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Sahm I Am
Meredith Efken
Mills & Boon Silhouette
For the members of a stay-at-home-moms' email loop, lunch with friends is a sandwich in front of the computer. Where else could they discuss things like…Success: Her workaholic husband is driving Dulcie Huckleberry around the bend. It's hard to love someone when he's never home!Art: Let children express themselves, opines Zelia Muzuwa, and then her son's head gets stuck inside a kitty scratching post….Health: Surely aches and pains are normal in an active little boy, yet those of Jocelyn Millard's son don't seem to go away.Motherhood: Teen-mom-turned-farmer's-wife Brenna Lindberg can deal with the mud and the chickens, but what about her husband's desire for a child of his own?Indiscretions: They can come back to haunt you, learns pastor's wife Phyllis Lorimer.Amends: These could stand to be made between officious list moderator Rosalyn Ebberly and her sister. Perhaps the other SAHM I AMers can teach them something about sisterhood.


To my best friend and husband, Jason, for your
unconditional love and unwavering belief in me,
To my daughters, Jessamyn and Catrin,
for giving me the blessings of mommyhood,
And to my brother, Timothy,
for laughing at my stories of domestic bliss
and encouraging me to write them in a book.

SAHM I Am
Meredith Efken


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Acknowledgments
My own mommy stories alone could never have filled an entire book. I am especially grateful to the following moms whose humorous anecdotes and life experiences inspired or helped me create many of the events in my book: Joan Hall, Daisy Witherell Déry, Nicole Small, Allison Wilson, Kathy Fuller, Vickie McDonough, Barbara Curtis, Tina Pinson, Megan DiMaria, Tricia Nguyen and Amy Kampfer.
A young mom like me finds it difficult to travel around the country to find out what autumn is like in Washington, or how to “talk Texan,” so I rely on my many Internet friends to help me research their local settings. Anything I got right is due to their help, and anything I got wrong is my own fault. A big thank-you to these friends who shared with me what life is like in their corners of the U.S.: Linda Baldwin, Wanda Brunstetter, Sunni Jeffers, Lynette Sowell, Mary DeMuth, Eileen Key, Staci Stallings, Marion Bullock, Karen Witemeyer, Donna Gilbert, DiAnn Mills and Kathleen Y’Barbo.
I could not have brought life to the fictional SAHM I Am e-mail loop without having experienced the joys and trials of belonging to several e-mail communities. The loop for members of American Christian Fiction Writers is an excellent example of the support, encouragement and friendship available through the Internet, and I thank God for the privilege of being part of their fellowship.
Writing a book can be a lonely experience, but thanks to a support network of authors, agents, editors and friends, I’ve found my heart gladdened and my writing skills sharpened. A special thank-you to Ron Sammons of A Finer Choice, LLC, for making my author photo look so nice. He’s been a friend to my family for many years, and it was a privilege to have him involved with my book in this way. I so appreciate those who have read my manuscript, in whole or part, or who have helped me with other aspects of writing this book: Camy Tang, Kristin Billerbeck, Mary Griffith and Brandilyn Collins. In addition, the following people have my deepest respect and appreciation for the contributions they’ve made in my life and my career:
Deb Raney—fellow author who has given me encouragement, advice and a great education about the behind-the-scenes life of an author. When I first started writing, I begged God to give me a mentor, and in Deb, He supplied more than that. He gave me a special friend.
Andrea Boeshaar—part coach, part cheerleader and 100% wonderful agent who believes in me even when I doubt myself, and whose hard work and commitment to my books helped me turn my dream of becoming an author into reality.
Randy Ingermanson—another dear friend and fellow author who read my manuscript in draft form and gave me a great critique. In addition to sharing my book with his daughters (who decided to give Rosalyn’s “Father’s Homecoming” ideas a test-drive, resulting in much hilarity in the Ingermanson household), he always looks for a chance to encourage me, promote my book, make me laugh and help me become a better writer. His generosity and friendship is such a blessing.
Stephenie McBride—my best friend and former college roommate. It’s not often that a writer is blessed with a friend who is also an avid reader and an expert in the book’s subject matter, but I am so blessed. Steph read my book in manuscript form and also helped me with several areas of research. I’m grateful for her feedback and for sharing her experiences with me and for being a sister of my heart for so many years.
Krista Stroever—my editor at Steeple Hill, who was willing to take a chance on my crazy book, nontraditional format, unique subject matter and all. I’ve learned a lot working with her, and I’m a better writer because of it.

CONTENTS
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
BEGIN READING

SAHM I Am
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. With which one of the characters do you most strongly identify? Why? How does that make you feel?
2. The “Green Eggs and Ham” girls (Dulcie, Jocelyn, Phyllis, Brenna and Zelia) have close friendships, despite knowing each other only through the Internet. How do you think they developed that relationship? What are some cultural barriers we face today in forming close friendships? How can we overcome these barriers, and how important is it to do so?
3. Which character is the “voice” of the many expectations placed on women and men? What are some expectations you feel pressured to meet, and how do you feel about this? Where do these expectations come from and why do they exist? How reasonable are they? What do you think can be the result from trying to perform to these standards?
4. During the weekly discussion concerning what books the SAHM I Am loop members are reading, there is a lot of talk about nonfiction versus fiction and the relative merits of each. Compare the attitudes of Rosalyn and Connie on this subject with Phyllis’s view of it. What does it mean for a book to “nourish the soul,” and what books have you read that have accomplished that in your life? What role, if any, does entertainment play in this nourishing process?
5. During a discussion on what their lives were like before they had children, Phyllis makes this comment: “I love my children. I love my husband. But there are days when I feel like I am living their lives instead of my own. And I have a feeling that some morning, after they’re grown or gone, I’m going to wake up and realize my life ended a long time ago, that Phyllis Lorimer died without anyone—including me—noticing.” In what ways can you identify with this statement? How can we balance our own individuality and personhood with the demands of caring for our families or fulfilling other responsibilities? Why is it so difficult to find time to maintain this balance? What happens if we neglect this balance and either live totally for ourselves or totally for other people?
6. What is the source of most of Dulcie and Tom’s marital conflicts? If you were Becky (Tom’s sister) or one of Dulcie’s friends, what advice would you give them about their relationship with each other?
7. Dulcie’s self-image is a constant source of stress for her. What aspects of your own self-image are a struggle for you? From where do our unrealistic expectations of ourselves come? What can we do about it? What does Dulcie mean when she says, “There’s more to being content with myself than fitting into a certain clothing size”?
8. Think about the characters in this story who have been, or will be, touched by adoption in some form or another. Do you know people who are part of this “adoption triangle”—adoptee, adoptive parent or birth mother? What are some of their feelings about adoption? How are their experiences, or the ones of the characters in this book, different than the typical portrayal of adoption in the media or in books? What do you think about the following conversation between Brenna’s husband, Darren, and their daughter, Madeline, regarding her new understanding of adoption?
“Well, I was thinking on the bus about it. And it’s sort of like God, you know?”
“God? In what way, squirt?”
“Well, you know, like how God made us part of His family—when we’re born again. That’s what they say at church. So, are we adopted, Daddy? Are we?”
9. Brenna and Darren struggle with accepting Darren’s infertility. Both male and female infertility can be devastating for a couple who desire a child. Why is this? How do you think our culture (both secular and Christian) views people who are infertile? What should our response be toward someone in this position? How can we create a more accepting and supportive environment for people dealing with this problem?
10. Phyllis and Jonathan are deeply wounded by the church they were serving. In what ways do our churches most commonly wound people? Why does this happen when Christians are supposed to be known by their love? How can we be part of the solution in preventing such wounds from being inflicted? What is the most healthy way to respond when a Christian hurts you? How can we show love and concern for a person who has been hurt by the church?

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Our current notion of “stay-at-home mom” grew out of the Victorian era of the Industrial Revolution, when it became fashionable for middle-class and wealthy women to stay home while their husbands went off to work. Prior to this, most families, except the upper class, operated cottage industries from their homes, requiring both parents to work together to maintain the business as well as raise children. During the post-WWII years, women were encouraged to stay home in order to create job openings for the men returning from war. The Stay-At-Home Mother became the ideal for motherhood—the calm, gracious, well-groomed perfect housekeeper, always ready with milk and cookies, whose children were the epitome of good manners and obedience.
Is this reality for any of you? Yeah…me neither. Yet, it seems many of us are still trying to attain that myth of domestic perfection, and when we fail, we feel guilty. Let’s face it—for a lot of us, being a SAHM is not the Utopia we are often taught to expect. Our tasks are myriad, tedious and repetitive, and the pay is often loneliness, frustration and a sense of failure. The rest of the non-SAHM world tends to view us as pathetic creatures who are wasting our talents and abilities on wiping noses, changing diapers and cleaning house. Honestly, some days, it feels like they’re right!
Even though we know in our hearts that what we are doing has incredible value and that staying home with our kids is really and truly a special privilege and blessing, it’s often hard to remember this in the middle of a child’s temper tantrum or while cleaning up the globs of jelly on the kitchen floor. That’s why I wrote this book. Somehow it’s easier to handle the challenges of this life when we have someone give us a hug and say, “I totally understand.” Consider my story that empathetic hug.
It’s hard to be empathetic without being realistic, though. So, in this book, you’ll notice that the characters tend to be pretty frank with each other and deal with issues that are as messy as a two-year-old eating spaghetti. I tried not to give easy answers or the typical Christian platitudes most of you are tired of hearing. In fact, my goal wasn’t to give answers at all—they’re not mine to give. But if you read this story and come away feeling encouraged, understood or having a better comprehension of what being a SAHM is really like, then I’ve done my job. And if you have a bit of fun in the process, all the better.
I want to give you some additional information regarding a few of the issues in the story. You or your friends may be dealing with these things, and it’s nice to know where to find helpful resources. This is by no means a complete list, but it should get you started:
Embryo Adoption: Endorsed by Focus on the Family as an excellent way to provide frozen embryos a chance to be born and grow up, embryo adoption is an ethical alternative to many of the more controversial infertility treatments. The Snowflakes program at Nightlight Christian Adoptions has more information about this unique, beautiful way to build a family, www.snowflakes.org.
Motherhood: Christian Mommies, www.christian-mommies.com. Extensive site with lots of articles, a discussion board and other resources.
Infertility: Hannah’s Prayer Ministries—Christian Support For Fertility Challenges, www.hannah.org. This online ministry includes support for both male and female infertility as well as miscarriage, the death of a child, etc.
International Adoption: RainbowKids, www.rainbowkids.com/index.chtml. This extensive Web site is a great starting place to begin researching international adoption and related issues.
Stay-At-Home Mothers: Hearts At Home, www.hearts-at-home.org. This Web site offers a magazine, conference info., bulletin boards and extensive links.
Women: Her Well-Being, e-mail discussion group, www.groups.yahoo.com/group/her-wellbeing. “A practical how-to list for Christian women, offering a listening ear, practical advice and a safe place to talk about ‘women’s stuff’ and share our stories and concerns.” Also, Christian Women Today, www.christianwomentoday.com, an extensive Web site with articles, discussion forums, advice columns and just about any other resources to help and encourage women in all stages of life.
E-mail loops like the one in the story can be found for most of these topics and just about any others through Yahoo Groups (www.groups.yahoo.com) and similar sites. You can do a search for your subject and peruse the list of available groups, then subscribe to the ones you are interested in. Some groups are more nurturing and considerate of people’s feelings than others, so you might have to try several before finding one that is a good fit for you.
Visit my Web site, www.meredithefken.com, for more information about me, my upcoming books, additional articles and resources on some of these subjects and support for writers. I would love to hear from you and give you the opportunity to receive my newsletter, so please send me an e-mail at meredith@meredithefken.com or snail-mail me c/o Steeple Hill, 233 Broadway, Ste. 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Thank you again for choosing my book to read. May God richly bless you.



Hey Honey Sis!
Just little ol’ me, letting all y’all know we’re home from Italy. Great to be back on our native TEXAS soil. Frank and I were so disappointed you couldn’t make it to the wedding, though we understand it was short notice, bless your heart. Mama and Daddy said it was the most beautiful wedding in the world. I thought that was a tad insensitive considering your wedding was pretty, too, but I do believe mine was the day of my dreams—designer gown, gorgeous Italian husband, sunset on the beach, all my friends. And dear Patricia gave me a promotion and a raise as a wedding gift. You’d have had to scrape me off the floor I was so surprised! I’ll be headed back to work tomorrow with a ring on my finger and the title of senior public relations manager for the biggest marketing firm in Houston!
I wish you could see how great Ashley, Courtney and Stanley took to their new Nana and Papa. Mama and Daddy were fussing over them so much, you’d never know they already have three grandchildren. How ARE y’all’s sweet little kiddos, anyway? I can’t hardly wait for them to meet my stepchildren. My darlings and me just love each other to pieces already—the poor dears needed a mother. Frank and them treat me like I’m some hero, bless their hearts. And Mama said if there was a mother-of-the-year award, I deserved it, taking on a 9-, 6-, and 4-year-old, and me only 30 years old! I said, “Well, Rosalyn just turned 32, and she has 3 kids.” Mama laughed and said, “True, but she doesn’t have any career or social life, so what else could she do but have children?”
I’m attaching pictures of the wedding and our Italian honeymoon. Frank took all the Italy pictures, and he’s already griping about the wedding photos. But he’s such an artist about his photography, I didn’t expect nothing else. So there ya go. Enjoy!
Ciao,
Mrs. Veronica Marcello, WIFE of Francesco Marcello (doesn’t that sound beautiful?)


Blessed Mothers,
I hope you are having a FABULOUS day at home with your precious little ones. I know I am. It’s a sunny, beautiful morning here in Hibiscus, WA. Jefferson, my five-year-old, just gave me a bouquet of flowers he picked from our garden. He gave me a kiss and said, “Daddy gives you flowers so I wanted to, too.” Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?
Our Topic of the Week is all about how to have a healthy self-image without being self-centered. Some ways I do that are:
1) Make a list of all the nice things people say about me. (This took a while since there were many things to write.)
2) Make a list of all the things I’m good at.
3) Make a list of my best accomplishments.
4) Make a list of things I need to improve. (Fortunately, this was relatively short.)
5) Write out all the verses in the Bible that talk about how much God loves me. (I whipped this one out during my quiet time this morning. It only took two hours, leaving me with enough time to go jogging before my children woke up and DH had to leave for work.)
As you can see, I’m into lists. What about you ladies? What can you do to promote a positive self-image?
As always, humbled to be serving you as,
Rosalyn Ebberly
SAHM I AM Loop Moderator
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)


’cause Griffith just ate one.
Z


Zelia,
No, he’ll be fine. Tyler ate a lizard when he was 2, and he’s managed to survive to the ripe old age of 8. Don’t worry.
Speaking of Tyler, you all have to cheer for his soccer team tomorrow night. Go PIKES!!!
Jocelyn


That’s a relief. Of course, I should be more worried about whether or not Seamus will live to see his 7th birthday. Turns out, he talked little brother into swallowing the worm. Threatened to cut the head off Griffith’s Big Bird if he didn’t chow down. When Tristan got home, Seamus had to confess it all to daddy.
So Tristan puts on his James Earl Jones voice, all low and rumbly with that Zimbabwean/English accent (oooh, gives me tingles just thinking about it) and looks WAYYYY down at Seamus, whose little brown body is now trembling in boxer pj’s. “Seamus,” he says, “did you force your brother to eat a worm?”
Seamus has the nerve to squeak out that he did not FORCE Griffith to eat the worm, he merely SUGGESTED that it might be the only way to save Big Bird. So Tristan says, “Son, you will go TO your room, and I will dee-al with you in a moment.” I tell you, even I shivered at that. No one is as good at sounding ominous and foreboding as my husband!
Daddy’s little girl, Cosette, knows no fear. She marches over to him, looks up with those huge brown eyes and says, “Daddy, be careful with Seamus. He’s still in his formative years.”
Tristan remains granite-faced. He taps Cosette’s nose and says, “Yes, little one, and so he shall be formed, while there’s still time for it.” I just LOVE how he talks!
The short of it is that Seamus will not be able to go with us to the children’s museum tomorrow, but instead has to stay with Molly—a friend of mine who has a five-year-old girl, Allison, who loves to play “getting married” and makes Seamus be the groom every time we visit. A worse punishment couldn’t be found!
So, to quote the Bard, “All’s well that ends well” and “Come, come, you froward and unable worms!”
Z


Hi Girls,
Loop Mom Connie here. I just wanted to send a friendly reminder to put OT for “Off Topic” in the subject heading of e-mails not pertaining to the weekly topic. We have over three hundred moms on this loop, and including OT in the subject helps us sort through the e-mails we aren’t interested in. Not that I’m not interested in all the little details of your lives, like worms and soccer games, but we really need to focus.
TTFN,
Connie Lawson
SAHM I AM Loop Mom


I really don’t think anything related to children could reasonably be considered off topic in a discussion group for stay-at-home moms.
Z


Zelia Muzuwa wrote:

I agree.
Jocelyn


I’m quoting from the SAHM I AM welcome message:
Please do not send one-liner messages such as “I agree” or “Me, too” to the entire loop. Send it to the individual to whom it is directed.
Thanks!
Rosalyn
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)


Sorry.
Z


Me, too! :)
Jocelyn


I mean it!
Connie


Come on, Connie, we were just giving Rosalyn a hard time. It’s late, the kids are in bed, and Ducie never showed up for our Monday online chat. What do you expect us to do for entertainment?
Z


…the worst day of my entire life! I may sound like a melodramatic teenager, but I’m not exaggerating. I came home from a church meeting last night and curled up on my bed in a fetal position. FETAL, mind you—not in the position of actually carrying a fetus, as some older women have asserted upon seeing my jogging-pants and T-shirt swathed body. No, fetal—as in lying on one’s side and tucking head and knees in toward body so as to create the sensation of prenatal security and comfort. A form commonly assumed when one begins one’s day cleaning up smelly diaper artwork off bedroom walls and ends it by being publicly humiliated in front of one’s church peers, with a trip to the gynecologist in between.
Oh, and so far today isn’t much better. Went to the grocery store and the cashier tried to talk to me in SPANISH! I get so tired of that. Just because one is adopted from Guatemala as a 3-year-old does not mean one is fluent in Spanish. Will people never stop judging me by my appearance? ARGH!
Adios, amigas,
Dulcie Huckleberry


Dulcie,
We missed you last night! What happened? Is everyone okay? Are YOU okay?
Jocelyn


Dear GE and Ham,
I’d never tell the whole SAHM I AM loop this, but since we have our own little sub-group, I know I can trust you. So if you want the whole, pathetic tale, fine. Grab a box of Kleenexes and settle in. I already alluded to the episode with Haley and her dirty diaper—all over the walls and crib. Having twins is hard enough without one of them trying to become the 1-year-old equivalent of those modern artists who hang a toilet on the wall and get paid millions for it.
In the afternoon, I had my annual gynecology checkup. First, I discover I am still ten pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight from the twins. (You don’t even want to know how far over I am from before McKenzie.) And since I am now older than 25, they thought it would be good to check my cholesterol. Is there anything more middle-aged than having to get one’s cholesterol tested? I think not.
It turns out that I have low GOOD cholesterol, and so am at HIGH RISK FOR HEART DISEASE! Can you believe it? I am 26 years old, for crying out loud! How can I possibly be at high risk?
I asked the good doc, and he said it was probably because I haven’t been exercising much. I’m like, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? Not exercising, my foot! I chase after a 3-year-old and twin toddlers all day long, and I live in a two-story house where I have to run up and down the steps every time McKenzie tattles on her sisters. I most certainly do get exercise!”
But he just shrugged. Evidently, low good cholesterol is as bad as high bad cholesterol and cannot be changed much by diet. So the only chance I have to rescue myself from premature heart attacks is to increase my aerobic activity.
I personally think it’s a bunch of nonsense. It’s a conspiracy, I tell you. The doctors are all in league with the fitness clubs and exercise equipment manufacturers—they’ve signed a secret pact to scare their patients into spending thousands of dollars on gym memberships and elliptical machines. Not to mention the Ab Blaster. They’ve been so successful on our parents that now they’ve turned their malevolence against us innocent gen-Xers.
I’m so mad, I’m going to have a 1,200-calorie burger for lunch, in protest. No, wait…nobody could possibly be THAT mad.
Waiting to die,
Dulcie


Dulcie, are you sure you count as a gen-Xer? I’m 33 so I KNOW I do. But 26? I mean, we can’t let just anybody don that title of distinction anytime they want to…. What do you think, Ham? Can we count her? She’s SOOOOO young!
Of course, anyone at high risk of heart disease by age 26 may not live to reach her 30s, so maybe we’d better bestow an honorary designation on her, just in case. Sort of a “make a wish” concession.
Sorry to hear about the weigh-in. I understand—each of my four babies has done something strange and unique to my body. By the way, there are worse things than being told to exercise more. Some of us actually like to do it.
Love,
Jocelyn


I don’t know about the gen-X question, she might want to hang her hat with the millennials. They’re the ones everyone is pinning hopes of the future on—as if the future is going to be that bright with global terrorism, disease, poverty and political corruption, but that’s just my gen-X cynicism.:) After all, I turned the big 3-0 last month, so I have a right to be cynical, don’t I?
Enough talk about generations. It’s all nonsense anyway. I want to hear about the rest of Dulcie’s day. So far, it doesn’t sound bad enough to explain us getting stood up. I mean it—I wait all week for the chance to chat with you. I’m still suffering from emotional trauma.
I’ll bill you for therapy, okay?
Z (aka Ham)


Am too a gen-Xer. I have baby-boomer parents, both my brothers are gen-Xers, and so is my husband. So, if nothing else, I’m guilty by association.
And I don’t want to hear any complaining about emotional trauma. I went to a meeting at church last night, wearing jogging pants and a baggy T-shirt. It occurred to me that I might want to change clothes, but then I’d have more laundry to do, so I didn’t. The pastor’s wife saw me from across the room and waved at me over about thirty people’s heads. Then she looked me up and down and got a huge grin on her face.
“Dulcie!” she exclaimed. “When, when, WHEN?”
Of course, all thirty heads swiveled my direction, sixty eyes suddenly riveted to my midsection. I got all flustered and my face felt sunburned. All I could manage was, “Not, not, NOT!”
Her response? “Are you sure?”
I’m not kidding! She actually frowned and stared harder at me. What? Does she think I’m lying to her? Or does she expect me to shout out across all those people, “No, I assure you, my husband has been gone on business trips almost constantly the past several months, and when he is home, I’m too irritated by his absence to want sex, so I am quite certain I’M NOT PREGNANT!”
Anyway, she wasn’t done consuming her own leg yet. She shook her head and smiled brightly at me, as if she’d just solved the problem for herself. “Oh, well, I guess you’re just wearing your all-you-can-eat clothes.”
MY ALL-I-CAN-EAT CLOTHES? Why, why, tell me, would a slim, 40-something pastor’s wife say such a humiliating thing to a defenseless SAHM? Was it really necessary to remind me, in front of all those people, that my figure has yet to recover from the distortion of carrying twins? Have I not already been ground into the dust of the earth?
I tried to laugh it off, but Marianne saw me, and you know I can’t hide anything from her. She walked over and told me she had something for me in her car, and when we got there, I just bawled. Marianne is very sweet, but she already has her figure back and Helene is only 8 months old. And Brandon comes home every day from the biochemical lab he works for and spends time with her. And she went to college to get a home economics degree, just so she could become the most brilliant and content SAHM in the world (but humbler than Rosalyn). She spends all day quilting and scrapbooking. The only fly in her utopian ointment is Helene. Where that baby got such a temper, I have NO idea—Brandon and Marianne are both so soft-spoken. But, hey, nobody’s life should be absolutely perfect.
Anyway, I digress. Needless to say, Marianne was scant comfort to my tattered ego. So I skipped the meeting, came home and put the girls to bed, and ate some ice cream and watched a stupid reality show on TV. I thought about chatting with you, and went to put on my all-I-can-chat pajamas. But as I was washing my face, I looked in the mirror, and guess what I found?
MY FIRST GRAY HAIR!
Thus, the fetal position and no chat. How on earth did I get so old? Sunday night, I was still the energetic, perky 20-something mom of three toddlers. Monday night, I have one foot in the grave with impending heart disease and look as if I frequent all-you-can-eat buffets. Not to mention the lingering odor of bodily excretions wafting throughout the house. If that doesn’t say “nursing home” to you, I don’t know what does.
Waiting glumly for my social security check,
Dulcie


Reason #1: “A gray head is a crown of glory; it is found in the way of righteousness.” Proverbs 16:31 DON’T YOU DARE PULL THAT HAIR OUT, YOU HEAR ME? :) IT’S A BADGE OF HONOR.
Reason #2: Your pastor’s wife probably went home later and banged her head against a wall wondering how she could have said something so stupid. Come on, you know that’s what you or I would be doing. Pastor’s wife or not, she can’t be all THAT different from the rest of us.
I think you should tell the whole sahmiam group about it. For encouragement—we can read and think “Gee, what am I complaining about? Things could always be worse!” :) Just teasin’
Z


Dear Future-shapers,
Dulcie, what a horrible day! However, I suppose if you’re going to wear jogging pants and a T-shirt to church, you might be asking for problems. I always believe in looking my best, even if I’m home all day.
Jocelyn, so sorry to hear that Tyler’s team lost. That’s too bad. But at least it’s an opportunity to build good sportsmanship. That’s something I worry about with my kids—Suzannah and Jefferson haven’t ever had to experience the pain of losing, though they are involved in piano and Bible club competitions. Of course, they are only 6 and 5, but they already have quite a collection of ribbons and awards. And Abigail’s just 3, but I anticipate she will follow in their footsteps. We’ll have to figure out how to teach them good sportsmanship some other way, I guess.
That reminds me—I am very pleased to announce that my recipe for Fresh Figs with Warm Balsamic Glaze won grand champion in the open division of our county fair. It will be headed to the state fair later this month. I’ll be glad to share the recipe with all of you. The key is to use sucanat or organic sugar—none of that refined junk. Just e-mail me if you want the recipe.
Have a fabulous SAHM day!
Rosalyn
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)


I’D LIKE TO TAKE THE BREAD OF IDLENESS AND SHOVE IT DOWN HER THROAT!
Dulcie


Now, Dulcie, I don’t think that’s exactly what Christ had in mind when He said, “Feed my sheep.”:) Give her grace, okay? She doesn’t mean to be…well, the way she is.
Peace,
Jocelyn


You’re right. I’ll drizzle it with “warm balsamic glaze” first. Using refined sugar, none of that organic junk.
Dulcie


Hi Darling,
I’ll be home around 6 this evening, and we’ll have the whole weekend together, OK? Sorry I wasn’t able to return your phone call on Monday. Sounds like it was a rough day. But by the time I got done with meetings and everything, I just went back to the hotel and crashed. This entire week has been wild. Glad it’s over.
I miss you, can’t wait to get home and see you and the girls.
All my love,
Tom


Virtuous Women,
This week I thought we could discuss the highlight of our children’s day—when Daddy comes home. What little things can we do each day to make this important event special, not only for our children, but also for our dearest hardworking husbands who sacrifice so much to provide for our families?
In our home, we spend from 4 to 5 every afternoon in preparation activities. These include the following:
1) I make sure my hair is done, and I put on makeup and change into fresher clothes.
2) My children make sure their clothes are clean, their hair is neat and their rooms are sparkling.
3) We tidy up the house.
4) Dinner is always nearly ready and the table set.
Then we have various extras we throw in on a rotating basis. Sometimes, we literally “roll out the red carpet”—a carpet runner laid on the sidewalk leading up to the front door—and give him a paper crown the children colored. Other times we simply have soothing music playing in the background while we rub his feet and shoulders. But my children’s favorite (and Chad’s) is the “Daddy’s Home” song. I wrote the lyrics a few years ago, and set them to the tune of “Oklahoma!”
HERE!
He comes, my daddy’s (or hubby’s) home from working hard all day,
And with kisses sweet,
And hugs we greet
Him at the door, just so that we can say…
How much we
LOVE!
To have him home with us the end of every day,
He’s a brave, strong man,
We’ll do all we can
To show our thanks to him in every way.
(Refrain)
Oh, Daddy, we think you are grand,
Let us cheer you and give you a hand!
Why don’t you
SIT…DOWN! You’ve earned a little rest,
Oh, Daddy, dearest,
No father ever could top you,
Daddy, you are the BEST!
(Repeat refrain to last line)
Daddy, you’re the
B—E—S—T—D—A—D—D—Y, Best DAD-DY!
Hey!
Cute, huh? :) (And it’s even educational, with the spelling at the end.) Chad actually gets tears in his eyes when we sing it. It’s such a great way to bless him.
So what do you do to celebrate your husband’s homecoming?
Your faithful servant,
Rosalyn Ebberly
SAHM I AM Loop Moderator
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)


Okay, I’m new here, so maybe I’m missing something. Why on earth would you waste time with paper crowns and ridiculous songs when we work just as hard at home as our husbands do at their jobs? No offense, Rosalyn—you get an A for creativity. But it doesn’t make sense to me.
We live on a farm in Oklahoma with Darren’s parents. I’m the city girl, and we’ve only been married three years, so I’m still learning the ropes around here. But Darren’s mom and I drive the tractor sometimes, along with gardening, feeding chickens and taking care of the bucket calves’ bottle-feedings. That’s in addition to cleaning the house and cooking. Madeline is 7 and will be in second grade in a few weeks. She’s got a whole list of chores, too.
If we rolled out a red carpet, Darren’s boots would fill it up with mud and cow manure in no time. And when he comes in to wash up for supper, we’re all too hungry and tired to have a party about it. But Darren doesn’t mind. He knows we’re a team—we all work hard, and that means a lot more to him than theatrics every afternoon.
That’s my two cents.
Brenna Lindberg


Would someone PLEASE give that girl a standing ovation? Do I hear an “amen”? Preach it, sister!
Z


Come on, honey, please? You won’t return my phone calls, and I think you’re deleting my messages without reading them. I told you I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the weekend. I just wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t know you already had so many plans made. You’re right—I shouldn’t have told your parents you were sick Friday. And I shouldn’t have called Marianne and Brandon to cancel the Sunday game night. When did that become a tradition, anyway? And I honestly had no idea you and Marianne spend every Saturday morning scrapbooking together. I’m not gone THAT many weekends, am I? I guess I was expecting to come home on Friday and find you and the girls waiting for me, and when it turned out you were all so busy, I lost my temper. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me?
I know my travel schedule isn’t ideal, but you have to admit it pays the bills and then some. I want you to know I really, really appreciate how supportive you are and how you hold down the fort while I’m gone. You are an awesome wife and mom. I don’t know how you do it, but I really admire you. And I’m crazy about you. I promise I’ll come home next weekend—and I’m giving you a whole week’s notice so maybe you can put me down in your PDA for at least an hour appointment. Can you fit me in?
Your very apologetic husband, who loves you with all his heart,
Tom


I agree with Brenna. Just because DH goes off to work doesn’t mean he needs a fan club when he comes home. It’s his choice to be gone so long—so what makes him think we’re going to be sitting around pining for him all week? He comes hopping back through the door, expecting us to drop whatever we’re doing, changing all our plans, just so he can “spend time” with us. If he wants “quality time,” I say let him get a stay-at-home job and stop whining. I’m certainly not going to crown him king of MY castle when he’s only there a few hours each week. He wants to be part of the family? Then he’d better wise up and learn that our lives don’t revolve around him and his work schedule!
And that, my friends, is MY .02
Dulcie


Tom,
Eat my PDA.
Dulcie


Hey Sis,
You know how you used to give me your opinion about my dating life? It made me mad at the time, having “little squirt” stick her nose into my personal business, but I never told you how much I ended up appreciating it. And now I need some marital advice. Don’t you dare tease me about it, either! Asking for help from my little sister is bad enough.
I’ve been on a programming gig in KC for the past five months. Nothing unusual—but instead of only 3 to 4 days at a time, I’m gone for the whole week and sometimes weekends. This client needed a system overhaul that should take about two years, and of course they want it in six months. Dulcie’s steamed—though I don’t see why. I TOLD her it was going to be a rough assignment. She should be glad it’s just KC and not New York or something.
Anyway, I screwed up this weekend. I’ll spare you the sordid details—you’ll get them in the attached e-mail. I sent it to her today as an apology, but for some reason it only made her angrier. Could you read it and tell me what on earth is so bad? I thought I groveled very nicely. And I was sincere, too. But obviously, SOMETHING about it is wrong. I was hoping you, being female and all, could show me the error of my ways—like you did when we were kids. *grin*
Thanks, Bec,
Tom



Dulcie, this is SO not what I meant! And, considering I got an A in my English comp classes in college, I think my grasp of the language is good enough that what I did mean should be clear enough without me repeating it. I don’t appreciate my messages being turned into some ax to grind just because you are mad at your husband about his work habits.
Sincerely,
Brenna Lindberg


Hey Bro,
You idiot! You were doing just great until this:

THAT’S what killed you! Sarcasm. Tsk, tsk. It’ll getcha every time. Even Jordan spotted that one right off. And he’s not the most perceptive male in the world—sweet, yes, but he has very little aptitude for “girl speak.” (And he’s reading this over my shoulder and growling about it, so I may have to go and soothe his wounded feelings.) :)
Anyway, you asked for advice—here’s mine…short of getting a job in Omaha, which would be the ideal situation, of course. I bet it’s really hard for her to take care of everything all by herself when you’re gone. I know it would be exhausting for me. She needs to know she has your support, even long-distance. Start showing Dulcie how much you miss her and need her. Write her e-mails just to tell her how your day went, or that you love her. Ask her how you can help with the girls—maybe call them at bedtime and tell them good-night. Find out what Dulcie needs, and get it for her if at all possible. And romance her! I told you that when you were dating. Well, it doesn’t end at the altar. We girls need romancing until the day we go home to be with Jesus. (And that’s a good reminder for Jordan, too, who is STILL reading over my shoulder. Good grief, he needs to get a life!) :)
Listen, I have to go—Grace is being every inch the “terrible two” that she is, and I have to nurse Luke. I can’t believe he’s already a month old—it goes so fast!
With love,
Becky

P.S. Did you know Mom is actually DATING somebody? His name is Morris Hash, and he lives in Branson, and works with Mom at Shoji. I guess it’s been going on for a couple of months now. I’m glad for her—it wasn’t easy for her to be alone all those years. I just hope this Hash guy treats her better than Dad did. She’s bringing him to visit us in a week, so I’ll make sure to tell you what I think after I meet him.


Hi Dulcie,
Thanks for your e-mail—don’t worry about it. Darren is wonderful, but we have our problems, too. In fact, I was planning to write to you about something. I was reading the Loop archives and I noticed you mentioned you were adopted from Guatemala. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind sharing with me about that experience.
When I mentioned my 7-year-old daughter, Madeline, I left out that she’s the result of a very stupid choice I made as a 16-year-old, but one of the best blessings in my life. At first, I thought about giving her up for adoption, but my parents said they would help me raise her until I finished high school. After that, we were on our own. I worked part-time and took courses at the community college in Bartlesville. That’s where I met Darren. He was taking business classes to run the family farm with his dad. He didn’t mind that I had a daughter, and we got married three years ago. Now we live on the farm in a little house near his parents’ big house.
The problem is, we’ve been trying to get pregnant for two years, with no luck. Darren is afraid it might be his fault because obviously I’ve been pregnant already. But I wonder if maybe something happened to me because I was young when I had Madeline. Either way, we can’t afford infertility treatments, and I’m not sure we want to. I was interested in international adoption, but I don’t know anything about it. I haven’t been brave enough to bring it up with Darren. Not sure how he would react to it.
If you don’t want to talk about your adoption, I understand. I’m not trying to be nosy.
Friends,
Brenna


Becky,
You probably won’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you for the advice. You’re likely right. From now on, I’ll be more involved, try to meet her needs, be a better support for her and the girls. I want to show her that I understand how hard it is for them when I’m gone and make sure she knows how much I need her. This better work. I love her and the girls with all my heart, and I really do miss them.
Thanks, sis!
Tom


Boy howdy, Frank said the funniest thing to Mama and Daddy today! They arrived last night for a visit, and Frank got to teasing them this morning. “Mama, Papa Stewart,” he says, “we are honored to have you visit our home. It is a pleasure to see you again so soon after the wedding. But my Nica and I, we are newlyweds, and need time to wrap ourselves in our private world of love. Why do you not visit your other daughter—Rosalyn?” Then he dipped me for a theatrical kiss.
Daddy laughed and slapped Frank on the back. “You’ve never met Ros, have you?”
No joke! But there ya go. Now isn’t that TOO funny? :)
Veronica


Tactful Talkers,
I have noticed that there are some people in this world who cannot help but stick their feet in their mouths on occasion. Whether it is the store clerk who mutters inappropriate things within our children’s keen hearing, or the well-meaning friend or relation who unwittingly insults us, many individuals simply lack tact. This week, I’d like us to discuss how we can respond to such unexpected attacks and how we can teach our children to keep a guard on their tongues.
I always find it useful to return good for evil. I like to respond with a “I’m sure you didn’t mean that to come out in such a nasty, spiteful way, so even though I ought to be livid at your rudeness and insensitivity, I choose to forgive you and extend to you mercy—which, as we all know, means showing compassion and kindness to someone who is in no way deserving of it.”
I also make a point to never be guilty of the same offense myself. After all, Proverbs 16:24 says, “Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”
Sweetly,
Rosalyn Ebberly,
SAHM I Am Loop Moderator
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)


Dearest Ronnie,
You might want to be careful about how your little stories come across. I knew what you meant, but someone who didn’t know you might have thought you were being unkind. Since you don’t read the Bible, you won’t be familiar with this verse, but I always find it helpful to keep in mind. Consider it a friendly bit of advice from your loving big sister:
“As a ring of gold in a swine’s snout, so is a beautiful woman who lacks discretion.” Proverbs 11:22.
Lovingly,
Rosalyn
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)


Dear Brenna,
Anyone who knows me knows I’m very open about my adoption. I’ll be glad to answer whatever questions I can for you, but my parents’ experience of twenty-three years ago is bound to be much different than the process today. I know it’s still pretty expensive, though.
One thing that doesn’t change is the ignorance of some people. Shortly after my parents brought me home, a couple stopped them at church. “Are you going to tell her she’s adopted?” the wife asked my mom.
Mom tells me she looked down at my chocolate-brown eyes and wavy, dark hair and swallowed her smile. “I don’t know. Lawrence and I are blond and blue-eyed—do you think she’ll notice?”
According to the story, the lady blushed like a bouquet of roses. “Oh! I guess so!”
My dad couldn’t resist adding, “Well, Maureen, maybe we won’t have to tell Dulcie she’s adopted after all. I mean, if no one else can see the difference…”
My folks had a good laugh about it later—but that’s only one of our family’s “stupid comments about adoption” stories. I’ll have to tell you more sometime.
Z e-mailed me that you’re chatting with us tonight! I’ll talk to you then.
Hugs,
Dulcie


Dulcie,
Chatting with you all last night was fun. Thanks for including me. And thanks for being willing to talk about adoption, too. We could have a great time swapping “stupid comments” stories because there is an entire set for infertility also. My favorite is “Well, I get pregnant if my husband just looks at me.” I’m always like, “Really? What happens to the other women he looks at?”
I know, I know—as a Christian, I shouldn’t return rudeness for rudeness. But if they only knew how much their words hurt!
Brenna


Hi Brenna,
I’m sorry to hear people are so insensitive. I get dumb remarks about my twins, too, but I’m sure those don’t sting so much compared to what you have to deal with. I will pray for you and your husband—that’s got to be very painful.
Here’s one of the funniest twin comments I’ve received, just to make you smile:
Lady in Grocery Store, peering at Haley and Aidan in their baby seats: “(gasp!) You’ve got TWO babies!”
Me, after a difficult day, with no patience remaining: “Yeah! There’s a buy-one-get-one-free sale in the next aisle over. If you hurry, I think there’s still a couple left!”
She about fell over her cart in her hurry to get away. I should feel guilty, but I feel guiltier about not feeling guilty. :)
Grins,
Dulcie


Thanks, Dulcie, you have no idea how much I needed a smile today. :)
Brenna


Darling Dulcie,
I was on a break here at work and was thinking about you. Imagining those dark eyes, and the sweetness of your lips. I just wanted to send you a note and let you know I’m counting the minutes until I can be with you again, to feel your arms around me, to hear the melody of your voice. I can’t wait to plunge my fingers into your thick tresses and sweep you off your feet so we can lose ourselves in the paradise of our love.
Love,
Tom


You guys, I think someone hijacked Tom’s computer. Or his brain. You have to read the attached e-mail. I’m freaked out! (By the way, I added Brenna to our Green Eggs alias. Hi, Brenna!)
Dulcie


To quote the bard:
“Beshrew me, but his passion moves me so, that hardly can I check my eyes from tears…”
What on earth did you do to that poor man, Dulcie?
Freaked out with you, babe,
Z


FREAKED OUT? Do you know what some girls would do to get an e-mail like that from their husbands? In fact, I don’t believe he wrote it. I think you made it up to make us jealous. :)
Jocelyn


Hi Becky!
You’d be proud of me. After patching things up with Dulcie on Monday over the phone, I sent her an e-mail today. And not just any e-mail—a LUV note. Can’t show it to you—it’s too personal, just between me and Dulcie.
You didn’t tell me it would be so hard! I started over about six times before I finally got smart. The secretary here always reads romance novels during her lunch break. I swallowed my pride and asked to see it. She looked at me like I was crazy, then she got all gooey-eyed on me. Told me she thought it was real touching to meet a guy who liked romance and wasn’t afraid to show it. BRU—THER! Anyway, I snuck the book to my desk and just copied some of the stuff I thought a girl would like. Piece of cake!
By the way, you don’t read that junk, do you? Some of it made me blush! If I ever catch Dulcie with a book like that, I’ll burn it. It was hard work finding things to write that wouldn’t get me fired! Anyway, I’ll let you know how she responds—IF it’s appropriate for my kid sister’s ears, that is.
Thanks again!
Tom


I do not read those sort of books! :)
Good for you for trying your hand at writing a love note. However, I think one written in your own words would have just as much impact, and then you don’t have to worry about borrowing any more novels from the secretary. How about that, okay?
Are you and Dulcie hosting Thanksgiving? I know it’s only August, but Mom was wanting to know, and Jordan’s got to get that Wednesday off. Mom wants to bring Morris, just so you’re prepared. They’re coming this weekend—I think it sounds serious.
Love,
Becky

P.S. Jordan says you’d better fork over the note or else. You might as well—she probably passed it around to all her friends anyway. Which means all their husbands have seen it, too. Why keep your sister and brother-in-law in the dark? :)



Dulcie wouldn’t do that. Trust me. I’m the one who’s known her almost six years, remember? She’s got more sense than that. You can tell Jordan neither of you are EVER going to see that e-mail. Writing it made me really miss her. I should think about trying to get a job with less travel. It’s just that with the programming market being what it is right now, it’s not a smart time to be looking. Did you know they’re talking about sending me to Alaska this spring?
Tom


Tom, honey,
That was a very interesting note! Are you okay? I mean, I can ask Dr. Conner for a referral in KC if you’d like to see someone. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I hope you aren’t getting sick. But if you are, don’t worry about anything except getting well. The girls and I will hold down the fort here. Everything will be fine.
Love you much!
Dulcie


I’m not sick! I wrote you a letter trying to show you how I feel about you, and you think I need to see a doctor? What is your problem, anyway?
Tom


Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to offend you. But really—“lose ourselves in the paradise of our love”??? You NEVER say things like that! Did you copy that from a romance novel, or what?
Your devoted (though somewhat suspicious) love,
Dulcie


HE COPIED FROM A ROMANCE NOVEL! Can you believe it? After I e-mailed him, he called and confessed. I asked him why he would do something so silly. His response: “I wanted to tell you how I felt, but my words all sounded stupid. You deserve better than that, so I figured someone who writes romantic stuff for a living would be able to say it with more flair.”
Isn’t that sweet? I told him next time he wants to copy something, try Sonnets of the Portuguese. Or Shakespeare. But that his own words are really the ones I want most. He’s coming home this weekend and taking me on a REAL date! Imagine that!
Now, if only he’d get a job here in Omaha so he could be home more often….
Blissfully,
Dulcie


Oh, please. The only things more nauseating than your e-mail, Dulcie, are Rosalyn’s weekly topics. But I still love you. :)
Z


Thought all you lovely ladies would like to know how this came out…
My pastor’s wife approaches me in church this morning. “Dulcie,” she croons, “it occurred to me the other day that I may have accidentally hurt your feelings at the meeting with my little comment about your clothes.”
YA THINK? (But I don’t say it…honest.) I just shrug and try to look a little confused—which really isn’t all that difficult for me these days. “Oh, well…I knew what you meant.”
She gives me a gushing hug. “I’m SOOOO sorry, dear!” Then she pulls back and looks at me (I was wearing brown knit pants and a khaki tunic top). “You look great, REALLY!” Sure. That’s why she thought I was pregnant. Must have been my glowing countenance that fooled her.
“Well, thank you,” I tell her.
She takes one more hard look at my outfit and smiles sweetly. “You must just like to wear BIG clothes, that’s all!” Then one parting hug, and off she goes, radiating joy, peace and love to all. (Seriously, guys, despite the bad foot-in-mouth disorder, she’s a really sweet person.)
Sometimes, you just gotta wear your “all-you-can-laugh” outfit—because it’s the only one that nothing will stick to. :)
Cheers,
Dulcie


Dulcie, I admire your forgiving spirit, and your ability to see the good in her despite her faults. However, the next time she’s about to nibble her toes, you need to hold up your church bulletin and use the following quote from you-know-who: “Shut your mouth, dame, or with this paper shall I stop it.”
Z


<“Shut your mouth, dame, or with this paper shall I stop it.”>
I should hope no one would EVER say something like that to a PASTOR’S WIFE! Being married to a pastor is in itself a high calling, and these women deserve to be shown the respect and honor due to them for their love and support for the men appointed by God to be our spiritual leaders. Maybe this woman is gently trying to guide Dulcie into making better health and fashion choices. Remember, my friends, the meek shall inherit the earth.
Yours,
Rosalyn
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)



Rosalyn, With all due respect to your position as Loop moderator, I would like to express my strong disagreement to your thoughts. I AM a pastor’s wife, and, if I had a habit of humiliating my fellow sisters in Christ without realizing it, I would definitely want someone to tell me to “Shut your mouth, dame.” (Great Shakespeare quote, Zelia. Let’s talk Bard later, okay? My master’s degree is in early modern English literature. I bet I can match you quote for quote.)
I don’t believe that my calling is any higher than anyone else’s. I didn’t hear a voice in thunder tell me to “Go marry Jonathan Lorimer, for he is going to be a pastor.” I went on a blind date with the guy, thought he was extremely attractive, and fell madly in love with him before I even knew what his career goals were.
Furthermore, we aren’t even remotely close to being saintly. When we met, both of us were very lonely, and neither of us had much dating experience. We felt an instant rapport intellectually and emotionally, and it didn’t take long for us to connect physically, too—only two months. Our daughter, Julia, was five months old at our wedding.
We repented and kept our relationship pure from that time on, but Jonathan struggled with whether or not to still become a pastor. His own pastor was the one who showed him that sin is sin, and people are people—none are better or worse than any others.
So please don’t put us up on pedestals. There are none righteous, no, not one. Only Christ.
Your friend,
Phyllis Lorimer


Dear, sweet Phyllis, and friends,
I think perhaps my e-mail may have been misunderstood. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to think I believe pastors’ wives to be somehow more spiritual than the rest of us. I only meant to say that we shouldn’t speak with disrespect to ANYBODY—no matter what their position is.
Phyllis, thank you for being SO vulnerable and sharing your heart with us regarding your past sins. It made me more grateful than ever that I chose to have a pure relationship with my husband. I’m sure your choices have produced negative emotional baggage Chad and I will never have to worry about. What a blessing!
Have a blessed evening, everyone!
Rosalyn


Oh, Ros, I got me married to the most romantic man! He surprised me yesterday, for no reason at all, with a trip to the most exclusive, elegant day spa in Houston. I swan, you coulda knocked me down with a feather! I spent an entire ten hours surrounded by luxury, being pampered and cared for, while he took the kids to the zoo and a movie. He said he’d been fixing to do it before the wedding, but we planned it so quick, there wasn’t time. I wish you could experience something so relaxing and refreshing—I can tell you could really use it, you tuckered out sweet thing. It’s just too bad Chad can’t afford it. Living on one salary must be so hard. But there ya go.
Ronnie


Good morning, all you Beautiful Brides,
Happy Labor Day! It’s a glorious 5 a.m. here in Washington, and I just returned from my two-mile jog. I noticed the apples are looking ripe, and I imagine the next few weekends will be open for apple-picking. I’m running a few minutes behind schedule already, so I can’t write much. (Need to finish my Bible study before fixing Chad’s breakfast—I promised to make homemade whole-wheat Belgian waffles, complete with fresh whipped cream and a raspberry glaze. And strawberry-banana fruit smoothies, too, since he has the day off.) But I wanted to get this week’s topic to you as quickly as possible.
Since it’s apple time, I thought it would be fun to create a SAHM I Am list of Creative Ways to Use Apples. So send in your best recipes, craft ideas, school lessons—anything to do with apples. After this week, I’ll compile all the results and post them in a single file on our loop Web site. I’m going to e-mail my contribution later: Romantic and Refreshing Apple Spa—including soap, candles, candle holders, bubble bath and facial mask, all made from APPLES! You won’t want to miss it!
You girls are the “apples” of my eye,
Rosalyn Ebberly
SAHM I Am Loop Moderator
“She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.”
Proverbs 31:27 (NASB)



No fair—she stole my idea! :)
Brenna


Guess you gotta get up earlier, Brenna. You slacker. :)
Z


Callin’ me a slacker, are you? I’ll have you know I gave the bucket calf a bottle, fed the dog, fixed breakfast AND made Madeline’s lunch before Ms. Ebberly even opened her eyes this morning. :) Labor Day, indeed!
Brenna


Hah! Well, I took Griffith potty, got Seamus and Cosette dressed, helped Tristan with breakfast, put the dishes in the dishwasher, kissed Tristan good morning (hey, it took us a while, okay?), threw a load of towels in the washing machine, stopped Seamus from teasing Cosette, cleaned up Griffith’s potty accident, read my e-mail, talked to my mother on the phone, ran back down to the basement to START the washing machine, stopped Seamus from teasing Cosette, took Griffith potty, checked my e-mail again, talked to my mother-in-law from England on the phone, stopped Seamus from teasing Cosette, set Seamus in the corner, told Griffith to take himself to the potty, put his wet pants to soak in the sink, sat down to eat my breakfast (my Marshmallow Crunchies were soggy by this time), stopped Cosette from gloating over Seamus-in-the-corner AND helped Griffith (he fell in the toilet.) ALL BEFORE EITHER YOU OR ROSALYN SAW THE LIGHT OF DAY!
Now I need to go get dressed and fix lunch. It’s been a very productive morning.
Z


…but it does help that you live in the Eastern time zone. :)
Brenna


Not so fast, Z. Where’s Tristan in all this? Doesn’t he get the day off?
Jocelyn


I’ll confess—he was helping me with a lot of that this morning. But he also took the car in for an oil change and alphabetized our home library. He likes doing stuff like that.
Z


Then I say Brenna won anyway, because I’ll bet NOBODY at their house is getting a day off—are they, Bren?
Jocelyn


No fair—you’re pulling out the “pity the hardworking farmer” card on me! I can’t help it if my husband is a CPA. And a drop-dead gorgeous one, at that…
Z


Thanks, Jocelyn! Z, we’ll pity you during tax season—that’s our slow time on the farm anyway. Now do you feel better? Brenna


…but come January, I expect LOTS of sympathy!
Z


Hey gals,
Would it be okay for me to invite Phyllis to chat with us tonight? You know—she’s the pastor’s wife that likes Z’s Shakespeare quotes? We’ve been e-mailing off and on all day today—it started because I wrote to tell her I could relate to her story about getting pregnant before marriage. And I was upset with Rosalyn’s reaction to it. But Phyllis is really sweet, and she seems lonely. She told me she doesn’t really fit in with any of the women in her church. They treat her differently because she’s the pastor’s wife. Plus, she’s only 27 and everyone else is decades older. Dulcie, you’d be able to relate to her because her husband is always busy. And Z, you have the Shakespeare connection. I don’t know about Jocelyn yet, but I’m sure you could find some common ground, too. Don’t you have room for one more?
Hope I’m not stepping on any toes…
Brenna


Of course you can invite Phyllis! It’s not like this is some secret club or anything. We’d love to have her.
I actually won’t be there tonight—we have a soccer game for Tyler, and Cassia was invited to a cookout with a little friend from the kindergarten Sunday school class. Then we get to take all four kids to Denver for an overnight with Shane’s parents, because Shane took a vacation day tomorrow. So tonight, it’s just me and my sweetie…no cyber-friends allowed! :)
Jocelyn


Whoa, Jocelyn, sounds exciting! I’m jealous—wish Tristan and I got a little more alone time.
As for Phyllis—sure, Brenna, bring her along. I was wanting to get to know her anyway. Don’t think Dulcie would mind, either. Speaking of Dulcie, I wonder what she’s up to today?
Z


Funny that Rosalyn should mention apples…
We went to my parents’ house today for a cookout—my brother Kevin was there with his family (my other brother Scott and his wife live in Connecticut), and Marianne and Brandon came along, too, with Helene, since all their family lives too far away to come for a three-day weekend. My parents live on a small acreage on the outskirts of Omaha, and in their backyard are three dwarf apple trees.
Kevin was playing catch with his two younger kids (Emma, 8, and Treyton, 6). His oldest, Abigail, thinks it’s beneath her dignity as an 11-year-old, so she sat on a blanket watching the twins for me. Instead of a ball, Kevin was using apples, which are still small and a tad green here—hard enough to make great baseballs.
Of course, McKenzie wanted to play, too! But Treyton thought a 3-year-old, and a girl to boot, would ruin the game. However, Uncle Kevin is a sucker for his oldest niece, and said she could play. That miffed his son, and I could see that the game of catch was going to disintegrate in about ten seconds. So I hurried over to Tom, who was helping my dad get the grill started (dad refuses to buy a gas grill—says the charcoal adds flavor). I asked Tom if he would like to play catch with McKenzie.
It’s weird—at first, he said no. Why would a dad refuse to play catch with his daughter? He must have seen the look of displeasure in my eyes because he quickly changed his mind. We found a nice small apple that McKenzie could hold, but when she tried to throw it, she couldn’t get it to go far enough for Tom to catch. Her eyes got all shiny, like great big melted chocolate kisses, and her bottom lip edged out.
“I wanna play catch like Treyton and Emma.” The lip bobbled, and I could almost hear the tears making their way to the surface, like a pint-size geyser getting ready to erupt. Haley and Aidan and Marianne’s baby, Helene, had already cried enough that morning, I didn’t want to let another one get started.
So I scooped McKenzie up and twirled her around. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll be a team—like the baseball teams on TV.”
She giggled. “Okay!” And at that moment, I congratulated myself—sometimes, even I can’t believe what a maternal genius I am. :)
I balanced her on my hip, and jogged back toward the edge of the lawn. We made a big show of flexing our arms and digging in our feet, like the pitchers on television. Tom just stood there, looking really uncomfortable, like he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He watched Kevin toss an apple to his kids, and then turned back to us. He picked up the little green apple we’d chosen for McKenzie and tossed it our direction.
It fell about halfway between him and us. So we ran to pick it up and I helped McKenzie lob it back. I thought it was a good toss, but Tom couldn’t catch it. We backed up again and waited for him to throw the apple.
This time, he tried it overhand and it arched straight up in the air and landed at his feet. He laughed, but I noticed his face looked flushed. I hope he wasn’t embarrassed—do you suppose maybe he was? Now that I think about it, Kevin plays on his company’s softball team, and he’s pretty good. He even tried to give Tom some pointers, but Tom didn’t seem to be interested. Brandon offered to play instead, and let Tom go back and help my dad, but Tom blew him off. I felt he was being rude, and I also was starting to wonder if he was doing such a bad job because he hadn’t wanted to play in the first place.
So when he finally gave up the overhand and tossed it underhand to us, I picked the apple up and told McKenzie, “Here, sweetie, let’s show Daddy how to REALLY throw!”
I know he heard me, too, because he scowled, then put on a fake sort of grin, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was upset. I feel bad about it now….
It’s not technically my fault—and it’s not Marianne’s, either, but just as I let go of the apple, Helene screeched. And when Helene screeches, EVERYBODY pays attention. Tom turned his head just a little bit, to look at her.
And that’s when the apple struck him—right in his eye.
The poor guy grunted and doubled over, his hands over his face. McKenzie started sobbing that her daddy was hurted and going to die. That set the twins off, which set Helene off, and meanwhile Kevin had also doubled over—laughing—and Treyton and Emma were clamoring around Tom, wondering if he was bleeding or not. By the time McKenzie and I reached him, and Marianne and Kevin’s wife, Gemma, were quieting Helene and the twins, he shoved us all away and stomped into the house for some ice, my mother in hot pursuit. (She’d never miss a chance to do some mothering.) He wouldn’t even let me help him!
And now, he just left to go back to Kansas City—with the beginnings of a brilliant shiner. I tried to explain it was an accident. He says he believes me…but I wonder. It’s too bad, really—we’d had such a nice date on Saturday. And now, I think we’re back where we started. All because of an apple.
Dulcie


Dear Ms. Huckleberry:
This is Mike Gumble, manager of the Colorado Rockies. After hearing of your remarkable throwing abilities yesterday, we would like to extend an invitation to try out for our team. We have been discussing the idea of having a few good women on the team—it would be great PR, with all the controversy about gender equality in sports. Please reply at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Mike Gumble


Dear “Mr. Gumble,”
Thank you for that…gracious offer, but I am not interested. AND IT ISN’T FUNNY, JOCELYN! SO GIVE ME SOME SYMPATHY INSTEAD OF MOCKING MY PREDICAMENT!!! DON’T YOU HAVE ANY COMPASSION FOR MY POOR, BLACK-EYED HUSBAND?
Yours truly,
Dulcie Huckleberry


Oh, come on, Dulcie—Shane thought my e-mail was hysterical! :)
Seriously, I’m sorry Tom got a black eye. I hope he doesn’t stay mad at you for very long.


Dear Brenna, Zelia, Dulcie and Jocelyn,
Thank you so much for letting me be part of your chat group last night and including me in your e-mail alias. You have no idea how badly I am in need of friendship right now. Jonathan and I have been married only about eighteen months, and we moved about six months ago to Kellom, Wisconsin, where we pastor a small town church. It’s Jonathan’s first church, and he’s been very busy trying to get acclimated. Plus, Bennet was born a month after we moved, so I have been far too exhausted to socialize much. I’ve met few women my age, and those I have become acquainted with seem to have little in common with me except for our children. As much as I love Julia and Bennet, I simply don’t want to spend all my free time talking about them. Chatting with you last night was the first opportunity I’ve had in a long time to step out of my roles as pastor’s wife or preschoolers’ mom, and simply be ME. Jonathan was teasing me last night about how I was sitting in front of the computer and suddenly bursting out laughing. But even he remarked that laughter was something he’d missed hearing from me. He thanks you, too. You’ve been quite a blessing to our little family, even though we’ve never actually met. I just wanted to say how grateful I am.
Love,
Phyllis


Phyllis, that’s the sweetest letter I’ve ever gotten! Hey, girls, why haven’t WE ever been so nice to each other? :) I think we need to keep Phyllis around, just to teach us some manners. In all seriousness, Phyllis, we enjoyed chatting with you, too. We’d be glad to be your friends.
Love,
Dulcie


A WHOLE BOXFUL OF ROMANCE NOVELS! There’s like sixty of them—and all with titles like Sweet Surrender and Fires of Love. And the covers—yikes! AND IT CAME FROM YOU, THOMAS ALEXANDER HUCKLEBERRY! FROM YOUR OFFICE IN KANSAS CITY! I want an explanation!
And I want it…now.
Becky

P.S. Heard from mom that Dulcie gave you a black eye—what happened, she find out that you copied that note?


Just calm down. I can explain. Okay, you know the secretary I borrowed that book from? Well, she was so excited about the idea of a male reading romance novels that she brought an entire box of her old ones from home and gave it to me at work! Didn’t even seal the box, so all the guys I’m working with saw what was inside. I got a razzing like I’ll never forget. They were grabbing the books and reading passages to me in high breathy voices, acting like a bunch of junior-highers. It was pathetic.
So what was I supposed to do? I didn’t dare try to explain what had really happened, because I’d never be able to show my face there again. And I couldn’t tell them that Dulcie wanted those books—talk about emasculating. So I told them that my sister reads those sort of novels, and that’s why Kelly gave me the box. But they wouldn’t stop giving me a hard time until I actually sealed up the box, addressed it and mailed it to you. Then, with the holiday and all, I must have forgotten to tell you about it. I’m really sorry! Send them to the library or thrift store or something.

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