found: camera cord + two words to live by

Thank goodness. My DH found the camera cord. Guess where? In the dollhouse. Oh, of course.

So here is the proof of our venture into the yard- and some glimpses of the yard itself. I think, come spring, we'll have some sunshiney fun out there.

This yard just screams Neverland and Fairy Garden to me. Maybe even a dinosaur park. Hmmm... lots of ideas floating around this pea-head of mine. There is one big dirt pit in the back corner where the owner pulled out a pond. It was pretty cool- rocks on the bank, a little bridge, and some fish. The kids were enthralled- a little too enthralled. I just couldn't stop thinking about what could happen if one of the kids got away from me for a moment, if I got distracted, etc. It only takes a few inches of water and a split second for the unthinkable to occur.

Apparently the owner was having the same thoughts, and when he asked us if it was OK if he dismantled the pond, we were thrilled. He says he's going to come put in a "secret garden" back there. Sounds cool.

In fact, this yard would be perfect if it wasn't for the nasty dogs that run along the back fence and bark like they are demented. One is a golden retriever and the other is a lab mix. Now, I'm a dog person. I like dogs, and dogs almost always like me. But when I attempted to befriend these dogs, they tried to come over the fence at me.

We haven't met their owners yet, and I'm a little at a loss now because I want to get off to a good start with our backyard neighbors but I also feel the need to comment about the dogs. Something like, "Hi! Nice to meet you! Could you get rid of your dogs?" or "Hello- you have a lovely home. Let me ask you something- do you mind if I mace your dogs?"

It's a problem.

On another note:

I went to church today in a foul mood. Lately DH and I have to attend separate services because Brother FREAKS OUT when we drop him at the nursery and they always end up paging us to come get him after about 15 minutes. Then, one of us (me) spends the rest of the service walking him around the halls. Just a lovely spiritual experience.

So, DH goes to the 9:00, I go to the 11:00. The kids don't go at all. It is definitely not ideal, but I keep telling myself it's just for a "season" of life. In fact, I'm going to start taking Sister with me in a few weeks because she'll finally be old enough to attend children's church.

Anyhoo, I wasn't in the mood today. The kids were whiny all morning, I was scolding them every 5 seconds, and simultaneously trying to brown a roast and make gravy so I could get the crock pot going. Then Brother climbed a piece of furniture he has been forbidden from climbing, fell off and bonked his head, and cried hysterically. While I tended him, the roast started to burn. You know how it goes.

So when DH came home, I almost drove to the bookstore for some relaxation instead of to church. (Naughty thoughts!) But I didn't. I went to church. And boy was I glad, because at the end of an average sermon, a woman got up and spoke about her battle with terminal cancer, and how she's not afraid to die but that she is very sad to leave her husband and children and grandchildren and how she wishes that she could see them all get married and be there for their big days but that every experience she's had with the Lord thus far has been pretty awesome and that she trusts him with her death as much as she trusts him with her life. Whew. Yes, I cried. (Everyone cried.)

And she said one more thing that really stuck with me. She said that when she found out she had a year to live, her husband asked her what she wanted to do. Travel? Try something new she had always longed to try?

Her answer was no, she just wanted to do exactly what she had been doing. She said, "I've lived a life with no regrets, and if my tomorrow is the same as my yesterday, that's just fine with me."

No regrets.

And I sat there regretting my bad mood, and my cross words to my children this morning.

Ali invites everyone to start the new year with a word that they will live by. I have two.