When I say I need a break, this isn't what I mean.

Those of you who know us know this last week has been a bit difficult.
One week ago today our older daughter broke her left radius.  She had a minor disagreement with a scooter about which direction they should head in.  As of today, she has the purple fiberglass badge of honor.
Not to be outdone by his sister, her frenemy one grade above her busted his right arm in football practice on Tuesday.  Just like any other male, he had to injured worse...so that led to a surgery to put three pins in his elbow and two nights in the hospital.  She missed one day of school.  He's missing a week.
Thus our fall schedule suddenly has cleared up quite a bit.  Now we have a lot more single driver nights, and our weekends pretty much open.  Especially since the other middle boy decided to drop cross country, realizing running three hours plus a week was a bit much on top of his six hours a week of ballet, finding time to practice his cello, and his three "advanced" classes.  It seems all of them have had stark reminders of their mere mortalness recently.

What has come out of this is seeing how our oldest son has matured.  We can trust him to make a meal for his siblings if we're tied up.  We can trust him with checking homework and bedtime stories.  We haven't had to nag him (too much) about his own homework.  He's even gotten up early to take the bus to school because he knew we were in up to our limit.  He pulled his weight as a full fledged member of the team.
No, it's not a permanent thing.  He's still a kid, and will be allowed a breather now everything is sort-of-back to normal.  He still disappears to friends houses, wants to stay up all night playing on STEAM instead of planning school projects, and avoids "regular" chores like folding laundry and loading the dishwasher like the plague. These moments of amazing maturity are just those, moments....but I like what I see when I see these glimpses of the adult he is becoming.

The "babies" have survived..but are really glad to have mom back.  I suspect I won't have a moment alone for at least a week, but that's okay.  I wouldn't want it any other way.

Happy Birthday to the middle child.

He is now eleven.  Eleven.

He is in 5th grade, which with our older two boys was the year of permanent male PMS.

His feet are bigger than mine, by a full size...and he's still growing.

His clothes are a mix of large/x-large boys and men's small.  Kind of like where he is in life.  Bridging that point between kid and young adult.   

He is far and away my most optimistic and energetic child.  I'm so glad he found sports as a safe way to take risks.  He loves to ride bikes, hike, play football, watch t.v. standing on his head. That last one has stopped within the last year.  He's starting to care about what's socially acceptable.

He still sees girls as people and playmates,  and not "girls."  unless they are his sisters.

He loves to cook, and still likes to help.  He does a lot of the prep work for dinners these days.  

He is funny, and goofy, and spends a lot of time in his own head. 

He is my sunshine.  

He has a lot to look forward to.

Happy Birthday son.  May this year be the best yet.

  

Cupcakes and ballet shoes.

Sometimes, not being organized has it's price.  One of those times was yesterday, when I enrolled princess D in ballet.
Since the place they prefer us to buy their shoes/leotards,etc. is up North, I thought I'd be efficient by taking her with me since the ballet school was on the way.  We flew in and out of the school, thanks to the efficiency of the registrar.  Next step, leotard and convertible tights.  It shouldn't take too long at 10am on a weekday.
An hour later...."Why can't I find this place.  I thought it was right off the highway."
The poor girl was restless, hungry and bored.
So we stopped at SugarMomma's in Briarcliff for a snack.  She chose an enormous filled cupcake, topped with fudge and a chocolate covered strawberry.  I had Roasterie chocolate-coffee blend and a blueberry muffin.  We both decided enough was enough and headed back home.

On the way home it dawned on me why I couldn't find the place.  I was one exit too far South.
An hour & a bunch of gas wasted, because of a scatty memory and leaving my phone at home.
Sometimes I do leave my phone behind on purpose.  This was not one of them.
If I had my phone, I could have called Mr. Man.
If I had my phone, I could have looked up the Dance Shoppe address.
If I had my phone, I would have had free GPS.
How did our parents ever find the ten million places we needed to be without cell phones?

After lunch, we went back.  Just a couple exits past the bakery where we had our snack.
At least I had a fun snack date with my daughter.

Turning 39 and other fun stuff.

Last Friday was my birthday!  I had a fabulous lunch with my hubby at Freebirds, and redid my home office in the butler's pantry.  It was a great day.  In the evening, we tried to take the kids out to Jason's Deli for dinner and shop at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.....while not a total kidaster, it still managed to get several of them declared digital free for Saturday.  Below is some of the fun stuff that ensued from that decision.

On Saturday the youngest three had to take baths three times!  Now my bathroom looks like a pigpen it has so much mud in it.  Why?  What could they possibly do to get that dirty?

Saturday morning:

"Hey Ms. P.  Where ya going with that dirt?"

"Up to my room to build a slug habitat."

"Uh, no.  back outside with that.  You may build your habitat outdoors and away from my garden."

"okay."

A little later:

"What is that, and why is my porch covered in mud?"

"We're having a birthday party for roly polies."

All rightie then.

And of course, since it cleared 90...

"Mom, can we play with the hose?"

It's amazing what kids think of to do when they are unplugged.

Back to School Night...where the parents get to feel like kids.

Last night was our third, and final, back to school night for this school year.  Really, back to school night is one(okay, three) of the most anticipated/dreaded nights on my calendar.  It's the first parent-teacher interaction, and since it's a group event you get to case out all the parents of those kids your kid hangs out with too.  It's a form of group bonding trying to cram ourselves into those chairs/desks meant for people 1/4 of our size.
   In elementary, this may not seem like such a big deal.  There's a lot of in and out of the building and all the involved parents more or less know each other, or at least know another parent that is associated with the parents of the child in question.   In middle school, it starts getting muddier, but the network is still there.  By high school, the kids are more "out there" on their own...and each group of parents has their own "club"  Oh, and there are more hormones.  It's here the dating game often starts to get played....and your resources are fewer.  So off you trudge to back to school night, because at this stage of the game, as a parent, you would walk across hot coals for every scrap of information about your child's world you can get.

High school was our first back to school night, and our oldest is a freshman so it was the night of grand first impressions...or not.  More like I ran late in the garden, so i didn't have time to shower before the stampede of children with backpacks and interactive homework and cooking dinner that had to be ready by 4:45 because somebody has practice at 5:30... so yeah,  I was kind of grubby.  Probably smelly too.  Mr. Man was hoping to go play basketball directly after so he wasn't exactly dressed for success either...and he ditched me after second hour...to take above mentioned kid with practice home...but he never came back.  Let's just say I loved seeing all my parent friends in my kid's classes, saw some new parents, but with everyone in such a rush didn't really get a chance to get to know anybody I didn't know already.  I met all the teachers, probably got labeled as the crazy mom with a couple.  I find it a miracle that it was only a couple.  I especially loved his Biology teacher.

Moving forward to Monday night, the middle school.  Oddly enough, this is my comfort zone.  Except, as I looked around I realized what caused my son's initial social angst was true.  My darling seventh grader only has TWO of his previous classmates in ANY of his classes...(at least whose parents come to these kinds of things.)  He has made friends though, so a fresh slate was a good thing.
He is one of two seventh graders in his Algebra class.  I totally love his Algebra teacher.  She's very outgoing and human.  (Most Algebra teachers are Vulcan.)  He only has two teachers his brother had and both of them admitted that he is a totally different child.  One teacher said "They don't look alike.  They have totally different personalities.  If I didn't have the name on the roster in front of me I would never have guessed those two are siblings.  Fortunately, I also have two VERY different kids, so I get it."  Here's hoping next year, when there are fewer teachers teaching honors courses, they'll get it too.  Oh yes, and he has strings with my favorite third grade teacher's daughter.  A sweet night indeed.

Moving forward to last night.  I was hoping for a divide and conquer, since the elementary is nice enough to offer two sessions for each classroom.  Our school is brilliant in providing staff supervised entertainment for the kids so both parents can attend.    Due to sibling issues, I ended up going it alone.So I'm sorry lovely teachers for my divided attention during the sessions, but I was doing two kids paperwork in each one.  I went to 2nd and 5th grade, because we just had 1st and 4th last year.  It was reaaally hard not to go to first though, because it was a different teacher and I didn't really feel like I got the vibe of it last year.  Not to mention Si Guy is my baby and has never left me for an entire day before.  I still feel like a stranger in a strange land in the lower grades at this school, but if there is one thing I have learned from this parenting gig is if one is to err in attention, err on the side of the older and/or less demanding child.  You'll still feel like they get shorted in the end anyway.  I still only get a C though, because I forgot to sign up for first grade conferences.  Here's praying she still has a slot Thursday morning before 10 or around 11:30.

The donation files part 2. (or when to say when when sorting.)

Today was the first day with real, live, school volunteers.  I love these PTA ladies who swoop in to go through the unknown sitting in trash bags on the clothing center floor.  Their efficiency and courage are to be admired.  The center could never, ever, exist without them.  Yet the one question they always have is, "Is this okay?"

In our last post, we covered the unbelievable things that escape the back room somehow.  Today, let's look at the other foot.  What is okay to put out, when "less than perfect."  What got me going on this was an incident where I found some perfectly good girls jeans stuck in the cast off bag.

"What's wrong with these?"
"There was dirty underwear in the bag they were in."
(Uh, no there wasn't.  That bag came from my house, and I loaded it directly from stuff that had just come out of the dryer.  Now there might have been some stained clean underwear stuck inside a pair of pants that laundry man missed, but stained and clean is worlds different than dirty...but that's off topic.  The point is, there was some horrible underwear related error.)
"Okay, but what was wrong with these?"
"Nothing."
"Then we need to hang them up.  We can't just toss stuff because of what was around it."
(I would have gone back and rescued the scooters too, but I could tell we had hit this person's shock limit already. I bought those flippin things NEW.)
"How long have you been a chair?"
"Since last October."
"Okay."

   Remember, I am the one who found the stained thong out on the display floor!  I am sympathetic to the eww moments of used underwear.  I folded up that t-shirt and put it back on the table.  Our clients are shrewd.   They will wash before they wear.

That followed one of our regulars bringing me some "but they're perfectly good jackets" with stains.  We kept two, (one I couldn't even FIND what she was talking about.  The other was totally in a
"discreet" location) set aside one for laundering (which I forgot to bring home), and pitched two (you don't want to know. shiver.)

Hitting both these extremes in one day made me think perhaps the standards need to be further clarified.

So for the shoe on the other foot rules...it's pretty simple.

1) Clothes, like people have to be judged on their own merits.  One icky item in a bag doesn't mean pitch the whole bag.  

2)  Gently used is not the same thing as "new."  Missing tags, slight fading, stretching,etc. is okay.  Really.  It adds character.  We will happily accept donations of new/my kid didn't like it items though!

3)  When deciding if a spot is "bad enough" to put something that is otherwise okay into the castoffs, origins and location are key.  Small ink stain towards the bottom of a blouse that can be tucked in?  No big deal.  Stains of bodily origin, (sweat marks, pet marks,etc.) Pitch it.    Paint?  Pitch it.  Slightly mud stained knees?  Let the mom decide how desperate her kid is for jeans.

4) There is bargain brand detergent clean and laundry whiz clean.  They both are clean.

5) There is an inverse relationship between the demand for an item and the condition we will accept it in.
This applies to brand names as well as particular types of items.
 I am absolutely ruthless about screening adult t-shirts.  We get bajillions.  It takes some serious nastiness to get me to pitch a pair of kids pants.
This is because the center always has an excess of t-shirts and a shortage of pants.  I will deal with holey knees, slight fraying at the bottom, and colors that have faded a hue or two.  Sure we still get rid of some.  Anything so short that unshaved pubic hair might be visible, or has holes in personal places.
The point is though, when we have a tough time acquiring inventory, then standards are sometimes stretched a bit.   The same principles apply to kids tennis shoes.  If  a pair has unfrayed laces and soles that aren't cracked or floppy, they probably won't see the yellow bag of doom...scuffed toes or not.

A few guidelines about donations.

I have the privilege to assist in running a free clothing center on Monday mornings during the school year.
As I have spent a couple hours almost every day this week readying our space for the new customers, I think about how thrift stores who do this on a MUCH larger scale must be staffed by saints.  Because this week alone, has reminded my many times that we all know which path is paved with good intentions.
Fortunately our cast offs go to be recycled so nothing is wasted...but if you are thinking of donating the following, please consider saving our volunteers some work and recycling them appropriately yourself.

1) Used undergarments with stains.  Just this week I found a pair of white mesh thong underwear w/ skids on the thong part.  Thanks, but uh, no.
2) Clothes with so many pills on them they need a prescription.
3) "Self decorated items"  (tie-dye excluded.)  Really, who besides the child who made it will want a puffy painted bumblebee shirt with their name on the front?   Some of these slip out onto the floor...and then stay there for-ev-er because even though we're grown ups, we feel like schmucks for pitching little Joanies handpainted t-shirt she outgrew three years ago...and she's not even our kid!  and it's corollary....
4) Personalized items.  If the kids name is ironed on, and they didn't grow up to be a professional athlete, another kid will not want to wear it.  Really.
5)  Items that need stain removal by a laundry genie.
6)  Garments with holes in awkward places.  Yes, ripped out knees are sometimes fashionable.  Huge holes in the armpits of t-shirts are not.
7)  Clothes you might find on a downtown street corner.  Remember, we are a clothing center for students.
8)  Ditto on the illegal activity, alcohol themed, etc. garments.
9)  Clothes that were going out of fashion when you were a child.
10)  Single shoes.   Shoes with the toes busted out.  Shoes with holes in the soles.  Shoes missing their insoles.

What do we want then?  Well, we want ALL your gently used clothes from infant to adult, but especially have a need for....

1) shoes in pairs in decent condition.  Last years boots that Johhny wore twice.  The shoes Cara only wore for gym class.
2) Pretty much any boys clothes, especially pants, that aren't totally destroyed.  Being the mother of four boys, I can appreciate what a challenge this can be.
3) NEW socks and underwear are always appreciated!  We give five pairs of each to any student whose parent shows up with proof of enrollment.
4) small toys/books,etc. to give our tag-a-long guests to keep their hands busy while mom shops.
5)  Teen girl clothes always seem to go fast, especially the branded stuff.

Thanks!

Momma M

The last little bird has started to fly.

Today, is the first day in almost fifteen years I have spent an entire school day alone.  Yesterday, Mr. Man worked from home.  A few things I've come to realize.

8-3 is a much shorter time than I ever imagined.

I am very good at housework avoidance.

Letting go is hard.

   It only goes faster from here.  Mom...mom...mom...I NEED you turns into "why were you on the porch when I got home from school?" awfully quick.

   The younger kids are like puppies tripping over each other trying to tell me the best part of their day and show me their homework.   They are all hugs and cuddles, and a tad clingy after a whole day away after spending the summer with mom.  They yap about their pals, their shoes, anything.

  The middle schooler gave me the teacher rundown on the first day.  He gave me stuff to sign on the second.  He asked me to buy apples this morning.   

   The high schooler: 

" So, how do you like your teachers?"

"Fine."

"What class do you think you'll like best?"

"I dunno.  Probably video."

"How was your first day of block scheduling?"
"Okay.  I only had one honors class, so Wednesdays will be a light homework night."

Notice, nothing...nada...about the teenagers friends...either one of them.  They are starting to separate their social lives from us.  It's normal, but terrifying.  I'm their mother.  I NEED to know everything.  Then again, remembering my teen years, maybe I don't.

The lazy days of summer.

This summer has flown by.  The end of May through the beginning of July were really busy.

School got out.

                                                                         We planted our garden.

We celebrated some birthdays.......      










   We went to camp.

And of course, we celebrated the fourth.

After that, things just kind of stop.  At first the breather is a very welcome thing.  There are bikes to be ridden, dirt to be dug in, hoses to play in.   There are cartoons to be watched and video games to be played.  Even a few books to be read.

But after a couple of weeks without the bustle, the kids start to get restless.  We really don't spend a lot of time doing nothing.  My first defense against such things is to clean, or rather, have them clean.  Then to pull out the workbooks and such to wake up rusty brains.  Yesterday, none of that was working for our seven year old daughter.  She and her six year old brother had lost all digital for the day due to a disagreement over Mario Cart.

"Mom, I'm bored."

"Go swing on your swing set."

"I don't want to."

"Play with your toys."

"I've already played with them all."

"Read a book."

"I'm tired of reading."  

At first I didn't understand.  How could anyone ever be tired of reading?  Then I thought about it.  She is in that "awkward" stage between picture books and chapter books.   

"Honey.  Come out on the porch with me.  I have a book I'll read to you."

"I don't wanna."

"Too bad."   

Outside we went.  We both picked a chair on the side porch and I began to read The Phantom Tollbooth.

"There was a boy named Milo who didn't know what to do with himself-not just sometimes, but always......"

At first she was stubbornly set on hating it...but then the tollbooth was PURPLE.  She went in the house, but left the door open.  I kept reading out loud, and she answered back to a question midway through the second chapter.  By chapter three, she was back outside.  By the end of the afternoon we had finished chapter four.  After dinner, she brought me the book and I read her chapter five, this time with her jr. partner in crime playing on the steps of the porch listening.  Today I am sure we will read some more.

Fee payment for the high school would be today, if my high schooler was home.  Fee payment for middle school is next week.  An ice cream social to meet the elementary kids teachers is the week after.  We did it.  We made it through the lazy days of summer.  Come tomorrow, the bustle of back to school has to begin.

Happy Birthday Princess!

Today is Ms. D's ninth birthday!  She is so excited to have friends who are in town and able to go to a movie with us.  At noon, two of her buddies will descend upon our home, and we will go hang out with some 3-D minions.

She has a lot of opinions right now.

"This year mom, I want to MAKE my cake.  I don't want a store bought one."

"Okay honey."

"Mom, there are two books I want for my birthday."

"Okay honey."

"Which cake mix do you want dear?"
"THAT ONE!"  she says pointing to Duff's tie-dye cake.  Oh boy.

Last night, we baked the cake.  It was a learning process.  She was satisfied with going to bed once we had them in the oven.  A bit of foreshadowing about what she'd find this morning.  

1) Mr. Man wasn't real happy with how one of the eggs separated.  He was worried there was too much white left behind. We probably should have put in an extra, and reduced the water a bit.

2) I let the girl grease the pans, but wasn't overly careful about checking them before we added the batter.

3) It was really, really, humid from the rain.

4) It said to cool in pan 10-20 minutes.  I forgot about it for almost an hour.

The first cake came out almost okay.  A little bit tore on the top, but it was on the inside and not too deep.  Nothing a knife couldn't fix.  After the battle with the second my first thought was, birthday rainbow trifle?

Somehow I knew that wouldn't fly with the girl.

This morning, when she first saw it her eyes went wide with horror.  So I did what any mom would do.  I totally bluffed my way through it.

"Don't worry honey.  It'll be fine.  We'll use the torn up one for the bottom layer and make a filling.  If we try to frost the middle it would just shred more."

She calmed down immediately, but was still uncertain.  I was too.  

And that friends, is the maturity peeking through.  The ability to self calm, even when there's still doubt.

Unfortunately that doubt is part of it too.  If she was six, she would have beamed at me, blindly believing I could fix anything.  The time is quickly approaching where she will insist on fighting her own battles alone sometimes, and I won't be "allowed" to save her, nor should I.  The struggle is just part of the "becoming."  Thankfully, that day is not today...and I have a strawberry cream recipe.  Here's hoping she thinks the cake is delicious.

Quiet

This week has been so very quiet.  Ms. D is not a noisy child.  She likes to paint, draw, write and read.  We had an "out day" on Monday, and will have another one tomorrow, but really she's just as happy to stay home.

Last week I thought I had a quiet house with just E1....but he likes to play video games, and watch videos and such, so there was at least background noise.   This week is different, quieter.

Yet I know the quiet I have now will be nothing like when school starts in August.  My baby boy, Si Guy will be going full day this year, since it's all they have for first grade.  I have not been home alone for an entire day in almost fifteen years.  I'm not quite sure what I'll do with myself.

I imagine I will have less time than I think, once I add in some gym time, the volunteer positions I've chosen to retain.  I will work harder at getting the household errands done while my husband is working, so our evenings can be sort of free...as free as they can be with ballet, football, and such.  Maybe I'll even be a better housekeeper?  I doubt it.  Editing my novel, or starting a second one has more appeal than that.

The real question that looms is should I go back to school, or get a job?  Probably not this year.   This year has enough new school beginnings with the children.  Besides the big switch for Si, E1 will be starting middle school, and our oldest son will be a freshman at my Alma Mater...twenty years after I graduated.  The river of time never stops, does it?

Happy Fathers Day!

   I know I just wrote a post about Mr. Man, but it is Father's Day....and if there is one reason why I will love this man until I cease to have breath and beyond it's because of what he does with our children.  A lot of people react to the size of our family with a "What?  How do you do it?"  Pretty much every time my answer is the same.  "Because I have an amazing, involved husband.  A good man makes all the difference."

Mr. Man is very involved in our kids lives.  Besides the standard "dad" stuff like teaching our kids how to grill and camping and playing video games with them he does many more things.  

• He's in charge of bedtime for the littles nightly.   Because of his example, the older boys have no problem reading stories and tucking in on his basketball night.
• He does laundry and dishes.  This frees up sooo much of my day for the running of the household and leaves me time to do the "fun stuff" with the kids while he's at work.
• This year he worked from home when I had obligations at the school, so I wouldn't have to worry about our half day kindie.
• He is the go-to math tutor for the older kids.  He is so patient!
• He is our family tech support.
• He is my rock, my reassurance, and my sounding board so I can be a better parent.

 He does more too, just instinctively he knows what our family needs.  I thank God for my husband every day.  Happy Fathers Day and every day Mr. Man.  I couldn't do what I do without you.

Mr. Man is 44! (Yesterday.)

Happy Birthday to him!
He went to work.  He grilled pork chops for dinner.  He played basketball.  A pretty typical Thursday.
We had cake.  A chocolate-cherry dump cake made w/ a home-made "pie filling" because I don't do the canned stuff.  It was all I had time for, since we have VBS this week.  (THAT, hopefully, will be a post of it's own later.)

He was good with it.  We'll do something later this summer for our "birthaversarry."  Since his birthday is in June, mine is around Labor Day, and we were married in July it's not unusual for us to combine it all into one "thing" as far as the gift element goes.  We will have a date night soon, very soon, for the individual event.

So, what makes Mr. Man so darn special.

• He does everything he does with his full attention at that moment
• He loves his God and his family unconditionally
• We enjoy the same food style
• We enjoy the same sports (even if we have different favorite teams)
• He is my back-up whenever needed for whatever reason.
• He is human valium.
• He knows how to lead without the follower knowing they are being led
• He knows when we're due for a moment of the unexpected.
• His facial expressions.  They are a language of their own
• He is content with who he is.

And of course, because he has no idea how amazing he really is.  He just keeps on  keeping on, without taking a pause to think about it.  That's part of why I love his birthday.  It gives me an
"appropriate" occasion to remind him.

Sorry sir, you're birthday blog is late just like everything else this year.

As of yesterday afternoon, two teenagers now reside in my home.  What did we get the kid for the big 13?
So far a week of helping with three year olds, and an eighty-two cent drink at his bowling league.
I baked him a gluten and dairy free birthday cake too.
Fortunately, the teachers in my preschool department at VBS are some awesome people.  Both the one in the room he works in, and one of the others gave him a card with $5 in it.  $10 in cash made his birthday awesome, along with free reign over the family computer when he was home...and that eighty-two cent drink.  It really doesn't take much to make this kid happy, just attention....lots and lots of attention.  If he's noticed and appreciated, he feels pretty loved.  It's a good thing.  If his love language was "gifts" he'd be screwed.

In all seriousness, E1 has grown leaps and bounds this year.    He has more patience with people.   He's found a sense of optimism.  He's become more comfortable in his skin and with his gifts.  He handles change better.  This is good, because that occasional crack in his voice reminds us all what big changes are probably right around the corner.

He's also learned to wait.  He has no problem waiting until Friday to get his "real" gift, and sometime next week for his "special" activity, but he definitely appreciated the eighty-two cents I spent on HIS day to show I remembered.

Morning surprise.

"Honey, we have a visitor!"  Mr. Man cheerfully announces walking into our bedroom this morning.
"rrft. What?  Who?"  I grab my phone and look at the time.  Surely I haven't slept that late!  "It's 8:30 am.  Who would just drop in? "
He's grinning wide enough to almost break his face open.  Eyes sparkling, he holds out his hand.  Wrapped around it is a tiny garden snake.   Rarely does my husband play jokes on me like this.  He is altogether too amused with himself and my intial reaction.  I am so relieved it's just a snake.
"Poor baby.  Put it out in the garden where it belongs.  We need snakes in the garden."
"I know that." he replies and takes his captive outdoors where it belongs.  He reports back.  "It's slithered under one of the rocks around the squash bed."
"Good.  He can do some good out there."

This exchange got me thinking, once again, about how we are not really a "normal" or "typical" family.
Usually these reminders come when our oldest son has a friend over for dinner.  Reactions range from a dumbfounded  "we never eat (fish, salad, etc.)  Do you have frozen pizza?"  to "I've never had artichokes.  Can I try some?"

Or blank stares from a group of students when I ask if they saw a play based on the book we're reading.

Sometimes, this different can be hard on my kids socially...because our world is a little different.  Our family is bigger.  We don't have pets.  We garden.  Yet they figure it out eventually.  They don't need lots of friends.  They just need the right ones.  It works out.  In the summer, kids will come by to swing, watch our garden, and eat popsicles.  E2 will reforge his relationships with his "bike buddies." And sometimes, having the parents  that are "weird but nice" is a good thing.  It was really cool for the kids to see a juvenile snake this morning, before he was let loose.

Summer Break is here.

    The last week of school always feels like a mom marathon.  Picnics, field trips, award ceremonies.....I don't know how moms that work do it.  It's exhausting, and without sacred nap I'm not sure this mom would have made it through.  Then they come home.   For 80 days, give or take a few, I get to do what my home school friends do for 365.
    The first day is usually no problem.  A lot of tv gets watched.  Little eyes glaze over from the computer screen.  Then they head outside to "water" my yard and garden and roll like little piggies in the mud.
   The second day, we pull out a new activity or two.  This year it was build-your-own dino kits.  The girls will get to the "fancy nancy" jewelry later.  Every now and then a kid asks "Where's Dad?"  He's at work kid.  Unless you work in a school, there is no summer vacation for grown ups.  My freshly minted second grader declares "I want to be a teacher."
   This summer break, day 2 brought a different kind of breaking.  EARLY in the morning, I get this phone call from my husband.  "Honey, I hit a curb and blew out two tires."  All right.  I'm on my way.  I wake up our oldest and let him know he's in charge for a while.  Never have I been more grateful to have a laid back, responsible teenager.
    We talk on the phone while I'm getting myself together.  Is there a used tire place nearby?  Should we call the insurance?  Should we have it towed back to where we bought the tires and hope we bought the hazard coverage?  I'm kind of a wreck by the time I get up there.
    I park the van.  I cut across Sonic's parking lot, and I see his car.  Then I look up, and just a little further to the side I see a sign that God has a sense of humor in his provision.  "Goodyear."
Mr. Man is sitting in his car, playing on his phone.  I tap on the window.   "Uh honey.  Didn't you see there's a Goodyear right there?"
"No."  He's so cute when he blushes.  We get the car set up and I drive him to work.
Sure I'll have to come back later with a couple of kids in tow to pick up the car, but the "crisis" was dealt with.   Still, it's not the kind of break we have in mind when we think of summer.

Happy Birthday Monkey Boy!

    For about half of his short life, Si Guy has been obsessed with monkeys.  He loves watching them at the zoo.  He loves climbing like one and eating bananas.  He loves both his giant stuffed monkeys.  He loves his Curious George library.  Maybe, it's because like most monkeys, he's very playful and very curious.
   This year, the mommy timer broke.  With so much going on with the end of school, end of AWANA, getting ready for VBS...little Si guy's birthday slipped my mind until about Thursday, even with the daily reminders since his friend J's birthday party the Saturday before.  So Friday, while big bro was at his dress rehearsal for his ballet recital, momma hit Big Lots looking for a present.  The best I could do was a HUGE spider-man playground ball, with the spiderman saying on it.  *about great ability and great responsibility*.  He fished his present out of our closet Saturday morning and couldn't have been happier.  I love young kids.
   Later that morning, while he out planting tomatoes with Daddy, I was buying birthday donuts for breakfast and ordering a cake to have on Sunday when grandma came over.  I also brought home a small cake so he could have some "on the day."  He was excited about that too!
   Needless to say, he was dumbfounded when grandma came over today with a present, "BUT my birthday was yesterday.  Really?  More?"  and he had a Curious George cake to boot!
   That kinda sums up Si pretty well.  He takes every blessing, as just that, an unexpected piece of joy.

If time had a tail we could grab to slow it down..

Sure it's cliche, but honestly the last month has flown by.
So much happened in April that my head spins.
There was the most excellent road trip with my cousins, to attend my grandmother's memorial service.
It was refreshing in many ways to be child free for a few days.  Yet we were all missing our kids by the time we came home, enough to listen to "Allergies" and "Seven ate Nine" and sing songs from Veggietales.  C.  Here's the Santa song, just for you.

Then there was the week of too much PTA.  The pot of gold at the end of that rainbow is that my days as president are numbered.

But far and away, my favorite part of recent days was going with the kindies to the farm.

I had the privilege of seeing my darling five year old "milk" a cow (bucket w/ udders filled with water), catch 3 fish (including the one that got away!), and feed a baby goat.  We visited with chickens and ate healthy snacks.  We saw baby cows and a very, very, pregnant mom-to-be cow.  We listened to a story at the bank.  Then we were out of time.  I assured him we could go back again and see the other half, but for that day we were out of time.  Hence why I didn't record the amazing month of April well enough.  I was too busy doing to be dwelling.  I was out of time.  I can't wait for summer's slower pace.

Setting your post in the ground.

See that mailbox?  That my friends, was an affirmation of faith last weekend.  One I sorely needed.

Recently, we were going through a cycle of brokenness.  Our small car needed new brakes. My grandmother died.  As I was trying to make arrangements to carpool using my van, the check engine light came on.  Right after I planted our spring bulbs my mailbox filled up with snow.   My husband reminded my our grill was about to rust through.  Our bed broke.  That doesn't even touch the craziness with the kids schedules and wardrobes, getting our garden planned for this year, PTA changeover and VBS planning, or that my husband has returned to the office on a semi-regular basis after being home for over a year.  I was ready to shut down.  

Then last weekend, the first round of yard sales came around.  I made my list.  

1) Queen sized bed frame, with box spring if necessary

2) a couple of  chairs so we could all sit at the dining room table together

3) Cheap to free old dresser to convert into a new raised bed.

Notice mailbox wasn't anywhere on there.  Never, did I dream I'd find a mailbox at a yard sale.  Since I didn't have an abundance of time, I only mapped out sales that advertised having a bed.  That was our highest priority.  Sure the memory foam mattress on the floor would work over the summer, but Mr. Man & I aren't getting any younger.  We even use an airbed when tent camping these days.

At our first stop I didn't see the bed advertised.  I almost didn't pull over...but we were there and I saw an abundance of books so I pulled over.  Mr. Man just sighed and shook his head.  I poked on over and found an illustrated edition of Pinnochio and a fabulous grilling cookbook.  As I headed over to the table to pay, I saw a mailbox sitting there on the corner with a post it stuck to it.  It read $20.

"Are you really selling this mailbox for $20?"  I asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I bought it a while back and never bothered to put it in." the lady replied.

"I'd like to take it, but it would need a post."

"Oh, I have the post in the basement.  I'll get it for you in a minute."

She came back, with the post still in the original packaging.

She showed me the bed frame she had.  $250 is way, way, out of my league for a yard sale.  (Especially when I can get headboards for $30 or so at a a furniture consignment shop.)  I paid for my purchases, handed my son Pinocchio and we drive on.

Later that morning, we acquired this desk for Si for $10 at Goodwill.

Day one in thrift land was good indeed.

Day two, after church...I thought why not give the other Goodwills a try.  Stop 1, the good one down South.  There I scored two stacking chairs.   The next Goodwill had a huge, solid wood entertainment center for 6.99  Tomato/pepper/herb bed complete....but no bed and no more time/money to look for one.

I came home, satisfied with what I had found.  It looked like we'd be sleeping on the floor for a while.  That's okay.  It was early in the season.  

I sat down at my computer, checked my email and then I looked on FaceBook.  A friend had posted on my wall.  "I saw your bed broke.  We have a king sized your can have if you want it."

I looked up the value of my $20 mailbox.  It and the post combined were worth $400.

God provides us with our needs, and provides them abundantly.  We had looked at NFM in case we needed to buy a new bed this fall, and there were three we liked. THREE, out of the kajillion there.

 These were our "requirements."

1) The headboard had to be mostly wood...a little metal trim was okay.  

2)It had to have low posts, and not be "sleigh" style.

3) It had to be a "medium" wood tone.

4) It had to be rounded, to have some softness to it.
This is what we received.

Isn't Gods provision amazing?

  

Where exactly does time go?

     Tonight I took my almost-nine-year-old daughter bra shopping.  Yes, bra shopping.  I first noticed it a few weeks ago in dance that her chest wasn't board flat anymore.  My mommy brain blamed the fit of the leotard.  Then earlier this week she wore a v-necked shirt, and there was a vertical dent.
Nooooo!  I thought to myself.  She was supposed to be a late bloomer, like her dad.  She has his lean build. Wasn't body fat supposed to play a role in this?
     Newsflash mom.  When YOU hit puberty affects when your daughter does a heck of a lot more than the testosterone factory that contributed to her creation.  My period started when I was 10, in fourth grade.  I had the body cleavage girls wish for at seventeen by the time I was twelve.  My daughter will be nine in less than four months.  Maybe getting training bras wasn't such a stretch.  So shopping we went.
Stop one at the Legends, the VFW outlet.  She tried on three styles.  The first was too big!  YAY!
The second one was too small.  too small?  How can that be?  My daughter is tiny!
The third one was okay.  We bought it and moved on to try and find better variety elsewhere, oh and a purple duck.  The purple duck was very important.  I didn't argue.  I want all traces of little girl my daughter has to remain there a long, long, time.
     Our next stop was Justice.  Jackpot! and Minefield!  All at once!  They had exactly what she needed.  She only had one concern.
"Mom, the pads are removable right?"
"Yes sweetie.  We'll take them out as soon as we get home."  (In my head I was going WHO in their right mind puts pads in a bra designed for an eight year old!  It even says it's meant for ages 7-8 on the flippin label!  Also, I want to smack whoever thought skinny jeans are appropriate for young girls.  There is hope for the general public though, because those were on the clearance rack.)
Along with new "practice bras" as we call them...just so she can get used to wearing them and how they work, we picked up two dresses that were lovely age appropriate for her and her sister and a unicorn backpack zipper thingie, and a new jaguar with "glitter eyes" for her sister.  She picked out the jaguar herself, "since princess P wanted to come with so bad it was only fair."  Her sweetness does come through sometimes.
All the way home, she held her treasured purple duck in her hands and chattered at me about My Little Pony cartoons.  Her body may be threatening to change a bit, but it looks like she'll have the innocent interests of a little girl for just a little bit longer yet.

The Chicago Grandma

My 93 year old grandmother died yesterday.
She was my long-distance grandma as a child.
She was a remarkable woman.
She spoke two languages, wrote a book, and traveled by car, boat, and plane.
She lived deeply, and loved deeply.  
She loved books and word games.  A Tree Grows in Brooklyn sits on my shelf.  It came from hers.
She taught us how to play scrabble...and never let us win.  Instead, she encouraged us to learn.
She valued her heritage, both her parents being first generation Americans from Sweden.  When I was in college, she went to Sweden for a visit and had a fabulous time.
She loved good food.  Pickled herring and lingonberry jam, swedish pancakes, swedish meatballs over mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs cooked with real butter, and pickles from ALDI.  That's one thing she missed when she moved to Door County, was ALDI and their pickles..so she said the last time we visited her.  I should have sent her a jar for Christmas.  We like their pickles too.
She loved her Lord and her Lutheran church home.  Her book was about it's history.  Her life, demonstrating service at every opportunity.
She loved her family.  She cherished every moment we had together, though they were few and far between.

I have a conglomeration of odd memories.  I remember her complimenting my other grandma's tacos.  I remember a rush of cleaning to get ready for her visit, for she appreciated a tidy home.  I remember scrabble, and rummy 500 games that included our entire family.  I remember lots of cooking, of cardoman coffee cake braids, and swedish meatballs simmering on the stove.  Then there were our visits to her.  I remember eating at a greek place, the Studio, & Hackneys in Chicago.  I remember my first fascination with art  and science in it's museums.  I remember her house and the busy street it was on, and thinking the bushes in her back yard were olives.  I remember being shown a town-home in another part of town and the lament of a fireplace left behind.  I remember the beautiful things throughout her home.  I remember a gift of a stone bird whistle from a shop, my most prized possession for years.  I remember my uncle's boat, and the wonder of sleeping on the water.  I still love being near water and trees.
 I remember the muslin wedding dress prototype that didn't fit, and going to be fitted for my real one.  I remember her on my wedding day.  I remember taking a van up there to fetch a table and a couch when she was moving out of her house, admitting the yard was a bit much for her to maintain.   I remember her sense of victory in getting our baby to eat a banana, who had always HATED bananas before.  I remember our last visit with her, in her apartment with a few chosen and cherished things, watching her sit at a table and play scrabble with my oldest son, who  hasn't eaten another banana since.  She let him win.  Maybe it was the magic of being a great-grandson.
  I remember a chaotic meal with my uncle and aunt, strained conversation about children and bats.  I remember her face beaming to have several of her chicks gathered in one place.  That's where my memories of her freeze in place.  We always meant to go back one more time.  It wasn't long after that visit her health started to fade.   Now she's joined Clarence, who I barely remember, in the grave.

I have a few pictures.  I have my wedding dress she made for me, probably her last major sewing project, for even then she was almost 80.  I have the imprints she's made in my personality and my tastes, and I have her blue eyes.  Here's hoping as I grow older, I also have her sense of adventure and joy in life.

Unscheduled time does not mean unused time

After changeover at the clothing center yesterday, a friend & I dropped off some cast offs and went to lunch.
She asked me, "Are you sure you have time?"
I replied "Yes.  I had changeover this morning and Ms. D has girl scouts tonight, so I left my afternoon unscheduled.  I always try to plan to leave one day part "free", so if  I have a morning and thing and an evening thing, the afternoon is open."
She just stared at me dumbfoundedly and said "I wish I had that luxury."
I feel like I didn't explain it well enough.
As a stay at home mom with six kids, it's easy to become overwhelmed by "schedules."  There is church, PTA, sports, errands, doctors appointments, and various other things always demanding my time.  As a more creative personality type, if I get too "rule-driven" or "schedule-driven" I just break down and get nothing done.  So I build a block of "flex-time" into my day.  It's not necessarily "free time."  Merely time where I can choose, at that moment, what my priorities are.  Yesterday, at that moment, I chose to get to know an acquaintance better and have lunch at Zarda barbecue.  Today, at this moment, I am choosing to blog while supervising my kindie's homework.   Another day, another moment, I may choose unload and load the dishwasher and start of  load of laundry or sweep the dining room.  Housework always has to be done, but it's much less of a drudge when it's a choice.   There are enough "this has to be done NOW" moments in life, without imposing them on myself.  As long as the house isn't a health hazard, the kids have clean clothes and are fed, and my husband is happy, everything is all right.

Tomorrow is Princess P's birthday!

As a mom, there are so many things we want for our children.

We always want to give our kids more.  

Our job is just to give them enough.  

We want them to feel like they're on a mountain top every day.

Our job is to show them the satisfaction of climbing the mountain.

We want for their best to always be good enough.

Sometimes our job is to redirect their efforts so it will be.

  

 It's hard to believe at 4:23 am tomorrow, my baby girl will be seven. Princess P has a passion about life, a zest to her, that brings sunshine (and sometimes thunder & lightning!) to those around her.  She feels deeply, and lives deeply, diving head-first into whatever she wants to do, and dropping without regret those things she doesn't.  She's not afraid to ask what she wants, when she wants it.  She is still learning to take no with grace sometimes, but she knows it's always okay to ask once.
     This year she asked for a birthday party.  Her birthday is on a Saturday, and she's never had one, so how could I say no?  The expectations started out big, the pool with every child she's ever played with at recess and the park and in her class and her girl scout troop and every single sparkie from AWANA.   Could all of Ms. D's friends come too?  We  gently explained that while that would be nice, it was outside the scope of what we could afford....a good precedent to set before she starts planning her wedding.
     We settled on a sort-of-intimate Hello Kit-"tea" party at our home.  We narrowed the guest list to just under a dozen of her closest friends.  We planned a craft, sprung at Amazon for a themed game, and bought the mix and toppers for the cupcakes.  Tomorrow will be a big day.

Valentines day is almost upon us!

Happy engagement anniversary to us today.

That aside, I'm in a mild panic about the upcoming V-day festivities.
Chips for sixth grade?  Check.
 Cards n' stuff for all 5 elementary kids? I *think* I have all the cards and such purchased, but not a one is signed.  Half-way there.
 The real fun is that I'm a room parent for fourth grade.
E-mail "reminders" to our junk food snack, water bottle, and paper goods parents for fourth grade...uh, a little late now.
Healthy snack for fourth grade?  Yeah, I need to go to the store.  I *think* I'm going to do watermelon or strawberry hearts w/ pretzel & cheese arrows. We'll see how that looks in reality, and if it's something I can throw together between 8:15-11am on Thursday morning. 
How about a game to keep the younglings busy after they're done stuffing their faces?  Matching heart pieces with math facts or synonyms. Mmmm. No.  They're a little young to play spin the bottle.  Leaning towards bingo.  We haven't done that yet. Maybe not.  This class is 16:7 boys to girls.  They like active games.  Too bad I can't take them outside for archery practice.  We do have a nerf bow/arrow set.  I'd only need about 10 more, and hope to not get in trouble with the "weapons" policy.
Maybe we could just let them raid their valentines early, or play a ring toss game with heart shaped rings. Hey, that might work!  I could do make that, maybe.  I could use empty soda bottles for the "posts" and make the rings out of...well, I don't know.    Maybe we should just play bingo.  There's really nothing wrong with bingo.

It is finished!

I will post, and post, and post about our eldest sons successful science project until our friends all roll their eyes or start running away.  This was a HUGE milestone for the boy child, because in general,he does not do projects well, or anything that takes a good deal of persistence.

   He's one of those kids where everything always came easy to him.  He didn't see the point in homework since he did well on tests.  His grades were good, what did it matter if he turned everything in, much less everything on time?  Enter middle school.  The party was over.

   He spent most of seventh grade alternating between tears and denial.  This year, something clicked.  He knew something had to change.  He has big dreams and goals for life, and they weren't going to be met if he didn't learn some better habits.  More homework started getting turned in,  but anything that took too much thought still wasn't getting the marks he wanted.  He needed to learn not to rush through things, to slow down and really do his best, because "getting by" wasn't going work anymore.  Enter the science project.

   The seventh grade science project taught him about the "process", but the idea was engineered by an "experiment wizard."  This is eighth grade.  Their honors project was to be an "invention."  They had to find their own problem, and a solution that's not on the market already, ideally without breaking their parents bank accounts.  At first, he was excited.  All he had to do was come up with ten problems, and find a solution for one of them.  Then he started his market research, and realized there aren't a lot of "new" ideas out there.  There was one he thought would work.  I wasn't thrilled, and neither was his teacher...but we both kept our mouths shut and let him finish his research.  He wasn't thrilled either when he realized it wouldn't work, and he was a month behind because he had to start over again.

This was do or die point number one.  In the past, boy child would have given up here...going I can't, or it's too hard...or I'm already late.  Why bother.  This time, he kept looking for an idea.  That idea came from a friend of mine on FB.  She posted a status about wishing she could find a way for her dog to be interested in exercising without her being involved every, single, second...especially when it's cold outside.  She commented about how her dog liked to chase squirrels, but they never stayed around long enough.

The first edition of the idea for the "Exer-Squirrel" was born.  He did his market research.  He did his customer survey.  He was granted teacher and parent approval.  He looked into ways to build the thing.

His first thought was a "track" around a fence line, maybe a slot track like the greyhounds use at the races.

We went shopping.  Slot track was $15 a foot.  Not in this household.  sorry.

How about a regular track, and a remote control vehicle/ or a reversible motor.  Well, we started down that road.  It wasn't cheap either...and the squirrels tail kept getting stuck under the car.  We fixed the squirrel, but realized we needed to protect the track from the elements and possibly animals.  The stuff to encase it that was clear, well....budget strike out #2...not to mention the car issues.

By this point it was about Christmas break.  He had an "I" on his report card.  When he returned, he was kicked out of class until the project paper was completed.  His motivation stepped up a notch.

We consulted an outside "expert", a friend with three dogs who does handy-man work and contracting for a living.  It was becoming clear we'd need real tools to finish this thing, and at that point, we didn't have any.

After some discussion about materials costs, and  how long we "really" needed it to be, boy child settled on a plan.  He scrapped the idea of it traveling all the way around the fenceline, opting for a conveyer belt that ran along one side instead.  We discussed the motor issue, and decided pillaging one out of a fan would be easier than building one, especially since the clock was ticking and he was running out of time.  Granted, there were still some minor road bumps along the way,but he didn't drop the class....and he didn't give up on the project.  He finished it the night before they were scheduled to make their display boards, and turned in his report.  He's back on track.  Here's hoping he stays there.

kinds of kids

I know that people are individuals, but we can't seem to resist grouping them.  I tend to categorize young children by the methods they attempt to self destruct, putting their parents at wits end.This morning on the news there was a story of a motivated, intelligent, three year old who seemed to decide the dog needed to go for a walk, at 4am...and his parents didn't wake up until 4:45.  All I felt for these parents was sympathy.  I'm glad the child was found safe.  I just hope the community around his household doesn't get too judgy.  For the kid was clearly a Houdini child.

I have a friend who had a Houdini child who enjoyed escaping from car-seats.  He somehow managed to live to adulthood, and is still a very creative soul.  My boy number three had a few Houdini moments,but thankfully this wasn't his lifestyle choice.  These kids are 1)smart,2) extremely coordinated for their age and 3)QUIET toddlers.  This kid being awake when a parent is distracted for five minutes, say cooking or nursing; or sleeping, is a challenge to say the least.   These are the people who put leashes on their kids in shopping centers, and people look at the docile child and feel sorry for them.  Except that the third time mom takes her little escape artist to Walmart with his monkey backpack with strap around the waist duct-taped on, he somehow loses her between the cereal aisle and the canned goods.  Fortunately the child is usually pretty easy to find, being a kid....he'll be up on the second level bike rack in toys.

Also among the ranks of kids are those who are "permanently content."  At first, this seems like a blessing.  This baby never cries.  He's compliant and easy to manage as a toddler/preschooler.  He can keep himself occupied for HOURS with anything.  The real parenting quandaries with this child are when 1) something breaks the child is attached to, 2) one needs to find a form of negative discipline that well, works.  Most parents figure out 1) pretty fast.  If the kid doesn't sleep with it, it can just disappear during the night, and he'll look for it in the morning, then shrug it off and play with something else.  If the kid does sleep with it, well, scrappy will eventually be outgrown or the kid will start preschool and you can pull a switch.  There might be some minor resistance the first night, but after that it's smooth sailing.  It's 2) that sends parents over the edge.  Thankfully, since Mr. Contentment is extremely compliant, the p word isn't really an issue all that often.  I have a teenager in this category, and I merely want him to get his schoolwork done on time.  He's really great overall.  His answer to any small  household request from unloading the dishwasher to babysitting a couple of hours is okay.  We have tried many ways to reach him.
Converstation A:
"Do you have any homework?"
"No."
"What about x class?"
"Done."
"Show it to your Dad then."
"Mom." rolls his eyes and retreats to his cave.

Conversation B:
"How is your project going?"
"Fine."
"When is it due?"
"2 weeks ago."

Conversation C;
"That was a fabulous grade you got on your Divergent journal"
Chesire cat smile from boy.
" How do you think we can apply those skills to some of your other schoolwork?"
"I don't know."

Obviously, talking hasn't worked very well.  Last year we took away his electronics.  The thing is, the kid likes to read.  So we took away his leisure books.  He spent his time drawing.  I can't take away his paper and pencils.  He needs those to do his homework!  His father has this temperment too, and I admit, it makes an easy man to live with.

On the other end of the toddler spectrum is "danger baby." No matter how diligent the parent, it only takes a few minutes nursing a younger sibling, using the bathroom, or some other totally unnecessary task for this child to seize his opportunity. These are the quiet, curious kids! (If they were more vocal, we could head off some of their adventures!)  Boy #3 is the poster child for danger baby.  You name it, he's done.  Pushed up a chair to the stove, loaded a pot with wooden utensils and turned it on.  Check.  Climbed out on the roof, in November, NAKED.  Check.  Cut a vacuum cord with kitchen shears while it was plugged in.  check.  Thankfully that last one had a spectacular enough effect he now checks with us before conducting experiments.

I could go on, but I'm sure you all get the idea by now.  Right now I need to go chase monkey boy.  Bet you can guess what his thing is.

It's 2013? Really.

It's 2013.  That means that Mr. Man and I have been together for sixteen years.  It really doesn't feel like it's been that long.  Today was a day that highlighted why I love my husband though.
He is a rock.  Pretty much unwavering.
I'm more like the waves.  I have a lot more ups and downs.  Today was waaay down.
And what crashed me, was a series of events, including a huge emotional tidal wave mid-afternoon.
The rock was still there when I  came back.

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Let me tell you something else about Mr.Man.  I.do.not.control.him.  I don't change his mind either.
Somewhere along the way in our marriage, many people have stoned the messenger so to speak.
This is because he's pretty silent, and averse to conflict....so even when something bugs him he's reluctant to make waves.  Thankfully, we rarely disagree.  A lot of times, I even bend my opinion to his.  Yet somehow, because I'm the "voice" in the relationship most of the time, occasionally people assume I'm the instigator of all opinions, and that my own come first.  Not so.  I am big fan of submission doctrine.  (That is a post for another time.)
He has a friend who can't believe I buy all his clothes.  He hates to shop.  He's given me very specific parameters about his preferences.  I keep the receipts.  He's happier not to mess with it.
He has a relative who believes I "made" his religious views change.  Uh, no.  They "changed" about eight years before I met him.   It's just before I became his connection, he chose not to make them known, because he.hates.conflict.
Anyone else who has any doubts can eat with us for a week....and then ask my parents about how I felt about tomatoes while I was growing up.
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I still have a lot to learn from my husband.  His constant "what will be will be" attitude would be a good place to start. Not everything that's broken needs to be fixed.  After all, "you can still play with it."

January has almost escaped us

  January is often a down-time month for our family.  A bit of a rest from the hurry scurry that builds up from August through December.  I like having a built in "break" in the family schedule.  It's kind of like having a "sabbath month," if you will.  I do have another "sabbath" month, usually it's June or July....depending on the kids summer camp schedule.
   This morning, Mr. Man went to work to pick up a pager.  I have a rare couple of hours alone in the house.  Normally, this would be energizing, and I would be on a housework frenzy with music blasting...but this is January, and above mentioned man has been sick the last three days.   I am choosing to take this morning to dwell in the quiet, to find balance and restore my soul.
   Dwell in the quiet.  We all need time to dwell in our quiet places.  As a mother of six children, sometimes I almost forget what that is, because children are noise.  Most of the time, I love that noise.  I love hearing them play a game together, working out the rules among themselves.  I love to hear their laughter, the doors slamming in indoor games of hide-and-seek, and the puns flying across the dinner table.  I love the bustle and busyness of it all.  I love their freshness, their enthusiam for the day-to-day, whether it's the roasted brussel sprouts with bacon we had with dinner or that there's a new book or craft kit on the table.  I would not trade my life for any other.
    Even when I do find quiet, rarely do I have time just to dwell/or live in the stillness of the moment, for children are also motion.  Coordinating schedules for a family of our size is almost a full time job.   The quiet in the car after dropping them off is nice sometimes, but I'm still doing, still focusing on "what's next" most of the time.  From the time I pick up littlest man from kindergarten at eleven, the rest of my day is on "go!"  Go to the park so he can work out his wiggles.  Go to the store or the library.  Go home and get snack ready for when the big kids walk in the door.  Go pick up our sixth grader.  Go to rehearsals, scouts, ballet, or church.  Just keep on going.   By the time everyone is settled and my husband and I both have time to stop, it's often time for us to be in bed too.  He reads.  I play games on my phone.  We just relish the half hour or so of just being together.  We dwell.  This morning, I am alone.  It's just me and God.  I need to make more time for just "us" to dwell too.