward your every advance steps. This is why family is important in your every steps.

So now you know. In my next post, I’m going to dispense with research and rely on observation. I will also try very hard to keep my grammar in check, since I was pretty hard on this fella. Peace out and watch your habits in front of the babies.

 Enjoy your every happy steps. baby

Sources: http://www.worthofread.com, “Top 4 Reason Why Family is Important in Our Life.”




The Mattress Incident

Like my infamous bike ride to Kmart under the ominous shadow of Hurricane Georges, today presented a dramatic and defining moment. A moment that illuminated who I am. We all know who I am already, so there’s no need to elaborate on terms.

To be completely real and forthcoming, I should start the story at yesterday. Yesterday was horrible. Horrible. There was no tragedy. There was no catastrophic health concern. Just a bad day that started with almost knocking myself out with an rogue extension cord (that’s not a typo) and ended with me crying on top of a crib mattress. In the middle was a very disgruntled kid who’d been promised a haircut that got axed from the schedule due to overcommitment. Oh, the consternation.

The crib mattress is not a literal crib, which is a relief to most of you reading here. There will be no fifth Snapp baby. I’m just way too old for that. It was a King pillowtop mattress flipped over on its head and we flipped it in hopes that sleeping on the firm side would help with neck and back pain. It didn’t work. And it was an awful lot like sleeping on a crib mattress made of plywood. And while that mattress situation wasn’t a problem and I was part of and on board with the experiment, I was in no mood for plywood. So I went to sleep last night crying like a baby and feeling about like one. Surely hormones were at play here. It wasn’t my finest moment.

At any rate, this morning I awakened fresher than yesterday and determined to right all the wrongs of the previous day. After exercising and getting several things done around the house, I came upstairs to deal with the king size bed. With the experiment having failed, we needed to flip the mattress back over to its normal state. Of course Todd had no inkling that I would attempt to do this on my own. But it was a task to be done and I hate leaving big things undone. Plus, I’m all about the challenge. ALL ABOUT IT. Nothing makes me want to do something more than seeing it as just on the edge of impossible.

I stripped the bed and threw everything extra out into the hall. I needed all the real estate I could get to manipulate the mattress and flip it back over. It took 152 trips back and forth across the room to even slide the mattress off the bed and onto the floor. What do they fill those things with? Lead? Dead bodies? Sheesh. After I managed to get the mattress partially off, I then somehow propped it upright against my dresser. At this point, i had it pointed in the right direction. All I had to do was bend and lift it back onto the bed. But I had to do this from the bottom. Gravity was going against me. I got on one corner and tugged with all my might. Every ounce of strength I had, I used. It hardly moved, but it did move just enough to give me hope and send me running to the other corner to try the same thing. I couldn’t get any movement from the other corner. Nothing. So I got the brainiac idea to sit on the box springs, right in the middle and try to lift it from there.Onto me.

After much scrapping and grunting and pulling, I got the mattress up onto my lap. And then I sat there. Under a mattress that weighed 800 pounds. Literally trapped under something heavy. I looked at my watch. It was 1:52 p.m. I was 20 minutes from needing to pick up my girls from school, drenched in sweat that is only appropriate in a gym setting, and trapped under a mattress of my own doing. My phone was downstairs, so there was no calling for help or a ride for the kids. I had to get out from under that bed.

At the end of an 8 minute struggle, the mattress was once against upright against my dresser and I did something I rarely do: I gave up. I was beaten. My son would be home at 3. He could get the job done.

I was feeling okay about the defeat and feeling like I had made a mature decision to quit while I was ahead when I realized that I had to quickly change clothes for the school pick up and every last thing I needed was in drawers that were trapped under that same leaden mattress. Sigh.

Here we go again. To get my clothes, I had to get down on the floor, crawl behind the mattress and smash my face up against the dresser. There was no being picky about what I pulled out. Whatever I could reach was what I wore.

The end of that matter was that my son came home and had surprisingly little trouble doing what had almost killed me. But one of those drawers I had pulled clothes out of was slightly open, got hit by the passing mattress, and now no longer closes.

But that’s okay. I can see what the problem is. The drawer pull is bent. It’s nothing a mallet won’t fix.

I’ll do that tomorrow.

#tooltime with Missy


When mundane takes a selfie

I have very little to say. Hence the title. People who have nothing to say, should say that. But I’m going a different direction, because I don’t want to skip a month of writing and sitting with my laptop is a better choice than turning on my TV right now. I can’t say the same for you. It might be better for you to turn on your TV than to read this.

I told you I had nothing.

The other day, my youngest daughter was in a different classroom than usual. When I asked her whose class she was in, she told me, but I couldn’t picture the teacher. I asked her to describe her. She said, “You know…long brown hair and hairy arms.” I’m not sure that a loud belly laugh was the appropriate response, but I pictured a Sasquatch and it made me laugh. I do hope we can make something of her eventually. Something other than funny, which she is already. While I was picking up one son the other day, she was at home with the other one. If she has wifi, she can use an ipod to text me. I received the following from her while I sat in car line.


How does an 8-year-old differentiate between ducks that have flight and those that don’t? Did she see a duck walking and just decide it was flightless? These are the mysteries of the universe.

I told you I had nothing to say. You were warned.



Babies and Trash Can Liners

The other night, I was taking out the kitchen trash, which is a disturbingly frequent occurrence with us. Our carbon footprint is like a size 465 in man shoes. It’s bad. At any rate, it actually needs to be taken out daily, but consistently goes to the end of the second day because every last one of us is hoping someone else will take it out. Until they do, we continue to shove another paper plate on top of the already flush pile and hope the plate’s contents do not spill over onto the floor. But no worries if it spills. Mom will mop it up.

Soooooooo anyway. I was standing at the trashcan replacing the bag and uttered with confidence, “Is there anything more hopeful than a brand new trash bag?”

I didn’t want an answer. Unless the answer was, “No, I think a fresh trash bag is the best thing ever.” Or something like that.

It was really just a statement. But it was my mistake in putting it forth as a question. I make that mistake daily in things like “Would you go brush your teeth?” when obviously what I mean is “brush your teeth this moment or I’m calling the police.”

When I asked the question, Todd furrowed his brow and said, “YES. How about a newborn baby?”



I dropped my head in shame. How could I put my fresh trash can liner up against a cooing newborn baby? Good grief.

I didn’t respond. Clearly, he had trumped me and there was no response to make. But then I started thinking about it.

Trash bags don’t ever argue with me as I am shaking them out and putting them into the can. Newborn babies don’t stay fresh and innocent for very long. They grow. And when they grow, they fuss. And sometimes, you’ll look down at 7:30, 13 seconds before walking out the door to school, and the grown newborn baby has ripped off her shoes and is standing in the kitchen half naked having a sock texture crisis. That’s never happened to my trash bag.

Sometimes that grown newborn will turn the house UPSIDE DOWN looking for the very crucial binder that he DEFINITELY brought home only to find it in the hallway at school the next morning. My trash bag never loses anything.

And sometimes, that big baby will grab my shirt just in time to catch their sneeze with it.

Or complain about what I made for dinner. Or pick a fight with another one of the oversized newborns in the house. Or place a bloody tooth, freshly pulled,  on my white comforter so they can take a picture of it to text other family members.

My trash bags  never do any of that.

So while I hung my head in shame right at first, upon further consideration, I proudly stand by my opinion. A fresh trash bag is the best thing ever.

But if you think about it, newborns and new trash bags are really pretty similar. They both start out fresh, pretty, and good-smelling. But at the end, they are both full up with garbage.



Tidbits from the fringe

I’ve had blogs running through my head for weeks. I’ve been blogging. They were really great posts, too. But those posts got eaten up. By yard work. And carpooling. I’m not that busy. I just am not terribly disciplined.

But who cares, right?

So here are a few tidbits from my world this past week.

There was a tropical storm that sort of hit us. It really only grazed us, but I gotta tell you, I wasn’t complaining. That little grazing got us 2 days off school at the end of the week right before Labor Day. So a 3 day weekend became a 5 day weekend. We did actually get rain from it, unlike the Great Storm Georges, which caused me to run in fear and sandbag the house. Not enough rain from that to wash a baby’s hair.

During one of the two storm days off, my oldest son had an appointment at the DMV to get his learner’s permit. The DMV closed. We went yesterday. So the kid who taught me that I knew nothing about parenting is now learning to drive. He is licensed. He hasn’t driven or even asked to, sooooooo….yeah. We’ll see. Ironically, I almost rear-ended a person on the way to the DMV and got lost on the way home. We’ve decided Todd will be teaching him to drive.

We tell stories at night using strange voices about a snail named Marquis. His best friends are Percy and George. I’m pretty sure I ripped those right out of Thomas the Train, but I refuse to google it to confirm. Last night, Jenna begged to tell the Marquis story. I was reluctant to agree, because I gotta be honest…she rambles. A lot. And by that time of day, I’m so done with it all. But I had promised, so off she went. Well, two nights in a row now, she has spun a pretty good yarn. But last night had a shocking twist to the story that had Marquis saying, “No, we don’t want your Baby Poop Sand. Give us some new sand, and we’ll get you a new baby.” I had been trailing off a bit when I heard that.  That line shocked me back to attention.

The power never went out during the tropical storm, but it was out three different times through much of last night. There wasn’t even a hint of wind or rain.

Today I weeded the pool deck until my fingers were raw. At that point, I turned my attention to the roof where some moss and sticks needed to be chased away. I was barefoot. No one climbs a ladder barefoot, but my shoes were so.far.away. They were upstairs. So I wore my son’s cushy size 11 church loafers. They looked fantastic with what I was wearing and were perfect on the ladder. At the end of all of that, I wiped my face on a towel and wore those same shoes to Dollar Tree to buy myself a bubbly bottle of Aspartame. I looked like a freak. Nobody noticed. Dollar Tree is the great equalizer. You can’t get by with it at CVS. I tried that a couple of weeks ago wearing my son’s football cleats.

But that’s another story for another time.


Because Jesus

Tonight I was thinking. If I can’t sleep, which I couldn’t, and I’m too tired to read, which I was, and it’s too late to watch TV, which it is, sometimes I play Merged or Sudoku on my phone. I recently downloaded a Sudoku app and learned the concept. Only 8 years behind every other American, according to Todd.

“Now you could sit down in a room full of Kindergartners and have a lot to talk about,” he said to me last week. Isn’t he clever? He said this. I didn’t make the quote up so you’d feel sorry for me. I have graduated from Easy to Medium on my app. I was rocking the Easy level. I absolutely bomb at Medium. And I still cannot say Sudoku when prompted. I flip flop between SoDUko and SuDOku.  Sheesh. Perhaps this is why I can’t master Medium.

At any rate, I was too tired for any of that tonight, but evidently not tired enough for sleep. So I just sat for awhile with my thoughts. I thought about the fact that out of 3 school supply lists and 52 items that have to be purchased before Wednesday of next week, I have ordered 4. From Amazon.  I just couldn’t bring myself to buy anything else on Amazon when I knew Walmart was selling the same thing for a nickel. At least one child needs new uniforms. There are 4 open houses and one kid entering high school and many, many teachers to meet. I thought about the cards that arrived in the mail with the names of the girls’ teachers. In the past, I’ve gotten myself all tied up in knots about these cards and what they represent. I’ve worried over the teacher choices…even attempted to request who they should have or should NOT have some years.

Tonight I realized how small it all is. How insignificant. And worrying myself sick over something like school supplies or teacher choices is a luxury that means life is pretty easy otherwise. Because if the big things are in place and fine, then you have time to nitpick the little things.

This year I didn’t worry about the teachers and I haven’t purchased the supplies. This year I have other things on my mind. Questions. Ponderings. Lists in my head that are weightier than a 3 pack of post-it notes. I run the questions through my head but there are no answers trailing after. And I replay the things I’m pondering but today looks the same as yesterday.

And still the school supplies.

I mean.

But tonight, ensconced in the melodrama, two words came to my very slow, very quiet brain.

Because Jesus.

The little stuff doesn’t matter. Because Jesus. It’s all okay. Because Jesus. The what if, the why, the when, the open-ended unwrittens.

He overcame the world. I can do all things–ALL THINGS–through Him. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Because he overcame the world, even the big stuff doesn’t have to pin me or paralyze me. Can I? Do I? Will I? Is there?

The answer to all of it is the same.

Because Jesus.

Now I just have to go DO something about that.




An anniversary

I am back from more than 2 weeks away. As much as I love to travel, and I really do, I was feeling the need to be home for many reasons. Home was calling. But as I perused Facebook this morning before getting up to face the day, it shared a memory with me. Sometimes I scoff at these memories and sometimes I’m extremely grateful. Today I’m grateful, because I hadn’t thought about this particular moment in years. The trip, yes. But the injury, I had conveniently forgotten. This was one of my kids’ favorite trips ever, though I did everything in my power to sabotage it. If you are bored enough to read a post from 4 years ago, here’s the link. Today, it’s all I’ve got. The rest is laundry and appointments.