Ramona Quimby- Sharing My Childhood Friend With My Girls

Would Hollywood
Ruin a Classic?

This weekend, I took my girls on a Mommy/Daughters date. We went to see "Ramona and Beezus" at our local dollar theater.

It's funny- sometimes I forget that Ramona isn't a real person. She was such a prominent part of my childhood, she feels like a real-life friend.

If you are a fan, too, you should check out Beverly Cleary's website here. I just know she and I are kindred spirits.

When I first heard of the movie, I was excited but hesitant, too. I was afraid of Hollywood ruining the books.

I was thinking, "Selena Gomez as Beezus, really?"

Pleasantly Surprised:

As the first few scenes of the movie unfolded, I realized different moments of all of the books had been combined into one story. It took me a few minutes to switch off the "That's not how it happens in the book!" filter in my brain. After that I was able to really enjoy the movie, especially the laugh out loud parts, and more than one scene made all three of us cry.

I fell in love with Joey King, the little girl who played Ramona, and John Corbett made a great Mr. Quimby.

Although the movie was different from the books, I'm not worried that it ruined the books for my girls. Instead, I think it sparked a desire to read them again for all of us. I'd actually like to buy the movie and watch it again.

The Need to Be Creative:

I think maybe one of the reasons I enjoyed the movie so much was my ability to relate to Ramona's father and his need to be creative. In order to be truly content and happy, I need some type of creative release in my life. Whether it is blogging, scrapbooking, painting, decorating, or writing, I'm the happiest when that part of my heart is exercised everyday, even if for only tiny bit of my day. I think that desire in a lot of us is a reflection of our Creator, and our creativity can be an expression of worship to Him.

And judging from the fact that after we came home Littlest Princess was more interested in making her elaborate tiara out of sparkly pipe cleaners than she was in eating lunch, I think she may have inherited some of the same need from her mama.

I smiled in understanding when I asked her about lunch and she said, "I'm busy being creative!"

Like mother, like daughter

(Well maybe not the skipping lunch part) : )

Speaking of being creative...

I'm quietly working away on my first novel. I'm still not sure if I have enough talent to do it, but it sure makes my heart happy to try.

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Hey Dad! I Finally Met the Infamous Wooden Indian!

Growing up, my dad was full of expressions that will always remain vividly in my childhood memories. Where he picked up some of these gems is still a mystery to me.

I already told you that he thought I was "Slower than a seven-year-itch!"

And when I was disappointed or thought life was unfair?

"Tough titty said the kitty when the milk ran dry!" was his compassionate response.

There are others, some I'm afraid are unmentionable, and some I'm still trying to figure out what they mean. : )

But a common one I heard, whenever little girl chattiness set in was, "Becky! You would drive a wooden indian nuts!"

Huh? What's a wooden indian?

Well, Dad, now I can say that he and I have been formally introduced!

King Charming and I went out in the country to see a house we thought might be too good of an opportunity to pass up.

(It WASN'T!!!! It was beyond words horrible, and definitely not worth leaving our beloved neighbors for)

While we were trekking through the mini orchard, lo and behold, laying on the ground looking just as exasperated at me as I imagined he would, was a large wooden indian!

I apologized for any agony I might have caused him in the past, and then snapped this photo to share with you and Dad.

He looked like a pretty patient fellow, but there's just so much little girl chattering a carved piece of wood can withstand. : )

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4 Ever-N-Ever

Yesterday afternoon, I was digging through boxes in the garage searching for memorabilia to frame for our bedroom. During my search I happened to find MY OLD DIARY.

I thought it would be fun to flip through and read. Fun! Ha! More like mortifying! Oh my goodness! I am so, so, so thankful that I am the only one to read that stupid thing. I was under the delusion that I was a pretty mature kid back then. Instead I discovered I was very, very silly and always in love with someone.

In the back of the diary, there was a name of the boy I was "in love" with at the moment with the words "I love him 4 ever-n-ever." His name was Jon and I laughed as I remembered that I never actually SPOKE to Jon. I just loved him from a distance. Then I must have changed my mind because I crossed it out and wrote "Not any more." Then there was a new name with the exact same promise to love him 4 ever-n-ever and then ANOTHER "not anymore" note until I wrote down the name of the one I must have REALLY planned to love forever! It cracked me up!

I'm just thankful that I found King Charming and found my REAL forever and ever.

So here's a warning- Only unpack that old diary if you have a strong stomach! LOL.

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Giggling When You Shouldn't : )

I was visiting a new blogging friend's blog the other day and enjoyed her story about uncontrollable giggles. Isn't it hard to control when the giggles hit you at the wrong time? Reading her story brought back a memory from my childhood when a bad case of the giggles hit.

It was during one of my piano recitals. My dad and brother were dragged there against their will, and I wasn't very prepared for my performance, so I didn't want to be there either. My poor mom had to work so hard to get us dressed up and through the church doors where the recital was held. The three of us were in ornery moods and not feeling particularly obedient. : )

My teacher had a lot of students, so it seemed like an extra long and boring recital. Plus it was hot. Right in the middle of this long, hot, boring recital one of the students started to play a horrible, impressionist piece. I wanted to plug my ears it was so off. I think it was written to sound terrible on purpose, and right in the middle of the song, she got up onto the piano bench, reached inside of that grand piano, and started loudly strumming the piano strings like a guitar.

Dad, Ben, and I sat straight up and stared at each other. Our eyes asked each other the question, "She's not really doing that is she?"

Sitting back down, she calmly went back to her horrible song. The giggling started slowly, but as the recital went on, it got worse. First we were silently shaking, then tears were going down our cheeks, then we were laughing so hard, the three of us had to get up and walk out. My mom was FURIOUS with us! She followed us out a few minutes later and walked right past us and got in the car. She stayed mad all the way home, but we didn't have much compassion because we couldn't stop laughing. I can't even imagine how much we must have embarrassed her.

Just thinking about that day makes me still laugh. Have you ever seen anything like that? Strumming the piano strings? I guess I'm just too closed minded and can't appreciate REAL music when I hear it. : )

What about you? Any "can't help yourself from giggling in the most inappropriate place" stories? I'd love to hear them.

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We're Watching-

Rudolph Tonight!!

This show is so nostalgic for me. Are you watching tonight, too? (On CBS)

Favorite Scene:

Rudolph: Hey, Clarice? After practice, would you... would you...
Comet, the Coach: Rudolph! You get back here! It's your turn, you know!
Rudolph: Gee, I gotta go back! [starts to run off but then runs back]
Rudolph: Would you walk home with me?
Clarice: Uh-huh. Rudolph? I think you're cute.
Rudolph: [jumping around] I'm cute! I'm CUTE! She thinks I'm CU-U-U-TE!

King Charming does a great impersonation of this scene! Hee Hee. : )

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A Proud Moment for Mama

I just want everyone to know that my little girl went to school today wearing her new winter boots. I actually bought them before the first snow, and they were the most girly-girl pink winter boots you could ever imagine. If you remember reading this post, you'll know it was a very proud moment indeed to see her walking down the street this morning for the school bus.

Oh Baby Girl, the pain you'll never have to endure!

Happy Monday All! : )

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Zucchini Bread- A Childhood Memory

Daiquiri's talking zucchini today, too. She has a LOT of ideas about what to do with it after it leaves your garden.

It's zucchini time of year again! : )

I have fond memories of my mom's zucchini bread. Every summer she would harvest the zucchini out of our garden, run it through the food processor, and then freeze it for winter. Then at Christmas time, she'd make loaves of zucchini bread as gifts for our neighbors. Of coarse there were loaves for our family, too.

Now that we have our own zucchini bread coming out of the garden, I've been making my own loaves for my own family. I do freeze some, but we can't wait until winter to have our treat.

I love zucchini bread. I love the smell, the taste, and the nostalgia.

I hope you enjoy it, too:

Sally’s Zucchini Bread

Combine all ingredients and bake at 350 degrees for one hour.

3 c flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp soda
1 TBSP cinnamon
¼ tsp baking powder
3 eggs
1 c. oil
2 c. sugar
1 TBSP vanilla
2 c. grated zucchini
Nuts if desired

Makes 2 regular loaves or 3 small ones
(Don’t flour or grease pan)

Lighter version: substitute applesauce for oil equal parts

Enjoy! If you are one of my neighbors and I show up with zucchini bread, you still need to act happy even if you make your own now. : )

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Making It Up to Ben

As I was writing the Little Brother Chronicles, I know it appeared I was picking on Ben. : )

(In case you missed it, the Saga of the Moon Boot was the overwhelming favorite.)

After sharing all of those embarrassing moments with you all, I promised I would make it up to him. I promised I had a purpose for it all. : )

So in this last installment of the Little Brother Chronicles, I hope it will be abundantly clear how much I love you, Ben, and how proud I am to be your big sister. : )

There are more funny stories to tell, like the time my mom got a phone call from the local grocery store:

"Sally, this is Carol down at Evans Foods. I was just wondering if you were aware that Ben was down here trying to buy a can of spinach?"

(Mom thought he was playing at his friend, Adam's, house so this was news to her)

"Well, he doesn't have any money on him, but we can credit it to you if you really need the spinach." (Aren't small towns great?)

We later learned he needed spinach to be strong "like Popeye" so going to the grocery store to get it made sense to him. : )


Then there is the disaster he made of my Barbie's wedding! For months I planned Barbie's wedding, saving my allowance to buy the wedding dress and the furniture I needed to set the scene. All I asked Ben to do was walk Ken down the aisle and hold him up during the ceremony. Easy right? But no, Ben made peeing noises and made sure Ken urinated on all of the guests as he walked up the aisle! The ceremony was all down hill after that entrance!


Or, I could tell of the one and only time he tried to beat me up after watching Disney's Last Electric Knight.

But instead of more silly stories, I want to focus on the man he has become.

As we were growing up, Ben was my best buddy. We actually liked each other and had so much fun together. We moved a lot during some critical stages of growing up, and we leaned on each other throughout those times of adjustment.

Having different talents and interests, I'm thankful we were supportive of each other instead of competitive. I loved watching him excel at sports. I never missed a game! When he was pitching, I thought I'd have a heart attack from the stress of it all, but he was really good and it was fun to cheer him on. He was a football star, too. I can still see the game he had five different opponents hanging on him, trying to pull him down, but he wouldn't give up and drug all five in to the end zone with him for a touchdown.

When I was a Senior and Ben was a Freshmen, we were in high school together. Whenever I stopped by my locker, I had to keep an eye out for Ben because he liked to sneak up on me and carry me down the hallway like a sack of potatoes. He was still my younger brother, but he had ceased to be my "little" brother. : )

I'll never forget the day in high school when we sat in a Dairy Queen booth drinking milkshakes and asking each other how we got so lucky to have such a great family life. We've always known we were blessed.

Today, my little brother is a husband, a father, and a successful computer programmer. He married a great girl who became a great mother and wife. I'm just so proud of him and so in love with his kids and his wife, Angie.

He loves Jesus and is raising his kids to love Him, too. He is a man of God. The same kind of man I want my son to be someday.

When I think about a little brother, there is one image that comes to my mind.

I'm such a sentimental sap, I have tears running down my face as I type the end of this post.

I wanted you all to "know" my brother Ben so you would understand when I make this next announcement.

So now the moment you've all been waiting for....(At least Mia has been waiting) : )

Our little Monster Truck has a real name.

From now on, he is Benjamin, in honor of the best brother in the whole universe!

I love you, Ben!

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My Story

I don't remember when I gave my life to Jesus. I was too little to know the moment, I just believed.

After late Saturday night parties, Mom and Dad wanted to sleep in on Sunday morning. My dad claimed to be an atheist, but my mom had been raised religious, so it was important to her that my brother and I had religion. She would wake us up, go back to bed, and my little brother, Ben, and I walked to the neighborhood church a few blocks away for Sunday School. That must be the place I first heard the Bible stories.

I remember how my little girl discussions went with Dad about God. They always ended something like this, "Becky, some people need God. I'm really glad you have him, but Daddy doesn't need God."

One day I walked down the stairs to our basement and saw Dad sitting on the couch reading "The Way" Bible, taking notes, and highlighting portions of it. I was so excited, but I didn't know he was reading the Bible to disprove it, not because he wanted to accept it.

Somewhere around second grade, my family life took a drastic turn. Three doctors in our small town became friends with Dad and invited him to weekly breakfasts with them. They were Christians, but my dad respected them as intellectuals. Eventually Dad said, "They put skin on Christ for me. They could never have argued me into believing, they couldn't have done that. Instead they loved me into the Kingdom. I saw Jesus in them so clearly, I couldn't deny the truth any longer."

My mom became friends with the doctor's wives and other Christian women in town, and she realized that the religion she had grown up with was meaningless without a relationship with God. Her life was empty and her marriage was falling apart. One night as they were about to fall asleep, Mom said, "Roy, I need to become a Christian."

His response was, "Me, too." They prayed together that night and we were all never the same.

I witnessed such a change in Mom and Dad and their marriage, it strengthened my faith in ways I'll never be able to describe.

At that time, we became your typical American Christian family. We went to church together, Mom and Dad got involved with Bible studies, and made great friendships with other Christian families. They were hungry for the Bible.

Ben and I went to Sunday School, summer camps, and as we got older, youth groups.

When people would ask me to share my testimony, I'd always clam up because I didn't think I had a story to tell. It was really my parents' story, I thought. My testimony is their testimony. I didn't have some dramatic life of being addicted to drugs and then healed. I didn't have a huge period of teenage rebellion that led to my life falling apart. There are amazing stories of God's healing in people's lives and how He transformed those lives. The church I go to now is full of stories of God's amazing rescues, but I always just saw myself as the goody goody girl who always believed in God, went to church and youth group, and really had nothing exciting to share. I often joked about making up a more exciting story.

One thing I can do is encourage parents. If you want to be a good parent, you need Jesus. I can personally attest to what a gift it is to children when their parents give their lives to Jesus and raise them to know Him. All of my life I have had the joy of knowing Jesus. I didn't have to ever go through a time without Him. It's a gift to grow up in a Christian home even if you don't end up with a very exciting testimony. : )

When people ask my parents what they did to raise Ben and I so successfully, they laugh and say, "Jesus did it."

My mom would often pray, "Lord, I don't know what I'm doing here. You raise them!"

So, yes, my childhood testimony is my parents' story, but as time has gone on, I've seen how God has been faithful to give me my own story, a story that isn't my mom and dad's story, but Becky's story, but because this post is already so long, I'll have to tell Part 2 tomorrow. : )

Seek the Lord Sunday is a weekly blog carnival hosted my good friend Daiquiri. Stop by and see what other bloggers are talking about this morning and join in. The more the merrier!

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Cookoo for Cocoa Puffs- Little Brother Chronicles Part 3

Yes, it’s true. I’m still picking on my little brother. (Who by the way isn’t so little any more) : )

Like I said in the Underoos post, Ben was a constant source of entertainment for our little family and the star of some of my best stories. I’m just compelled to tell them. I hope you’ll stick with me to the end of the Little Brother Chronicles because you’ll see that I will make it up to him. : )

You can catch up here:

Little Brother Chronicles Part One

Little Brother Chronicles Part Two

Big Sister to the Rescue:

Right after “Daddy” and “Mommy”, my little brother’s first words were “Cocoa Puffs.”
He loved to say the words “Cocoa Puffs.”
He loved to eat Cocoa Puffs.
Ben’s love affair with Cocoa Puffs was well known throughout our neighborhood.
He really was cookoo for Cocoa Puffs.

My mom has the greatest cassette recordings of our voices when we were kids. On one you can hear her urging Ben to talk into the microphone.

“Ben, say, ‘Hi Grandma and Grandpa.’”

“Cocoa Puffs!”

“No, Ben, Grandma and Grandpa want to hear you talk to them. I’ll get you Cocoa Puffs later. Can you say hi to Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Cocoa Puffs!” He insisted.

“Can you say how old you are?”

Cracking up at his own joke, he answered “Cocoa Puffs!”

She gave up. She didn’t know she had captured a classic Benism on tape. I’m glad he didn’t say “Hi Grandma and Grandpa.” : )

As cute as it was, this obsession with Cocoa Puffs almost cost him dearly, though.

The Bradley kids lived down the ally from us, and one day they snuck into our backyard where Ben was playing all by himself.

“Hey, Ben, you want some Cocoa Puffs?” They held out a tray of chocolate lumps. “We baked homemade Cocoa Puffs JUST FOR YOU!”

Stepping out the backdoor into the yard, I overheard them. Then I remembered….

“No, Ben! Don’t eat it!” The Bradley kids took off running.

Ben was so mad at me for chasing off his friends as he watched them run away laughing, taking his beloved Cocoa Puffs with them. He didn’t know what I knew.

Guess where that tray came from? Guess what the “homemade Cocoa Puffs” really were?

Ben’s lucky he had a big sister watching his back.

The Bradley’s had rabbits! : )

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Still Reminiscing: Little Brother Chronicles Part 2

It really wasn't fair to begin my Little Brother Chronicles with a story painting Ben in such a "less than glamorous" light. He deserves better. I have the best brother in the whole universe....despite the Moon Boot incident. : )

I can't wait for my girls to experience the fun of having their own little brother. My big sister heart still fills with love and pride when I think about my little brother. It's always been that way.

I was 2 and 1/2 years old when Mom and Dad brought Baby Benjamin Michael home from the hospital. I was in love from the beginning. So in love, in fact, that my mom had to buy a play pen just to keep him safe from my love. For some reason she didn't like it when I walked out of the bedroom carrying my baby brother like a rag doll, his head held securely in the crook of my elbow.

In the beginning we shared a bedroom in our tiny 1920's bungalow, but when I was in elementary school, Dad remodeled the basement, adding a Master Bedroom. Ben and I were given our own rooms. It was a sad day. We were just across the hall from each other but it felt like miles apart. We kept our bedroom doors opened so we could talk before we fell asleep. Many mornings, I'd wake up with a visitor in my bed. He missed his big sissy.

I'm not just biased when I say my little brother was cute! Completely towheaded with green eyes and a contagious giggle, he was easy to love. He had his very own sense of style, too. Ben's haircut of choice was a crew cut and his outfit was usually a pair of cutoffs, no shirt, and his beloved cowboy boots.

He was a constant source of entertainment for our little family. One summer day, he pulled a disappearing act (one of many) that we still laugh about today.

(Side note: Before I tell the story, I HAVE TO ASK, does this photo bring back memories for anyone else? My Wonder Woman underoos were one of my childhood treasures)

Superman Disappears

On this particular summer day, Ben's outfit of choice was the red briefs from his Superman underoos and his red rubber Paddington Bear galoshes. That's it. What can I say? He was a minimalist. : )

Mom washed dishes in the kitchen, watching him through the kitchen window while he played in the backyard. I can imagine how she must of felt watching her baby boy, lost in imagination, playing in the backyard in that ridiculous outfit. It must have melted her heart.

For a few minutes, she got distracted from her dishes, looked back out into the yard and realized that Ben was gone. I'm sure she didn't panic at first, but as she continued to call and call and search, Ben was nowhere to be found, and she did start to panic a little.

I had a friend over for the afternoon, so she and I hopped on her banana seat bike and went searching for Ben.

We called and called and searched the neighborhood. How far could he have gone?

We rounded the corner, and at the base of a steep hill we could hear music in the distance. We looked up at the top of the hill as the music came closer and closer. It was the high school marching band practicing again.

As the band crested the hill, we fell off her bike, gasping for air, suddenly struck by uncontrollable laughter.

Marching down the middle of the street to the beat of the drums, proudly leading the way for a bunch of laughing highschoolers, was a towheaded toddler wearing nothing but red Superman briefs and his spiffy Paddington Bear galoshes!

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Reminiscing: Saga of the Moon Boot

Warning: This is a tragic and somewhat disgusting tale. Not for the faint of heart (or stomach). Read at your own risk. : )

We're preparing for a little boy's arrival around here in Princess Land, and all of this preparation has stirred my own memories of being a big sister. Most are happy, but there is one memory still requiring therapy even after all of these years. : )

(Actually there are two, but I'll save the Last Electric Knight episode for another blog post)

Sometimes life just isn't fair when you are the big sister. Remember Moon Boots? Moon Boots were a must-have in our snowy Eastern Washington town during my childhood, but my poor mom was a busy school teacher who rarely had the time to pre-buy anything.

Waiting for the first snowfall, she'd look out the window and say, "Oh no, you need snow boots." The first available Saturday, we'd head to the store and find whatever pair of Moon Boots were left in our size. Year after year I'd hope for the best, but without fail, year after year, I would end up with BOY BOOTS!!!

It was painful to go to school in my ugly navy with yellow stripes boots while the other girls compared their beautiful pink, purple, or even silver boots. I dreamt of the day I would own my own GIRL BOOTS!

It didn't happen. In our small town, beautiful girl boots sold out faster than ugly boy boots.

One magical year, however, my luck changed. A few days before Christmas, we walked into K-Mart's shoe section and found a display of closeout Moon Boots. And what to my wondering eyes should appear?

A pair of Moon Boots in MY SIZE and ON SALE! These boots weren't navy blue or black or brown. It was as if the heavens opened, a ray of sunshine broke through the ceiling, and I beheld the holy grail of Moon Boots. Before me was the most beautiful, gloriously pink pair of boots I had ever seen. You'd be hard pressed to find more girlie boots than these girlie boots. They were pink! Pink boots! And they were mine!

I wished Christmas Vacation would hurry up and end so I could walk into school with my new boots. I couldn't wait to show Erin and Misty and Christy and any other girl who would appreciate my prize.

Finally! My turn had arrived! I had girl boots! : )

But patience was required because Christmas vacation had just begun.

On Christmas Eve, we drove an hour away to Grandma and Grandpa's house to celebrate. Their house was heaven on earth for two little kids. My brother, Ben, and I couldn't get enough of the presents and candies and cookies and eggnog.

I guess my little brother especially couldn't get enough, because as we drove home late that night he began to complain of a tummy ache.

"Ohhhh my tummy hurts!"

My parents assured him that he was fine and that we were almost home.

"NO! I am going to throw up!" Ben insisted.

They tried again to assure him that he just ate too much and would be fine. Then my mom heard his gagging sounds and said, "I think he really is going to throw up. Pull over Roy!"

No doubt about it, vomiting was going to happen and immediate action was required.

To this day, I can see the scene replayed in my mind's eye. I can see Dad's hand coming around from the front seat. I can see him grabbing my beautiful, brand new, never even worn to school yet, GIRL BOOTS. I can still hear him saying, "Here throw up in this."

"NO!!!!" I screamed but it was too late. To my horror, my angel brother filled not one but BOTH of my beautiful, brand new, never even worn to school yet, GIRL BOOTS!

Merry Christmas to me...

Stopping at the nearest dumpster to deposit the vomit filled boots, my mom turned around from the front seat and said, "Don't worry, Honey, we'll go to the store first thing next week and get you a new pair."

She kept her promise. The first day we could make it to the store, we picked up a new pair of Moon Boots, that were just my size.

Just my size and navy blue with yellow stripes. : )

Character Building 101 I guess. : )

I feel better getting this off my chest. : )

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