Denny's Delectable Dining or 'Family Bonding at Denny's'

For those of you with kids that do not know, what I'm about to tell you might prove life-changing.  Not necessarily in the spiritual sense, but in the profoundly practical sense.

Denny's has Kids Eat Free every Tuesday and Saturday afternoon/evening from 4 PM on.  And, even better news, you can have 2 free kids meals for every adult entree purchased.

For a family of 5, 3 of which are children, this is a big deal.  We can take our entire family to Denny's for about the same as we often spend at fast food.  With tip, tax, and everything, we usually are out the door for somewhere between $23-$30.  Not bad.

Combine the deal with a lazy Saturday afternoon, and no surprise here, the result is often another fat-laden breakfast-dinner at Denny's.  It is now to the point that the manager recognizes us and greets us when we come in on Saturday night. 

While Denny's is not necessarily the most elegant restaurant, it is a great FAMILY restaurant.  It is kid friendly and typically has good food at good prices.

All of that pales in comparison to the family bonding time Ben and I have when we use the restroom.

I know that probably sounds a little weird at first glance, but we have actually developed 3 separate games that make restroom breaks less of a hassle and a lot more fun.

Game #1 - We race the girls.  Now, this is probably an unfair race right from the outset, as we are the only 2 boys, and there are 3 girls.  Combine that fact with how much slower girls are in the restroom, and the girls really never had a chance.  Except, of course, when they win.  But that doesn't happen very often, and when it does happen, it is only because of Game #2 and Game #3.

Game #2- The Sprinkle All Over Each Other Game-  I know this is a game played in a bathroom, but the sprinkle here is referring to what we do with the water left on our fingers after we wash our hands.  We both continue washing and quit at the same time, to ensure fairness.  We then face each other and flick our fingers/hands at each other as to ensure the absolute maximum amount of water is sprinkled on the other person.  I guess it's no wonder I sometimes get the strangest looks coming out of the bathroom.

Game #3- The Trash Can Toss- Once we have finished sprinkling each other, we both take a roll of paper towel, dry our hands off with it, and wad it up into a ball.  We then take turns trying to make it in the trash can.  Now the Denny's we go to makes this kind of difficult, as the hole for the trash can is just a small hole in the top of the vanity.  We often tie, but the last time we ate at Denny's, Ben made his first shot, and I didn't make mine until the 4th shot.  This makes him extremely happy.  He loves to beat his dad. 

I have heard it often said that the time you spend with your kids is very important.  I think that is very true.  Some say that the quantity of time is not that important- it's the quality of time that really matters.  I sometimes hope that is true, as it seems I never have the time I wish I had to spend with my 3 wonderful kids.  In my heart, though, I think that both are important.  I try to set aside some time each night to be with my kids, but it often seems it's not enough.  Homework, chores, dinner all can get in the way.

Or, they can just be part of the process of bonding with them.

That is why I developed the bathroom games.  Sometimes the silliest things mean the world to your kids.

I hope it's enough.


-The Poor Husband

Troubles of the Heart, Part 3

If you have not yet read parts 1 and 2, please do so now.

After being forced to substitute the attention of the heart monitor for that of Rachael, I slept fitfully at best. Several times during the night, I'd wake up with my heart tapping me awake. Or at least that's how it felt. I could physically feel it beating wildly inside my chest every time it went into arrhythmia. At times, it felt like it would explode.

I found out that the reason I'd felt light-headed during these times was that the heart was beating so fast, it was forced to beat shallow beats. Therefore, the blood was never carrying enough oxygen to the body and brain and without enough oxygen, the brain decides to take a nap. Fortunately, I had not actually passed out, especially while driving.

When I awoke, I felt like I had not had hardly any sleep at all. However, I was greeted with the best news of the last couple of days!

My heart had regained a normal rhythm.

Whether due to the medication, lots of prayers, the body's natural desire to stay true to what's 'right', or a combination of the three, my heart was now beating a normal beat. While walking to the beat of a different drum is cool for teenagers and rock stars, I was very happy to be back to 'normal'.

It was the best Father's Day present I could hope for. Although a close second was when I saw my kids a few hours later.

Rachael showed up at the hospital bearing gifts, kids, cards, and a story. It's one of those stories, like many on My Poor Husband, that are much funnier in the retelling, than they ever are the first time you hear them.

Apparently, Rachael's emotions were a bit on edge, as can be expected. That morning, Rebecca was taking a bath at the Best Western just down the street, on the corner of Mowry and I-880. Rebecca has a habit of dipping her head completely under the water. It's just something she likes to do.

It normally does not cause any problems.

That morning was not normal.

Rachael was on edge.

Rachael was trying to get Rebecca's attention. She went to talk to her. The door was locked. She called out Rebecca's name.

Again.

And Again.

At this point, as I understand it, Rachael decided to test out her incredibly honed martial arts skills.

"Wax on! Wax off!"

Only this was not going to be a harmless wax job.

Rachael, running on pure adrenaline, put all of her weight into a Super-Kick. The kind that you see in the movies where the door flies open fast enough to knock the person down that's on the other side of the door.

Either Rachael did not read the same script the actors do, or she failed her karate lessons, because when she kicked the door with all of her might, nothing positive happened.

I say nothing positive, because while she did not help herself gain entrance, she did succeed in putting a hole in the door.

At this point, even with your head underwater, you can feel the vibrations of the room shaking. Rachael said that she heard Rebecca raise her head from the water and say in her innocent 9-year old sweet voice, "What Mom?"

She had no idea what had been going on.

But she was all right. That was the main thing.

Of course, later on, the Best Western felt that the main thing was that they got paid $140 for the door that probably cost them $50 to replace.

I found all of this out Father's Day morning, the day my heart returned to normal.

Fortunately, it did not cause my heart to go back into arrhythmia.

Rachael and the kids all came to see me. The kids had all written me notes on cards and they brought me a great Father's Day gift.

By this time, my other good friend Bryan was there. The doctor told me I'd probably be getting out around noon, so we all decided to go to Denny's for a nice Father's Day lunch.

My doctor scheduled a follow-up appointment for an echo-cardiogram, stress test, EKG. While I knew the test was sure to be fun, I had no idea what it would lead to. For that, you'll have to check out the next post.

One of the things that really hit home to me was the fact that I have a great family and great friends, and I will be eternally grateful for both. Mike and Maria and Bryan all came down from somewhere between Sacramento and Chico to be with me in my time of need. My other friend, James had also left Sacramento and was on his way when I was discharged.

On Father's Day.

With no notice.

I've heard it said that a man can consider himself fortunate if he finds one true friend in his entire lifetime. My blessing basket is truly over-flowing.

I am grateful.

The Wake-Up Call

The first words I heard this morning, as I slowly drifted back from the sweet, sweet land of sleep were,

"Mom...." "Mom!" "MOM!"

This actually was repeated many more times, but if I accurately recorded exactly how many I am concerned that the size-limit google allows for their blog posts might be exceeded.

Finally, a faint whisper in return-

"Huh?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

A pause.

"Mom...." (pause) "Mom!" (pause) "MOM!"

The same faint whisper-

"Huh?"

"Can I play on the computer?"

Again, no answer. This repeated several more times. Again, I will leave it to your imagination so that I don't have to actually type it out.

Finally, after the 32nd attempt, (or at least the 5th), our son said in his sweet 1st grade voice,

"AYE-AYE-YIE" Pronounced this would be "I-I-YIE" with each successive syllable getting progressively louder. This is an expression all 3 of my kids seemed to learn in the last year or two at school, and I think all of them have taken to it somewhat, but my youngest seems to have developed a special affinity for it every time he gets frustrated.

I am thankful that God blessed Rachael with a job at a Christian school, so that our kids can attend there. So far, "AYE-AYE-YIE" rates as about as bad as the kids have brought home from their friends at school.

Trying to rest, the process began to repeat.


I didn't think I could take it much longer. Somehow, Rachael awakes just long enough to give a false hope that she's going to be able to make a decision about playing on the computer, but then instantly drifts back to sleep. I am not so lucky.

"Honey?"

"Hon?"

Rachael finally wakes up. At this point, I help Ben out and we ask her if she's ok with him playing on the computer. The answer makes him squeal with delight.

He practices his sprinting moves as he runs to the office.

I tell Rachael how many times Ben had asked. About that same time Rebecca, our eldest daughter walked in the room. She mentioned the other sleep induced response Rachael is famous for.

She said, in her newly acquired 4th grade voice, "Sometimes when we ask you a question when you're still half-asleep, the answer comes out 'ahhhhuhhhh'. It's hard to tell if that's a yes or a no. You have to listen really close. Yes sounds just a little bit different than no."

Now of course, Rachael would be back asleep by this point anyway, and would probably not even remember the question or the answer.

I'm just thankful that our kids have NEVER taken advantage of that situation. I know that if your kids are like mine, they would never, EVER take advantage of their mom's sleepy responses. Which is a good thing, because if they wanted to, they could probably get in a lot of trouble.

"Mom, can we have the keys to the Honda? We want to go joy-riding!"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Gee, thanks Mom! - Catch ya later!" Of course, the fact that my oldest daughter is only 9 might impose some natural restrictions on this one, as I'm pretty sure her feet would have a hard time reaching the pedals.

"Mom, my sisters are being mean to me. Can I hit them?"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Woo-hoo- No time-out this time!"

"Mom, I'm going to go practice my knife-juggling in the kitchen, OK?"
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Wow- Thanks Mom! I didn't think you would let me."


After Rebecca finished talking about the indiscernibility of Rachael's 'yes' from her 'no' when she is half-asleep, she asked us if we had noticed the bagels she had brought us for breakfast. For the past few months, she has tried to make sure to bring us breakfast in bed every Saturday morning. This has resulted in messy kitchens, extra dishes, but most of all it has been an affirmation of her love for both of us. I've been quite touched by it.

"Mom, do you remember me bringing in the bagel?"
"No."
"Your eyes were open."

Ahh, the bliss of half-sleep. When you're awake enough to still feel comforted and somewhat cradled by your soft bed and comfy pillows, but not awake enough to really register what's going on around you.

The more I think about this, I can see where I have really been missing the boat. Next Saturday is going to be different.

"Hon, I'm going to go buy a new Corvette today."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"With the 401(k) money."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"OK, kids, she agreed. you stay here and take care of momma."

"Hon, I think I'll leave you to take care of the kids this whole weekend. I'm gonna go spend some time with the guys."
"Ahhhhuhhhh"
"Hey! Thanks!"

And then get out of there before she actually wakes up.

**If you liked this post, be sure to click the 'follow' tab so you can stay up-to-date on this blog.  Enjoy!**

The Faith Of A Child, part 2

If you have not read the first part of this story, please take the time to do so now. Otherwise, this one will make very little sense. Go to: http://lifewithrachael.blogspot.com/2009/08/faith-of-child.html.


After Hannah's move into her new bedroom, we realized she did not have a dresser for her new room. Hannah prayed to God in the sweetest way possible, and with total faith, after which she fell deep into a sweet sleep. Rachael was the one putting her to bed and told me about Hannah's prayer.

Being the adult that I am, I marvelled at her incredible faith, her seemingly unwavering belief in her God. I probably even envied it a little bit.

Then I began to worry some.

"What's going to happen when Hannah wakes up and she has no dresser?"

"What's going to happen when we go through the entire day tomorrow, and there is no dresser?"

"Will I be able to convince Hannah that God answered her prayer by Rachael and I spending our money to purchase one?"

"Will her faith be tested?"

I fell asleep thinking about how to explain to Hannah why she did not have a dresser sitting in her room when she woke up. With the incredible faith that she had, I thought she might actually be surprised that the dresser was NOT there.


I woke up Sunday morning and got the kids out of bed, and began to make breakfast. Yes, I made breakfast. I am in charge of Sunday mornings. While I have never professed to being a fine chef, I serve up a mean toasted Eggo waffle, or Quaker Oatmeal (the kind that you only have to add hot water to.) I sometimes mess up the oatmeal, but usually it comes out at least edible. As I was getting everything ready, I was trying to prepare mentally to help answer any of the doubts that Hannah was sure to express about there not being a dresser in her room.

I called to the kids that breakfast was ready. They dutifully came and sat down. We said grace and began to eat.

This was it.

This was when Hannah was going to start asking the questions.

She opened her mouth to talk.

I braced myself.

"Dad, can I have some milk, please?"

The entire breakfast went smoothly. There were no questions. There was only the normal conversational banter that comes whenever you have 3 kids in close proximity to food.

After breakfast, I headed off to take my shower after giving the kids their instructions to clear their spots and get ready for church.

"Whew, it looks like I'm not getting any hard questions this morning!"

Everyone got ready and we piled in the truck. Now, we live about 35 minutes from the church we go to. That's a long time. Plenty of opportunity for Hannah to ask the Hard Questions.

But there were no Hard Questions. There were no questions at all. By this time, I figured maybe Hannah had just forgotten about her prayer.

I think I may have just been underestimating the depth of her faith.

Sometimes when we as adults ask God for something, if He doesn't answer in the next 4 minutes, we figure he's just not listening, or Satan's attacking, or our spouse is living so unholy that God can't possibly answer our prayers. We sometimes forget about that whole In His Time thing.

We had a fairly uneventful ride to church. We always enjoy seeing the ocean, the sea lions, the beautiful reflection of the sun on the bay. We had our normal conversations. All was normal and nice.


We pulled up to the church.

We looked at the yard surrounding the church and saw a dresser.

I turned to Rachael and said,

"Look at what's in front of the church."

The kids did not see it at first.

Rachael said, "Oh My Goodness, Look at that!" in the exaggerated tone we parents use when we want to be absolutely sure our kids get our message.

Once they saw it, Rebecca said that Hannah needed a dresser. Hannah asked if she could have it.

Now why is there a dresser in front of the church. Why? Why indeed?

We've been going to this same church for almost 6 years. It's not like it is a normal place for people to dump furniture. In our entire time there, we've never seen a dresser there on Sunday morning. Or a couch. Or a bed. Or any other piece of furniture, for that matter.

I'm still not wanting to get my hopes up, so I answer Hannah's question as my adult version of watered-down faith has taught me to:

"I have no idea. We'll have to see what's going on with it."

I have no idea? I have no idea? Can I possibly be any more dense?


We walked into the church and talked with the pastor and the deacon. We asked them what was going on with the dresser. Neither had any idea. They said that someone had left it there sometime on Friday. They both expressed surprise at the fact that no one had taken it on Saturday. The neighborhood around the church is not terrible, but it's not the best. Apparently, things like the dresser don't usually sit around unclaimed for long.

I asked them what they were going to do with the dresser.

They answered.

"We don't know. We don't want it. Do you possibly want it?"

Thinking back to this now, I feel like bawling like a baby. I am prone to doing that at times. Especially when confronted face-to-face with the incredible goodness of God. I told Hannah. She did not even seem surprised. She did seem very grateful and happy.

After Hannah had asked for the dresser, I hoped that I might be able to somehow use the opportunity when she didn't get the dresser to help her learn a lesson about how God doesn't always answer our prayers like we think He might. Maybe a lesson on waiting on God. Or a lesson on never losing Faith.

I was hoping that Hannah's faith might be strenghened.

Instead, Hannah's faith was completely and totally fulfilled, and I was the one to learn the lesson.

When I began this post, I talked about how thankful I am for the influence Rachael has been on our kids. I believe that Rachael has played an instrumental part in helping develop the faith of our children. Life with Rachael is often full of blessings.

That night, as we got down to pray, I talked to Hannah about her prayer the night before and how amazing it was that God had answered it so suddenly and completely. She had the knowing look of a child that knew what was going to happen all along. I don't think she was nearly as amazed as I had been.

She got ready to pray.

I halfway-jokingly asked her if she'd mind asking God to give Daddy a Corvette.

She just looked at me and said, "Dad!" like it was crazy to ask for something like that.


I think she gets it.

She really gets it.

I'm working on it.


*Be sure to come back tomorrow for the final post and to see a picture of the dresser that Hannah's prayers brought.

The Faith of A Child

Life with Rachael has been very exciting.

Life with Rachael has been filled with adventure.

Life with Rachael has been filled with many incidents that are considerably funnier now than what they were when they happened.



While I try to be patient, I'd be giving Pinocchio a run for his money to say I'd never been seething in anger. I think I only actually seethed once, but I have been rather upset at times.

My love for Rachael has always been infinitely more powerful and deeper than any superficial frustration or even anger I may have had over some of the things that have happened.

There are many, many reasons to love Rachael. Tonight, I am going to tell you about at least one.

She is a great mother.

She has taught our children many wonderful things. She has taught them through her actions as well as her words. I believe she has demonstrated an incredibly deep faith in God that has been noticed by our children and manifested in their actions and attitudes.

She has also taught me. She has taught me how to love better and deeper than I ever could have without her. She has taught me how to better live out my Christianity. I think she's better at that than I am, but I'm working on it and I am eternally grateful to live with such a great embodiment of God's love.

We have been living in the same house in Salinas, CA for almost 6 years now. Up until recently, Hannah and Benjamin had shared a room. In addition to this, all three kids shared what we called our toy room. The toy room was a great idea in theory. The theory was that the kids could all go into a common area that would always be nice, clean, and orderly. They would play calmly, quietly, and considerately while listening to Mozart playing in the background. Their multiple intelligences would be stimulated and enhanced.

In practice, it turned out to be a catch-all for junk and toys from all three kids. It turned out to be a fight-magnet. It turned out to be just one and a half steps away from being classified as a junk yard. I am still looking for the ornery kids from the neighborhood that incessantly brought all of their trash and toys over to our house, snuck in the window in the middle of the night, and used our toy room as their own local refuse pit. At least, I'm sure that must have been what was going on, because a typical conversation went something like this:

"Rebecca, there's trash all over the floor. Can you please pick it up?"

"Umm, Dad, that's not mine. I think it's Hannah's."


"Hannah, there's trash all over the floor. Can you please pick it up?"

"Dad, that's Ben's, not mine."


"Ben, there's trash all over the floor. Can you please pick it up?"

"But, D-a-a-a-a-a-d. It's NOT mine!"


This same conversation was repeated when it came time to put the toys away as well. Except for one slight variation.

"Ok, if no one wants to pick up the toys, I'm going to just throw them away."

You could see the looks cross their faces. Each one trying to decide if they really cared about the toys in question. If no, they were more than happy to let me clean up the room for them. Even if they DID care about the toys, you could still see the hesitation, as they thought amongst themselves, "I wonder if _________ likes these toys too. If so, I can maybe wait awhile and they will take care of them for me."

The entire time, I'm staring at blank faces, wondering if I should have me kids checked for possible amnesia.

Most of the time, the amnesia seemed to clear right before the toys were thrown away. One of them would suddenly remember that the toys did belong to them and they'd rush to clean them up.

The plan had always been that when Hannah and Ben got older, we'd separate them, one would stay in the bedroom they currently shared, and the other would move into their own bedroom, and we'd no longer have a toy room.

That was a plan that came to fruition a few weeks ago. Hannah came to us to let us know that she was ready for the big move.


After a lot of hard work, mostly by Rachael, we were almost set.

That's when we discovered that Hannah would no longer have a dresser. She and Ben had always shared a dresser, but now they would be on opposite sides of the house. Ben would keep the dresser they had formerly shared, and now Hannah did not have one. We did not have the extra money to buy a new dresser and had not had time to go to yard sales that day, as our primary focus was on the big move.

The big move took place on a Saturday, not long ago. That night, we said prayers with Hannah. She prayed her normal sweet, innocent, regular prayer that she says every night. But, in addition, she said, "Dear God, can you please send me a dresser for me to use in my new room?"

She said this so sweetly, so innocently, with the absolute pure and beautiful faith that we as grown ups seem to somehow forget, or at least have a really hard time finding after a busy day of dodging bombardments from the devil. She prayed with total faith, total confidence in her God. Rachael was the one that actually prayed with her, but she told me about the prayer.

Now, me being the adult that I am, I knew there was no way God was going to magically reach down and place a dresser in Hannah's bedroom. When I went to sleep that night, I did not expect to wake up in the morning and find a dresser in her bedroom. I figured that God would probably only answer that prayer if I decided to take some money and use it to purchase a dresser for Hannah. In fact, I was mildly concerned that Hannah's faith might be challenged a bit if and when God did not answer her prayer. I did not want her to wake up, go though the day, and be surprised to find out she still did not have a dresser.

The next day did turn out to be quite a surprise. Come back tomorrow to find out what happened.

Click here for part 2!