Geckos

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

Geckos. Nope, I’m not referring to a certain insurance company. I’m talking about tiny little lizards that like to frighten me.

“Scared of geckos?” you ask. Yes. Yes, I am. It’s not so much a terrifying fear as much as it is a startling fright.

It all started in the mailbox. I opened the door, reached in and grabbed. Something jumped onto my hand, ran across and skittered down the bricks. I tossed the envelopes high in the air and let out an “Eek!” Cautiously inspecting each parcel, I retrieved the mail and hurried back inside. The next day, I opened the mailbox and the guardian of the goods stood his ground, daring me to take his letters. I guess he was expecting a fresh shipment of crickets.

Another time, I glanced up through the window above my front door, through which the porch light illuminates the foyer, and noticed a gecko lying in wait for a late night snack. I watched him inch closer, closer to the smorgasbord of flying delicacies. He’d scurry a bit one way or the other, seeking a better vantage point, but his attempts were futile. He’d never taste those beetles, moths and mayflies, because he was on the ceiling inside my house. You think I slept very well that night? He was gone by morning—but to where?

Now a family of three geckos ambushes me whenever I open the storm door. Recently, as my son stepped out, all three rushed in. One climbed straight into a laundry basket. Another dropped his flopping tail and got stuck in a cobweb, and the other stopped still on the door frame. If I’d let the door close, he’d have been squished. Fortunately for them (and for me), my teenager came to the rescue.

I do appreciate these little guys, and I know they will not harm me. In fact, they get rid of lots of pests. I credit them for the reduction in wolf spiders this year—thank you, thank you, thank you, geckos! I suppose it’s a good reminder to me that God is in control, even in the small things I might normally overlook. These geckos keep jumping out at me, sometimes literally, and forcing me to notice and be grateful “that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 10:9, NIV).

Jodi Whisenhunt is a 2009 Amy Writing Award-winning freelance writer and editor in McKinney, Texas. You can find her at www.jodiwhisenhunt.com or www.magicalmouseschoolhouse.com, where Disney IS school.

Welcome Back to School, Please Sign Here

By Lynn Rebuck –

As a mom, I always dread the ton of homework that I get assigned on the first day of school.  There is always a sizeable stack of forms for me to review, complete and sign.

There used to be fewer, less complicated forms when kids started back to school. Now I need a paralegal to help me fill them all out.

First I encounter numerous classroom contracts which my son and I need to sign in triplicate.  Some need to be notarized.

We must stipulate to standards for classroom behavior, attendance and homework completion. I am sending my son to school this year with counter-offers.

Next I must complete the registration card requiring emergency contact information.

Designating someone to pick up your child when he or she becomes feverishly ill is always a tricky decision. It’s tough to get someone to commit for a second year of service once they’ve had to clean your child’s morning meal out of their minivan.

There is also the fairness and reciprocity rule to consider. If the individual you previously listed had to pick up your child multiple times, while her remarkably healthy children didn’t need you to come to the rescue the entire school year (they didn’t even have cavities), it would be inappropriate to ask her to commit to another year on-call.

Next in the stack is a media consent form that asks whether I authorize my son’s image to be photographed, his name to be published on the Internet or in the news media and for him to be interviewed by Anderson Cooper. Hmmm, I’m going to have to consult my son’s talent agent and publicist before I respond to that one.

By the time I get to the “radiological emergency” card I am overwhelmed with anxiety and ready to home school. Since we live within a 10-mile radius of a nuclear power plant, I must decide whether to authorize school personnel to give him an emergency dose of potassium iodide in the event of a nuclear emergency.

A more ominous card has evolved from the emergency contact card: the “catastrophic emergency” form. In the event of a total meltdown, no wait, that would fall under the nuclear emergency card…umm, in the event of a complete catastrophe, who do I want to pick up my child?  My first choice would be the First Lady. Michelle Obama can pick him up with Air Force One. I hope she doesn’t mind. I’d be happy to reciprocate.

By the time I finished all of the forms I was suffering from severe writer’s cramp, had multiple paper cuts and my signature had degraded into a series of illegible curves and squiggles.

But if a school district photographer ever snaps a photo of my son as Michelle Obama rushes him onto Air Force One following a catastrophic “nuclear” chain reaction right after school personnel administer iodide to him in the wake of an incident at Three Mile Island, district officials need not worry—I signed the forms.

Lynn Rebuck is an award-winning Christian humor columnist, speaker and mother whose humor column appears weekly in print and online. She is currently looking for loopholes in the library book return policy. Read Lynn’s humor blog on her website, www.LynnRebuck.com, sign up for her newsletter, follow her on Twitter and become a fan on Facebook. That’s your homework. © 2010 Lynn Rebuck

Back to School—at Last!

By Kathi Macias –

How many of you remember the ad where the father is skipping through the office supply store, joyfully tossing paper and pens and erasers into his basket, while his two dejected children shuffle along behind, looking like they just lost their best friend? The reason for the father’s glee? He’s buying supplies to send his little darlings back to school!

Any moms (or dads) out there who can relate? It’s been a long time since my kids lived at home; they have long-since moved on to establish their own families so they too can experience the fun and excitement of summer vacations from a parent’s point of view. (Sort of gives the term “payback” a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?)

Seriously, though, despite the fact that it’s been years (decades!) since I attended a PTA meeting or served as a room mother, I haven’t forgotten those LONG summer days when all my normal routines came to a screeching halt and I spent all my waking hours cooking frozen pizzas and zipping to the store to replace the ice cream supply. I felt as if I’d had a productive day if I had time to brush my teeth and zoom through the shower! Forget doing anything with my hair. It was just sort of…there.

I think it was sometime during my youngest child’s last couple of years before entering junior high that things changed—or, at least, I developed a new perspective on the entire issue. I only wish I’d figured it out sooner because this new perspective finally enabled me to enjoy the last few summers I had before my offspring flew the coop and I was left to contemplate the “empty nest syndrome” (not all of which is a bad thing, I might add!). Some of you may be at that place right now, looking much like the bouncing-with-joy father in the school supplies ad and rejoicing that you’ve survived (or very nearly so) yet another summer vacation with the kids home from school. If that describes where you are today, I hope this little poem that I wrote some twenty or more years ago will encourage you to treasure however many summers you have left with your children, as wild and exhausting as those brief seasons of life may be!

“Summer’s Gone”

Feet stuck to the floor from Popsicle drips,
Planning and packing for family trips;
So many dishes in the sink—
Must they use a clean glass for every drink?
I just can’t take much more of this noise!
Why can’t they ever pick up their toys?
The slamming door, the ringing phone—
If only I could be alone!

Then suddenly it’s time for school;
No more beach or swimming pool.
Off they go, down the street,
Sounds of laughter and running feet.
A sigh of relief… but wait! What’s this?
A tear in my eye as I blow them a kiss!
Oh, Lord, it seemed to go so fast.
These special times just never last.

Teach me, Father, to value each day,
To live, to love, to laugh…to play.

Kathi Macias (www.kathimacias.com; http://kathieasywritermacias.blogspot.com) is an “occasional radio show host” (www.blogtalkradio.com/communicatethevision) and an award-winning author of more than thirty books, including her September 2010 release from Abingdon Press, Valeria’s Cross.

Command Performance

By Emily Parke Chase –

Having dogs was a big part of my childhood. Tara, our sheepdog, for example, followed our family to church one Sunday, jumped in the sanctuary window and then trotted down the aisle searching for my father who was also the pastor of the church. Read more

Bark and Bark and Grrr

By Jodi Whisenhunt –

The toilet leaked and damaged the vinyl flooring. Handyman John showed up on Day 1 to assess the situation. Ding-ding-dong went the bell and bark-bark-grrr went my dog. So John introduced himself to Jojo. She sniffed and licked and jumped around while wagging her nubby, as if to say, “He’s safe.” Read more

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