Apple Pickin' with the Dempseys

A List I Wish I Had Read When I Was 18

I have often thought that if I had spent more time thinking about my future when I was in high school then I might have considered some ways to make money from home, since I saw myself staying home with my children for some time. So here is a list dedicated to the young girls planning their futures. These are some things you can train for NOW and then have a little work-from-home income when you have small children:

photography
wedding hair
hair cuts
nails
catering
grant writing
editing
web design
web master
graphic design
tutoring (SAT, GED, elem, hs, and so on)
sewing--alterations
writing

Broken

At the beach this summer, Uncle Drew asked, "What is the most expensive thing Pierce has ever broken?" I honestly couldn't think of what he had broken. Guess God blessed me with the ability to block it out. But since then, I have been stuck on this question and so I had to make a list. So I share it, not to cast a bad light on Pierce, but to free it from flitting around in my brain and hopefully offer some amusement. I think we've been pretty lucky:

Broken:
his crib (kicked the end off)
his bed (jumped on it til it collapsed)
my necklace (got mad and yanked it)
kitchen tongs (still don't know how)
lamp (just heard a crash)
window (with his foot)
plastic pitcher (ran over with lightning mcqueen)
plate (didn't like what was on it)
drink holders in the car (they folded out and he tried to step on them)
handle off of a pot (threw it down)
buttons on the ottoman (jumped on the ottoman, buttons hit the ceiling)
GPS holder (found the evidence but can't get a straight answer)

Honorable mentions:
angrily launched a jug of milk out of the grocery cart, which of course busted
flung an unopened Pepsi can into the TV stand, which busted and spewed Pepsi on all four walls of the living room

Near misses:
treadmill--turned it off/on/off/on until it smoked and give itself a 10-min timeout
my laptop--dropped it but was unsuccessful at destroying it
my nice camera--dropped it but so far so good
found sandpaper, applied it to antique furniture.

The Love Lost

Since Creed's arrival, many people have asked me how Pierce has been adjusting. I proudly tell them how much Pierce loves his brother--he says the sweetest things like, "Can we keep him forever?" and "Hey Creedy baby!" He looks forward to his regular "Brudder time" and insists on kissing him, oh, a thousand times a day. We just can't peel him off of him. So that is the short-ish answer to how Pierce is adjusting.

A more complete answer, however, might include the fact that Pierce has taken to telling me how that he doesn't love me anymore. Or that he doesn't like me. The first time this type of weapon appeared in his arsenal was soon after Creed's birth and it hasn't lost favor with him yet. Yesterday as I was preparing supper in the kitchen, I heard a fervent, "Mama! Mama! Mama! Come 'ere!" coming from the sunroom. Sensing panic in his voice, I dashed away from the chicken stew to see what the problem was. As my eyes are scanning the sunroom for broken glass or blood, I hear him say, "I gotta tell you somethin'. I don't like you." Exhale. "That's ok. I still like you baby. I'm going to finish supper." I turn and walk away before he gets the pleasure of reloading. As I walk I imagine thumping his head or "accidentally" crushing a toy underfoot as I walk away. But I control myself. Similarly, today when he refused to comply with my request (can't even remember what it was) I confiscated his Woody doll. He runs in my bedroom behind me, looks me square in the eye and says, "I don't LOVE you." (He definitely wanted to punctuate the word "love" to drive the dagger deeper.) "I will always love you baby," I say as I turn to take Creed to the bathroom and run his bathwater.

I laid Creed down and began unbuttoning his little pajamas as I considered how much truth might be in what Pierce was saying. I want him to like me. I want him to love me. How could he not like me? I wonder. Didn't I just spend the last $1.50 I had left on my Starbucks card to get him a hot chocolate that very day? Hadn't I taken him to see the fish at the mall that very day? Hadn't I taken him to the park and pushed him in the swing for what seemed an hour THAT VERY DAY? That train of thought could continue on indefinitely if I let it. The more I think, the more frustrated it made me.

I am jolted from my wondering as I hear Pierce's little hands rummaging on my dresser. He appears moments later with a little back massager in his hands. He approaches me as I am bent over the tub scrubbing his brother. "Here mom. I'll rub your back," he says. "Thanks," I say, trying not to sound too emotional as I continue with the bath. As he offers a 10-second gesture of what I deem an apology, I decide that maybe, just maybe, the love isn't lost after all.

Third Day and Brandon Heath - Creed

A song for Creed