Hey Pretty Girl...

Last Monday, Mom Bracken was talking to Abigail. I wasn't there for this conversation, but it needs to be shared!

Mom: "Abigail, you are a pretty girl. Did you know that you are a pretty girl?"

Abbey: (smiles and nods yes)

Mom: "Does your Baba tell you that you are a pretty girl?"

A: (still smiling, shakes her head no)

M: "Oh, your Baba doesn't call you are a pretty girl? What does he call you?"

A: "He calls me a Pei- Den" (pronounced pee-don which means literally in Chinese "rotten egg". It is common phrase used for kids that are constantly getting into mischief. The closest thing in English that I can think of might be saying to a little kid, "You little booger".)

Later, when we were laughingly telling Chris about this conversation, he corrected the situation by telling us that he actually calls her a "pretty pei-den". Yes, I can see how that makes it better. "You're a rotten egg, but a pretty, rotten egg!"

Guess who's three!

Last Saturday Ethan celebrated his third birthday! When I think about it, I can't believe that his is three already!

Thanks to Vivian for this picture. He looks so old in this picture of him playing the drums.

Both of my children have their own little endearing traits and Ethan's just happens to be that he is so, so sweet. He has this game that he made up. The first part is pretty common. He says, " I love you." I say, " I love you, too." He replies, "I love you three" and so on until we run out of numbers he knows. This is where he has expanded the game. Then he will start saying, " I love you camel" and we will go through the animals. The last part of the game is Ethan saying something like this, " I love you five, green elephants". Five, green elephants. That is a whole lot of love!

Before Ethan was born, I wondered how my love could expand anymore. I was and still am, so in love with Abigail. I enjoyed our little excursions out doing things and playing together and just spending time together so much, I was slightly worried about this new baby, a baby I really wanted, interrupting our time. Three years later, I can't imagine our lives without Ethan. I wonder at how I thought he might be a little interloper. Of course, then, I didn't have any idea of what a sweetheart he was going to turn out to be.

Losing it and hanging on- My mom

As most of you know, if you have been keeping up with this blog, (God bless all the faithful readers!) my mom is going through chemo treatments for her cancer right now. She has finished two of the four required treatments. She doesn't still have cancer in her body, but without the chemo and radiation treatments, she has an 85% chance of getting cancer again. The percentage is high because of her age, medical history and being pre-menopausal. So, these treatments are a necessary evil. Right now is especially difficult because she has begun to lose her hair. We didn't expect her to lose her hair because she only needs 4 chemo treatments, but, and I am guessing here, her body was already so weak from the MS that the chemo is having a stronger effect. As any Pentecostal lady can tell you, we have such a strong attachment to our hair. It is our glory, our power with the angels, our sign of submission to God, His word, and our husbands. We do not cut our hair. We do not damage our hair. A part of our lives is dedicated to protecting our hair. So, to lose your hair is painful. Of course, in this situation, it doesn't mean you have lost your glory or are no longer in submission. But even though you didn't choose what happened, it doesn't lessen the pain. If you are choosing your hair or your life, well, the choice is simple. One is replaceable and the other isn't. After talking with my mom, I can see that that the diagnoses and the surgery were the easy parts. The treatments and their side effects are much harder to deal with. On week one, you have a chemo treatment. You feel horrible with no appetite until the middle of week two. About the beginning of week three, life starts to look up. You have a little more strength and food starts to sound good again. But at the end of week three, you have another treatment. So, what I am asking from the readers of this post is for your prayers for my mother and if you are from the Florence area, please spread the word that she is losing her hair and might be seen in a black or blond wig. (These are the only colors that the cancer center had available for free.) She hasn't willfully decided to cut or color her hair. She is worried that people will think so. And thank you for walking this journey with me. It helps tremendously just to put this on paper. (well, kinda on paper...)

The blow dryer, leaf blower, and the vacuum

Dear Friends, I apologize for not posting last week. Life got in the way life a slow driver when you are late for work. Annoying, but unavoidable.

I recently bought a new blow dryer. My old one had gone out in a flash of fire and smoke. I prefer to buy my blow dryers in the States because here there seems to be just two choices. There is the iffy brand that is cheap or the American brand that you need a credit card to pay for because no one in their right mind would go out in public with that much cash on them. I bought the iffy brand. It seemed innocent enough when I brought it home. It wasn't until I turned it on that I realized the makers of Mr. Iffy had included a few "extra" features. For one, the front could be used as a leaf blower. Just turning it on sends the cats into hiding and makes you feel like you just stepped outside in a category 4 typhoon. Meanwhile, the back is masquerading as a vacuum. It delights in sucking up pieces of stray hair and frying them to tiny bits. If you haven't seen my hair down in awhile, it comes to my hips. Thus providing the blow dryer with lots of "stray pieces" of hair. The first time I used it, I think I lost about an inch off of my hair. I have gradually come up with a difficult if not workable solution. Position the blow dryer, turn it on and dry that spot. Turn it off and re-position. Repeat steps until you give up or your hair is dry. So, my advice to you, never buy a "Mr Iffy" blow dryer unless you are wanting a cheap leaf blower and not a hair blow dryer.

What's in a name?

Recently, Ethan has been really into names. He told me that he knew his Nai-Nai and Ye-Ye Bracken's names. When I ask what they were, he said, "Tommy and Tommy, wait, no, Tommy and Sandy." And the other day, I called him and he answered, "My name is ETHan, not EAT like food." (This comes from the "th" sound being kinda hard for Chinese to pronounce, thus, he is called "E-ton" a lot.) The real kicker came today. He has been practicing my and Chris' names. Chris' is pretty easy for him to remember because they share the middle name Josiah, however, mine is proving to be more difficult. My mother had a creative streak when I was born and named me Tiffany Elisha. My middle name is pronounced, E (A hard E sound)-lish (rhymes with dish)-ah. Consequently, it has been said wrong many, many times. But Ethan now holds the record for the most distortion of my name. Keep in mind, this is the kid that just corrected me when he thought I said his name wrong. Today, he called me "Tiffany Delicious Bracken". That is not a missionary name.

The Plague

There needs to be a quarantine sign on our door.
Why?
Because we have been struck with the plague.
Why?
Because it's the "why" plague.
Why?
Because to every statement or order I give, he ask why.
Why?
I'm not sure.
Why?
I don't know if he is questioning my authority or is just curious.
Why?
Because it is an automatic answer.
Why?
I said , I don't know. Ask Ethan.
Why?
Because he is the only one that will know.
Why?
Because he is the one that ask why! Now go to your room, I'm tired of talking.
Why?
Because I have been answering all of your questions, that's why. Now go.
Why?
Because I said so, that's why!

Did you ever wonder why your parents said that? Now I know.

Pickled pig's feet

Last Sunday, Chris came home announcing to the world that he was going to bed and really didn't want to be woke up. Abbey followed him into the bedroom and watched as he sat down at the computer. I believe he was going to do a quick e-mail check before he "checked-out". Abbey, leaning over the arm of the chair, got a little too involved. "What are you doing?"
Nothing from Chris, he is focused.
"Hey, what are you looking at?"
From a distracted dad, "Pickled pig's feet".
Abbey: "Well, pickled pig's feet, I thought you were going to bed."

I'm telling you, she gets that sassiness from her Baba.