Should a pregnancy test ever be an impulse purchase? Discuss.

Mr. P and I went out shopping tonight sans children for some last minute Christmas gifts and stocking stuffers. We ventured very slowly around town because being out at night alone is a rare and beautiful thing to be savored... even up and down the aisles of the dollar store.

Once our dollar store basket was mighty full of Christmas cheer, we headed to the check-out line. One cashier makes for a slow moving line and an opportunity to ponder the meaning of life, the state of the economy and the items cleverly located at the check-out aisle for less savvy shoppers who lack impulse control.

We saw that which we would expect to see on a check-out lane selection. There were mints and gum and chocolate in every shape and size. There was a tire pressure gage, some razors and an air freshener to hang from your rear view mirror. Classy. But, then sitting in the middle of all these goodies was a rack of one dollar pregnancy tests. Really? A pregnancy test is an impulse purchase? For who?

Think about it. You're buying some dish soap, a key chain and some duct tape. As you start to check-out, you look up and see a rack of pregnancy tests and you say to yourself... what?

~Oh, I've been meaning to pick up one of those for Sally.

~Hey! I just realized I might be pregnant. Better grab one of these!

~You know, Bob has this gift exchange at the office on Friday...

~Won't Grandma be surprised when she looks in her stocking this year!

Since we were sans children, Mr. P and I were able to freely discuss all the many possible scenarios that would warrant an impulse pregnancy test purchase. None of them seemed feasible and we were quickly distracted by the very scripty "LOVE" tattooed across the check-out girl's, ahem, ample chest region.

That's when it happened. Two ladies walked up behind us in line. One lady looked both ways (apparently not seeing me standing right there watching her every move) and knocks one of the pregnancy tests off the rack and onto the conveyor belt. She quickly covered it with her other items and whispered to her friend, "Don't tell anybody."

OK, then. You just can't make this stuff up.

Sufficiency of Scripture Conference!

I so wish I was there! Oh, how I wish I was there! I really want to be there! But, since I'm not, I plan to take advantage of this special. Right now through the end of the conference, you can pre-order all the conference messages at a nice discount!

I think I know what I'm giving myself for Christmas this year!

Only 105 days until spring.. only 105 days until spring... only 105 days until spring.

Cloudy. A 50 percent chance of snow after midnight. Lows around 30.

This is the forecast for Saturday. I think I may diiiiiie!

If you need me on Saturday, you can find me by the fire, rocking back and forth, repeating, "Only 105 days until spring, only 105 days until spring, only 105 days until spring..."

This stuff only happens to me.

I've had... an interesting 24 hours. It all started with the promise of Christmas pictures. Every year we take these pictures and every year it's stressful. I have learned the system, though. You get the first appointment of the day the first day of the week. This reduces the chances you'll come home with more than cute pictures, if you know what I mean. So, considering how picture taking CAN be, ours was relatively stress-free.

Oh, who am I kidding? It's always something. Am I right?

This year I was on the hunt for super cute coordinating outfits. We found two lovely sweater vests which were perfect for the upcoming photo session. My father-in-law wanted to take some pictures of the children for his own Christmas card so I pulled out the Christmas vests.

See them? Cute, no? Take a good look.

It was a fairly warm day that day... not that I'm complaining about that, mind you... so the two boys shed their Christmas vests in the car on the way home. (foreshadowing, just so you know)

In the meantime, we were all about the Christmas cleaning so the house could be perfect for decorating. I like to start with a clean house before I destroy it with Christmas decorating messes. The little girls and I worked in their room one day and bagged up four bags of outgrown clothes, shoes and toys. These bags were placed by the front door to be taken to the thrift store.

In the mean-meantime my oldest son was cleaning out the van and he put the things to come into the house in a bag eerily similar to the thrift store bags. You see where this is going, right?

Yes, my friends. My brand new sweater vests, two family members Bibles, a pair of shoes, an unopened bag of cat food, and an assortment of cups were inadvertently given to the thrift store. I didn't realize this until the night before the photo session when I was assembling everyone's outfits. Of course, by then the thrift store was closed. I flew back to the mall in a feeble attempt to buy more vests. But Black Friday had happened to my vests. Long gone, they were. I ended up buying two entirely different matching sweaters... and I was lucky to get those!

See them here? Cute, but expensive. Story of my life.

On the morning of the photo shoot it was raining. Not a light sprinkling rain, but a cats-and-dogs kind of rain. It hasn't rained in a week and a half. This stuff only happens to me. Poppy was wearing a satin skirt that is not friends with water so she put a Walmart bag over her curlers and carried her skirt under her arm to protect it all. I didn't even bother to curl the little girls' hair. I knew it was a lost cause. But, undaunted by the flood, we persevered through rush hour traffic to the photo studio. (Remember first appointment of the day? That's 8:00am) I had been up bathing, spit shining and water proofing babies, clothes and hair since 5:30am. It was a long day already.

The picture taking went fine and the pictures were cute so it was a successful day. But, the vests still haunted me. I want them back! Once the pictures were done and I rowed the children back home in the ark, I headed out again to the thrift store to explain my problem to the manager. Problem was, the manager did not speak English and my español is a little rusty from 10th grade. I'm not sure we understood each other. I don't think 'sweater vesto' is the correct Spanish word for sweater vest, but I can't be sure. Another employee wrote down a description of the bag and its contents and claimed he would look for it and call me. He was smirking when he said it, I'm almost certain.

Goodbye beautiful Christmas sweater vests. It was nice knowing you.

By this point I looked like a drowned rat and I realized the photo studio left out some of the pictures we ordered. Great. So, back to the studio I went. At this time of day, parents who do not understand the first appointment of the day strategy, were wedged into this place like New Year's Eve revelers in Times Square... equally unruly too. I was up to my knees in cranky, hungry, whining, screaming toddlers dressed in a sea of red and green. There is no telling what form of pestilence attached itself to me as I sat there waiting on my pictures. A gallon of germ gel went to good use once I was safely back inside my van. YUCK!!

Once I was home with pictures but no vests, it was time for supper.

And bed.

But, I have pictures! That's the important thing, right?

Happy Black Friday!

What's better than a big screen TV, an iPod, and Wii? What's better than standing in line at 4:00am in the bitter cold? Shop online at Vision Forum and buy gifts that are not only edifying, but challenge and inspire!



This is where I'm doing my Christmas shopping today! Shhhhh... don't tell the children.

We interrupt today's sermon...

...to share with you a moment of lightheartedness and levity. Because the Kudzu family is called to bring comedy and laughter to the body of Christ. It's our spiritual gift.

Today in church the one known for his chubby cheeks looks over at his father and yells out a resounding, "WAKE UP!!"

Yes. It. Was. Embarrassing.

What was even more difficult was keeping a straight face while watching the shoulders of the congregation bouncing up and down as they attempted to keep peals of hysterical laughter to themselves.

It's good to know we amuse.

(Disclaimer - Mr. P "claims" he was awake. He has absolutely no idea why anyone, especially his own dear progeny, would call him out erroneously assume he was dozing off.)

A Slice of Yard Sale Heaven... Take 2!

Remember that yard sale? The one with the cake pans. The one with the health books. The yard sale to end all yard sales. Remember THAT yard sale? Part two of that yard sale was today. In addition to loving gardening, cake decorating and good health, this lady was also a quilter! Her children doing the yard sale mentioned she was a quilter and that they would be having a second yard sale "before too long". I've been sitting on the edge of my seat watching the paper. And waiting.

The wait was worth it!

Here are a few of my treasures...

And, the fabric. Ooooooh, the fabric!

The price for this bounty, you ask? $40.00.

I think I've died and gone to yard sale heaven. *swoon*

Ponderings on the use of labels

I am a fan of labels.

I have always sought a 'box' to fit into. Boxes make things neat and organized. Boxes make things orderly. First I was a daughter, then a wife, then a mother, then a teacher. Neat, orderly, organized. Of course, I always labeled myself a Christian, though I didn't fully understand what that meant until later in life and I'm still learning. I was also a 'good girl'. I was a 'good' student, a 'good' friend, a 'good' driver. I was all-around 'good'... and I liked it that way.

Over the years, I put myself in the box of 'homeschooler', 'quiverful', 'patriarchal' and so on. Lately, though I've been becoming more and more uncomfortable with the boxes. These 'movements' are not the end-all/be-all of walking out the Christian life. In fact, sometimes they limit, and hinder, and hurt.

I cannot tell you how many women have disparaged the movement commonly called 'patriarchy' saying that their husbands are ogres and take advantage of them, take them for granted, or worse. I have debated the issue hotly. Just because someone sins under the guise of 'patriarchy' does not mean 'patriarchy' is wrong does it? (the correct answer is no)

Homeschoolers get a bad rap too. You've got your kook fringe that keeps their kids out of school so they can beat and starve them. On the other extreme, you've got your holy rollers that proclaim anyone who does not homeschool their children in a denim jumper while baking their own bread, making their own soap and rendering their own lard is on the slippery slope to hell. Where does a simple mother called to homeschool her children fit into that paradigm? I ask you.

Then there is the quiverful movement which can make a woman with less than double-digit kids feel like a failure or barren by way of sin.

The problem is I fit into all of these categories and I believe in all of those things. My general response to criticisms is what you would expect. Everyone can sin within and without of these various 'movements', but don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. But, that's getting harder and harder to defend.

What really made me ponder this recently was a certain "Christian" church. This church, without going into detail, was anything but "Christian"... at least by my understanding. I told my husband that I no longer want to be known as a "Christian" because people have broad interpretations of that word these days. The labels are limiting and defining me in ways that are less and less appealing.

So, if not a Christian, homeschooling, patriarchal, quiverful, natural foods loving, vaccine delaying, conservative but not Republican woman, what then?

Christ follower. Even better, Bible believing Christ follower. It's all the label I want and all the label I need. When you live by the Bible, everything falls naturally into place as the Lord designed it.

The rest are man made boxes open to wrong interpretation. Labels change. It used to be a compliment to your positive spirit and exuberance to be labeled 'gay'. I'm just saying... things change. Meanings change. Labels change.

There is nothing left to interpretation in the words Christ follower. It's all I am and all I ever want to be. The rest is gravy.