Me & My Roth

In the last two weeks, I feel like I've really become a grown-up. I thought I'd feel like a grown-up when I got married, but I've even reached an all new level: I opened a Roth IRA. That's right, an Individual Retirement Account. I've heard about this whole retirement from a few of my overly-ambitious friends, and apparently it's a good idea to start early. Well, I'm trying. So I put in an initial deposit two weeks ago, and it's revolutionized my life. Alright, that might be a little dramatic, but I am slightly obsessed. Just ask Joy.

You see, with the internet, I can literally follow the stock moment every moment of every day. This morning I slept in until 9, and Joy is on spring break so she was able to sleep in too. As soon as I got out of bed, my first words unfortunately weren't "I love you, dear" or "Wow, your breath just gets better even if you haven't brushed." They were: "Oh, I wonder how the stock market started off today." She understandably rolled her eyes and said, "Please say this is only a stage."

The retirement date of my Roth is 2045. That's right, it's in there for the next 38 years, which is just about incomprehensible at this point. Surely there shall be many ups and downs, but I love watching that little graph go in all sorts of directions. I know basically nothing about the stock market, but I'm very excited for what the future holds. Not because I'll actually make any money (at this point, I have no doubt that people are losing at any given moment the entire amount I have invested), but because I have a new hobby. Perhaps this new intrigue will wear off, but for now, I am just thankful it's the weekend and I can rest again until Monday morning and the stock market opens again!

Poopy Leaper

Well, Joy and I did our second Sunday in the Leapers room. This time, there were plenty of helpers besides Joy and myelf, but this time, there was poop involved. Joy did the first one, and then, when there was about five minutes before the parents came to rescue the children/rescue us, I smelled another one. And it smelled bad. I lifted the little tike up and walked over to Joy. She smelled the youngster and declared that if it looked anything like it smelled, we were in big trouble. I asked if she was going to change it, and she stated that the parents would be here in two minutes. I protested. Sure, we may know that he just pooped a minute ago, but his parents may think we let him stay in a dirty diaper for the last hour. Joy said I was going to have to do it. I rolled up my sleeves, put on some rubber gloves, and began the process. This was a whole new experience for me, and there was one moment when I thought vomit was also gonna be all over this child. Joy helped a lot (and laughed a lot), and then she even told the kid's dad that it was my first time changing a poopy diaper. If they are all as bad as this one was, I think I might have to get out of the Leapers room and into the Climbers. They may be more rowdy, but at least they know how to use a toilet.

Honking Ads

I have a new pet-peeve: it's when there are radio commercials that involve car honking. Twice yesterday, while stuck in traffic and fearing that this was the day my car would officially die (I think the end is near), there were two different radio ads which both involved honking. And yes, each time I assumed: 1) I was cutting someone off, 2) someone was about to hit me, 3) I had lost my rear bumper a few blocks back and was dragging the muffler as well. If car dealerships want to sell cars, that's fine, if they want to fix my car, that's even better, but why oh why must honking be a part of the ad when people are driving?! Yeah, I wasn't happy, and I'm sure I looked foolish too. Hey, at least the muffler is still in its place.

Leapers!

Joy and I have been trying to get more involved at our church this year. We want to meet some people, hopefully make some friends, and do some serving. Sounds good, right? So last week was our first Sunday of helping out in the children's ministry. We are helping out with the 1 1/2 to 2 year olds, called the Leapers. (Yes, all the age-groups are named on some type of bodily movement: Leapers, Climbers, Jumpers. Thank goodness we didn't sign up for the Poopers!) Anyway, we went through the process of filling out the application and on our first Sunday, we went and had our pictures taken for our IDs and found our way to our room. The lights were off and the door closed. Hmm, we thought, perhaps we're just really early. We did a lap around the church, and came back. Still no lights, still no open door. After two more laps, we decided we probably looked silly walking around the church like we were some of those way-too-early-in-the-morning mall walkers, and ventured into the room on our own.

A few minutes later, one of the children's ministry team leaders came in to introduce herself to us. We thought surely another adult would be coming in the room with us, so Joy tentatively asked if any other adults would be in the room. The lady, bless her heart for handling all of these dear children, simply said, "No" as if she wasn't the least concerned that Joy and I had no idea what we were doing. I should rephrase that: Joy clearly knows what she's doing. I'm a naive disaster when it comes to those leaping crazy beings that are called toddlers.

The church is apparently high-tech and high-security, and parents swipe cards in the entrace area of the children's ministry, and then a little sheet prints in our room to let us know the child's on its way. Well, we started off fine, just one slip, sign the kid in, and then a second slip, sign the girl in. Then madness began. I swear, the next ten minutes were pure bedlam. Slips were flying out of the machine. Babies were bawling and parents weren't doing much better. Diaper bags were everywhere. I was probably crying too. When it all settled down and I realized what had happened, Joy and I looked around and realized we were alone with 17 children. That's right...17. I think it was actually 19, but 2 must have escaped. Oh well.

I've sat through some long sermons in my day. I've slept in church, doodled, read Bible passages that weren't relevant to the message, looked at the harmonies in the hymnbook. No service seemed as long as this one where I was with these children. Now, there were moments of pure pleasure and glee, frolic and fun, but there were also moments of tears (both me and the children), grabbing kids from climbing over the door holding them in, checking to see if kids were peeing (thankfully, Joy did the diaper changing), and trying to get the kids to stop using the black crayons directly on the nice wooden table. Of course, it was a communion Sunday, so the service went long. I think "Communion To Go" should be an option for parents. Okay, maybe not, but if the pastor doesn't end on time, they risk having a whole lot of parents upset because the workers simply gave up and took the children into the bapistry for some added fun.