Shopping Cart Honesty

Sometimes it is expensive to be honest.

I had to return a few items at Walmart today.

I hate to return things.

While we were there, I picked up some merchandise that we needed for our upcoming vacation. Due to the long duration that we will be sitting in the Looser Cruiser before arriving at our final destination in a few weeks, I felt that it would be beneficial to provide Mr. Smiley with a few toys of the musical sort of nature. . . .something that might entertain him. Something that he has never played with before--you know, the kind of toys that I have always stated that I would ONLY purchase for children when I wanted to drive their parents nuts or I didn't like said child's parents.

(Hottie Hubby, I really do love you.)

After making our noisy selection, and mentally wondering the ramifications of not providing educational open-ended wood toys for my 1-year old, we proceeded to purchase the items in the shopping cart, this is an important detail or distinction. As usual, I received several comments about having 3 children, especially the fact that I have 3 boys.

Out the door we went. At this point, my darling boys began to pester each other, sitting on the other's foot, squishing another against the cart, grabbing the favorite book as they clamor into the Loser Cruiser. Everyone erupts in screams and I am wondering why I stopped in the first place, only imagining what a 12 hour car ride is going to be like.

And then I notice.

There sat those two toys that require batteries and will probably lead to the demise of my sanity. They weren't in a Walmart plastic bag (Yes, I forgot my reusable bags). They were surprisingly quiet and restful on the bottom rack of the shopping cart. Crap.

To be honest, I toyed with just grabbing them and running. The thought of unloading these grouchy human beings and placing them back in the designated prison called a shopping cart, was not appealing. But I knew that I would be racked with guilt. The other intelligent idea I had was to leave them on the shopping cart and drive away without purchasing them.

But that hardly seemed responsible.

So, I did what an honest person should do. The boys were loaded back into the prison on wheels. The not-so-friendly-greeter who is supposed to be friendly, once again asked me if I had a return. I mumbled under my hot breath, "No. I didn't pay for these items." Only to realize that this would create more confusion, questions, and eat up time. I kept going, hoping that his hearing aide would catch my comment once I hit the check-out stand.

The lady I skidded up to, thought I was just dropping the colorful toys off because I was too lazy to walk back to the toy section. After explaining the second time, I said, "NO!!! I'm being honest. I could have driven away from here because NO ONE noticed the toys under my cart. I need to buy these. I want them."

She then became irritated because whoever checked me out, should have noticed the items under my cart. And someone in the optical department should have noticed, because we bought something there on the way out. And the grouchy greeter should have noticed. And someone spying on my circus from their secret camera location should have noticed. But no one did!

Well, I do know that someone saw.

Can anyone hide in secret places so that I cannot see him?" declares the LORD. "Do not I fill heaven and earth?" declares the LORD. (Jeremiah 23:24)

God.

And if He didn't see, which I know that there is no chance of that, a very curious almost 5 year old might have asked why the toys were still on the bottom rack.

I'm glad I did the right thing.

But still, I want to whine and say, "Don't I get an earthly reward? Walmart, I saved you money and I even put my shopping cart in the carousel!"

Ahhh . . . the joys of motherhood and the events that happen with kids in the shopping cart.

walmart musical+toys honesty rewards+in+heaven

Full Disclosure

In the upcoming months, I know that I will be playing with toys, experimenting with curriculum, reading new books, and challenging myself with new ideas.

It may feel like I am endorsing a product or trying to sell you on an idea. Chances are, I could be trying to persuade you, but only because I really like something and want you to join in on the fun.

I am not being paid monetarily for the products I may feature through writing or photography on my blog. I get to keep the free stuff that I am being sent, but I don't get paid to write about the products.

That said, I will mention that I do get paid a few cents when you click on the Google ads or when you purchase something from my Amazon Store. However, in the 10 months that I have been blogging, I have yet to make enough money from your clicks to have Google issue me a check.

I feel it is important to be honest with you.

I am not rich.

I did not buy the items that I may soon be sharing with you.

In many ways, I feel like God is rewarding me with free stuff. One of the byproducts of my blogging habit is that occasionally I have packages arrive on my doorstep to review.

I will plainly state that in the upcoming months, if not years, should the Lord tarry, that chances are I will be blogging about free toys that Ebeanstalk ships to me, books that Thomas Nelson allows me to read for dirt cheap (actually free), and homeschooling curriculum from various vendors through The OldHomeschool Magazine.

Thus here is my full disclosure statement. This is sure to put you to sleep. So you can wait to read it for when you can't fall asleep some night.

This policy is valid from 01 August 2009


This blog is a personal blog written and edited by me. For questions about this blog, please contact thegranolamom4god@gmail.com.

This blog does not accept paid topic insertions. This blog will prayerfully consider sponsorships and paid advertising. We will and do accept and keep free products, services, travel, event tickets, and other forms of compensation from companies and organizations.

This blog abides by word of mouth marketing standards. We believe in honesty of relationship, opinion and identity. The compensation received may influence the advertising content, topics or posts made in this blog. That content, advertising space or post will be clearly identified as paid or sponsored content.

The owner(s) of this blog is not compensated monetarily to provide opinion on products, services, websites and various other topics. The views and opinions expressed on this blog are purely the blog owners. If we claim or appear to be experts on a certain topic or product or service area, we will only endorse products or services that we believe, based on our expertise, are worthy of such endorsement. Any product claim, statistic, quote or other representation about a product or service should be verified with the manufacturer or provider. We are not doctors. We are people who have opinions and feel called to share them. Read this blog at your own risk of having your opinion changed or challenged.

The owner(s) of this blog would like to disclose the following existing relationships. These are companies, organizations or individuals that may have a significant impact on the content of this blog.

We are employed by or consult with: God. Any company or products discussed is prayerfully considered and after being deemed appropriate is written about and featured.

We serve on the following non profit boards: motherhood, the body of believers in Christ, and parents to Granola kids.

We blog about people to whom we are related. If you know me, the owner of this blog, you know that you are at risk or privilege of being featured on the blog. The most interesting such people are: Hottie Hubby.


To get your own policy, go to http://www.disclosurepolicy.org

blogging+with+integrity full+disclosure

Party Pesto

Every almost-5 year old wants pesto for their birthday party, right?

Did I also mention that he wants green beans (made by Nana), asparagus soup (simmered by Mama), and real blueberry ice cream (turned by Aunt Shell).

Nothing can be store bought. It has to be homemade.

Oh yea, and Kalamata olives.

It's his birthday. His wish is my command.

Party Pesto

2 cups of fresh basil leaves, washed, and hopefully from your garden
2-4 garlic cloves, peeled
1/4 toasted pine nuts
1/2 tsp sea salt
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup (or less) olive oil

Pulverize basil in a blender or VitaMix.

Add garlic (which can be grown in your garden--start it in the fall),
salt, pine nuts and cheese. Blend well. Add olive oil slowly while the blender is running, to form a thick paste. Done. Easy.

As a paste, this basil treat is great on bread, crackers, and chicken.

To turn the pesto into a sauce for pasta, bring a 1/2 cup of chicken broth to a boil. Add one cup of pesto slowly to the hot liquid, while continually whisking the mixture until desired thickness is achieved.

You might want to add more Parmesan to your pasta.

Enjoy!

A Satisfied Soul

Satisfied can be described as reaching the bottom of a three year old's inquisitive and persistent desire to know “why?” Satisfied is not having to start another book because you are enjoying the one you are reading. Satisfied is climbing into bed at night knowing that you checked off most everything on your to-do list. Satisfied is being able to stop eating before you are uncomfortably full. Satisfied is not looking at the clock as you are chatting with a friend. Satisfied is being in the present moment and nowhere else. Satisfied is a Grande, decaf, no whip, whole milk mocha at the right temperature to start off a long car ride.

But is this what God means by us being satisfied?

Let me give you a personal example. Granted these decisions were based upon prayer, yet I still had ulterior motives.

I thought getting married would make me satisfied.
I just became more aware of my selfishness.

Then, we tried moving out West.
I missed my family and struggled with my job.
After that, I took up skiing.
Snowboarding is cooler.

I still wasn’t satisfied, so I began praying that we would become missionaries.
We moved to Asia.
I worked in a basement.
Every day I cried to come back to the USA, to Indiana of all places.

Once we got to Indiana, we felt we needed a dog for entertainment.
Next came the house.
But we desired a deck.
I still wanted more, so we planted great landscaping.

Hmmm . . . if I could stay at home and have kids, then life would be perfect.
Now I have kids, and I began a new business shortly afterward.
We needed a swing set.
I’d like to lose that pregnancy weight.
Then I could play with the kids more effectively.

Yet, in the back of my head I’m also thinking about moving West again and becoming a missionary.
(Don't worry Mom, Dad, MIL and FIL we don't foresee this on the near or a couple of year horizon.)

Isn’t that where I first started all of this?

A satisfied soul is not wishing you were someone else, somewhere else, owning something else, craving whatever you don’t have, and longing for someone’s hair, body, clothes, house, husband, child, parents, or job.

But is this what God means by being satisfied?

Paul gives us a bit of insight into satisfaction in Philippians 4: 11-13.

Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.

Paul states that he has learned to be content. This word learned (orμανθάνω, manthano) means to learn by use or practice.

Paul had to practice contentment. This would seem to imply that contentment doesn’t come naturally to us humans. It must be practiced.

The word used in Philippians 4:11 for content is αὐτάρκης [autarkes /ow·tar·kace/], meaning strong enough or possessing enough to need no aid or support; independent of external circumstances, or contented with one’s lot, with one’s means, though the slenderest. The opposite of content is needy, poor, helpless or little in quantity.

It seems obvious that we need to learn to be content when we are hungry and suffering. BUT Paul even states that we need to be content or satisfied when we live in prosperity and when we have abundance.

Contentment is a struggle in all aspects of life.

Practice makes perfect. Practice contentment. Ouch. OK.


P.S. I was having a bit of writer's block today, and pulled out something from my computer that I wrote a few years ago for my church's women's retreat. Hope you enjoyed it.

P.S. #2 OK, I'll try and be content that I didn't win the Mini Dell computer today. There is always tomorrow, though.

a+satisfied+soul learned+contentment I+can+do+all+things+through+christ

I'm Not Perfect

Sometimes it is helpful, comforting, and to be honest, rewarding when you know that someone isn't perfect. For example, I feel better knowing that Hottie Hubby has a hard time resisting chocolate. This human frailty in him makes my mistakes less magnified.

I know, it's sick and twisted.

Jordan Rubin, author of the Maker's Diet, has a big bowl of ice cream once a year. That comforts me when I have ice cream once a week.

But before I further tell you that I am not perfect . . .

Let me introduce Elias. His mom is pretty granola. Elias was born naturally, like his sister. But this time, the doctor wasn't even present to catch him!

Babies have a lot to teach us.

Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk,
so that by it you may grow up in your salvation
1 Peter 2:2

It was pretty fun to capture Elias with Willow, who will actually be making a new debut soon (thanks Dad!).

This was my first opportunity to try and capture the nuances of a baby.


And it was like candy for me to hold this precious bundle. Memories flooded my head, and thankfully not my chest! (Breathe Hottie Hubby . . . the baby bug hasn't hit me yet.)

OK back to my topic.

If you live with me, are related to me, or even see me driving, you KNOW that I am not perfect.

However, I know that our lifestyle can be intimidating to people. This explains why no one ever has us over for dinner. They think they have to go buy a cow and slaughter it themselves, grow some healthy bacteria, bake fresh bread, and deliver manna for our meal. But what they forget is that . . .

I am not perfect.

Next to the question, "How do you have time to do what you do?" people ask, "What is your one vice?" They want to feel good about themselves, too. See!!!! I am not so demented.

Well, today's not perfect post isn't a habitual regression into my old ways, but an exception. After meeting Elias for the first time, the Granola children were expressing some discomfort in their bellies. Not being near the "city," we did the best we could, at the time, and in the time frame I had to make a decision.

We ate real fast food.

My mother-in-law was going to alert the media. She couldn't remember the last time she sat with me in a fast food restaurant.

People often worry that their children won't behave in a nice restaurant. I have never worried about this. I worry about how my children will behave in a fast food joint. We don't frequent them enough for them to know the behavior "code."


Mr. Smackdown left his manners at home. I did not teach him to lick his plate, ummm I mean paper bag.

I repeat, I am not responsible for this behavior. (Drinking out of the milk carton and licking the plate all come from Hottie Hubby.)

Mr. Me-Too used his fingers a little too much.


I sincerely hope his hands were relatively clean.

No, we didn't wash our hands before we ate. Come on . . . truth be told, you don't wash your hands before you eat out at a fast food restaurant. Don't get germ-a-phobic on me. I'm just not afraid to admit it. We wash our hands a home, but sometimes when we are out . . . it just doesn't happen, unless we have been somewhere grimy with lots of kids.


Mr. Smiley drank from a straw for the first time . . . at a fast food restaurant.



Do you realize how hard I have been working on this at home?


Look how pleased he is with himself.

So that has been our day. Random.

And for those of you who were worried about our carpeting . . . we finally got a vacuum. I'm working on a giveaway. Keep saying your prayers! Oreck here we come!



i+am+not+perfect fast+food drinking+from+a+straw vacuum giveaway oreck