Preacher's Kid

My dad is a minister. He's been a pastor, a military chaplain, a hospital chaplain, and now an interim preacher. That makes me a preacher's kid, something people find intriguing.

EXAMPLE 1.
Everyone: "What's it like having a dad who's a minister?
Leslie: What's it like having a dad who's not a minister?

EXAMPLE 2.
Almost Everyone: There are only two kinds of preacher's kids. Are you the really good kind or the really bad kind?"
Young Leslie: The really good kind.
(Older Leslie: None of your business.)

It intrigues and it also intimidates people. I once invited a college friend to go home with me for the weekend. She got all freaked out.

Friend: I can't go stay at your house!
Leslie: Why not?
Friend: Because I sin every five minutes!

Friends have often told me they feel like my dad can see right through them. That would just be a combination of their guilty consciences and my dad's God-given talent to look people in the eyes, listen, and focus on what they're saying. There's no way he has x-ray vision or I wouldn't have survived my teen years.

Luckily for me, perfection wasn't part of the preacher's kid job description. My dad would assure you it wasn't part of his job description either, but I think he comes pretty close.

Father's Day

In honor of Father's Day, here's my dad.

Dad growing up, up, up.

Dad holding baby me.

Dad ready to escort me down the aisle.

Dad seeing Cambryn for the first time.

My dad has always been very proud of his family; there's never been any doubt about that. Likewise, I've always been very proud of my dad. He's my hero.

Dad, thank you for making me. I love you.

Older Now

I've aged a year since my last post. I figure it's better than the alternative.

Kennedyland

Can you look at this without smiling? I can't. Thank you, JK, for inviting us to your party and taking this photo. Swimming, a giant inflatable slide, a moon bounce and, ohmygosh, mechanical bullriding?! Cambryn can hardly wait for your birthday next year.

History

Sometimes I rewrite history upon request.

For example, here is my sister and her youngest son at school. Because you are wondering, he's wearing his Halloween costume.

And here is the photo my sister sent me. I'm sure the lady in the background is a very nice person. She just didn't necessarily belong in a photo of my sister and her youngest son wearing his Halloween costume.

Mother's Day

In honor of Mother's Day, here's a look at my mom during each decade of my life.

The 1960s: She had three babies within four years. She was a homemaker and occasional beautician, helping my dad through college and graduate school.

The 1970s: She attended college and graduate school, then became an elementary school teacher. This is what she looked like when I was in high school. People started mistaking us for sisters.

The 1980s: She and Dad put all three of us through college, then helped my brother through law school.

(Dear Mom, I know you don't like your "big hair" pictures but it would ruin my theme to leave this out.)

The 1990s: She became a mother-in-law and grandmother, and buried her parents. She survived Dad's cancer, as did he. She retired early.

The 2000s: She's rarely apart from Dad now that he's semi-retired. They're hand-in-hand, thick as thieves, indivisible.

She continues to inspire me with her appreciation of beauty and art, her boundless energy, hard work, and most of all, her passion for family.

Mom, thanks for having me. I love you.

American Girl

I never said this blog was chronological and speaking of birthdays, we celebrated Cambryn's back in January. She turned nine this year. That's pretty amazing considering I'm only two years older than I was when she was born.

So here's a special pic from nine years ago. Most moms have lots of these; I have one. Most moms are wearing gowns; I had on a black t-shirt. Spending the night with Cambryn in our own hospital room was very cool.

Cambryn needed an extra 24 hours in the
hospital to develop her sucking reflex.

Fast forward nine years and my mother-in-law and I took Cambryn on a road trip to the American Girl store and bistro in Dallas for her birthday. Cambryn was thrilled!

[Note to anyone thinking about doing this: don't even consider taking male family members to the American Girl store or bistro. Trust me. Take Dad's credit card but leave Dad at home.]

I couldn't help but wonder how many more years she'll get this excited about dolls. And doll clothes. And doll furniture. And doll pets. And everything else imaginable and even a few things you'd never think of for dolls.

Cambryn at lunch in the bistro with Julie, her brown-eyed blond doll. We were pleading with Cambryn to smile sweetly for the camera.

The "real" Cambryn with Julie and Ivy.

We haven't had a dull moment in at least nine years.

Eleven in Spite of Us

Collin is now eleven years old. Oh how time flies when you're trying to keep your babies sweet and innocent and babies forever. Bear with me while I reminisce.

This photo was taken within the first few minutes we laid eyes on our new baby boy. Of course I held him first, then my husband got his turn. At this moment we were simply stunned. We had never changed a diaper, never attended a baby class, and didn't have a nursery waiting at home. Our families were very curious as to how we were going to manage. Perhaps bets were even wagered.

We had a borrowed car seat, a borrowed bassinet, some hand-me-down clothes from my nephews, and the new outfit you see here that I bought at Gymboree. Yep, a matching onesie, jacket, bib, cap, socks, blanket and if there had been matching sunglasses and cowboy boots with spurs I would've grabbed them, too. I told everyone in the store that I was having a baby in a few days and I'm pretty sure they thought I looked fabulous.

Or just delusional, but whatever.

Oh, and I had bought a package of ear plugs at Walgreens because I knew babies tend to cry and we had a 2 1/2 hour drive home. Maybe they teach you in baby classes that newborns mostly just sleep, but I had no idea.

Luckily our new baby didn't realize we were so clueless, because he actually thrived. He thrived!

Here he is, thriving at 13 months.

And then he grew to be eleven years old. Just like that.

Family Easter

This isn't the best quality photo but here we are, all cleaned up for Easter.

Collin wasn't happy about tucking in his shirt. "I look like a farmer!" We have no idea why he thought that and please, no offense meant if any farmers are reading this. He's a city boy and doesn't even know any farmers.

Honestly, Jesus probably didn't care if Collin's shirt was tucked in or not.

Cambryn was just happy to twirl in a new dress, wearing "high" heels.

Telluride

Here's proof that at least three of us went skiing over spring break. I took the picture so you'll just have to trust that I was there.

Or realize the likelihood that my husband would take the kids on a ski trip without me. Yeah, not happening.

See Forever, Telluride, CO

Notice the lack of jackets (jacket-lacking?). The temp was in the 50s, so great spring ski weather.

Cambryn was the "pink bullet," fast and efficient. She only made turns if she had to; she's pretty much a "point 'em straight down the mountain" kind of girl.

Collin, the snowboarder, got back on skis for the first time since age three. Wise choice, due to the snow conditions. His comparison of the two: with skiing there's just one direction to fall but with snowboarding, you can fall all over the place. In other words, skiing is easier.

They kept up just fine on the blue slopes.

Peaks Resort, Telluride, CO

Cambryn was equally excited about the indoor/outdoor pool with the 2-story slide. Which reminds me that the last time we stayed in Tulsa for a basketball tournament (Doubletree at Warren Place with its awesome indoor pool), Cambryn declared it the best vacation she'd ever had. Forget the beaches, mountains, and amusement parks. All she needs is a nice pool and a hotel bed to jump on.