There's a Dinosaur in My Bed

In groggy morning hours I climbed out of bed for a baby who needed a fresh diaper and bite to eat, took a toddler to the bathroom and cozied back in for one last shut-eye.  My pillows were askew and my quilt had parted ways with the comforter as each spilled over an opposite side of the mattress.
I cared very little if knotted flannel sheets made it all the way to my chin and did not bother to wonder where my second pillow went.  Suddenly from out of a hazy dream-like fog a sharp realization hit me:
there was a dinosaur in my bed.
A dinosaur.  In my bed.
And yet.

When a mother is running on sleep fumes and far-fetched hopes of just-another-30-minutes, "she" could care less if a hard plastic reptile shares her space.  As long as he is quiet, doesn't wiggle or wake the baby, and won't hog the bit of sheet she just curled under... who cares.

"She" doesn't think she left him there, but this morning he's welcome to stay.

Later in a more wakeful demeanor, I watched a sweet documentary of a family who sold all their household goods and now travel the states together in a little trailer.  It was a darling, dreamy, romantic documentary, and then I thought: family of 6 living in a 18 foot travel trailer?  Romantic?

We've done that kind of thing, and today we live off grid in a small-for-10-people cabin.  We travel together. We grocery shop together.  We have "date night" at home while the kids are still washing dishes rather loudly in the kitchen only a few yards away.

Wouldn't it be awesome if someone made a documentary of my life that made it look... romantic?  Everyone in the world could view my story and wish it was theirs.  It would be beautiful!  Don't we all need that?  A few well-timed clips of my house when it sparkles and my family when it shines would help provide perspective when I need it - like on mornings when there's a dinosaur's tail in the small of my back.

The truth is, that the beautiful moments, the bunting over the bed and rosy lighting, the laughter, the books all on the shelf with their binding edge facing out - it's real.  Hey, even jam globbed on the outside of the jam jar can seem cute if the background music is right!  But noticing the favorite parts, really seeing the best scenes depends more on the lens through which we look, rather than whether or not the beautiful actually exists.

On the other side of that ethereal documentary, wanna bet that there's an occasionally-tired mom who can't find a quiet place when the trailer rocks and sways from frolicking hoodlums?  Would you like to imagine what happens to milk that's spilled on the floor of a home that's not level?
I love the picture that documentary painted.  I was delighted and inspired, but that kind of  living is hard work. It may be simple, but it's challenging.

Just like all we mothers experience in our own different stories, life is hard work mixed with dollops of light and laughter, beauty, serenity, and song.  We each live a romantic documentary-worthy life, but since we don't have a camera crew or a soul-moving sound track we're left to our own editing.  What do I see when I survey my surroundings?

Honestly it's often the dinosaur robbing me of sleep.  That's reality.  Dinosaurs in beds.

But in my documentary, honky tonk piano plays as I contort my body into semi-comfort, shut my eyes and pretend the last pillow didn't fall off the bed.  And even if I don't get to sleep, I think of the small boy who brought his green buddy in to share my cozy place and then left in a hurry - important things to do with his early morning hours - and I smile.

I may not have a film crew but it's my story.
And it's a good one.

Baby, Oh Baby.

Baby for not-much-longer...

Why does that little nose keep running?  Aren't we done with this sickness yet?
And why do runny noses come with so much whining. Why?
I want to know.
My momma ears are falling off from the high-pitched discontent strains,
and the cacophony of coughing is wearing on them too.
Do you want to put a pillow over your head as well?

What a rude gesture to brush though your hair, when you're clearly not
feeling your best, but after a week's-worth of one nappy, unchanged 'do,
it's clear that  the time has come to apply a comb.
At least get it tidied up until we brush it again next week.

I'm glad you're eating well Baby-mine.
But why can't you wait just one minute?
I'm hurrying as fast as my morning hands can go - to peel this orange,
to cut up that egg, to wipe your nose once again.

How can the sick discontents be so insatiable?
There is virtually nothing that will pacify.  Except hugs eh?
Except Hugs.  The kind that mean "pick me up"
"sit you down, mom" and "stay here for a while more."
So we do.  While it brings everything else to a dead halt, we sit and hug.
All things considered, it's a prescription I can follow in good conscience.

What is so important I can't stop really?
What's the matter with crying - let's just cry together.
This illness won't last.  The sad sounds will cease. Your nose will stop running.
In one day or ten we'll look backward to this sick day from the land of the well.
And in almost as few days you'll be my "big" girl, no longer the tiniest of the troop.
So let's sit and hug, Baby.

You're still my baby today, and it's a good day for hugging.

No Qualifications Necessary

This morning started off rocky.

I'm still working out the kinks of a school routine,
which when educating children at home means
not only book work, chores, and meals,
but also a lot of restarts, false starts, and second chances.

There is also rather a lot of character training
-theirs and possibly more often, mine.

Days that start off like this day did
make me doubt my qualification for this job.
But I'm not a mother because I'm qualified.
I have this mothering job because it was handed me
(quite generously actually)
probably because I'm not (qualified, or even good at it)
and through my imperfectness God makes
something beautiful.
Isn't that the story of redemption?  And it plays out in my life
every. single. day.

Start, fail, repent, restart, falter, forgive, receive mercy,
extend grace, second chance, and so on.

I am reminded by my faithful sojourner
softly, and without reprimand 
for my pregnancy hormones and emotional tears,
that this was never about a flawless system for educating them
(our children)
or a seamless flow of family life, chores, creativity, and learning.

We step boldly (and sometimes gingerly)
into another already sin-tainted day
because we believe these ones who are shorter than us
for only a while, are important people.
People with a character I'm responsible to help shape.
And they're becoming some of the neatest people I know!
Truly, it's a wonder to watch.
THAT is the fruit of faithful perseverance and God's grace.

I get to be a part of it.

In light of all this, I dry my tears and start the next bit of day fresh.
I may not be qualified, but I know what I'm doing and why.

Let's start over.

At noon it felt like a day lost.
Nothing terrible had transpired... yet nothing... had transpired.
And then when I was ready to regroup and change gears, aiming for more fun...and to BE more fun...

"Mom! (someone-who-shall-remain-nameless) just now punched me in the arm with a bell pepper!"

Okay.  Everyone needs a nap today, and I need some quiet for a while.
And they did.  And I did.  I glittered the stars all by myself, and enjoyed every single moment of quiet!
I wrote a "to-do for fun" list for myself in ten colors.
I scissored and snipped, penciled and inked, punched and strung a banner.

It was therapy.

Just before dinner 3 cousins were delivered to my door while their parents took a Christmas-shopping date.
We had a date of our own, those three cousins, me, and my 7 hoodlums! 
Nachos for dinner; books read; and then we dove into our Craft Friday project on Thursday night.
Two little ones strung beads...

7 big kids created faux stained glass, by decoupaging candle holders with tissue paper.

In case you are wondering why all the headlamps(?)
It's only this bright in my photo because of my lightning-bolt camera flash.
We have 4 propane lamps that light this room which provide luminescence necessary
for getting around furniture and quickly finding the chocolate stash,
however it's not really enough light for working on projects.

There are electric lights in the pantry/washroom (as you see in the background) which we can use
when the generator is running or the batteries charged, but electric lighting in the rest of the house
is a work in progress.
For the present we continue to enjoy ambiance :-)

Our crafting went surprisingly well...

despite this one little mishap.   Which I handled with grace and calm and which really
wasn't as bad as I thought on first glance.  It is a bowl of glue, after all, and that is my wall.

I will add here,

that I think it's a sign of maturity
when the first order of dealing
(or maybe "coping")
with an event like this
means
I grab my camera.


Good to know I'm growing up.










It was a Christmasy evening, full of sweet little people and the memories they made.
I even got a second chance at trying to be fun!  I'm going to need a lot more practice
though... so I hope tomorrow's got more camera-grabbing moments in store :-)

I'm running low on PATIENCE, but ENDURANCE is on the up-swing.

"Can I get into the bath now?"  she says.

"No. You forgot something."   I say.

"Oh."  she says.

"What did you forget?" say I.

"I don't know"  she says

"Look at yourself."  I say.

(she looks)

"What do you see?"  I ask.

"Nothing" she says.

"What are you wearing?"  I ask.

"Nothing"  she says.
"
You ARE wearing something.  
That's why you can't get into the bath"  Say I.

"Look at your body.  Look at all your parts"  I say again.

(she peers down at herself)

---------silence-----------

"What do you see?" I ask.

"Nothing" she says again.

(exasperated, I sigh. Loudly)

"Caro-LIE-NAH!"  I say.

"Look at your arms.  What do you see?"  I ask.

"Nothing" she replies.

"Look at your tummy.  What do you see?"  I ask

"Nothing"  she says.

"Look at your legs.  What do you see?"  I ask

"Nothing" she says.

"Look at your feet Carolina.  What do you see?" say I.

"Nothing."  She says once more.

"Why?"  I ask "WHY do you see nothing?"

"Because I have my socks on"  she says.

"YES.  
Right. 
You can't see your feet because your socks are on them.  
Do you think that might be a problem for getting into the bath?"

"Oh."  she says.

Sheesh......................... Thinks I.

Hunting for Freedom

Somewhere between Breakfast and the baby's first diaper change, I lost it.
I couldn't find the freedom I know is mine, and I was completely taken off guard
when it disappeared.  Where to?  I don't know.
All I know is I was sitting on the back porch watching my small ones play.
There was an enamel basin filled two inches with cool water.  Cups of various color and size
were being dipped in, poured out, and my sad wilted tomatoes were soaking up a much longed-for drink.
The morning sun was shining straight down - no shadows peeking out anywhere.  No shade.
I was content with my lot, dreaming of little tweaks here and there which would improve my
humble program.  My "what I am trying to accomplish with my Bugletts" program.
You know.  Life.

In the freshness of morning; only happy sounds could be heard and I commenced thinking about
next years school.  Actually, school slash learning is a slowly plodding mule we've been riding all summer.
 We're not moving very fast, but depend on us getting there - to our destination - eventually.
 Some days I distribute more busy work, others less, and most all the days holding an element of "real life"
 which offers an education I couldn't produce any other way.
The rocket, sail ship, or  log cabin project for example.
Spring and summer are the most fruitful time for our Nature Journals, and even though our garden is
completely overgrown with volunteers and weeds, many of the wild flowers are still going strong in August.
Last years vegetable plot is this year, a bed of daisies - literally.  Frogs, moths, beetles, berries, flowers,
frogs, dead mice and voles (thanks to Fred the cat), grasshoppers, various rocks, and even more frogs
than I can count have passed before my appreciating eyes this Summer.
Susanna is finger crocheting, and braiding my hair.
Olivia is learning to read, and fixing breakfast for two younger siblings.
Clayton was inspired to start a worm farm to supply his fishing habit.
Zachary has entered the ranks of voracious readers; Tom Swift mysteries being right at the top.
And I?  I am all of a sudden feeling petrified about "Next Year's School..." (spoken here in hushed tones).

As I said, I was caught off guard between Breakfast and the baby's first diaper change of the day.
Somewhere in the interim, when I was unprepared for the blow, I took in 20 minutes of my friend's school plan
(which probably took her hours and day,s if not weeks to perfect) and my school plan
lost it's shine.
My dreams of pleasant improvements upon what already works for my tribe,
became a mad grasp at all the things I should do, must do, need to do...
you know, those things that "other" people are doing.  And doing successfully, I might add.
No longer was it fun.  No how.  It turned to business and nothing but.
And in a 20-minute instant, I lost my freedom.
Freedom to be me. To do what works for me. To do what works for our family.  To dream.

I don't understand it, but it seems to be a law of nature, that when considering the methods
that are effective for someone else, I feel obligated to use that exact same program.
Instead of gaining inspiration, I seem to accumulate guilt like it's going out of style.
Not exactly motivating.
In fact, it is actually very much a burden, and an unnecessary one at that!

So I looked and looked for that misplaced freedom.  It wasn't in the Biology book.  It wasn't in the
new math manipulative's.  It wasn't in the proposed music lessons.  It wasn't in that friend's fancy Excel charts.

After I changed the baby's diaper I had quite a time recovering from my self-imposed illness.
It wasn't until afternoon that I found a piece of what I was hunting for.  In my cold mocha, chocolaty
and caffeinated I found some pep.  The possibilities started looking plausible.
In a short chat with another girlfriend, my wise friend asked me "...so what's most important?..." 
THAT'S where I reclaimed my freedom.  I'd forgotten not only to ask myself that question, but I'd also lost sight of what is important.

I believe that what's most important will be different for each person/family/teacher/momma
and that I have to determine it based on larger farther-reaching goals I want to accomplish.
But PHEW!  What a relief to remember that I have a unique family, in a unique situation,
living under unique circumstances, trying to meet our own unique goals!  What is important?
I need to sit and really evaluate the question, but I think I know.  At least I think I can answer that for
myself in this season; and with that I can decide what mode of transportation moves our family to it's
unique destination.
I'll try to wrap my mind around this query over a few more mocha's,  but who knows?
Maybe that slowly plodding mule is just the thing:-)

You may have to dig a little...

This beautiful lake is balm for a weary heart.
Watching my very own sweet candy-colored children
play with their cousins in this lake makes a nearly-perfect evening every time!

My beloved reminds me that this tiredness and my feelings of defeat are
part of every new-baby-roller-coaster-ride we've embarked upon.
Sometimes it helps to have that balanced perspective which reassures me I'm not going crazy.
I suppose that at 2 months past the babymoon, interrupted sleep is catching up.

My sis Hannah provided a picnic for this outing, and Oh how I thank her
for doing all the dinner-thinking!  It gave my hands and brain a short reprieve.

Isn't Watermelon summer's Pop Corn?  It's almost a meal in itself when you just need
something quick to fill a number of bottomless pits, and the children think that  
eating Watermelon is a party all it's own.

Besides food for... for.... for a LOT of us, Hannah provided me with some precious fellowship as well.

She is at that 4-children-5-and-under season which by my recollection is more hairy than the one I'm in now.
She understands my hard days.
And I can relate to hers.

It was good to recall the frustrations of the day and discover they were
actually kind of funny in retrospect. 

Too bad I can't see forward to that more often when I'm in the moment.

We laughed about trying to bake bread in an oven with an unlit pilot.  It doesn't get too hot that way.
The bread doesn't really bake too well.

We laughed about cleaning out the girls sock drawers and finding... a Squirrels tail?
Oh yeah.  You can bet there was a good reason for keeping that in there!

She confided to me that when telling her husband she was struggling,
he asked "what's wrong?"
she stated simply: "everything."

"That's a lot of things to go wrong." he tenderly said.
and her answer to that was "I KNOW!"

Me too Hannah.  I know.

We watched boys fish.
We watched girls get as wet as we'd let them.
We watched babies and tried to keep the mosquitoes off them.

We chuckled at how silly all that turmoil seems after the fact.  But real nonetheless. 

The world comes down around your ears just as the baby needs to nurse.
It's something you can count on, but it still feels crushing when it occurs.

I really do understand.

It's good when that frenzied moment passes and we can look backwards on it with a grin.

"That wasn't so bad"  we can say now that we're through it.
And it's true. It wasn't so bad.

Most especially if I used self-control in the heat of the moment and didn't say or do
things to taint the fun of later story-telling.

And if there's a friend listening who can relate.

And if the stories can be told while both friends nurse hungry babies and bat at bugs.

And if we may watch our children do all the things that make childhood so spectacular!

In that case even the hard days should be remembered. 
They are somewhat softened in the retelling
so as to filter out the despair and illuminate the hilarious.

Some people call it denial.  I don't.  I call it choosing to worship.
Just look my way and you'll see a silhouette of a woman with both arms stretched out
pointing - waving wildly perhaps - towards Gods glory.
HE is faithful.  HE is long suffering.  And even on days that seem lost we can choose
to glorify Him.

We might have to dig a little; do some detective work and sleuth it out,
but it's worth it to find these sparkling snippets of joy!

Linking up with another treasure hunter...

Prayers and Nyquil

~Trying on a fish net~

Prayers and Nyquil are the combination I credit to nary a peep from my sick fish last night!
(In case you were wondering, "sick fish" is a family term coined by Zachary when he was 2 or so.
It was birthed in a game with aunties and uncles once upon a time, and 
we've continued it's use over the years when there are sickies in our house.)

My Courtney started praying for our family before I hit the hay, and I doused my children
right before sending them to bed (She is of the Race that knows Joseph, she is!)
I know that uncomfortable kiddos sharing a room and waking through
the night is a recipe for a long long night for me.  Sleep is good.
It's good for them.
It's good for me.
And HOW.

Today has been a restful day with drizzly rain outside, and chicken soup within.
Legos, and Andy Griffith, and rest.  Lots and lots of rest.

It's 5pm and the smell of bread fresh from the oven wafts up to where I repose
on my bed with a baby and 6 children-on-the-mend.
Dinner is all but served, and more Andy Griffith is shortly in store.
Days like this are rare.  And so is rest!
But I guess I hit the jackpot today :-)

A less romantic truth

In a torrent of tears, I slip off both boots.  

Each a child's size 9 with purple polka dots, 

and each on the wrong foot.

A deluge of emotion

probably caused by an unwanted surge of hormones

(if not the lint that was generously added to my coffee by chubby fingers)

 is the reason for this wet and salty overflow.

Methodically I help wrangle the proper foot into each boot, 

then gently pull down a denim pant leg over the top.

Tenderly my daughter asks 

"Are you okay now mom?"

And through the blur I answer

"Yes.  I'll be okay.

I love you guys very much.  And I love being your momma...

...but sometimes it makes me dizzy."

It's "That" week...

 ...The one where Adrenalin has left without a farewell and Tiredness catches up,
tackles me, and I get buried at the bottom of a dog pile.

I thought I was doing pretty good.  "That" week usually hits me at 3 weeks postpartum.
This time I made it to 4.

All of a sudden, emotions take the wheel, and brain takes the back seat.
It (my brain) doesn't even help give directions or answer critical questions as in:  
"Why am I standing in the pantry?"
or 
"This diaper is dry.  I must have changed it twice and it's the other kid who's stinky.
What is WRONG with me?!!"

But then again.  It's not my brains fault I fuel it with only a couple hours of sleep at night.
And I DO know what's wrong with me.
It's "That" week.
"That" week occurs every 18 months more or less, and is of duration.  It won't last forever.
Thankfully.

And I know what it is; can anticipate it's arrival. I recognize it when it crashes my party.
I have the advantage there because I've made a point to find ways of outsmarting Self Pity.

The very best one I know is to cuddle baby.
Or to watch my babies cuddle my baby!

To number the infinite blessings I enjoy - especially the holding of
a squishy, rosy cheeked, sleepy baby.
A baby who is healthy, and a warm nest to keep all my little chickens near.

Sometimes I continue to feel the way I feel.
But I know that it's just a passing feeling.
That with a little encouragement Truth (the Truth of God's mercy and grace poured out on my life)
will illuminate a way in which to go, and paint colors of vibrant hue on my circumstantial canvas
banishing a gray deception.
Oh blessed victory!



































"That" week is now on the countdown!

It's the Little Things

Sometimes the little things seem like BIG things, you know?
Today was like that for me.

One little kink in my day felt like an insurmountable obstacle.
And that's only talking about 1.


It's amazing to me 
how perceptive an 8 year old little boy can be:

It's nice to be loved.
Sometimes that's no small thing.
;-)

You know you homeschool when...

Each of your children has 2 pencils to do their Math:

1 with a working pencil lead,

 and 

1 with a working eraser.

Has anyone else got this problem?
For some reason it haunts me.
I can't get my children to sharpen their pencils without eating them up
(cheap pencils? How can I even tell?).
And they're always breaking mechanical pencils.
Or are too small to change the leads themselves.
I think it's a problem that can be solved...
but I haven't yet.

Do YOUR kids have one sharp, eraser-clad pencil?
If so, HOW?!  WHY?  PLEASE TELL ME THE SECRET!

Treading water - check. Still breathing - check.

I know I am in trouble for not posting the usual sustainance lately.
I wish I could give you a great reason for it, or even tell you how successful I've been at getting something else done.
Alas, it is a sad case of:  Keep Your Head Above Water
You know the game, if you don't keep your head above water...  you drown. Haha.
 Drowning is just not an option and I've learned that if I can tread water for a while, I may eventually come out of the haze.
As it is, treading water is not so unpleasant:
The children chip away at school which is mostly reading right now.  The three biggest are really excelling in this department.  The little ones listen a lot and our pens are fast running out of ink too.
The garden is pretty tired but there are some things ripening that I'd lost hope of seeing this year, for instance the boys dug up some sizable potatoes.  This was an accomplishment because we were under the impression that Potatoes set  when they flower.
Ours never flowered.
The boys think they are the Non-Flowering variety, but I think we got lucky. :-D
No more bear-in-the-trash escapades.  No wildlife spottings to speak of (I don't count squirrel), but still plenty of tracks.  The kids are finding new mushroom varieties left and right - some are rather beautiful... in their own way.  It's amazing what you can spot when your eyes are searching for hidden treasure.
I am really enjoying my new fireplace.  It warms my feet, my hands, my heart.
I am teaching Zachary to take over dish-washing.  It started out with a bang, but it's been good for both of us to have to work on follow-through.  You know, a quality job, done in a timely manner with a cheerful heart takes practice.
I'm sure I'll learn something from him before we're through with this lesson.
And I'm pretty sure that when he really gets it down, I'll move him on to something else and start fresh with the next one in line.
It's going to be a process.  Maybe I'll be able to let Zachary train the next guy...........
We get gravel delivered tomorrow for the driveway in front of the house - that is a big baby step.
This weekend we tidy up the house, make arrangements for Winter plans, and pack.
Just for a family vacation.
AJ and I have talked about seeing the Fall color on the East Coast some day and have finally decided to go.
With all the children and a camera (but I don't know about laptop), we are going to New England to catch the Fall color!  With stops in Colorado, Missouri, Kentucky, and West Virgina, we will circuit through Maine and see some other things just for fun as well.
Maybe Niagara Falls again?  The Columbus Zoo?  Lake Champlaine?
We're pretty excited and looking forward to being together for some memory making.
I'm looking for the end of the haze.
(Will it come?)
Wait... don't answer that!

Worship HIM.

 And when everything falls apart...
Worship Him still.


































Another try at starting a school week today.
Another later-than-I-planned morning.

Bible reading and character training are my first priority of the daily routine, and endure throughout the day.

This morning things started like they often do when I really want to inspire the children and hear the Holy Spirit speak:

There was bickering about who gets to sit where,

and "your pillow is in my space"

and "your foot keeps touching my leg",

and "can I go potty real quick?"

and "I'm hungry".

Then there's me.
A humbled mom, holding her head in her hands. How could I be beaten by 8:30 in the morning?!

Silently I called out to God:
"I want my children to know you Lord, but is this a bad time to press through?
Shall I move on to the next thing so I don't misrepresent you?  
I don't want to start reading your Word with attitudes like this. 
It seems counterproductive to the goal.
I do not want to pretend something, contrive something, force something...
But I do want to be obedient.  I want to be faithful..."

As homeschooling moms, or any mom who loves the Lord Jesus,
we do the things we do because God is real and really deserving of everything we give Him.
He deserves more than that of course, but He graciously accepts what we submit.


If I give you the short version for why I stay home with my children to oversee their education,
it's because I believe that knowing God and our need for a Savior comes before anything else.
After that, I want my children to know who they are as eternal souls,
and how that manifests itself in all our thoughts, words, and actions as humans in a tangible world;
and more importantly, what that mean in reference to the Almighty God who made them.

That's a full time undertaking without all my very daily tasks plus educating my children about the world we live in.  
But when I take inventory of what I think will actually get a accomplished on a given day,
and when I decide that something on my agenda must go,
Our time in God's Word is not among the things I cull.

I want my children to be faithful in their studies and able to communicate with people outside their sphere,
but that being said, I really truly believe that a formal education isn't important to the Lord.
That is to say, I think being knowledgeable about "stuff" isn't important, for the purpose of  "knowing stuff" to get along in life.

You can sputter and cough and wheeze about that for a while, and I'm sure it sounds good to say:

"...but it's important to rightly represent Christ to the world 
by being good stewards of our intellect!"

To that I say,
no.

We need to be faithful with the resources the Lord has given us, but only foremost
as an act of worshiping our Creator.  

While I believe that beautiful fruit can come from obedience and faithfulness as an act of worship,
and a powerful witness can be displayed, I don't think that displaying beautiful fruit should be the first goal - even for the purpose of witnessing.

might I suggest that any aspirations outside of worship and obedience (which are responses born from gratitude and love of our Savior),
are vain glory?

I think so.



I do suspect that if we cultivate our interests and passions for the glory of God, and build our understanding of those things on the foundation of Jesus Christ and honoring Him, they may endure death.  I don't know.


You see, perseverance through a mini battle such as I experienced this morning is of eternal consequence.  Whether my heart is soft to worship the Lord,
whether my responses to shenanigans are filled with grace,
whether I captivate my childrens' interest because I CARE about what I'm teaching them, and actually BELIEVE the things I am saying - THAT has an effect on my children now; I have an effect on my children now.
That effect will reach into their adulthood,
and last for all eternity.

for.  all.  eternity.

I am responsible for what gets tucked away in those now-tender hearts.
it seems a waste to work so hard on stuffing things into brains that will die with their bodies, and yet neglect the greater part.
Or at least fail to recognize the grave importance of having an eternal perspective because we are blinded by what worldly standard we must achieve today.

Corinthians 3: 10b - 15a 

"...But let every man take heed how he buildeth thereupon. 

For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. 

Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, 

Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; 

and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is. 

If any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. 

If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss..."

..........................................................................

It was a rough start this morning, but that was normal.
I should get used to the fact that life is dynamic and won't hold a serene pattern to please me.
In fact, it's possible - likely even - that there is more opportunity for spiritual growth when all my plans are demolished and my heart is laid bare.

What overflows from within me when it appears all is lost?
 It could be the greatest opportunity for me to worship,
and the greatest opportunity for humility and repentance,
for restoration,
for sacrifice,
for obedience,
for perseverance,
for making a lasting impact.

And for the Lord to show Himself very real to some sinful little children,
through one imperfect mom who knows the miraculous power of His redeeming love...  

...and lives it.

Happy Resurrection Sunday!

Ours had a curve ball thrown at it.

No Easter Lunch.
No Easter Egg hunt, which was partially due to
No warm sunny rays gleaming on the dew drops.
No dew drops (due to copious amounts of rain).
No Gramsie (who was sick)
No cousins (they didn't want Gramsie's sickness)
and finally
No Daddy.

That's o.k. we know how to roll with the punches!
Quarantined to the bedroom because we didn't want Gramsie's sickness either:

We read Mathew and Luke's account of Jesus' resurrection - we especially love the part where Jesus walks and talks to his desciples on the road to Emaus!
We watched some movies on the laptop,
Had pic-nicks on the bedroom floor,
Played Chicken Foot (domino's),
Watched more movies,
Had more pic-nicks...
Generally made good use of a lazy, rainy, weekend day together.  Thanking our Heavenly Father for His mercies - they are new every morning!

Now.
If everyone will * just * stay * well...



*(Picture of AJ and Carolina at Rio Del Mar last weekend)

It's a Mom's Life

Teaching,

Feeding,

Cleaning,

Sorting,

Packing (again),

Balancing,

Juggling,

Multi-tasking...





















...Actually I can't multi-task.

Unless you call this multi-tasking?

Feeding the baby,

Answering Math questions from both sides,

And being a human balance beam for Carolina.

Hmm... Maybe I can multi-task.

Just a little :-)



(when you share those "life of a boy" pictures,
I want to see your "life of a mom" pictures too!)

"There's No Rest For The... [insert *WEARY*]"

Promised pictures coming your way soon!

Some of us got sick.

"Some" of us (namely Carolina) kept "others" of us (that would be me) awake two full nights in a row.

While my Rescuer is out of town.

That = a seriously low tank where time, CrEAtiVity, two hands, and fully open eyelids are concerned!

Thank you Lord, that Carolina's fever broke tonight.

I see
sleep * *
in
*
my
* * *
near
*
*
*
*
*
future . . . . . .


ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z

Sweet Nothings

Well.

It seems I am good for reading blogs at night, but not writing them - not in this season anyway.

With a cup of Mocha in the morning hours I think of all manner of witty, wonderful, inspiring things to say, but I am (being a wise and) dedicating that coffee jolt to listening to the Bible and painting.

I also have lots to say when the house is coming down around my ears at the lunch hour.
THAT, however, is not a wise time to sit down either.

Oh WAIT! I have it.
The Worlds Best Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookie recipe! I actually made these tonight (instead of blogging intelligent things) and this recipe has been turning out a prettier shape than any of my usual chocolate chip recipes.
It is now a favorite stand-by, and in Idaho, in my Wolf oven/range I can fit over 2 d.o.z.e.n cookies on one sheet. Wheeeew-ee! The size of that oven almost makes up for the lack in living square-footage:-)

Okie-dokie, want the recipe?
Here it is:

1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 and 1/3 cup flour (and here I add a little more. Enough to shape dough into balls)
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
chocolate chips (the more the merrier!) I use about a cup and a half, and add another half cup mini chocolate chips just for fun:-)

Combine butter and peanut butter.
Add sugars,
then eggs and vanilla.
Stir in flour, salt, baking soda, and chocolate chips.
Add more flour as needed.

Bake at 350 for 9-12 minutes.

And that's it! In Idaho I actually experimented with dehydrated egg and no one was the wiser.
Boy it was a relief to know I could make these cookies from nothing but pantry items. I may have used dehydrated butter too... can't remember.

And so. You get nothing witty tonight, but perhaps "tasty" will suffice!

I do what I can:-)

Patiently Flexible, Content to Sip My Freshly-Made Lemonade

Ahhh... what a NICE nap!

I THINK the girls slept, but who cares?

I slept, and HOW.

Fire crackling on the hearth.

A cooing baby.

Applying nail polish to three little girls in the living room.

Watching through the window as the snow comes down in a flurry.

Making another round of tea.

Listening to Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers on the radio.

Painting faces - just for fun!

















So being "flexible" isn't so bad.
You know, I sometimes wonder what the Lord knows that He doesn't clue us in on.
Were we protected from road hazard or worse?

Some people might say that we turned lemons into lemonade, but I call it learning to be content.
Content to let the Lord direct our path after we have made our plans - even if He sends us in another direction than we had planned.

What comes out when pressure is bearing down on our so-called lemons?

Am I content to let Him teach me patience? Flexibility? Thankfulness?

Will I choose to recover when dealt the blow of foiled plans?

Will I choose to praise the Lord?



Will you?



I hope so!

Foiled plans sometimes make the sweetest lemonade:-)

Flexible

Got a crash course in charging the van battery myself.

Unloaded six children (made them keep on their shoes and jackets).

Sat by the living room fire and read while we waited the prescribed amount of time for the battery to charge.

Waited an extra ten minutes - just to be sure.

Loaded those same six children BACK into the van.

Foolishly I didn't try to start it again until AFTER they were reloaded and re buckled.

One click, a dashboard fully lighted, then...

Nothing.

Fifteen minutes of waiting to try again.

A bit more "oomph" this time.

We read another story - while sitting in the van...

In the garage...

In suspense.

Another try.

No Banana.

Unload six children more resilient than me.

Remember: "Flexible... flexible... flexible..."

Cups of tea for everyone.

Change gears.

New plan:

Lunch and a Nap.

I think I can live with that.



"...Flexible... flexible....... flexible........ . . . . . . . ."