When life hands you lemons...

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The kids have been begging to have a lemonade stand. Convinced that their entrepreneurial skills would net them big bucks, they could not be contained. So I bought the lemons, a citrus juicer, and a poster for their sign. It was hilarious listening to them discuss the price point at which they would sell. Chase was adamant that they would make more money if they charged at least two dollars per glass (this is the same kid that wanted to sell his artwork on the street for 20 bucks a piece. Clearly, he targets the more affluent market). McKay felt sure that no one could afford lemonade at such a stiff price, and convinced Chase to come down to about 25 cents each (and yes, husband was so very proud of their fine economic analysis).

With price point set, signs made, lemons juiced and sugared, their business began. It was agonizing for me to watch from the house as they eagerly searched all sides of the neighborhood for a customer. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I grabbed a bunch of quarters and headed for the curb; buying, of course, one cup for about three dollars. In truth, their lemonade wasn't actually half bad.

I thanked them and went back into the house, resuming my perch of peeking through the window, praying someone would come along - thirsty and with a pocketful of quarters.

After a few more minutes without customers, I headed out again. Oh, I was just so thirsty, I told them. Could I please have another glass of this delicious drink?

Hannah was going with some friends to a farm, and pretty soon they pulled up with a van full of thirsty customers. My friend Maren kindly bought each of her girls a lemonade as we got Hannah buckled and settled in the car. Being the type of person that I am (you know, the annoying kind that doesn't like anybody to pay for them or their kids), I handed Maren some money for Hannah's admission to the farm, lunch, etc. She refused it (being the annoying type of person that I also am, you know, the one that wants to pay for things and won't accept any money from others). We did the traditional back-and-forth game of No, you take it. No, I don't need it. You take it. Just keep it.

Maren solved that problem by donating the money to the lemonade stand when I wasn't looking.

A few minutes later, the boys come tearing into the house, "Mom! Look how much money we're making! We're doing AWESOME!" (It also helped that Chase was going up and down the street asking neighbors and contractors if they were thirsty).

So if you add that extra "donation" to the lemons, citrus juicer, cups, and poster I had to buy...this lemonade stand actually cost me like $40. But hey, like they say, when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.

Next time I'll just make sure not to buy all of it myself.

Some helpful hints for the contractor working on my basement

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  1. When you say that you are coming - it is a good to idea to actually come. You know, cause we're kind of paying you and all.
  2. If you do not tell me you are coming, there is a good chance I will not be home when you actually do decide to stop by. See number one for questions about this.
  3. If you spent as much time actually working in the basement as you do revising your invoice for us, this job might even get done before Hannah turns 23.
  4. No, I will not pick up your supplies at Home Depot. Me, three kids, and a mile-long list? Not gonna happen.
  5. My name is not now, nor has it ever been, "Chrissy." I do not resemble Suzanne Summers. I do not have blond pigtails. I do not live with Jack and Janet. Please do not call me that anymore. I loathe being called Chrissy. There's a big, fat T in the middle of my name for a reason.
  6. When you spill a whole lot of drywall mud on the carpet, then dump a bunch of water on the carpet to rinse it out, trust me when I tell you that I will notice.
  7. I do not know the difference between metal and wood studs. I do not care about the difference between metal and wood studs. Just put what needs to be put in without a 20-minute explanation for me and the children.
  8. Yes, you can use the bathroom.
  9. No, you do not need to ask EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
  10. When you ask to borrow my vacuum (after you have sanded off big chunks of drywall), do not be surprised that you will blow out the belt.
  11. Do not sheepishly come ask me for a new vacuum belt. You shouldn't have used my vacuum in the first place. You need to bring a shop vac with you next time. You know, cause you're doing construction work and all that.
  12. And finally, for the love of all that is holy, please wear a shirt when walking through my kitchen. EWW. Very big EWW.

From her lips to God's ears

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This morning at about 6:30, I am awakened by a gentle tugging on my shoulder. Rousing myself out of a gloriously deep sleep, I frantically search for my glasses. Once be-goggled, I look up to see Hannah, grinning from ear to ear.

"It worked, Mama. It really worked," she practically whispered.

"What worked?"

"My prayer. Last night I asked Heavenly Father to help me not to dream about the bad witch in Snow White giving me the sleeping death. And it worked! I didn't have any bad dreams."

"Oh, Hannah, I am so glad you didn't have a bad dream. See, God does answer our prayers. I'm so proud of you."

"I also prayed that we would not be silly today and that my hair would grow much longer REALLY fast."

Well...I guess one out of three ain't bad.