Monday, August 26, 2019

Fuller House

The way I see it, there are two types of kids: Kids who are bad in front of your face, and kids who are bad behind your back.

As much as I hate to admit it, I was the sneaky kid...unfortunately (or fortunately, as my almost 40 year old self sees it now), I almost always got caught.

Sammy is my "what you see is what you get, bad in front of your face" kid. I'll tell him not to do something and I can almost see those wheels start turning immediately. If he feels like whacking the fool out of his sister is worth the time-out...well, Gracie better be ready to duck.

Gracie, on the other hand, is my sneak. Her classic line when asked if she did something: "I don't remember". Homegirl has had a head circumference in the 99% as long as I've known her, and plenty of brains underneath. Playing dumb = Sneaky. Luckily, she's also been "blessed" with the get caught gene.

Our latest battle has been over the TV show "Fuller House". Like every good 80's child, I loved Full House growing up, and thought it was great seeing it brought back to life. Well, I thought it was great until DJ and the gang started telling my 7 and 4 year old about the birds and the bees. And drugs. And making out. And just can we go back to watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse please?

Anyway, Fuller House was removed from the rotation at the Harris household, permanently. Or, until my poor unsuspecting mother watched the kids for me one day. When I called to check in and she said they were watching a show Gracie wanted to watch, and then I heard Gracie frantically hollering in the background "I don't want to watch this anymore!!!!", the jig was up. As were her dessert privileges for the week (Yes, we eat dessert every night. You only live once, eat the m&ms).

So, we move along to this weekend when Gracie had her second ever spend the night at a friend's. We discussed how house rules still apply. WWMD (What would Mama Do?) All seemed to have been a success when I picked Gracie and her friend up the next day to do a little school project shopping at Michael's.

We'd just reached the checkout line where People magazine just so happened to be doing a front cover feature on Lori Loughlin.

"Oh, look," Gracie's little friend pointed out good old Aunt Becky, "there's that lady from the show you made us watch!"

I wish I had a camera to capture the look on the little sneak's face right that moment. Been there sister...and so will you, every.time. you lie to your mama.

Last night we had a long talk about trust and the privileges that come along with that trust. And in the end, Gracie may have gotten exactly what she wanted. She's not going to be having any spend the night parties for quite some time...you might even say, for the foreseeable future, its going to be a much Fuller House.








Wednesday, August 21, 2019

A Moment Like This

I was recently asked to serve on a committee at our church. I think this is probably something that happens a lot as your kids get older and you become more invested in their faith walk and who is helping guide it. In other words, there's a sucker born every day.

Anyway, the day of our first committee meeting Parke was out of town, I had no babysitter and it was approximately 1000 degrees. Needless to say, we rolled up to the church 5 minutes late. Things were going well.

The sweet lady in the reception area offered to watch Gracie and Sam and directed me to the "parlor", where the rest of the group was already in session. Not familiar with that area of the church I asked for directions.

As it turns out, the parlor is a little area to the side of the church where they hold Boy Scout meetings and gather before weddings...and funerals. The last time I'd been in the parlor, with no presence of mind to ask what it was called or anything else for that matter, was just before Rip's funeral.

I am amazed as human beings how life is made up of so many moments like this. Moments where you are literally thrown into a room that holds some of the worst memories of your life and yet we smile, nod, pull out our pens, and get to work.

Everyone has a "parlor" or two or three. A road, a house, a hospital room where their lives changed forever. But somehow we keep moving. We keep showing up. We keep going.

What felt like much later the door cracked open and two slightly disheveled children were deposited back to me. Smiling and shy, and smelling damp and sweet - I couldn't help but wonder if there was a ghost of a girl 9 years before still somewhere in this parlor. Stuck wondering if she would ever get a moment just like this.