Some Good Things for the New Year

I've been enjoying the downtime of Christmas vacation and with all the gift researching, giving, and receiving, I've found some new items of interest that I'd be remiss not to share with my little (little) corner of the Internet.


Books: 

I requested all of the following from Santa Ed (Dad) and have eagerly skim read them this week.

Freefall to Fly  by Rebekah Lyons
This is a memoir written by a woman who moved from Atlanta to New York City with her husband to pursue dreams in ministry.  She has a special needs son and during her transition from safe suburbia to chaotic urban life, she began experience extreme anxiety attacks.  I heard her speak at women's conference (dotMom) this fall and was hooked upon hearing her point of view.  I can very much relate to her story.  Much of what I've read deals with opening up the "box" of dreams we've packed away and labelled in a box named "Responsibility" or "Motherhood" specifically for women.  She talks of birthright gifts we are born with that we spend half our life denying and the other half, if we are lucky, reclaiming.  I'm eager to set aside time to read this properly.  I saw on twitter that Lifeway All Access Women is doing an online bible study that accompanies this book if you're looking for something in that vein.

The Best Yes  by Lysa Terkurst  I've read this author's book Unglued and I appreciate how she breaks down a concept to make it "liveable" in the day to day.  This is a book on decision making.  Looks promising.

The Nesting Place: It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect To Be Beautiful  by Myquillin Smith
I am brimming with ideas after skimming this gorgeous book.  We conveniently replaced our torn and tattered "leatherish" couches and I've stripped the family room walls to reevaluate.  I'm the first one to say "oh, I'm not creative" when it comes to interior design.  I can appreciate a pretty room (say Joanna Gaines' work from HGTV) but I'd love to have the work done for me.  That ain't gonna happen in the foreseeable future, but as this book suggests, the beauty is in the mistakes.  Who cares if the wall gets painted an off color?  Paint isn't that expensive.  It's more risky to do nothing than to take the small risk.  I'm so excited to re imagine the possibilities of our home.  When we moved in, we had LOTS of wall space to fill.  So I slapped up some large couch-sized "art" and called 'er a day.  But now that I have walking & talking little people that can entertain themselves safely for small increments without bodily harm (though not without lots of loud shrieking from the females), I have a little mental space to think about such luxuries as aesthetics.  Truth is, I *am* creative.  One, I'm a woman and I want my home to be pretty. Two, I believe in a Creative God that made an awe-inspiring world and gave me a desire to reflect His beauty. Three, I'm kinda good with words and imagery and tying ideas together.  So maybe I could learn how to do that with tangible objects.  I've pulled out a large dresser mirror that's been sitting in a closet, poured over all my beautiful photo treasures of my favorite faces and thought about meaningful items that could be given new life.  I had hand imprints made of my older two a few Mother's Day that sit in a glass cabinet.  Wouldn't it be prettier to see them hanging by a black and white picture of the owners of the hand prints at the age the prints were made?  I say yes.  If a book can make me want to tackle re imagining my rooms, it'll work for you.


Podcast:
The Phil Vischer Podcast
So, Phil Vischer of Veggie Tales and What's in the Bible is kinda my new Christian hero.
He's incredibly smart, creative, funny, relatable, and authentic. I'm fascinated by his story.  He has a culture podcast that I've just subscribed to (or "to which I just subscribed" because hey, I went to graduate school for English Education, and there's my $15,000 takeaway. Kidding.)

Fashion  (Seriously. "Fashion".)
Y'all. Again with the aesthetics.  I suffer from "False Humility-itis" that I think some other women battle.  It's not vain or frivolous to make an effort in your appearance or (gasp) feel good about the way you look.  So when Santa Ed requested a "list" from me besides books, I went to the only fashion outlet I really follow (BigMama's Fashion Friday) and clicked on the first cute top I found. It took me to ModCloth, a women's fashion site that has a vintage vibe.  It's a bit of a treat to order from (I like to stay in the $19.99 range if I'm shopping for myself, so hello, TJMaxx!) but it was a treat to let Santa order me a few gorgeous peasant blouses and tunics in wine, royal blue, and a jewel tone green.

Lastly, in Goals/Vision/The BEST YOU NOW! I am embarking on a year of Scripture memory.  I was successful in 2011 and petered out in 2013 (but can you fail at attempting anything in God's Word?) but I can think of nothing simpler or more profitable than to pick a Scripture twice a month that is applicable to my present situation on which to actively mediate.  Plus, my Sis is moving to Houston next year, so I'll have a built in reason to motivate me to attend the celebration for completing the exercise.  Interested?  Check out the Living Proof blog. You can jump in anytime, but it kicks off January 1.  All you need are some note cards and a willing attitude!

All that's left to say is Happy New Year!  If you are reading this, you are dear to me and I wish you a wonderful, adventurous, phenomenal 2015.

Sounds of the Season

I am obsessed with the following songs this year:

First, "Yahweh, Jesus is Coming".  This is a worship song that I've heard performed both at Easter and Christmas and it prompts a visceral reaction.  It's not one of the single-streaming-tear songs. It's a my-insides-are-trembling-because-this-all-happened-and-I-am-part-of-it.  This gal had to work to keep my composure at the Christmas performance this year because I'm not sure if I would have stood on my chair and waved my arms like an air traffic controller or just laid myself out in the aisle.  All I can say is listen.  It has a tribal, chanting cadence. It's beautiful.



ITunes is selling all holiday albums for $7.99 so I picked this one after all the "Mary, Did You Know" rave reviews I saw.  Pentatonix is an acapella group and their sound is totally original. I am slightly obsessed with this song.  I'm not sure how snow and UFO make for great Christmas lyrics, but they do.




Lastly, I bought Josh Groban's Noel last year and every song is beautifully arranged.  This one, though, with the overlayed voices of soldiers sharing their Christmas wishes to family, wrecks me.  Each time when it gets to the mom missing her 4-year-old's face on Christmas morning, I. just. can't.
Highly recommend.



I also love Michael Buble's Christmas and anything by Amy Grant or Harry Connick Jr. for Christmas music.

And now, a shameless plug...the one, the only, the Sonshine Singers.


Happy Listening! (And please share your newest favorites!)

Deep, Cleansing Breaths: A Few Things I'm Trying for Christmas

December 1 is this Monday.  This Monday.

Have you seen that youtube clip "Sh*t Southern Women Say"? (Mild expletive warning, but oh-so-funny and accurate).


ARE YOU READY FOR CHRISTMAS?!?!

(no.)

I'm not "ready" by a long shot in terms of decked halls, wrapped presents, or personalized, stamped cards.

But I do have a few, simple resources I'd like to share that I plan to use to prepare my heart for Christmas.

1.  Unwrapping the Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp
A follow-up to her book The Greatest Gift, this is a 25 day family devotional for the Advent season.  We used the Jesus Storybook Bible Advent reading plan last year and really enjoyed it, but some of the stories are lengthy and I felt like the kids missed the impact (though the exposure was great).  The book is beautifully illustrated and provides 25 devotions written with children in mind that correspond to the Jesse tree tradition.  Free printables are available here for the ornaments.  You can even have a "Night Before Advent" party with ideas here.  I'll check back in in a few days to give feedback, but I think this is going to be a winner.  And if you purchase the book today (Black Friday) on Amazon, enter HOLIDAY 30 and receive 30% off one book.


2. Why Do We Call It Christmas? DVD
This is another "What's In The Bible" DVD that I've shared previously and I love, love, love it.
We've watched the entire series and I regularly find myself in church thinking, "Where have I heard this?" and answering back, "Oh, the puppet taught me that."  Lifeway and Amazon have been running specials on these DVDs.  This one deals with the history behind the traditions of the Christmas tree, Santa, and why we celebrate Christmas on the 25th. Fun fact:  Newly converted German Christians hung evergreens in their homes as a symbol for Christ, a stark reversal after once worshipping the oak tree.

3. Truth in the Tinsel
This is another Advent resource for Christmas that I discovered from a suggested Facebook page.  It is a devotional and craft for the 25 days of Advent.  I don't plan on doing this one this year because if I committed to doing 25 crafts, Mama would be celebrating Christmas at a "rest facility" and a nervous breakdown involving twine and hot glue doesn't scream "miracle of the Incarnation" to me.  Seriously though,  I am following this page on facebook and hope to maybe do at least one of the crafts.

4. A "Wow" Experience
We are spending Thanksgiving in North Georgia and get to kick off the season by going to Stone Mountain and doing their Christmas Adventure, which is the regular attractions plus a Christmas train ride. Santa sightings, 4D movie, and a big parade.  We're hoping that the kids get a big kick out of it.  J will probably want to ride the skylift up the mountain and do the train ride around the park all day, and I know the girls will lose their minds with being in a winter wonderland.  This is the first year we are doing anything like an all day attraction.  We are dumb enough to try it with a 2 year old, but wise enough to rent a hotel room nearby.

Admist the unavoidable chaos of December, my wish for me and you are redeemed moments
because the Christ is coming.  Merry Christmas!

A New Tradition

We packed our first Christmas gifts today.  Despite being familiar with Operation Christmas Child, a ministry of Samaritan's Purse, for several years, I had not prioritized getting boxes ready and kept pushing it down on my "mean-to-do" list.  Determined to change that this year, I took J & Sarah out and we had a great time.

If you are looking for a way to model thankfulness in your family and to just plain have fun, please consider checking out OCC and packing a box.

Here are a few reasons why you should consider packing a box for Operation Christmas Child:

1. It's personal.
The box you put together will be opened by a specific individual, just like any other gift you will give this year.  This is the only charitable organization that I know of that transports gifts instead of using donations to purchase items and services needed in a particular country (though they do that too).  OCC is very hands-on and tangible for involving children.  You are encouraged to include a note to the intended recipient.  The OCC site also has a coloring sheet that can be completed by your kids and packed.  And if you give the estimated shipping cost ($7/box) online, you can track your box to its end destination.  You might even gain a penpal if you include your address in the note you send!

2. It's transparent.
89 percent of monies raised by Samaritan's Purse goes to funding its incentives. It has an overall rating of 95.9 by Charity Navigator and a rating of 100 for transparency and accountability.  This is a trustworthy place to give.


3. It's low-cost, high return.
You can pack a great box for $25.  You can  build one online for without leaving home or you can head down to the local Supercenter and gather materials.  I bought hygiene products (soap, toothbrushes and paste, chapstick, hair ties), small toys (coloring books, puzzles, stickers, hard candy, whistles), essentials (pencils, socks) at the Dollar store.  I think our store stocks items that are specifically on the OCC list because I found a ball pump today, a suggested item, as well as flip flops, which are obviously out of season now, another suggested item. I went next door to Walmart for a few special items like a basketball and HotWheels car for my boy box and soft baby dolls for the girls. I also got better brand art supplies there.  My most expensive item was $7 (basketball), and most were $1.  There is even a Pinterest board with low cost ideas.

4.  It will bless a child in need.
This isn't a guilt trip, but y'all, for the cost of a casual meal out, you can give a child a present that has long-reaching effects.  Each item in your box will honestly knock their socks off.   A dollar store toy will be played with and put in the toy basket tomorrow at my house, but it will be treasured by a child who may have never received a Christmas gift.  The gift is more than the gift.  Samaritan's Purse is a Christian organization whose mission is "helping in Jesus' name".  Many children who receives boxes also gain 12 weeks of bible lessons about God's love.  If you are looking for the real meaning of Christmas-- that God gave-- here's a great way to kick off the season.


5.  It will make you happy!
Buying gifts for a child is fun.  So is stuffing a box to the brim with goodies.  Believe it or not, if you let your kids know for the outset that your shopping trip is to buy gifts for others, they will not beg for toys on the toy aisle.  Giving is medicine for the gimme-gimmes.

This is our first Christmas doing Operation Christmas Child and it's really fun! We've seen a bunch of people shopping for kids around the world! #operationchristmaschild

A photo posted by Melissa Young (@thejaybirdblog) on Nov 11, 2014 at 12:37pm PST

What'dya say?  Ready to start a new, meaningful tradition right before we enter the season of thanks?  Do it!  And let me know if this convinced you!

I'm A Swifty Now

We are going to see Taylor Swift in concert next year.  After dinner last night, I was trying to keep the girls from screaming which involves pitching throw pillows at their heads and singing "Shake It Off" while they dance.  When Sarah returns fire and I spill coffee on myself, I have to leave the girls to their own devices (which mainly involves taunting, aggravating, and shrieking) while I change.  "Why won't Alex get off the computer," I grumble to myself as I stomp to my room.  When I get back downstairs, Alex has joined the kids.  "Here," he says, handing me a sheet of paper.  "It's not til next year, and the seats are far up, but I thought you'd like to go."  Turns to out he wasn't avoiding the madness, but searching for presale tickets for the TS 1989 show in Atlanta next fall.  My singing in the next room was the incentive needed to go ahead and plunk the plastic down and commit.

We are going to be like Gary The Stepdad from "Ew!"on the Tonight show among all the screaming tweens.  It shall be epic.  Skip ahead to minute 3 below.  Two things: the Gary dance and the way "Sara" says League of Extraordinary Gentleman.  That's how my toddler pronounces everything.




Anyway, I spent about a good hour after the kids' bedtime studying up on Taylor's music video timeline and learning fun facts such as how she wrote a 350 page novel on vacation as a 12 year old.

I'm a few more hours of research away from taking selfies with "heart hands".

Who else is a secret Swifty?

And Then My Head Exploded.

The Season is upon us.  You know the one: Family Picture Season.  I determined in my heart that we were not going to participate because we'd had pictures made last year and I'd kinda promised Alex I'd only make him do that every other year because surprisingly, lounging on a blanket in a field while wearing carefully coordinated attire isn't a dream come true for him.

Well, that inner resolve made it all the way to November 5th.  I innocently inquired about a holiday session at a local farm because we hang out at farms all the time and feels like an accurate representation of our home life.  Plus there is an atmospheric wooden barn and wreaths and why shouldn't we mug for posterity in the great outdoors?

So I like pretty pictures.  Deal with it already, inner conflict.  The straw the broke the no-picture-this-year's-back arrived in the form of beautifully curated holiday outfits for the children with the express purpose of picture taking.  And how can I disappoint family?  I mean, there are sweater vests and velvet bows to be worn.  And matching plaid dresses, might I add.

Now begins the outfit angst for me.  You know, it's all about Mama, right?  I mean, of course it's going to be "darlin' plus" as one of my favorites says because of the kids, but outfitting an adult woman for a family pictures is not easy feat.

I mean, the options.  I have several black and red basics that would work and even a cute print dress.  My sensible side says to wear one of those and call it a day.  My inner Pinner disagrees, because that might be too much print and overwhelm the picture and make it look like I was trying to hard. Say it with me: TOO LATE.

We were out last night and able to stop by the mecca also known as Charming Charlie's where I spent at least 45 mintues debating the merits of the bib necklace versus the hanging chain and it was as world-altering as you might expect.  Then another half hour online window shopping, fretting about the green lace tunic or the gray lace top and the regrettable lack of cream leggings on this particular site.

And Then My Head Exploded.

I miss November 4th.  It was a simpler time.

So Ladies, let me poll you.

1) Black Skirt with Creme Top w/ lace accents that I own?

2) Black and White Wrap dress with red flats that I also own?

3) New Tunic and Leggings Combo that is a minefield of delicate coordination choices?

I need your help. Please let me know I'm not alone in this prison of my mind.

Sincerely,

Losing My Mind After Pondering One Too Many Statement Necklace/Tunic/Legging/Boot Combo

A Basket of Happy

Today I received a gift basket.  As I was dropping the girls off for preschool (both girls, as in MOTHER'S MORNING OUT, Oh Happy Day), another preschool mom was waiting for me in the parking lot.  She heads up a Mom's group that meets at the local Methodist church.  I started attending this year on the invitation of a friend, now having a bit more freedom with my time.

This week's meeting topic was "The Mystery of Autism" and I'd missed it.  We had a plumbing issue arise and the repairman's window of time conflicted.  And truly, I wasn't sure how I'd feel in a group of "autism outsiders" discussing this subject as an insider.  I can get a wee bit, erm, defensive about it.  A bit prickly, I'd say.  I'd looked ahead to the week's discussion guide, and it started with an opener that had the moms imagine the limitations of autism, such as only being able to talk about a restricted subject or obsession.  Some part of that bothered me.  I thought about asking the leader to share from my own experience or just to come up with another entry point into the topic, but I didn't and let the impulse pass.  So when my appointment interfered with the meeting, I thought maybe it was just as well.  No need to have a cynic in the room.

When the group leader approached me today, I offered up my apologies and reiterated my conflict when she handed me a basket filled with cards and "little happies" and told me the group had prayed for me and another mom in the group with a child on the spectrum.  I thanked her and we chatted a few more seconds, as I placed the items in the car to take the girls inside.  When I got back to the car and began to unpack the basket, I opened up card after card that just encouraged me-- no "poor you, your life must be so hard"-- just encouraged me.  From one woman to another, with different experiences perhaps, but many in common:  womanhood, motherhood, and following God.

I had to text a friend the unexpected surprise (if something happens and it's not shared and photographed, it didn't happen, right?  This is 2014). In the text, I summed up my unspoken stance towards receiving someone's generosity:  Um, God. I'm supposed to do nice things for others.  I'm too competent to receive in return.

I believe the deep theological word for this is pride.  In the English it's pronounced PRIDE.  I don't know how it's pronounced in the Greek or Hebrew.

These are the dots I've been connecting lately: At some point in our life, we will belong to a sub-group we wouldn't have picked.  Mine's disability.  And when we are not in the company of that group, we don't want to be known by that label, in my case, "Autism Melissa".  No one wants to be Divorced Jane or Almost Bankrupt Mary.  And the trouble with that mentality is if that's how we think we are being perceived, then that will be how we perceive others' treatment of us.  Perception becomes our reality even if it's not the truth at all.  Obviously, I've read enough Personal Growth and Spirituality books to fancy myself quite the psychologist, but go with me here.

What brought me happiness today was that this thoughtful Basket of Happy wasn't addressed to AUTISM MELISSA.  It was addressed to me.

Someone who was cared for by a group of women who don't know me very well, but know God's gracious ways and extended them to me.  I don't attend their church, and I belong to a different denomination, which seemed like a big deal as a child growing up in the bible belt.  (The only time we mentioned our brothers and sisters in Christ who worshipped at the church directly adjacent to ours growing up was to exclaim from the pulpit that our parking lot had more cars.  God Bless Our Southern Baptist Hearts.  I do sincerely love being a part of this denomination.)

All of that to say,  I'll be at the Mom's group next Monday, with or without the clogged plumbing.  And more open to receive the unexpected.

It's The Middle That Counts

 "...Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning." (Hope Floats)

I thought we'd be moving away this week.  That's what I told our dentist, doctors, and therapists as I got records, made last minute appointments, cancelled others, and oh, listed our house and SOLD MY KITCHEN TABLE. It was beat-up anyway, but that's serious intent, right there.

Oh, and with the expectation of moving across state lines and not having company insurance benefits for the first 9 months, along with other reasons, we enrolled Jeremiah back in school.  That's a whole 'nother post, but basically, I feel totally confident in this decision.  His teacher (who was going to be his teacher last year) just agreed to start a special needs Sunday school at our church.  Guess who is her first class member?  And guess who I worked with to get J back into the system smoothly?  Seminary grad.  When we were small-talking at J's IEP meeting, he mentioned graduating seminary and I immediately said, "So that's why I like you so much."  This man was so helpful and on-the-ball and welcoming to us coming in to the school year a few weeks late.  I honestly left that meeting and thought to myself, "I feel like God's favorite person."  It's so cool to me how I've changed in my view of education and special education in particular.  I feel more empowered from our year of homeschooling and so at peace that this particular autism classroom and that this particular teacher sees my whole child.  He (like any child) needs so much more that academics and this is a great fit.  Public school is our choice for this year and this stage of J's development and I stand by that.  Honestly, one of the few things holding me back was "well, what will my homeschooling acquaintances say?" like I would lose some kinda mommy-wars street cred.  Which is ridiculous, but there you go.

This move, or almost-move, gave us permission to re-examine our life and priorities.  And that's been worth all the emotional energy it consumed.

Two weeks ago, my husband hands in his notice.  His employer makes a counter-offer; he comes back to me and we decide we were still "go" on the move.  We have an over-the-top-this-is-wonderful trip to Knoxville.  Which is most likely due to the fact that we are alone for almost 3 days and can do anything we please... brunch, home-hunting, campus strolling, happening upon a local downtown festival (I die), eating on the hip square, a movie. Bliss.  We visit a church and the worship rings true.  We can do this.  The possibility of a double housing payment, uprooting and starting over; the potential of the job and the city are worth it.
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Two weeks ago:

We're moving in two weeks to the Knoxville, TN area.  Which is the same amount of time I've had to start mentally preparing for this.  Listing the house, making calls, and doing a last round of doctor visits.

A job opportunity that caught Alex's attention last year has become open again and he is going for it.  He'll be working in the same field of computer programming and working with the same language, while learning a new one.  It's a fantastic professional opportunity in a exciting area (for us, at least.  I mean-- SEC football, seasons, and even a Trader Joe's.)

When we moved to Middle Georgia six years ago, we just loaded up our 1100 square feet of stuff and toted our newborn along.  I had my husband and my baby and as long as I had that, I was up for anything.  And then we built a house and moved in and had another baby.  And another baby.  And we have lots more square feet of stuff.  Lots more bills.  Lots more obligations.  And we're honestly excited to hit the reset button and simplify again.

I've still got that "where thou goest I will go" spirit because, well, that's the deal.  If my husband is happy and fulfilled and it happens to be in another state, that's where I want to be.

Then I reflect on all the middles.  It stops me short, a punch in the gut.

I know some things here.  I know the places.   I know the people.

I have a community.  Just this Sunday, a longtime Sunday school teacher remarked that our children's faces are carbon copies of one another.  

They are loved here.

When someone goes the extra mile for your kid, it sticks with you.  And there are so many faces in my mind that have done this for me in the last several years.

The deacon who helps in J's choir class.  One evening I came to choir classes without J because he'd just been having a hard time.  This man made a point to come over and tell me that J was missed-- and welcomed-- there.  And you know you just cruising along and come undone in a moment because a kind word has just opened your Achilles' heel?  That's life in the middle.

Same thing with my pastor.  I attend a relatively large church in the area.  Church culture gets knocked around a lot, sometimes deservedly, but from the moment I met my pastor, I've been impressed by his genuine care for people, while being an excellent teacher and administrator.  When I finally started sharing openly about J, I asked the pastor to pray over me.  The next time I saw him in the halls of our church, he made a point to share a story of a young autistic man who was becoming a missionary, fluent in 5 languages.  He made sure to have a hard copy of the article sent to my house.  While most of what I know about my pastor comes from sitting under his teaching, actions and character speak volumes.  I'm so tenderhearted toward my church. Church is a good thing.  It's truly a second home.

So many kind and passionate teachers and therapists that have invested in all of us.  Those real deal friends who quietly go the extra mile to meet your needs: a kid's special haircut, a 1:1 VBS teacher for J, a meal or a coffee date.  Therapists, with so many clients to attend to, have each gone above and beyond in some way to encourage me in J's progress under their care.  

There are good people everywhere.  I've just meet so many here.

This is a love letter and a promise.  

I'm going to take all of this and make, hopefully, new memories that quickly become middles.


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The second time he turns in his notice, with the offers being even and the reality of a home, community, and supports in place for J in particular, we decide to stay.

And now, we're in the middle of our middle again.  Our closets are leaner and meaner.  We are, too.  I'm trying to take the excitement I was ready to invest into a new home and pour it into new outlets.  We're going to a Country and Western concert at THE Georgia National Fair, our first since dating years. (Musicals and plays, yes, but live music, sadly, no).  We're playing softball for our local Autism support group.  I hope to take the kids to visit their aunt and uncle in Kentucky because if Fall won't come to us, we'll come to Fall.  And I have two little girls ready for some attention.

Basically, we're a stronger team.  We can bust it for each other.  That lesson was worth learning.

Hello, Yeah, It's Been Awhile

(Not much, how 'bout you?)

It's July...  mid-July even.  We've done some things and been some places, but I've not been inspired by the Blog Muse to write, but I hate to leave this space languishing any longer.

Here's some plausibly entertaining things that I've been up to this summer:

1) Streaming TV (of course)  I've completed 5 seasons of the sleeper series Friday Night Lights that ended a few years back. I've thoroughly enjoyed it as evidenced by the fact that I've watched about 76 episodes, each 44 minutes in length over the last 7 weeks.  It's good to have ambition.



You don't have to appreciate football or the Lone Star state to be hooked on this series.  At the center is Coach Taylor (Kyle Chandler) and his wife, Tami (Connie Britton) who guide the team and students of Dillion, Texas.  Almost every football player or student that interacts with the Taylors are missing something in their own family dynamic.  One player is loosely watched by an older brother, his parents having abandoned the family at different points; the new QB1 (I now know that's a thing) is also missing a mom and dad figure while taking care of his grandmother with early dementia.  Several times throughout the show you can't help but want to take these fictional characters under your wing and say "You belong here...It's gonna be okay."  A new saying for Sarah from the show is "Go, Baby!" in her four-year-old country twang.  Did I cheer for the Panthers to win State?  Oh yes I did.  I clapped my hands like it mattered.  And my affinity for 'ball sadly diminished after I snagged a husband who really likes it.  All Fall, All Ball.  I'm sure if I was as supportive of Ball as Tami Taylor was, ours would be a stronger marriage.  You can put me your prayer list concerning this need in my marriage.  I covet your prayers.  Ten Years tomorrow :)

2) Books (ditto)

Some good beach reads this summer:

Bridge to Haven by Francine Rivers
The One and Only by Emily Giffin
The Girls of August by Anne Rivers Siddons
Fly Away Home by Jennifer Weiner
Restless (non-fiction, so not a typical beach read but I read it this summer so I'm counting it) by Jennie Allen


3) Hold on to your hats: A 10K
Mid-thirties rite of passage--check.  My "training" consisted of running maybe 12 times with my handy app, but hey, I ran 3 times one week and completed the Peachtree Road Race (ran 2, walked 4).  That's more movement than I've clocked in some time, so I'm proud.  The race was a throng of humanity with over 60,000 runners on July 4th.  Great atmosphere for a casual runner.  So glad I did it.

4) I Enjoy Satire:

Here are a few clips that nail the self-obsession of the "Tens" so far  (which I participate in as I am writing a blog).





Hope you are passing away these lazy days of summer in equally productive ways!

It's May. Also Known as Bounce House Season.

Lots of end of season revelry this week as we wrap up schooling and activities.  It's a three bounce house kinda week here, with Sarah's last day at Playschool and J's last t-ball game and an early trip to Monkey Joe's just because we can.  We are putting away our formal schoolbooks Friday and I can't believe we've really done a year of Kindergarten by ourselves.  I definitely want to shoot video of us reading together because that's our A for effort this year.

I've got some clips of the church musical that will probably only interest the grandparents, but I hope it edifies you as well.  Sarah's a blip on the first row, fifth from the right, a tiny thing with a big bow.  I had grand plans for video shot from the first row straight from the stand I brought, but I forgot that those details have to be communicated in spoken word to my husband rather than telepathy.  He gamely shot this with our phone when I could've just got the money shot from the stage as I hid in the wings to help run 4 year olds to the restroom.  She was so very cute.  She technically wasn't an official member of the class but I'm so glad I brought her into the fold this spring.

Our Music Minister wrote me a note of thanks and very wisely reminded me that teaching children to praise the Lord matters quite a lot.  I often joke that we mostly sit in a circle and learn jazzy motions, but really, that's exactly what these children have learned: that God is for them and he is awesome and holy.  I can still remember the words of a children's musical "It's Cool In the Furnace" from the age of 8 and even sang the song this week when I flipped in Sarah's bible storybook about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. So even if we jazz it up with sparkle fingers, God's word has a way of taking root.

VIPs in the Kingdom.  BeaUtiful.

That Time I Threw My Busted Styrofoam Cup Out The Window In Impotent Rage: Mother's Day Edition

This was yesterday.

I almost tweeted my summation of the sad state of affairs, like I needed to put my ownself in time out, but I thought better of it to preserve my dignity. Which is why I'm blogging about it today.

The day started off so well:  we made Sarah's preschool drop off on-time-ish, made a Mother's Day card run and Dollar Store drop-in without incident, and then had school time with J.  He actually started the first of the Early Reader Phonics books in our curriculum and read each word on his own... like score.  I am winning at this whole thing.

We pick up Sarah, and since I really want to get those cards off and I want Sarah to add her developing penmanship to the card, we stop over at Chick-Fil-A to grab a bite and let her sign those cards.

Fail proof, right?

I get our meals ordered, divvy them around and anticipate feeding myself after all the ketchup has been squeezed, chicken cut, and fruit preferences honored.  Then: "Mom, I've got to go potty!!!" from Sarah.  The urgent kind of potty.  "Of course you do,"  I remark a wee bit sarcastically, as we've already had a bathroom session leaving preschool that involved the changing of garments.

I bark to get her shoes, carry her to the bathroom, and hope J and Rachel remain seated at the table.  Of course, she "can't go," so I slap her shoes on, and as we are exiting, J is at the restroom entrance.  If I had been in good humor, I would have rightly concluded that he too needed to go.  I'm not sure if I asked him or not, but hauled both of them back to the table to make sure Rachel was still in her non-highchair seat.  She was.  Perfectly contented with a big chicken tender and hadn't even thrown anything.

A table of college-aged sorority sisters sits behind us and I remark, "Really makes you want to have kids, right?" with about as much sincerity as you can imagine after the proceedings.

"Actually, we were watching your baby.  She's precious."

"Oh, yeah.  All of them are.  Especially when we're not running to the bathroom," I graciously reply.  (Sarcasm font).

I resume enjoying the wonder of those red bell pepper/tomato crunchies on the salad when I look over at J and I get it.  He really had to go.  He has to go now.  He is going.

I jerk him up and drag him in the the ladies room and use that crazy, hushed voice that scares even me and I'm sure anyone in the next stall.

I call the outing a loss and tell him to wait by the front door as I pack up the food and explain that no playground time will be had as I'm regaled with ice cream dream laments from Sarah.

We're out the door and I relent, agreeing to get ice cream through the drive through.  And then I grab my water cup and the straw has poked its way through the bottom.

At which point I LOSE IT.

My window is open after having just placed my order in the drive through line and I chuck that empty cup out the window, saying some things and generally looking like an unhinged maniac who should not be driving a motor vehicle containing children.

You'll be happy to know that the ice cream cone later falls out of the cup holder up front and I handle that with equal grace.

Then I give the kids an early bath, mostly so they can splash in the tub and I can watch my show in the next room as I check in on them and pretty much check out from the day.

As they are exiting the tub, J's system finally processes the last of the major system flush we started this Sunday and continued all week and well, leaves an EPIC mess in his room.  EPIC.   That's all I can say and remain in any sort of taste.  But he thoughtfully took himself to the restroom to clean himself up so that counts for something, yes?

We limp through a hasty meatball and spaghetti meal as Alex steam cleans J's room and mercifully get them in their beds.

And we awaken to do it all over again.

Hopefully with less blow-outs.  By all parties.

And I share this pitiful anecdote to remind myself that sometimes it's great and sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's boring and sometimes you just keep showing up.

Let's keep showing up, Moms and Dads.  They'll be adults one day and we won't know any of the details of their bathroom habits.  God willing.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

April Is The Cruellest Month

I didn't write any autism posts in the month of April.  At least on this blog.  In my head?  Many.  Working titles include "You're a Grand Old Flag" for my son's great enthusiasm of our nation's symbol, very much tongue-in-cheek;  "State of the Union: Our Second Year With Autism" and "Autism Junction, What's Your Function?" on functioning labels, such as high or low functioning autism and my ambivalent feelings about them.

I may go back and write those posts because belieeeeve me, I've got lots of words to work through.

What I want to share about our particular experience down this road is summed up beautifully by Jim Walter of  Just A Lil Blog in his post Love for NT Parents  (parents of neurotypical children):

"I'll probably realize I'm wrong at some point, but I feel like I've reached a really good place with Lily.  I feel like I accept her completely.  But before I got where I am with Lily today I wondered how to accept autism.  Before I wondered how to accept autism I wondered how best to spread awareness.  Before I wondered how to spread awareness I wondered what had caused it.  Before I wondered what caused it I wondered whether I shouldn't have vaccinated.  Before I wondered about vaccines I wondered about cures.  Before I wondered about cures I didn't have an autistic child.  Each new thing I 'learned' either built upon the last, or completely razed it to the ground and rebuilt it from scratch.  I was totally adrift and I needed to understand.  Needed to because my daughter was autistic.  No other reason."


This the paradigm through which I am working.  This year has been spent wading through the incessant causation theories (though a new one will slap me upside the face from time to time) and taking another view of autism by listening to autistic voices.

The very word autistic really tripped me up.  It felt like an insult.  A lesser-than, thinly veiled synonym for the "R" word.  I would hear it and assume the speaker had narrowed my child's existence to his scores on the DSM IV: Difficulty with social interaction. With communication.  Repetitive behaviors and obsessions.

But I read something that shed some light on what was really bothering me.  The word autistic simply reflected back my own fears about my child: that he would been seen as something other. And on some selfish level, that would reflect poorly on me.

I wish I could find the exact quote that started this shift for me, but an autistic adult, as the writer self-identified, used the example of a child's superhero toy.  The toy comes WITH special additional features! Removable cape!  Anti-gravity belt!  The writer pointed out that the person-first terminology  "individual with autism" makes it sound as if the autism is separate from the individual, something to be picked up and put down again as needed.  And if you've read my earlier thoughts, you know I agreed with that wholeheartedly.

But the thing is autism isn't an accessory.  It cannot be taken off.  It's a way of seeing the world.  A way of being.  A very human way of being and thinking.  A different way, granted.  A challenging way of being to understand as an outsider.  But not other.  Not less than.

And I began to be okay with it.

I can use the term to describe my son.  In brief interactions in public with new people, it can be helpful.  To the waitress who is trying to win J over with charm and questions, who turns out to be a parapro in an autism classroom when I share his autism superpower.  Life can be cool like that sometimes.

I always use "on the spectrum" or ASD or "with autism" with discussing the topic with other parents like us, but I've made my peace with autistic.  Baby steps.

I've suffered some autism burnout, perfectly explained in Bec Oakley's stellar resource, Snagglebox.  Most nights I've come to bed with a new theory or treatment to fret over as Alex listens, sometimes chuckling that "Babe, you worry too much." Still other times holding me, like he did on my birthday after our date night.  The dinner that I have to excuse myself to the bathroom to pull it together. Back at home on the couch as I just sob from trying to play god while simultaneously worshipping at the altar of AUTISM, a mysterious entity that consumes my thoughts and emotions.

Autism is a terrible god.  Anything other than God is a terrible god.  I very clearly got the message that the place of highest affection in my life was solving autism for J.

So this year, after the big April autism awareness and acceptance push has ended and other worthy causes take its place, I still work toward the goal of  fully accepting my kid, just as he is.

Spoiler alert: He's a great kid and we've done big things together.  In more ways than one, we've made it to May.

"APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain." T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

Frail

Today we celebrate Resurrection Sunday, Easter, the most important date on the Christian calendar, what Jesus followers believe is the most important event in human history.

I've read at bit this week in the blogosphere about various observances of this holy day, opinions ranging from "Don't force me to evoke an emotional reaction on Easter... I can worship Jesus every day" to "Chocolate bunnies and new dresses are a mockery of the profound suffering Jesus endured for the sin of the world".  And I can relate to both ways of thinking.

What touches me today about the death, Crucifixion and resurrection of Christ is his frailty.  As we sung a victorious anthem in church today, the slides were superimposed with scenes depicting the Passion.  Those images always provoke a gut reaction, a desire to look away, in me.  The stark suffering, the weakness in the actor's face as he portrays Jesus being heaved skyward.

Frail.  Our God made himself frail.  He came to us in a form we would recognize.

And all the secret shame we carry--addictions, hangups, pain, disappointments, fears, all of our darkness, the things we hide--he bore publicly. The things we cover up with our smiling faces and pretty garments, Christ held up for the world to look on... physically, emotionally, and spiritually naked. Alone.

And today my family still wore our fluffy dresses and bows and took pictures and ate yummy food and enjoyed the privilege of living in a nation of political freedom.  And if that was all  Easter was to me as a Jesus follower, it would be a mockery of the suffering Savior who gave his life as a ransom for many.

I'd like to think that wearing my Easter best and having fun with eggs and candy in a small way honors the newness of life that Jesus purchased for sinful humanity by dying a criminal's death. We can be intentional in teaching our children what's just for fun and what's life and death to us. The pretty symbols are not the main attraction.  Of course not.

My human flesh, and my spirit, is frail.  But now, because I belong to Jesus, I am clothed on the inside, made clean by his blood.  And you can't see that in my Easter pictures (in which I can't get us all looking at the camera to save-my-life), but it's there.

Life, on the inside. Proof that He lives.

Books and Covers and Gymnastics

The two big kids started a beginner's gymnastics class a few weeks ago and they are loving it.  Tonight in the waiting room, I noticed another mom outside the windowed door to the preschool gym.  I quickly inventoried her supple boots, slim jeans, cute bangle bracelet, flawless makeup (me: worn Levis, flats, muffin top but cute haircut and necklace so bonus) and subconsciously filed her under MOM > SUCCESSFUL, PUT TOGETHER and left it at that.  Pretty much not me, very much in the working file of MOM > HOMEMAKER >FRAZZLED, SOMEWHAT FRUMPY BUT TRIES OCCASIONALLY.

I moved to the bench next to her a few minutes before class ended to peek on my kids as they did a circuit.  I noticed J only wanted to do the "high" beam station, and kept shortcutting to return to this line.  I had to laugh and said something like, "That's your brother," to Rachel.

The pretty mom I was sitting by noticed Rachel, asked her age and remarked on her cuteness as you do with toddlers. Hearing my remark, she asked if that was my son.  "Yes, the one in dark grey... He's autistic... sometimes he has trouble following the instructions," I answer.

"That's my daughter," she points out.   I noticed her little girl on the low beam in a black leotard and sparkly peach gauzy skirt.  Petite and adorable.

Her mom tells me this little girl is missing half her brain, and thus has speech and learning delays, as well as hearing loss.

This woman is like me on the inside.

In the next few minutes, we share bits of our stories.  Her, how her daughter now has 20 words.  How she loves the little boys in her class.  How she's struggling to keep up in her special needs class, and is moving to another school.

Me, and homeschooling and therapies and learning to toughen up.  Sharing about a new language app that she might be interested in.

Both of us with that thing in our voice.  The love and the unknown and the vulnerability.

"But she's great," she assures me, after initially sharing the diagnosis.  "That's right.  That's right," I respond, recognizing my own tag line.

Our children have hidden disabilities.   Hers wears sparkles.  Mine wears button downs and sweater vests on Sundays.  We are careful to put their best foot forward.

We see their insides, which the world cannot.

And I'm reminded:

Snap judgements are alwaysALWAYSalways wrong.

We are more alike on the inside than we know.

The Most Awesome Awesomeness the World Has To Offer

Hiya, Blogosphere! What's shakin'? Remember when I got all ambitious and started blogging recaps about my fave PBS shows (inquiring minds NEED to to know moi's thoughts on Downton, m'kay) and then totally stopped? Yeah. Sorry about that. I realize not reading my deep insights into Sherlock's latest derring do may have left a few of you bereft. (I kid.) Season 3 was just crazy by the way... um, no more psychological intrigue. Just case solving, please. And really no more face licking criminal masterminds. ew. But thanks for bringing back Moriarty. He's crazy smart/scary.

Okay, so, the awesome awesomeness.  I've got a backlog of AllTheDeepThoughtsandFeelings posts that require way too much thoughtful analysis to process coherently in written form at present, so I'm gonna jump back in with some newly rediscovered passions.  Brace yourself.  I'm a dynamo.

1.  BOOKS

A Little Salty to Cut the Sweet: Southern Stories of Faith, Family, and Fifteen Pounds of Bacon by Sophie Hudson

"You may have picked up on the fact that I tend to operate at extremes. I'm either fighting my way through vehement opposition or trying to convince everybody I know that I have singlehandedly discovered the most awesome awesomeness the world has to offer," Sophie Hudson declares in her pitch-perfect memoir.  A mama/teacher blogger, Sophie caught my attention a few years ago, though she's been around awhile... like she's tight with Pioneer Woman and Beth Moore.  So basically, a member of the Christian Woman's earthly trinity.  What I loved about this book is the way she has a ear for family conversations.  Though hers is steeped in the South, all families have their peccadilloes.  This recalled conversation could have taken place, verbatim, in my Mamaw's den with the his and hers Lazy Boy recliners with protective towels covering the headrests:
 "Mama and Chox took care of most of the talking during our thirty-minute car ride, focusing primarily on a little conversational segment I like to refer to as People We Know Who Have Died.  The best part of  any People We Know Who Have Died conversation  (PWKWHD for short) is the inevitable constructive criticism/evaluation of the funeral service centering on.... people's funeral fashion choices....If you show up in jeans, I guess the good news is that they actually won't talk about you at all. Because as far as they're concerned, your ancestors are to blame for that one."

This writer is my lane of funny.  She deftly balances humor in her slice-of-life observations with honest poignancy.   When she includes Scripture to highlight a recollection, it doesn't feel forced.  She's the just-a-shade-of-a-season-ahead-of -you friend who shoots straight.  Highly recommend.


When Calls the Heart series by Janette Oke and Where Courage Leads
by Janette Oke and Laurel Oke Logan

 I picked up this series after getting wrapped up in the TV series of the same name.  These stories are in the vein of Christy and Dr. Quinn.  I'm a premature Granny, I suppose, but I love 'em.  In fact, my new friend in Bible Study, who is probably in her late sixties to early seventies, is a fan. She's quite a spitfire, so maybe being a bit of a Granny's not the worst thing ever.  A little clean living, a dose of chaste romance, and a whole lot of sound theology is a good mix.  Sweet and fun.





This book, written 30 years later by the author and her grown daughter, is even better and the basis of the new Hallmark series.  The plot and dialogue are much more sophisticated and satisfying.  Another Lis must-read.











Austenland by Shannon Hale

I've already plugged the movie once in a short post, but I'll say if you like Austen, read this.  It's just fun.









The Honest Toddler: A Child's Guide to Parenting 
by Bunmi Laditan

HT (Honest Toddler) and his mama are straight up legit.  If I could build my own peer group of role models (Beth Moore), mentors (Sophie Hudson, PDub) and mama friends, Bumni Laditan would be in my playdate group. I love her "voice".

HT on "tantrums" or "loud responses" in HT approved language:

"Homework: Go to the grocery store with your child at five thirty P.M. When the loud response starts, scream, "EVERYONE SHUT UP, I NEED TO HELP MY CHILD." Then open four large bags of chips and a juice box. Let your child feast."

Since I just got each of my kids their own jumbo Panera chocolate chip cookie so I could enjoy my own bagel in peace and not share, and since my middle child will have a LOUD RESPONSE if I split a cookie, clearly I'm winning at this whole thing.

I read aloud a post of HT's to my husband at least once a week.  Check it out.


2. THE LIBRARY
Did you know you can check books out for free?  Place holds online?  You can. There's this place called the library.  My county has terrific branches.  We've started stopping in about every week lately.  The librarians/media specialists are always in fancy hats leftover from storytime; they plan activities for all ages of the population; it's a thriving place.  I love a culture of learning.


3.  THE HALLMARK CHANNEL & MY CURRENT TV FAVES

When Calls the Heart series

I mentioned the book series above, so all I can say is: Mounties=swoon.  Dudes, I know you can't really ride in to literally save the day anymore.  But like Brad Paisley encourages, women want someone whose "still a guy."  I'm just sayin', there was a gentleman in my age range that I saw recently wearing THE SAME EXACT SHOES as me.  Granted, they were TOMS, and yes, obviously TOMS makes Men's and Women's shoes, but it was a wee bit of odd.  TOMS wearing men, not trying to question your manhood; just be sure to wear 'em with flannel.  No belt. Shirttail untucked.  Let's go for rugged or sophisticated, but please pick a lane.  I believe the wise Cher from Clueless said it best: "They thrown their greasy hair in a backwards hat and we're expected to swoon? As if."


4. THE BIG STORY

What's in the Bible DVD series

Oh, I loved it.  You will not waste a cent on this.  If you take any of my suggestions, please take this one.  It is on the money and then some.  A three-year-old and a seminary student alike could learn something from this.  It's deep theology, bible history, and entertainment.  The entire series walks through the major points of the Bible in 13 DVDS.  I will be collecting them.  I think this is a great tool to come alongside parents trying to seize opportunities to show that the Bible is living and active and God is very much living and active in our world. Love, love, love this!  Perfect for the upcoming Easter season.





5. HAPPY LITTLE MOMENTS

Back to the opening quote about going back and forth from "vehement opposition to... the most awesome awesomeness...."  That seems to sum up parenthood for me.   The vehement opposition would be all the energy-crushing repetitiveness and responsiblity that caring for little humans necessarily entails.  But the little moments of love: the most awesome awesomeness.  Today, we were finishing up one appointment with some time to kill before another.  In our little town, we could cross the grass to the drugstore to pick up some much needed kiddie toothpaste.  The dogwoods are in bloom; I'm holding my toddler's hand as the bigger two (okay, slightly bigger) walk in the store, and I think something like "I'm happy."  Of course, we enter sans buggy cart, one's beelined for the candy checkout, the other's jonesin' for a princess toothbrush and the toddler's thoughtfully rearranged the mouthwash section.  But.  I was happy.  The contentment of ordinary days.

Thanks for reading and holler if you take me up on any of these suggestions!

If It's Not One Thing, It's a Fever

We (the kids and I) hit the road this week to Nana and Pop's and made a day trip in to Hilton Head.

During the hour and a half drive, the toddler did what toddlers do and began screaming. With authority. When the offering of Chick Fil A fries and drink did not appease The Toddler, I made the command decision to turn around and let the others go on without us. 5 minutes later, The Toddler passed out so we intrepidly continued our journey.

Dumb.

That's when things got LIVELY. About 20 minutes til our end destination, The Toddler resumed screaming, kicking, and thrashing in her carsest (or heckhole without the heck as we sometimes refer to it on such situations).

That's we our journey got really special. A fever was detected, 2 GPS-es were deployed and directives were vigorously pronounced.

Let's just say Mama (that's me) requested a stop and 'bout walked the rest of the way (which was only a half mile tops). 

Mercifully, a outdoor restaurant was spotted, fever relief secured, and everyone got lemonade.

The result of this adventure, which may have shaved 3 months off my life expectancy, was a pretty delightful afternoon we spent watching this merry band enjoy the freezing water and muddy sand.

Filing another memory away in #RealLife.

Sarah's 4th Birthday

Ready to party...

Pinterest this.

Low tech.

Got fancy and made scratch cupcakes.  Almost forgot sugar.  Dur.  Next year: Publix.

Super sweet preschool friends making mini-pizzas.

Cake time!

Crazed toddler in the aftermath.

So much fun!  I always get crazed when we have people over, but I tried my best this time to work on making people feel welcome and cared for instead of my "stellar" (wink, wink) homemaking skills.  I had a very nice time getting to know Sarah's buddies and their moms better.  Between Christmas, a January birthday, and Valentine's Day, Sarah keeps wondering "What's next?"  Well, I guess we'll have to pump up St. Patty's Day!

I'm gonna make this a pin to be meta-ironic.  Maybe it'll help a sister out.  

How to Throw a Dora Party in 5 Easy Steps:

1. Go to the Dollar Store and buy purple, green and yellow plastic and tableware.  Scope out a few treats for the revelers.  Remember, goodie bags are not the 11th commandment.  

2. Go to Nickjr.com and print free Dora invitations to hand out to your child's friends.  Target also sells Dora invites for $5/8 pack, as well as Dora tableware if you want to be fancy.  Which I did.

3.  Order the cake.  Just trust me.  If you're feeling crafty, you can order Dora themed cupcake rings on Amazon for about $8.

4.  Plan the menu. I went to Aldi and bought mini-pizza fixings and fruit.  We all had fun and it served as a party activity.

5.  Freak out and send hubby back to the Dollar store for "4" candles, balloons, and party favors because you changed your mind a tad about simplicity.   Enjoy!

Downton Abbey: Episode "Everybody Needs a Hug"

Also, "Hooray for Decent Men"

Credit: pbs.org/masterpiece

Hugs to Jack Ross, Tom, and Molesley.  Jack is a black jazz singer who is in love with Lady Rose.  Mary visits him to presumably talk him into breaking off their secret engagement, but he beats her to the punch.  He loves Rose too much to see her shunned by society.  Tom takes up for his new family when a new friend and possible love interest feigns contempt for his mother-in-law.  Go get 'em, Tom. Favorite line of the night: "I don't believe in types. I believe in people."  Oh, Tom.  You're growing, like a flower to the sunshine.  Hugs.  And Molesley, Mr. Eeyore.  He has a friend, Ms. Baxter, someone who doesn't think he's pathetic, and so, at last, he isn't.  He wings a hammer at the bazaar and hits the bell.  Now, I'm thinking Baxter rigged it, but he has someone who believes in him.  I think we all need to join hands and sing Climb Ev'ry Mountain.  Go on, I'll wait.  (A dream that will need all the love you can giiiiiiiiive...)

I'm so glad we could share that together.  Also, Daisy and Alfred.  Oh my word, give him a hug.  Her sweet father-in-law encourages her to end things well with Alfred because you don't have many loves in your life.  She brings back a treat basket for him, admits she did love him, but now they must move on.  He admits that he couldn't see her clearly and probably made a big mistake.  Oh, go for it, you crazy kids.  But it's probably good they both stretch their wings and grow, much like our flower bud, Tom.  I really hope Alfred is not written out of the show.  I'd love to see a romance blossom downstairs.  Also, Mrs. Patmore saying Daisy was like a daughter and she'd never been prouder.  I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect har-mo-ny.  Hugs.

Which brings me to our unlucky-in-love lovers, Anna and Bates.   So basically Bates killed Anna's attacker Green, though we never see Green die or what Bates did in York. Nor do we EVER see any bad news related (hello, Granny Dowager, I'm pregnant, right?) or the actual event in which everyone is most interested.

So Edith and Aunt Rosamund and the Dowager Countess, who is the only person it seems with any intuition about anything.  The old girl's a like dog on the hunt.  But you have to admire how she does so only to protect those she truly loves.  Where is Michael Gregson?  Will Edith give up her baby only for this man to mysteriously return?  Do we really believe no one finds it odd she'll be gone for 4 months to Switzerland to learn French besides Granny?

Really.  It's a lot to keep straight.

Better end with Mary and her trio of suitors.  My money's on Mr. Blake (fire and ice, not to mention last week's mud scene), but Gillingham is so sweet and dreamy.  Though their romance will probably be nipped in the bud due to the fact that Bates killed his valet and Mary asked Gillingham to fire the valet the previous day.  And ol' Evelyn Napier.  He's just kinda... there, while his hottie friends keep popping in to woo Mary, the most alluring widow, ever, apparently.

It's part inane, part moving, always clever, and not a little ridiculous.  Three Cheers for Downton Abbey.