Waiting for something INCREDIBLE

I love the movie "The Incredible's." Remember the part where Mr. Incredible comes home from work, lifts his car over his head then suddenly sees the neighbor boy there on his bike? And, every day that same neighbor boy would be waiting by his driveway for Mr. Incredible to come home. One day Mr. Incredible said, "What are you waiting for." To this the boy replied, "I don't know - something Incredible!"

Don't we all feel that way at times? My family is Incredible. Phil would truly be named Mr. Incredible, he's talented at so many things, piano, he's an artist, he's smart (well, that doesn't do him justice, you should hear the calculus jokes he tells -- no, I don't get them) he even takes out the trash and does the dishes! Lizzy cannot be compared to Invisible Violet in the movie, she's more like a bright Sun with a big brain (although that would make for a funny super hero) and Sam although young, loves to clean and make people laugh and surprises us everyday with his sweetness. They are really INCREDIBLE! But there are times, as we all know when we wait, wait for something incredible. Whether we are stuck in a dead end insurance job and unable to show our true super hero colors (like the Mr. Incredible in the movie) or afflicted with a bad economy or a bad situation.

We have been going through one of those times. Me and my INCREDIBLE family feel some days that our capes our covered in tar with our super powers being bound up in one way or another. Cut off at the knees, hands tied behind our backs, and eyes being tied with a blind fold. We are waiting for something incredible. As blessed as we are to have one another, we are plotting. How do we escape our binds, all the strength in the world isn't doing it. There must be another way, maybe some incredible secret serum that melts our binds without melting us too. One time at our place in Tucson Phil got locked out. No window was open, there was no spare key, and I'm sure it was over 100 degrees out (because isn't it always?) Well, he convinced me he really did have super powers when he scaled the wall of our house to get up to our balcony, where the door happened to be open.

OK kids, get your anti-gravity boots on because we are about to scale a few walls. Something incredible is about to happen. Some day soon our super powers will be released and we will be able to help the world yet again. Maybe a few days, a few weeks, I don't know, but my super brained, talented husband is thinking of a cure along with the super sweet spirits of the kids. Sam can use his super powers of screaming like a banshee, spitting, and his super fast puzzle powers to fight evil while Lizzy stumps bad guys with her intuitive questions and dazzling smile. In the mean time we are still waiting for something incredible.

Soon. I know it's coming soon.

It's a Wizards Duel

I can't resist this video of my kids involved in a wizards duel. Sam only knows one spell, so it's a very limited duel. Enjoy!

Jamara Clarames

Jamara and Clarames. Those are the names my husband has been affectionately calling the baby for months now. They are combinations of our girl and boy names we had picked out.

The wait is over.

Now he can call the baby just James.

James Mitchell.

Here's the proof...

Genetics

I was a senior in high school, taking a yearbook class. What else is there to take your senior year when you have several elective classes available? A bright-eyed, bushy-tailed sophomore approached me and cheerfully exclaimed, "You look like my mom!" WHAT?!?!?! I screamed in my head. Who IS this girl? But I said, "What are you talking about?" To this she replied, "Is your father Rick Mitchell?" I said, "Yes." But my head was screaming, "Run away from this crazy girl!" Then the small sophomore said, "I am your cousin, you look just like my mom, your Aunt Janet."

Let me give you some back story. I grew up with only 1 cousin until the age of 10 when my 2nd cousin was born. I thought I knew all of my family. When I was a girl I was told by my father frequently, "You look just like your Aunt Janet." He would usually add, "Don't let this go to your head, she was beautiful." My Aunt Janet died at the age of 30 from a birth defect in her heart. I was very young at the time. Our family lost contact with her husband and 2 children. Until my senior year when I was approached by a sophomore named Jenny, my long lost cousin. Isn't it funny what genetics can do? It can make me look like someone else entirely. So much so that I am recognized by this persons daughter.

When Lizzy was born we would receive comments like this, "Oh, she must be the milkman's daughter, she certainly doesn't look like either of you." My Lizzy has her fathers blond hair (Phil claimed blond as his hair color until sometime in elementary school.) She can claim Phil's mom's beautiful face and round cheeks. She has my grandfather's beautiful blue eyes. And, she has my ugly big toe (sorry about that Liz!) Last year after swimming and in the hot sun for weeks I noticed her nose looked dirty. For days I kept wiping it. I couldn't figure out why that dirt would not come off. Then I realized, SHE HAS FRECKLES! Just a few, but they are there. I remembered that I had freckles too in sun and my dad is covered in them in the summer. She was no milkman's baby. She has a bit of everyone in her, which makes her unique.

When Samuel was born he had brown eyes at birth, no changing of eye colors, they were a beautiful dark brown. He also came with olive skin and brown hair. As a baby my sister lovingly called him our little Puerto Rican baby. He got this from my mom and my Abuelita, and you could tell even from birth.

We find out in a few days what we are having. We have both a boy and a girl named picked out. The boy's middle name is my maiden name. He will carry on the Mitchell name which is all but lost thanks to the 5 daughters and no son's born to my parents. My lovely niece Julia carries the Scottish look of my father, gorgeous red hair. Our girl name is after the beautiful name of my great-grandmother.

We all carry so much of our ancestors with us, so much of who we are is from others. How exciting to see what this next baby looks like. Will he or she have Phil's blond hair, or my father's red hair and green eyes? Will they get the height in Phil's family or the "height" from my 4 foot 8 inch Abuelita? What wonderful combination will make them up? Isn't it remarkable what God plus our genes create. We couldn't dream it up or plan it more perfectly. They are our perfect little gems.

Here are some family photo's. Who takes after who?

Cookies for the Homeless

When Lizzy was 4 she begged for days asking me to get a recycling bin for our house. Several phone calls later one was at our door, complete with a paper telling us what we could and could not recycle. Liz placed this on the fridge and was the "recycling police", making sure that something we could be recycling did not end up in the trash.

Last week Lizzy insightfuly told me that the earth is every ones home and therefore it is all of our responsibility to take care of it. Then she tried her hardest to convince me to go out in the 110 degree weather and pick up all the trash we found to try and take care of the earth.

On Sunday Lizzy lovingly told me that she was drawing pictures for the homeless. In November she and I (along with other moms & kids from her Elementary) took hundreds of pies to the main homeless shelter here for Thanksgiving. She still remembers that at the shelter they let 5 people each day come in and pick an outfit out of their "store" of clothing that has been donated. Their payment is telling the volunteers their birthday.

I suggested that maybe we should bring cookies with the pictures. She liked that idea. So, we called the director of the shelter nearest our house. He was thrilled that she wanted to help. He told us to bring about 4 dozen cookies down on Wednesday and we could have spaghetti dinner with the homeless. Liz got home from school on Wednesday, put on her apron and got to work. She spend hours baking and drawing, then we were ready.

When we got to the shelter the director gave her a tour, Lizzy wanted to see the beds where they slept. At dinner time she stood up and showed everyone the pictures she drew and told them all about the cookies she baked. They all clapped for her. They were all so nice, so kind to Lizzy. She wanted to stay there much longer than we could and she promised that we would be back.

Here's a few photo's of my little Mother Teresa: