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Archive for the ‘Kids…gotta love ‘em’ Category

You make lemonade, of course.

But if you’re a true entrepeneur, capitalist, or overachiever, you then sell that sweet-tangy nectar at your very own lemonade stand!

This summer, as part of our Brownie program for Girl Scouts, our troop was supposed to choose a project to make our community a better place.  Note the use of the singular adjective: A project.  One.  Majority rules.

Our troop, however, could not decide on a project.  No, all seven of our girls each voted for a different project.  So we ended up with no majority.  And you know what that means to an overachiever like me.  Yep, we’re doing all seven.   One per month for the entire school year.  Because that’s how we roll.

So each girl now gets to take the lead role in organizing and carrying out her chosen service project.  Crisana’s was to help the Samaritan Inn, Collin County’s only homeless shelter.  We drove by the Samaritan Inn regularly on our way to swim lessons this summer, and we could see the number of people waiting, even in the midst of the brutal heat, to get inside.  We heard about the overcrowding, the large numbers of children who were living there, and the way the Inn’s meager resources were being taxed trying to meet the needs of the most desperate in our community.  Crisana decided she wanted to help.  She contacted the Inn and spoke with one of the coordinators there to determine how our group of third-grade girls could make an impact.

Toilet paper and paper towels was the answer.

But I wanted this to be more than just having the girls ask their parents for money to buy toilet paper and paper towels.  I wanted the girls to have some sort of investment, to make some sort of sacrifice or effort to participate.  I wanted this to mean something to them.  I wanted them to give, not just physically but emotionally as well.

And so was born Crisana’s lemonade stand.

She sent out an email to the neighborhood advertising her stand this past Saturday and Sunday.  She spread the word through my facebook account and even sent an email to the principal at McGowen asking for permission to collect donations there.  She decided to sell lemonade and cookies, and to use the profits to purchase the needed supplies for the Samaritan Inn.  She set to work, making her sign, putting a tub out on our doorstep for donations, and squeezing lots and lots of lemons.  With a little help from mom and a few friends, she made 10 dozen chocolate chip cookies, 8 dozen sugar cookies (4 of which she frosted and decorated with a single candy corn), and 8 dozen oatmeal raisin cookies.  She bagged them in individual baggies and made nearly 6 gallons of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

And then we dragged it all down to the corner and set up shop.

One of her Brownie troop-mates joined us for the sale on Saturday, as well as a neighbor friend who is a Girl Scout Junior.  Thanks to a neighbor, we enjoyed shade from the brutal sun both days.  Thanks to other neighborhood children, we also enjoyed a nearly constant stream of customers and activity throughout the two-day event.

When it was all said and done, the pitchers were washed and the trash was bagged up and the cookies were eaten and the money was counted…we learned that she had earned a whopping $195.50.  That’ll buy a lot of toilet paper.

All because a little girl had a dream…had a passion…had a heart…and a lot of help.

I think we’ve already succeeded in making our community a better place.

Okay, I admit.  The ice wasn’t *that* thin.  In fact, it was plenty thick.  And poured over a concrete slab inside an air-conditioned mall.  But still, you have to admit, the title works much better than, “You Should Really Read This Post About the First Time My Daughter Went Ice Skating.”

Last year, as outings coordinator for Crisana’s Brownie Troop, I instituted a monthly “fun” outing for the girls, appropriately named “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”  The purpose of these outings were to give our girls an opportunity to do something that would encourage them to develop as friends.  No goals to work toward, no lessons to be learned, no achievements to be completed…just fun times with friends.  If they developed a new skill or learned a valuable life lesson or earned an award or completed an achievement, so much the better.  But at its core, these activities were designed for fun, memory-making, and hopefully building lifelong friendships.

The activities last year were such a big hit that we decided to continue them this year.  One of the other Troop Leaders suggested that this might be a great time of year to take advantage of ice skating, what with the record heat and drought and all.  So, with the help of a groupon coupon from another Troop Mom, off we went to the great frozen tundra known as “The Ice at Stonebriar Centre.”

For most of the girls, this was their first experience on two blades.  And of course, being girls, it was all about the funky socks.

The girls were all a bit wobbly and uncertain at first.  I mean, this *is* Texas, after all.  We don’t get much snow…unless you count the past two winters.  But still, our ponds and lakes don’t freeze hard enough to skate on.

Thankfully, to the rescue came the skating lesson.  It was free and about 10 minutes long, and gave the girls some specific skills and activities to work on.  The girls eagerly listened and participated.

Following the lesson they all received a free pass to attend another class on a Saturday morning.  They spent the rest of their skating time practicing their newly acquired skills and building their confidence.

And of course, hanging out with their friends and forging new relationships.

Because if there’s ever a time when you find yourself on thin ice, it’s good to know you’ll be surrounded by friends.

It seems the first day of school is never a big enough deal in our house.  Our kids always have to find some way to top the act of kicking off a new school year.

Last year, Crisana lost a tooth on the first day of school.

So this year it was Trey’s turn.

Usually the first week of school is an easy transition back into the busy-ness of our fall routine.  We deliberately keep our afternoons and evenings free and clear so that we can adjust to early morning alarm clocks, days filled with learning, and balancing homework and playtime.  But this afternoon was a scramble.  Unpack the backpacks.  Wash out the water bottles, sandwich containers, and thermoses.  Fix dinner.  Eat dinner.  Clean up dinner and put leftovers away.  Feed the cat.  Change clothes.  Turn on the lights and lock the doors.  Make sure the camera has fresh batteries and a free memory card.  Hurry, hurry, hurry.  We gotta get there on time!

See, we had a court date.   A Court of Honor date.  And we had some honorees we had to…um…well…honor.

First up was Trey.  He was officially recognized for earning his Tenderfoot badge, the second step on the Trail to First Class…his second step toward earning Eagle Scout.  As if that wasn’t enough, he earned 5 (yes, count them: FIVE) merit badges from troop activities and summer camp: photography, railroading, swimming, astronomy, and geology.  His little merit badge sash no longer looks lonely or like a wanna-be, despite the fact that it’s still way too big for him.

Our next honoree was none other than Matt, who earned his “trained” patch for being officially fully trained as an adult leader in the Boy Scouts of America.  I guess that means he can now be put in charge of stuff and be responsible for scouts.  I’m still wondering if that’s a good thing or not.

I guess that means we’re also now an official scouting family!

Phineas and Ferb claim that there are 104 days of summer vacation.  I say “phooey on you-ey.”  Because apparently we’re being gypped more than 2 weeks.

How do I know this?  Tonight was Meet the Teacher at McGowen.  We’re 82 days in, and already it’s time to go check out the classroom, drop off school supplies, sign up for the PTA, and discover who the classmates will be.  And in 6 more days, it will be the first day of school.  By my calculations, that puts us just shy of 90, well short of the *supposed* 104 immortalized in song.

Regardless, Crisana was excited.  For weeks she had been crossing her fingers, toes, legs, arms, and even her eyeballs in hopes of getting the teacher *she* wanted.  Never mind that the teacher *she* wanted changed from day to day.  She was breathless in anticipation, and so were we.  And so we were ALL excited when we discovered who her teacher for third grade would be:

Just in case you don’t recognize the significance, let me give you a brief reminder.

Her hair may be lighter and she’s now sporting a baby bump but yes, that’s the same teacher.  A teacher who was one of Trey’s – and our – favorites.  A teacher who was a tremendous encouragement to our family and a source of great stability to Trey during an incredibly tumultuous year.  A teacher who prayed diligently for our family and supported us even in our efforts to support her.  We couldn’t be more thrilled or thankful for allowing Crisana to be in her class this year!

Apparently, Crisana’s pretty excited, too.

Today was a big day in the Speer household, and I mean a BIG day.  For one very excited little girl, it must have seemed bigger than Christmas, her birthday, and the last day of school all rolled into one.

Today was the day we sent Crisana – our “baby” – away to summer camp for the very first time.

She was a great helper, labeling all her clothes and getting all her gear packed.  Somehow we managed to get the suitcase closed.

We arrived at the Joann Fogg Service Center in Dallas with all the necessary forms and paperwork, properly labeled medications, not to mention the girly sleeping bag, pillowcase and required stuffed animal.  Crisana could hardly contain herself as we worked our way through the registration process, having her feet checked for blisters and her hair checked for lice, turning in the medications, and loading up her store account.

As I was finishing up the check-in process, I discovered Matt talking to another dad in the waiting area.  Turns out, they had both worked together at Matt’s last firm.  They had an 8-year-old daughter who was also attending the same session of camp, alone, that Crisana was.  We introduced them and they hit it off right away.  They couldn’t wait to get on the bus and load their things.

As we said good-bye, we saw them sitting together, laughing and having a great time.  God gave me the peace I needed to say good-bye without any tears, the reassurance to know He was with her, and the joy of watching her take these first big steps toward independence.

Welcome to Gallerie’ d’Crisana, the world’s only collection of art created by yet-to-be-famous Fairview artist Crisana Speer!

We begin your tour with a welcome sign and a friendly reminder:

Just in case you can’t read the fine print, it says: Do not toch exept for: family, relitivs, and Raegan, if she ever sees me again  I miss you Raegan.

Consider yourselves warned.  And missed.

If you’ll allow me the privilege, I’ll be your docent on our tour today.  We even have a window into the mind of the artist herself through her own words, written inside the placard beside each piece.  It *is* an interactive gallery, mind you, to a certain extent (or if your name happens to be Raegan). Read the rest of this entry »

The boys are gone.  For the next 7 days, the Speer household is devoid of any hint of testosterone.  No stinky boys making dirty laundry.  No sweaty, muddy shoes lining the stairway or littering the living room.  No need to tolerate endless discussions of Poke’mon strategy, Bionicle creations, or Star Wars: The Clone Wars developments.  No need to negotiate time between endless reruns of Poke’mon: Black and White or Ben 10: Alien Force or Johnny Test in the mornings.

Nope, this week belongs to the girls.  This week will be filled with estrogen-laden fun and, by default, lots of chocolate, ice cream, or cookie dough.  Maybe even all three. Read the rest of this entry »

There’s an old proverb I once heard that fits our situation perfectly: “When the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

Okay, so it only works if by “cat” you mean “boys” and by “mice” you mean “girls”, and if by “will play” you mean “go on a road trip to look at bluebonnets.”  Ah, the nuances of language.

This Saturday was “B-Day”.  Code name: “Project Bluebonnets.”  A.K.A. “The Great Bluebonnet Adventure of 2011.”  Whatever you call it, it was definitely a day we won’t soon forget.

We started off fairly early, packing a picnic lunch and making sure we had our picnic blanket, camera, gas in the car, and a few outdoor games in case we found somewhere to hang around for awhile.  We drove to Garland to pick up Grandma for a true “Girls’ Day Out.”  She even had PROPS for our picture-taking.  Anticipation was high.  Excitement was in the air.  And beautiful rainbows of wildflowers – pink, red, yellow, white, blue, violet, and purple – dotted the highway as we sped along on our quest.

By the time we had nearly exhausted our repertoire of car games (I mean, seriously, how many times can YOU go on a picnic and bring apples, bananas, carrots…) we were nearing our exit.  My plan was to start at the south end of the map and work our way northward.  We exited onto a 2-lane Texas highway and our spirits soared.  We couldn’t wait to see what lay beyond us…

Like a horse in a garage, parked next to a car.  Only in Texas.  *shakes head*  (If I hadn’t been driving, I’d have taken a picture.  You’re just going to have to believe me on this one. )

But as far as bluebonnets?  Notsomuch.

Trailer homes?  Yes.  Lots and lots of them.  Dotting the hillsides with their redneck beauty.

But bluebonnets?  Not really.

Cows and horses, standing in stock ponds to drink, or nibbling on dry grasses and hay?  Yep.  We saw ‘em.   And our mouths watered for Bar-b-cue.

But bluebonnets?  Nope.

Finally, in desperation, we pulled into a gas station to ask for help.  The woman behind the counter directed us to continue along our path about a mile where there would be some parks that “should” have bluebonnets and rangers to provide further assistance.

So we did.  And we ended up at a nature preserve on the shores of Bardwell Reservoir, which we decided was a perfect place to have a picnic lunch.  In gale-force winds.

We managed – somehow – to enjoy our lunch without having it all fly into the lake or end up in the treetops.  And then it was time for some pictures with the little patch of bluebonnets we *did* manage to find.

It wasn’t exactly a field covered in bluebonnets, but it was a pretty view from our picnic table.

It’s virtually a requirement in Texas to have at least one picture of your children sitting in a field of bluebonnets.  I’m so glad I can now cross *that* off my list.

Those whitecaps on the water?  Caused by *WIND*, I tell you.  Not by currents or boats or gravity or the pull of the moon.  No.  The *WIND* was blowing those waves toward shore.

We have learned that contrary to popular lore, it is technically *NOT* illegal to pick bluebonnets.  But just to be on the safe side, let me assure you that no bluebonnets were picked in the taking of this picture.

Crisana staged this photo on her own.  She told me where to stand and what she wanted in the picture.

We also learned that bluebonnets are very fragrant.  And it’s even a pretty fragrance.

And of course, there were moments of silliness and fun in the midst of our botched adventure.

We ended our day in the most appropriate way: with a stop on the way home at Dairy Queen.  A chocolate-dipped cone brightens any day.

Yes, “The Great Bluebonnet Adventure of 2011″ may have left us feeling blue.  It certainly wasn’t “Great” nor particularly filled with “Bluebonnets”.  But the memories we created and the fun of our “Adventure” certainly left us tickled pink.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was in Girl Scouts.  She loved being in Girl Scouts, because she got to hang out with her friends.

They got to do all kinds of fun activities together, which made them all very happy.

The little girl had an older brother who was in Cub Scouts for many years.  She had always tagged along at his events, like family campouts and hikes and visits to museums…and Pinewood Derbies.  She longed for the day when she could make and race cars of her own.

Finally, that day came.

The little girl came up with a design all her own, with the help of her dad, to make a car like no other.  Unlike her brother’s cars, which were build for speed and “coolness”, her car was all about design.  And her design was all girl.  Her dad worked hard and she helped him out until the big day arrived.

She proudly took her car to the race where it was registered and impounded until race time.  The race officials took a picture so everyone could see her amazing car design.

She waited with eager anticipation until finally her number was called!  It was her turn to race!  Carefully she carried it to the starting line where the race officials placed in line with the other cars.

On your mark…Get set…GO!!  And her car raced down the track, not very quickly because as you know, baby carriages are built for safety, not speed.  Nevertheless, the little girl scampered down to the finish line to make sure her precious cargo arrived – intact – at the end of each heat.

The little girl’s car never did win first place in any of its races, but that was okay with the little girl.  She was looking forward to the design competition, where she had taken first place as a Daisy Scout with her Hello Kitty pink roller skate car.  The bar had been set pretty high and she had great big expectations.

The moment finally came when the results were announced:  she won an Honorable Mention for design for the Brownies!  Though it didn’t come with a trophy, the little girl was still very proud of her awesome Pink & Purple Baby Carriage car.

It had been a wonderful day for the Powderpuff Girl.  And she lived happily ever after, already dreaming of the car she would make the next year…

It’s the day after Thanksgiving, and you know what that means:  Let Christmas begin!

We kicked off our Christmas celebration with one of our usual traditions: a visit to see Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, known ’round these here parts as The Big Guy.

I’ve written about our encounters with The Big Guy before, how we’ve gone to the same Santa each year and how he teaches me a lesson each time I go.  This year was no exception.

We braved the traffic on Black Friday to go see him.  Hoping that everyone would be busy shopping or napping from their early morning escapades, we wound our way through the parking lot to Santa’s special cottage.  I dropped Matt off to scout the lines and when he indicated we were good to go, the kids hopped out and I set off to park the car.

As I entered his “workshop”, I was instantly greeted by his cheerful laugh and warm hello.  At the moment I entered, Santa was busy engaging both of my children in a great big bear hug, which was captured on camera by one of his elves.  “You made it just in time!” his cheerful voice called out to me.  He smiled, gave the children their coloring books and motioned for me to come over to him.  Next thing I knew, he was wrapping ME up in a great big bear hug, as if we were old friends reunited after a long absence.

I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how he felt.

Because, you see, we’ve been coming to this same Santa since Trey was just a baby.  This was his first – and only – Santa, the only one we’ve had our “official” Santa pictures taken with each year.  We have chronicled our children’s growth by the pictures we’ve had with The Big Guy.  And each year, we’ve had the wonderful privilege to visit with him, to say hello, to exchange pleasantries and have a short conversation.

But still, it overwhelms me to think: He remembered ME.  Out of all the thousands of families he sees each year, he remembers US.

And in the midst of what had been an emotionally draining, difficult and stressful week, that one little bit of encouragement pierced through my weariness and energized my tired soul.  He couldn’t possibly have known the emotional baggage I was carrying with me that day.  He couldn’t possibly have understood the tremendous need I had for encouragement.  He couldn’t possibly have fathomed the depths of disappointment, discouragement, and fear I was feeling.  Regardless, he reached out to me and in a moment, with one simple act, reassured me that there is hope.  There is a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.  That even the dreariest of days comes to an end, and that even the darkest of nights eventually burst into the glory of morning.

And it was in that moment I felt the touch of my Father carrying me.  Reassuring me that He is there.  He hears.  He knows.  He understands.  After all, He is the *original* BIG GUY and there’s nothing He loves more than giving good gifts to His children.