If Mama Ain't Happy

Hot Diggity Dog

2012-01-30T08:52:00.001-06:00

Moving seems to have taken away some of my creative steam - or maybe just forced it somewhere else. I am still reading blogs (like a fiend) but just was not feeling inspired. On days when I was inspired I seemed to have no time to finish my thoughts.

My parents have been keeping our two dogs, Pumpkin and Pippin, while we wait for the yard to be fenced in. It's been a month that the 'rents have kept the pooches. I think that all involved are enjoying the visit. The honeymoon may have come to an end, though, when our little Pumpkin was caught under the table with a stolen loaf of cinnamon bread.

Mom complained about the behavior, but as Dad has reminded us that our family dog, Boots, was much, much, much worse. In fact, none of us can look at a picture of him without chuckling about how horrible he was.

We met Boots under difficult circumstances. It was 1988 and I was 14. My Grandpa Krieg, my father's father, unexpectedly died leaving behind a 6-week old Boston terrier. Going to my Grandpa's house without him there was weird. My brothers and I sat in the living room, with the same avocado green carpeting and gold and orange couch that had been there since the 70's, trying not to look at my Grandpa's empty reclining chair. After a few minutes the back door opened and a black and white blur came barreling into the room, preceded by a very long and active pink tongue. This thing was catapulting off of our chests and faces while simultaneously licking. I think I heard crying in the corner. I think it was my mother.

You see, we had already agreed to take the puppy.

My brother, Todd, thought he was the coolest looking dog ever, with its squished up face and constant snorting. I can't say what Erik thought because he was so young. I thought it was amazing that we had found an animal whose behavior seemed to be worse than my youngest brother's behavior, possibly even more embarrassing.

We stayed at Grandpa's house with our new dog during the days of the visitation and funeral. I can remember sitting in the front yard and my mother begging me to point out anything that would make this dog likeable. Mom didn't like his color, his face, his noises, or I really did think he was cute. Wild, but cute.

Taking that dog home sealed the life-long commitment my parents were making, and they did it with their usual we're-going-to-make-this-work attitude. My parents weren't the type of couple to fret and not know what to do. They just jumped in with both feet and kept going.

Boots. Good ole Boots. In the photos I have posted you'll notice that we all are smiling - but look at Boots' collar - notice the two fingers looped through it so as restrain the animal at any moment. He was lightening fast and if the front door opened it he was out it like a speeding bullet. Boots especially loved to escape when our elderly neighbors were taking their elderly dog out for a stroll. He was also fairly indestructible, as on one of his escapades he was hit by a car. I stood in the front yard screaming as we all listened to the thud of his body hitting the carriage of the car he had just been run over by. Then we saw the black and white blur shoot out from under and continue on his path of destruction toward whatever pedestrian he was going to antagonize. I'm not even making that up.

Boots was kind of like a giant mouth with a little, muscular body attached. He loved chasing balls, as we discovered when I got the bright idea to take him to a soccer game. He chewed through his leash and escaped onto the field chasing the ball like a mad dog. It was hilarious watching the refs chase the dog.

My brothers thought he was part shark because he could chew through anything. In fact, those two sweet boys put Boots' bone under my dad's dresser and watched as the crazed pup chewed through the wood to get to his favorite treat. Yes, that dog chewed a hole in the dresser large enough for his head to fit through in order to retrieve his bone. My parents didn't seem to find that one quite as funny as we did.

Boots didn't take well to training in the beginning, either. My dad bought a choke collar in order to try and get a more submissive animal and began taking him on walks. Boots hated the leash and would pull in the opposite direction. Dad had read to just keep walking and that the dog would eventually submit, so that is just what Dad did. He would walk, Boots would pull. At some point on their journey the leash seemed particularly heavy and dad turned around to see what was what. That dog had pulled so hard on the choke collar that he passed out. Dad had been forcing an incapacitated animal to walk by dragging him along. What must the neighbors have thought?

After an especially worrisome encounter with our elderly neighbors Mom decided it was time for obedience classes. It took Boots three tries to finally pass the class, but we all benefited. Dad jokes that if Mom told the dog to sit that my brothers and I also sat. Boots knew sit, stay, drop, and speak. He was still wild but more manageable.

Boots did have his upsides, though. He would let me dress him up in doll clothes and push him around in a stroller. I thought it was hysterically funny but he seemed to enjoy the pampering. Boots was also Erik's constant companion. Erik was almost as wild as that dog at times, so I can only imagine my parents' relief at knowing that Boots wouldn't leave Erik. We always knew where they were because Erik's favorite command to give the dog was 'speak' by putting up his thumb. Boots would sit right in front of Erik while he gave the command to 'speak' over and over and over. For hours. For days. It was maddening, and endearing.

That dog. He lived a long life of chasing balls and wreaking havoc even after he was old and blind. That crazy animal provided my family with a bit of levity in the days after my grandfather's sudden death, with a ton of respect for my mom as the only human who could control the dog, and with a deep affection for the boy/dog relationship. Looking back I see that Boots was the perfect addition to our family. We were already sticking out like sore thumbs for not looking like your typical American family in the 80's, so why not throw in a dog that some people might call ugly with horrible behavior, and who answered to 'd***n dog'?

Boots made us look good!

Choices

2012-01-29T20:42:00.002-06:00

One Thanksgiving I made the really silly decision to go to the store for a few last minute items. I compounded this mistake by bringing my then 3 year old son, Spencer. The aisle were, of course, extremely packed. I maneuvered my way to the canned goods aisle with my boy riding shot-gun in the cart. I was debating between the Allen's green beans or the store brand french cut when a smell wafted my way. An unpleasant smell. All of the adults were politely ignoring the offending odor, but the three-year old was having none of that.

"Hey, mom! It stinks! Did you toot?" my extremely articulate toddler questioned.

As I saw it I had two choices:

1. Deny the smell was any fault of mine, which would only draw more attention to myself while simultaneously instigating a debate from my kid.

2. Ignore the question causing people to assume that it was me that had released the green cloud that had infiltrated the aisle.

I think that I bantered back, "No, silly boy!" and extracted myself from the 39 people who were crammed into the area, but the damage had been done. I was totally red in the face and cracking up and my kid had shoved both fingers up his nose to plug up his smeller.

I don't know, maybe it was a parenting fail, but it was totally funny.

Anyone else ever had equally awful choices wherein hilarity ensued?

Bumps in the Road

2012-01-10T07:51:00.002-06:00

Well, we did it. We successfully moved 2 adults, 4 children, 2 dogs, and two turtles to a new home. We did it all three days after Christmas, too. I am not recommending moving over the holidays, mainly because packing and purging adds considerable stress to an already hectic time of year. I do have to say, though, thanks to an army of amazing friends and family we were able pull it off and ten days later only a few boxes are left in the house.

I'm telling you, you learn a lot about yourself and your family when you endeavor to pack up a home in under 3 weeks AND start a new job. While everything happening in our lives is positive it still felt kind of like a crisis because this move had to be done before he started his job on January 1 - or it would have taken even longer to get done I, being practically perfect in every way, tend to always have a plan. Lee, being practically perfect in his special way, tends to go into denial and come up with strange plans. The children, being children, tend to want to sit around watching t.v., reading, or listen to their music. Fortunately for our marriage Lee and I worked out how differently he and I handle a crisis about 13 years ago when our oldest child was just a few months old.

Lee and I went to visit some friends in Baltimore when Kiley was about 5 months old. It was our first family vacation. We had a little Honda Accord and we packed that thing full. We brought the pack and play, bouncy seat, exasaucer, portable high chair, a small cooler, and our suitcases. I'm truly surprised that there was room for our baby. It was ridiculous. And SO exciting! A road trip with our baby to see some dear friends. We felt like grown ups. Lee packed the car and left room in the backseat so that I could sit with the baby if she got lonely. Have I mentioned this was our first child?

We stopped to eat at a steak place somewhere in Viriginia. As I was changing Kiley's diaper a strange woman came and picked her to show to her husband. I followed worriedly behind her ready to shout "Abduction!" at any moment. "Look what I found, honey," the women said as she shoved my baby under a grumpy old man's nose. The man looked annoyed and grumbled, "Huh. Where'd you get that? Who's baby is that?" I don't think this was the first strange baby his wife had brought to him.

I took that as my cue. "That's my baby. She got it from me in the bathroom." I then took my baby back to the table and we quickly paid and left the restaurant. Lee asked why I let the weird woman have our baby - I told him that I didn't have a choice.

On the way to the car I thought Kiley felt hot. Lee agreed. We could not determine why she would have a fever but headed to Wal-mart to get her first dose of acetaminophine for her very first fever. As we walked the aisles looking for a cure we determined that the large quantities of air conditioning received in the car and restaurant had given our first-born her first fever. C-R-A-Z-Y first-time parents. While checking out we chatted with the clerk and (stupidly) shared our opinion of said fever. The clerk (wisely) told us she thought it was probably her first teeth. We left feeling sorry for her ineptness at diagnosing a problem.

Night had now fallen on the hills of West Virginia. Lee and I were listening to music, the baby was sleeping and we were feeling grown up again. There was no one on the road with us so we were completely shocked when our car was jolted with such force that all of our 10,000 items came flying to the front of the car. I screamed. Lee screamed and pulled the car off to the side of the road. I thought a semi had hit us. Lee thought we had hit a deer. Looking behind us, though, we saw the offender was actually a Jupiter-sized pothole. Examining the car revealed a very flat tire.

Here's where the learning came in. Lee's first inclination was to just drive to the nearest exit, which appeared to be nowhere near us. His second idea - and this was a winner - was to get the stroller out and hoof it. In the middle of Nowhere, West Virginia. At 9 o'clock at night. Riiight.

I explained that I had a plan. I decided it was best to reveal my plan in small doses so as not shock my young husband. I told him we needed to turn on the emergency lights and empty the trunk. He liked this idea. I believe he suspected I was trying to lighten the load so that we could safely keep driving. After emptying out what looked like Babies-R-Us on the side of the road I showed him the spare tire and the jack.

"Are you going to change the tire?" my sweet man innocently asked.

"Nope, you are." I said with authority.

Then I got into the backseat with the baby while he changed the tire. I don't know how long it took, but I know that we made it to a hotel on that tire safe and sound. I know that my husband's chest was puffed out a little more after that. I know that Flatwoods, West Virginia might not mean much to many but, for one young married couple, that town and its gaping hole in the highway will be remembered fondly.

Here's to bumps in the road, my friends!

Surprise!

2011-12-26T08:50:00.004-06:00

WARNING: Animal, and in particular cat, lovers may find this post difficult to read. I love animals, but my sense of humor has always been triggered at really odd times. Consider yourself warned.

A few years ago, when we lived in Knoxville, Tennessee, we had a menagerie of cats. Three to be exact. Delia, our first kitty, was a black long-haired Persian of persnickety persuasion. Cassidy, Lee's acquirement from the humane society, was a large amber-colored beauty who was VERY territorial. Phoebe, a tiny black cat, was pretty perfect. All of our cats seemed to possess the proverbial nine lives.

Just after Christmas one year I finished up choir practice and headed home. Lee kept the kids at church to play with friends. We only had three kids then, and our seven year old was just a baby. The house was dark when I entered, but the tree was up. So I turned on a kitchen light at went to plug in the tree lights because it would make the room pretty but not bright enough to see the mess. Delia was laying just under the tree, one of her favorite spots at Christmas, and didn't even lift her head to greet me. I nudged her gently with my foot saying, "Hey, lazy girl, wake up."

Delia didn't move though. In fact, she seemed to not be moving at all. I turned on the brighter light and was horrified to see that my kitty was dead. As a doornail.

Now, Lee didn't know this when we got married, but he unknowingly and under mild coercion, signed a contract delegating all duties pertaining to animal discharge (either end) and the removal of any (animal) bodies to him, the husband, the man of the house.

So, I did what any self-respecting wife would do. I called my husband. The conversation went like this:

Me: Hello. I need you to come home. Delia is dead.

Lee: How do you know?

Me: She's not breathing or moving and her eyes are open.

Lee: Are you sure she's not just sleeping?

Me: Yes. I am sure she's not sleeping. Are you kidding me? Her eyes are open and SHE'S NOT BREATHING!

Lee: Crap. Crap. Crap. What are you going to do?

Me: Wait for you to come home and take care of it.

Long pause.

Lee: Crap. Crap. Crap. Fine. I'll be there in a minute.

I waited for that man of mine to come home and deal with the current situation. I wasn't as sad as I thought I should be, but Delia had a good life and now she was in kitty cat heaven where she could groom herself for eternity. I saw the headlights of the minivan pull into our drive. Car door shut. Lee entered the room. Cool hand Luke, let me tell you.

Not.

"Wow. She really is dead," Lee noted.

"I know, right?" I agreed. We stood there for a few minutes just looking at our little kitty trying to figure out the next course of action. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. I will not even share with you the discussion that we had over what to do with said kitty cat body.

Suddenly, the door burst open and our daughters came in carrying their younger brother.

"Well, what is it, Mom?" Kiley asked.

"What is what?" I asked. They were still in the kitchen and I just wasn't sure of what was going on.

"Dad said you had a surprise for us," little Laurel filled me in.

Apparently, in an attempt to get the kids into the car quickly Lee told our children that I had a surprise for them at home. So, as they sat in the car they had cooked up some amazing theories about what the surprise might be. Little did they know that a dead kitty was the surprise.

I looked to Lee for further explanation. "What? I thought maybe you were wrong," was all he could come up with.

Now, I am good under pressure, let me tell you. But not that good. I was tired, and now extremely irritated with my husband. I now not only had a dead cat to deal with but three children who needed explanation about why their surprise was hidden under the Christmas tree but didn't seem to be a joyful surprise. So I said, "Surprise! Delia went to kitty cat heaven and you all get to tell her goodbye!"

Then I spread my arms Vanna White style to show them exhibit D.

Two shocked girls dropped their jaws.

"This is the worst surprise ever," Laurel lamented.

Agreed, girl, agreed.

An Eeyore State of Mind

2011-12-24T14:43:00.002-06:00

People sometimes think that I exaggerate events in my life. I will admit that every now and then, for purely comedic purposes, I do extend the truth. However, for the most part my accounts are accurate. I've had friends say, "I thought you were making this stuff up, but after sitting in your living room for 2 hours I see that you're not!" So, here goes another.

The Shepherd family Christmas started off looking a lot like the Griswald Christmas, and I'm not kidding. We found out two weeks ago that we were moving to the other side of town, which is wonderful news. But this exciting news also meant that we would be packing and moving over Christmas. The first week started off in full swing - lots of purging, a little packing, a whole lot of energy. The second week was a little more intense but still productive. I did have to use my growling voice a couple of times but we pretty much made the goal I had set, which was packing everything but the kitchen. The Christmas tree came down on the 21.

Packing a minivan with 6 people and two dogs is never easy, and stressful circumstances make it all the more difficult. Needless to say by the time each of us were in our assigned seats - and we do give assigned seats - I wasn't the only one in tears. As Lee finally put the keys into the ignition I felt my body relax with thoughts of home.

That's when the 'CHECK TRANSMISSION' light came on.

I am not one to be deterred and decided we would take the car to my parents mechanic when we got to Kentucky.

While riding in the car, listening to Christmas carols and the children munching on goldfish, I let myself give in to really gloomy thoughts. I hadn't finished Christmas shopping, I didn't get the new house painted, I never sent out Christmas cards, some family relationships were still difficult (and probably always going to be), I had to pack dirty laundry for the boys and myself, and I just thought that I was a disappointment to the world, or at least to myself.

We pulled into my parents driveway - the driveway that was mine from the time I was 5 til I was 22 - and as we unpacked the van I realized that we were one short. The suitcase that held my sons' dirty clothes was left behind, which meant that they had nothing but the shirts on their backs. I was worn out and weary and pretty sure that a good night's sleep was not the cure for this ill.

I was snappy and short with everyone in the house and went to bed sad. Dad and I took the car in to the mechanic early the next morning. After some tinkering with the van, a couple of phone calls, and a drive around the block the news wasn't great, but not the worst.

The news of my van didn't shock me - each of the three times that we have moved our vehicle has had something very major go wrong with it. I even told Lee when he was informed that he would indeed be pastoring two new churches that we should just plan on the car breaking down. However, the news of my van did shake me up. I was teary most of the day and just felt that everything seemed unfair. Why couldn't something just good happen - why did it always have to come with something crummy? Woe is me. Life is hard.

Later that night I read this blog post by Ann VosKamp, and then this one from a friend in blogland who lost a dear son 3 months ago in the blink of an eye.

With sudden clarity I realized that I had forgotten something big. I had allowed my few problems to overshadow my numerous blessings. I forgot that I ALWAYS bring dirty laundry to my mother's house, that I never send out Christmas cards on time, that my shopping is always last minute, that I have a house to paint, and that, while I may disappoint, my Jesus never does. I forgot that my father has survived cancer, that our four children are the funniest, kindest, most beautiful people I've ever met, that my mother's cooking fixes everything, that Lee's granny has the best hugs ever, and that feeling sorry for myself won't get me anywhere.

I forgot that when things don't look great from where I stand I can climb into my heavenly Father's lap and gain a different perspective.

So, this year the gift of my Savior has reminded me that Christmas is a state of mind.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." - Charles Dickens

Merry Christmas!

The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

2011-12-02T07:22:00.001-06:00

The Good: Our two-year old has taken to wearing a red and black sock hat all of the time. It is the cutest thing ever. He even sleeps in it. If he happens to be without his hat he says, "Oh, no! Where hat go?" He looks like a little elf when he's wearing it because his ears usually poke out from under the hat. ADORABLE.

The Bad: A clogged bathtub. It was quickly fixed, but plumbing problems are no joke! Especially with two daughters who take showering very seriously.

The Ugly: Sleepless nights. I am anticipating our busy and fun holiday season. I am like a kid in that I can hardly sleep for being so excited. That's all good and fun until 6 a.m. rolls around and I have to get out of bed in spite of having been awake since 4. Makes for a tired (and some might say cranky) Mama Shepherd come 4 p.m.

Keep Calm and Carry On

2011-11-29T08:35:00.000-06:00

My buddy Kim wrote a post that got me thinking about all the crazy stuff I have experienced since becoming a mother. Don't get me wrong - I had crazy experiences before becoming a mother, I'm just not going to go public with them.

It's probably a great thing that I didn't know how many loops I was in for when I buckled in for this roller coaster. Had I known that someday I would peruse the aisles of a grocery store oblivious to two large wet space conspicuously placed near my, you know, bosom, I might have gone to the back of the line. I really do believe that motherhood sets you up for humiliation, thus making the whole experience quite humbling, and character building.

I have had pretty serious preparation for fearlessness, after all my youngest brother is mentally handicapped. I'm not trying to be crass, here. I reveal this not to gain pity but to give you insight into what it takes to actually humiliate me. Growing up with Erik has made me almost (but not quite) immune to public embarrassment. Once you've lived through knocking on someone's door to ask if it's okay if you get your little brother, who is staring at their air conditioning unit as though waiting for the second coming, the bar is kind of up there.

The grocery store has been a hot-spot for embarrassing moments for me. I once made it through a fairly long shopping trip, while my two daughters were 5 and 3, with my sanity still intact. I felt good about that. I wrote my check (we did that back then) and as I was leaving the clerk said, "Sweetie, you got something stuck to your shirt." This lovely lady leaned over the counter to remove the offending adhesive. I was thrilled to see that it was a pantyliner with my daughter's name written on it. Lovely.

Clearly, that incident was not enough to keep me from revisiting Food City, as the store was called. On another excursion I started a conversation with a total stranger - a tradition my mother began and I accidentally picked up - and as we parted ways she said, "You've got a string. Let me get it." This woman was tenacious and the string was fairly long. I expected it would end at the cuff of my shirt. No such luck. As she worked to find the end of the string I felt the tug. At the waistband. Of my underwear. Apparently, my Hanes Her Way had seen better days. We quickly parted ways, after all, I needed a gallon of milk.

My son has upped the ante considerably as to what I can handle in public. I've become quite quick with a comeback or cover-up - which ever is necessary. Spencer asked for a shovel last summer. I was thrilled. He wanted to learn how to do 'man stuff' or garden with me, or whatever. I just thought it was great that he wanted a shovel. So off to the local mega-home-improvement store we went. We picked out the perfect boy-sized red shovel and got a rose bush to go along with it. I wanted him to able to plant something with that shovel! As we stood in line Spencer examined his new prize with wonder and delight. He looked up and me and proclaimed, "This is awesome! Now I can have a real outhouse in Hobo Land, Mom!" The couple behind me coughed to cover up their laughter. Hobo Land, by the way, is the politically incorrect name for a huge forsythia bush we have in our yard where Spencer has drug everything from old tires to broken chairs. It's pretty sweet. I did put an end to the outhouse, however. I'm still working on getting him to flush. Little steps, right?

We have taught our children that 'R' rated movies are inappropriate. I always liked hearing a 4 year old say, "That's inappropriate!" I thought it was funny until one of the kids announced that mom and dad like to stay up late watching inappropriate movies.

This leads to a brief sampling of sentences said while waiting in line or at the doctor's office, always said in a loud voice so that total strangers have no excuse not to hear:

"Hey, mom, why does that woman have a beard?"
                             or
"Hey, mom, if the baby is in your belly why is your butt so big?"
                             or
""Hey, mom, do you think that mole is ugly?"
                             or
"Hey, mom, your mustache is back!"

Well, I could go on and on, but I think the point has been made. Parenthood is not for the fainthearted or people who are afraid to look dumb or cry hysterically in public places. That's why my motto is:

Advent

2011-11-27T12:40:00.001-06:00

In Sunday school this morning we began an advent study called Prepare Ye for a New Advent of God's Love in Our World by John & Adrienne Carr. It's really not as dry as the title would have you think. At any rate, we shared some Christmas memories, good and bad, and also discussed what we thought was disturbing about the way that Christmas is celebrated.

Christmas is my favorite time of the year, hands down. I love the cold weather that causes everyone to want to hibernate and forces us all to spend more time with our families. I really enjoy the music, the chance to bake, and decorating the house for Christmas. After a fast-paced fall Christmas offers a chance to slow down a little - even while visiting with friends and families.

More than anything, though, I long to revel in the holiness of this season. The season of advent is when we remember our ancestors, who waited expectantly for Jesus, while we ourselves anticipate the second advent of Christ. I find myself wondering whether or not our family takes the time to embrace the holiness of Christmastime.

During Sunday school time this morning I found a myriad of special Christmas memories coming to the surface as others in class shared their own Christmas recollections. There are definitely gifts I remember; the Glamour Gals Dreamboat, a handmade doll that looked like me, Atari game system, a black felt hat that was so cool. My other memories aren't as tangible but are much more significant. Picking out my dress for Christmas Eve, helping decorate the tree and house, sounds of my mother cooking late at night as she prepared for a family get-together, going to the eleven o'clock candlelight service with my dad, and the way the world seemed more quiet in December are some of my most vivid remembrances.

Intermixed with all of those pleasant memories are the more difficult times. My first Christmas as a newlywed was one of the most challenging times for me. Lee and I had only been married for 9 days and were attempting to incorporate every single one of the traditions we had grown up with into our first Christmas, which made for a very cranky new wife. It all seemed so complicated, yet when I look back at the pictures I remember that as a simple time. There were Christmases when our budget had nothing and we didn't know how gifts would be purchased or gas bought to pay for the trip home, yet we always had what we needed and arrived where we wanted to be. The Christmas that was to be my father-in-law's last Christmas is especially significant now, even though at the time we didn't think much of it. In fact, we were exhausted by the time we got to his house. The kids were done in, the gifts still needed to be wrapped, and we got no sleep. Looking back, I'm so glad that we inconvenienced ourselves.

All of these memories - the sad and joyful - all combine to make Christmas such a poignant time of year.

I am starting to think that all of my worrying about making the season of advent a holy time is unnecessary. I believe that the picture I had created in my mind of holiness looks nothing like what holiness is. Holiness can exist in our home during hectic as well as peaceful times. Holiness really is about the state of our hearts. I had forgotten that the Holy One was born in this world to a very young woman without 'spiritual credentials' in the midst of a stable. I had forgotten that the Holy One was raised in this world only to die, naked and beaten, for me on a cross next to criminals. With Christ at the center anything can become holy - even me.

This advent season as I prepare to layer on some more Christmas memories to my already deep ones I am coming to realize that Jesus has been there with me at every moment. During my times of sadness, frustration, joyfulness, frenziness, and peacefulness Jesus has been with me whether I recognized Him or not. Looking back on the Christmas Eve services at church I can remember that I felt holy as I held the candle and sang. I truly felt set apart by God. In my child's mind, though, I believed that the candle declared me holy and the darkness was simply for mood. I see now, more clearly every year, that the candle is Him and that I am the dark and that true holiness comes from that knowledge.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

He was in the beginning with God.

All things came into being through him, and without him

not one thing came into being.

What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

He was in the world, and the world came into being though him;

yet the world did not know him.

He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.

But to all who received him, who believed

in his name, he gave power to become the children of God,

who were not born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh

or the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory,

the glory as of a father's only son,

full of grace and truth.

From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

The law indeed was given through Moses;

grace and Truth came through Jesus Christ.

No one has ever seen God.

It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart,

who has made him known. (John 1:1-18)

May we all truly know Him.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

2011-11-25T09:11:00.001-06:00

The Good: Coming up with the menu for my first Thanksgiving meal cooked (almost) only by me. My mom had a blast getting everything together! Turkey, stuffing balls, salad, bacon wrapped green beans, cranberry and pine nut rice pilaf, pineapple casserole, mashed potatoes, and rolls. YUMMY!

The Bad: Holiday traffic. I'm not a crazy Black Friday shopper but we are going out for a bit and traffic in our area is terrible at this time of year! I suspect that traffic will be so bad that Mom and I will have to eat lunch out by ourselves....

The Ugly: Allergies bothering us in November. Unfair, but at least it's not a cold.

So, what made your list this week?

Wishbones & Turkey Legs

2011-11-23T18:02:00.000-06:00

I love reading books about the holidays - fiction, non-fiction, anything that has to do with holidays. Movies about the holidays. magazines covers and Hallmark commercials always catch my eye. Thinking about the types of families that celebrate by sharing a meal together fascinates me. I love thinking about their homes, their lives, their stories.

The only problem with magazines, movies, and books about the holidays is that they're not real. Even the ones that seem 'real'. It's just a snapshot, a moment out of 10 million, and can't really capture the authentic family dynamic.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorites. The drive to my grandmother's house was filled with anticipation of deviled eggs and cousins galore. Upon marrying I anticipated being able to host my first Thanksgiving, and assumed it would look something like this:

It really didn't, and neither did any of the Thanksgivings before or after my 'first'.

Our family traveled every Thanksgiving until five years ago. We would visit my husband's family, my family, friends, and restaurants. I loved piling into the car with the kids and heading out for a road trip. Nothing would stop me. Not even the year that our daughter, then a toddler, was throwing up. I just took a plastic container with a lid told her to puke into that and to keep the lid closed in between stops. Never mind that we had an 8 hour car ride ahead of us. Oh, the younger years.

The Shepherd family's first Thanksgiving alone was a bit of a bummer. We had only lived in our new town for about 4 months and were terribly homesick for Tennessee. The suitcases were packed and loaded into the car. The dog was even ready to go. Getting away seemed like a great idea, until I noticed that our oldest child seemed less than chipper. The girls had battled strep off and on all summer and I was wary of any illness that came on fast. I put the thermometer under her tongue waiting for the verdict. Sure enough, it was 103. I knew that I could push it - I could take her to an after-hours clinic and still be on the road, with antibiotics, and get to our destination by bedtime. We could do it.

One look at my family, though, and I knew that we had already been pushed to the brink. We were exhausted in every way possible. So I made the call to stay home. I called it quits - which is really going against my grain - forfeiting our spots at various Thanksgiving tables. The children were disappointed and even a little angry.

The next day I called Cracker Barrel and picked up Thanksgiving dinner for 5. We ate out of the plastic containers with plastic forks. One child announced, "This is the worst Thanksgiving ever."

All I could feel was gratitude, though. Gratitude that we were all together, that we had gotten through a hard time relatively well (aside for a few moments that will not be preserved). Gratitude that we were at our table in our home with our children and that we were well. Gratitude that my husband and I could look across the table knowing we were together - really together. Gratitude that our God had carried us along and covered us in grace even when we were unable to recognize it for what it was. While I was sad to not be with our extended families and missed the commotion that being with lots of people you only see a couple of times a year brings, I was also relieved for some quiet after what seemed like a 6 month storm.

Thanksgiving of 2006 may not have been our most beautiful moment but it was definitely one of our most memorable. We call it the Thanksgiving of Strep Throat. Our family has faced tougher times since then, and surely will face others, but we gained some stick-to-it-ness that year. We figured out that even when life seems unfriendly God's blessings abound and that when we focus on the smallest blessings our most monumental problems will shrink - and you can write that down!

Thanksgiving is at my house this year and you can count on it not being picture perfect. There may be a year that I do not have 3 loads of laundry waiting to be folded, but not this one. There may be a year that I don't tell my children to shove things into the office and give directives such as "DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR!", but not this one. There may be years when I can light candles and have a tablescape and make lanterns out of gourds, but not this one. Thanksgiving this year will find my family cooking, fussing, and playing cards in a house filled with dogs and turtles gathered around a table eating food that I'm praying turns out okay. Wherever you are and whoever you are with this Thanksgiving I pray that your blessings are more real to you than the food on your plate.

Happy Thanksgiving!

LaLa Land

2011-11-21T09:08:00.000-06:00

I just want to clear the air.

Men get such a bad rap for being poor listeners that I have decided to have a little confession post. I'm going to tell on myself, but you can't hold it against me. Lee, did you read that?

I am generally a very attentive listener. I daresay I even enjoy listening to others. But every now and then my brain just shuts off, especially if it's after 8 p.m. Sometimes 3 - 6 p.m. is a bad time, too. I'm not always a good listener if I haven't had my cup of coffee, either. Well, maybe my listening skills are hit or miss.

There have been many moments when I'm laying on the couch watching a Jane Austen movie and I realize that my darling husband is standing near me and seems to be moving his lips. I"ll innocently ask, "Have you been talking to me?"

Lee's response is usually irritation and confusion. Sometimes, apparently, I have even been answering him.

There are other moments, when Lee is giving me crucial information, that I am actually making eye contact and nodding my head. You know, doing all of those things that make someone believe you are listening. He'll say, "Okay?" and I'll say, "Okay!" and then we part ways. If one of the kids was standing around eavesdropping I'll ask her/him to fill me in on the conversation I missed out on. Sometimes I even to say, "Did your dad leave? Did he tell me he was leaving? Did I say goodbye?"

My son calls these episodes "Lala land". He'll even say, "Mom, you were visiting lala land again!"

I like Lala land. I visit their frequently when I am in the car driving the children to and fro. I listen to the music on the radio, I think about the other people in their cars and where the might be going, I think about Target and CVS and chocolate. Sometimes I don't even think, I just go away in my mind. Lala Land has all the benefits of a vacation without the bills, weight gain, and dirty laundry.

The kids will lament, "Mooooomm, why aren't you listening?"

I just smile - because I can't hear them! All I can think is how cute or pretty or sweet they are as I view them from Lala Land. I don't notice they're shouts or pinched, angry faces or the fact that I have heard their sweet little voices for 72 hours straight. Four children can pinch-hit for each other in the game of talk-mom-to-death.

My hubby will say, "I just want to talk to you for a few minutes."

I just smile at him while not remembering that when he unloaded the dishwasher he put everything on the counter because he didn't know where I liked to keep such-and-such dish. Never mind that we've lived in this house for 5.5 years. I'm in Lala Land where everything is shiny and happy and most sounds are muffled and none of the stuff of life bothers me there.

There are times I visit Lala Land and I regret the trip. For instance, when I'm cooking a trip to my most favorite getaway can have disastrous results. No one likes burnt scrambled eggs. Driving can be another time that my little oasis can be a hindrance. I once sat through two green lights. Okay, the second one was more to further irritate the driver behind me who was honking and giving me the #1 sign. The public library is also not a place to take a mental stay-cation - but that's a post for another day.

I am sharing this information not to divulge some of the Greatest Secrets of Motherhood but to encourage others on their journey. So take heart, all you who have weary ears, and enjoy a breather. I am giving you an all access pass to Lala Land where the theme song to Cheers is always on.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

2011-11-18T16:50:00.001-06:00

The Good: A family that not only does not mind cereal for dinner but requests cereal night! I fully intended to make Shepherd's pie for dinner tonight, but my heart wasn't in it. The kids eagerly suggested cereal and I eagerly obliged! Lucky Charms, Honey Bunches of Oats, Apple Jacks and Fruit Loops each in their own recyclable containers thanks to CVS and some extrabucks cash!

The Bad: Feeling rushed, already running behind, starting the car and seeing 4 miles to empty. Ugh. Ugh. Then remembering that you lost your cash card. Then remembering that you have no cash. Then remembering that your husband is in a meeting.

The Ugly: Having to borrow cash from your own children. We hadn't eaten lunch either so they scrounged up some McD's gift cards from LAST (?) Christmas and their saved money. I put $10 in the van and we had $12 for lunch at McDonalds. From our meal choices you can tell its been one of those days!

Body Language

2011-11-17T17:05:00.000-06:00

I would like to teach my kids a foreign language. Spanish and French are high on my list. First, however, I would like them to master my language. I mastered the language of my parents just as my parents mastered the language of their parents. I am talking about body language.

They're getting there, I tell you. My nostril flare usually stops them in their tracks and I know that Spencer can feel my laser eyes.

In my childhood I quickly learned that the fewer words my mother used the worse the situation was. It usually began with I thought of as 'angry cleaning'. The dishwasher would be loaded with a vengeance; the poor floor would be scrubbed abusively; the laundry was called dirty names and folded with clenched fingers and angry snaps of fabric. My brothers and I would listen at the vents waiting for the storm to pass. We knew during those moments it was best to stay clear.

We thought our poor mother had some pretty serious issues. After all, what mother could be angry over children trying to make an ocean in the bathroom? Would mom really be upset that we had invited 42 neighborhood children over to play hide-and-go-seek in our basement? Honestly, we were just trying to have a little fun and nobody found you when you hid by the water heater.

Yes, when our normally very chatty mother became quiet we knew it was going to get ugly. Mom's hands would begin flexing and she would smile while questioning us. That smile haunts me still today. Mom's beautiful brown eyes accompanied by a smile that did not match the sparks shooting out of her eyes. I'm telling you, Stephen King knows nothing of fear.

My dad's body language was more difficult to read. Dad has always been the quiet type. I have to wonder if an atom bomb is quiet before it detonates.

Clearly, Dad was a man lacking a sense of humor. I mean, who doesn't like a cat thrown on them while they nap on the couch? Seriously, I thought dad liked animals until that day. He catapulted that kitty across the room as the boom ripped from his mouth. I didn't hang around to see what the problem was - I ran up to the neighborhood park to tell my friends how my dad 'freaked out for no reason'

Apparently I have some of the same tell-tale signs of an impending explosion but I have a four strong-willed children. So this week in homeschool land we have been discussing Mt. St. Helens and the signs that she gives prior to an eruption.

First, scientists noticed a color change in the fumarole. I'm not making this up. Likewise, my children can also note my color change. I even have a birthmark between my eyebrows my husband calls my red light because it means stop. I am fair complected so when I go pink it's a good indicator of my discomfort, but when I go red in the face look out. Yet my children will forge ahead with questions or debates in spite of my crimson color.

The next phase for a volcano is steam vapors erupting. Easy enough to detect on a volcano, right? Maybe not so much on a mom. I think that my steam comes about in heavy breathing, sighing, and much eye rolling. My children, and husband, usually proceed with a little more trepidation but are still unwilling to give up the sale.

The final stage is, of course eruption. A volcano eruption involves monumental movement, fall out, and even changes in the weather. I think the eruption of Mt. St. Mama may be similar. There may be a shout, a scream, or sobbing. Drawers may be shut with more force than necessary. The end result is usually me on the floor somewhere in the house while the children gather around to survey the sight for scientific data.

"Is she okay?"

"Yes. But I think that we did something."

"Do you think she's mad I wanted to wash all the rocks out in the bathtub?"

"No. I think she just has too much on her mind. Like the dog being a different color."

"Mom, are you overwhelmed?"

I think I hear my mother laughing somewhere.

Basketball Diaries

2011-11-10T07:47:00.001-06:00

A couple of weeks ago Spencer had his first basketball practice of the season. This is year two, so he was MUCH more confident as he walked onto the court.

Last year our guy was only 6 and sure that he could not leave my side. I was the only mom standing at center court with their child wrapped around their legs. The tears had dried up but just barely. Spencer was nervous and unsure of what was really going on and found the number of kids at our Y overwhelming (our class size is pretty small in homeschool land). The coach got us doing some drills and I was finally able to detach and sit on the bleachers with the other parents.

During the first game of that season I realized that our son was the team's space cadet. Literally. The game was lost on him, therefore he invented his own. Spencer's fingers became laser guns as he ran around the court gunning down alien enemies posing as the opposition. My fellow b-ball parents were laughing, no doubt relieved that their kid seemed to be more on top of the situation than my little boy. The next three games went much the same way.

During the 4th game Spencer met a fellow space traveler who was thrilled to join in the laser shooting. The two boys would team up with laser weapons and finger binoculars to circle fellow players. The other kid even incorporated the buzzer into the space game by shrieking madly anytime it went off, which was roughly every 7 minutes. Apparently the space cadets were being tortured by an alien mastermind with the horrible buzzing noise.

The coach was patient and would pick Spencer up while running and physically place him where he needed to be. Unfortunately he told Spencer that was 'his spot' - so my boy did not move from his spot until the coach came back for him.

All of this would have concerned me if this child had been our first - but he is #3 and we knew that we just needed to ride out the awkward stage. If he had been our first I probably would have thought he needed therapy.

Lee and I worked with Spencer on the intricacies of the game. Spencer and his dad practiced dribbling and passing daily. His sisters even stepped in to help a brother out.

The last two games of the fall season the light bulb went off. Spencer dribbled WHILE running, he passed to team mates, he shot, he scored!

The transformation that we are privileged to watch as parents is so amazing and so unique for each child. My chest was full of pride (is that a sin?) as we walked together toward the Y. Spencer held my hand all the way from the car to the gym doors.

Then I opened the doors and my little boy was gone. I didn't even notice he wasn't holding my hand until he waved at me from over his shoulder.

Humble Pie

2011-11-01T07:25:00.000-05:00

Last week I was grocery shopping. My 2 year old son was, shall we say, exuberantly sharing his love of Justin Bieber by belting out, "Baby O". I was encouraging him to be quiet by feeding him miniature marshmallows but enough people were laughing that he felt encouraged to continue his operatic performance.

One audience member was obviously disgruntled, however. A young twenty-something audibly muttered, "My kids will never act like that."

Ha! Famous last words, sister.

Upon beginning the adventure of parenting, and possibly even before parenting is even contemplated, most young adults will see a child behaving badly and say to themselves, "My child will never act that way."

I, too, said that I would never have a child that acted a certain way: whiny, demanding, wild, pouty, spoiled, aloof, hateful, rude. You get the picture.

I have four children and can now say that I have had a child act out every possible way in public, and lived to tale the tale. Be comforted in the knowledge that the children were thoroughly disciplined. However, even the best parenting is occasionally rewarded with the worst behavior.

Pride comes before the fall. Never truer words were spoken. In my parenting career there have been moments that I have felt supercilious; I have looked upon my skills and felt something that moved beyond pleasure and into pride. I am then, almost immediately, served a large slice of humble pie.

I once bragged to a friend that my kids did chores everyday without having to be nagged. Later that afternoon a friend stopped by to drop off some books she had borrowed. She asked to use the bathroom before she had to leave to run errands. I thought I would double check to make sure there was nothing horrible happening in the main powder room.

I'm pretty sure that a frat house would have had a cleaner bathroom. I've tried to block out a lot from that moment but I do remember large quantities of toilet paper mixed with large quantities of clothing and towels that had all been drenched in equally large quantities of water. Also, someone had apparently enjoyed a snack of milk and cookies while they did there business as there was a mug of milk on the counter nearest the toilet as well as cookie crumbs on the toilet seat. I wish I were exaggerating.

I remember watching children in stores beg and plead with their parents to buy them a certain toy or packet of gum or one of the myriad of evil knickknacks waiting for us in the checkout line. I thought to myself, "Thank you God that my children don't drive me nuts like that."

Soon after I gave birth to our third child who has not blessed me with not just one episode of check-out line freakouts but years of these dramas. I've had customers standing behind me slip me five dollar bills in an attempt to get me to cave just so they didn't have to listen to it. Once he even shouted, "Oh no! You're making the face! You're going to lock me in the closet and beat me!" This kid taught me perseverance, patience, and to leave him at home whenever we were entering a public store. Seriously. I didn't take him to a store for 2 years after that.

I can also remember when we began our journey in youth ministry. There was always one sulky adolescent who refused to participate or give a reason for their lack of excitement about life.

So, now I have a teenager who takes a book everywhere with her and sits off alone reading. It's comical at this point and I often joke with her that I'm going to get her a t-shirt that says "CAUTION: Unsocialized Homeschooler". She doesn't even crack a smile.

Once, when teaching Sunday school class, I had a child enlighten the class as to why their parents were getting a divorce. It started with "Mom said Dad..." and ended with me beginning to sing "Jesus Loves Me" in a loud voice as a distraction. I went home and told Lee that we had to make sure that our kids never did things like that because that was just not okay.

Imagine our shock when, after one of our children offered a prayer request during a bible study for young children, we began getting many phone calls from parents (who were mostly chuckling) asking if we would like to come and explain to their kids what a vasectomy was.

Finally, after almost 14 years of parenting I do as Justin Bieber suggests and never say never.

Twenty Years

2011-10-29T09:30:00.000-05:00

So, today I turn 38, which means it's been 20 years since I turned 18.

I get no sympathy from my friends who are older ( some of them MUCH older, hehe) or from my husband who hit 40 a few years ago.

This birthday feels rather monumental for me. It pushes me closer to the elite 40 Club. I've always thought that when I turned 40 I would be a legit adult.

This morning all I can think about is the fact that I have been over 18 for 20 years. All of those signs that say "Must be 18 or Older" have applied to me for a long time now.

The morning I turned 18 was crisp, much like today. I was a senior in high school at Paul Laurence Dunbar in Lexington. I was also cranky, which I am afraid was normal for mornings at that time in my life. I was often running late to pick up my best friend, Shannon, a habit which I proudly maintain today. My parents were on my nerves and I just didn't have time for anything. Mom and Dad grinned as they wished me happy birthday. Clearly they thought something was funny but I wasn't in on the joke. I ran out to the car. Throwing my backpack behind me I started the car and backed out quickly. I had just mastered my Buick Skyhawk which was a stick shift. I was SO cool. And so late.

Shannon got into the car and probably didn't say much to me as she was also aware of my crankiness. Apparently everyone was cranky that October 29th morning because I was honked at all the way to school. I was so irritated. I was like, (insert valley girl-Kentucky style accent) "Oh my God. What is wrong with everyone? I am, like, just driving to school. Seriously. Get a life."

Shannon was smirking so I guess she thought it was funny.

There was more honking the closer we got to school, but I still wasn't clued in to the fact that I seemed to be the common denominator in the honking situation.

I parked, angrily, and got out of the car. I walked around the back of the car and there I witnessed the reason for all of the horn blowing.

My loving parents had duck taped a poster board that read "HONK! It's my 18th Birthday!" to the back of my car. In my early morning ire I had missed it, something I'm sure Mom and Dad were banking on.

I couldn't help smiling. Suddenly all the horns that had been headed my way felt loving rather than hateful. I was filled with joy that my parental units had wanted my day to start of with a bang. Or a honk, as it was.

It was an amazing birthday. There were quirky gifts waiting for me in my first hour class. I was in a cow phase. Don't judge me. I'm from Kentucky. Anyway, the print was a picture of two cows, one of which was holding a small rose in her mouth. Hilarious and so weird. I kept that picture until a few years ago. Shannon had a surprise party for me, and it really was a surprise and it ended at Chuck E. Cheese with many rounds of ski ball.

It was an epic birthday, truly. I have had many birthdays since then that have been wonderful,but my 18th still tops the list.

I can't believe so many years have passed since then, mainly because I don't feel like an adult most of the time, at least until I'm paying bills. I look in the mirror and sometimes feel a little shock. Not in a bad way, but in a wow-I'm-a-grown-up-and-I-have-the-lines-to-prove-it kind of way.

It's already been a great birthday for me today. I've had donuts and 2 cups of coffee. My kids have sung me "Happy Birthday" multiple times and I haven't changed a dirty diaper yet. It's a good day and I'm so thankful to God that I've made it here with so many of the people I hold dear.

So, what's your favorite birthday memory so far?

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

2011-10-28T20:11:00.000-05:00

The Good: Coffee with a good friend. I'll tell you what; this has been a week. I was fed up, burnt out, and low down. I was really feeling like the hamster on a wheel. I knew on Tuesday that something had to give. So I booked a chair at a dear friends house on for Wednesday morning. We burned through a pot of coffee, breakfast casserole and what felt like 3 months of missed conversation. It was so good for me. We talked about parenting, Jesus, and housekeeping. Good stuff!

The Bad: Dishes. Dishes. Dishes. Homeschooling means three meals a day plus a snack (or two or three) a day. That adds up to some dishes. There is nothing I dislike more than an untidy kitchen and that's what I've lived with all week. Homeschooling means three meals and a snack (or two or three) everyday. We clean the kitchen constantly it seems like. I wake up to it shiny and pretty and by golly it's cluttered and splattered every evening by dinner. Keep on keepin' on, right?

The Ugly: Slacking off from discipline. I don't just mean the discipline I implement with the kids. I mean the discipline I need in my life. The discipline to get up at 6 and study the bible; the discipline to stay on top of chores and laundry and schooling; the discipline to exercise; the discipline to go to bed and get off the ding-dong computer.

So, here's hoping for a fresh start and motivation. What made your list this week?

Closet Case

2011-10-25T09:10:00.000-05:00

I love going to Target. I could spend hours in there just perusing the aisles and searching end-caps for excellent deals. If I have time to waste I often accidentally end up at Target, but not because I enjoy shopping. I really don't like shopping. In fact, shopping generally stresses me out because I like to get the best deals and I don't know that Target is always the place to get the best deals.

I like being at Target because everything is where it should be. If something is out of place then a person wearing a red shirt comes along and puts it back in it's rightful place. It is a beautiful thing.

That does not happen in the Shepherd household ~~all of the~~ any time. I thoroughly believe that we simply have too many items to take care of. A few years ago I endeavored to stop the madness. Stuffed animals are not safe from this purge. Books are not exempt from this liquidation. Streamlining really is a good thing - less mess to put away, less laundry to do, less stress.

There is a problem, though, with my eradication of excess. I do not have a great deal of foresight, and when I purge in the summer I tend to not think of the next 2 seasons to follow. My rule is if I haven't worn it in a while then it must not be necessary, so the item of clothing is forever removed from my closet or dresser. It makes closing dresser drawers so easy. Pants and dresses do not get stuck in the back of the closet forgotten until a round of hide-and-go-seek shuffles it to the floor.

Two years ago my husband ended up wearing shorts through the first half of winter. I was sure that I simply put his long pants away for safe keeping until the cool weather rolled in. Then one night a memory resurfaced. A memory of me gleefully filling a trash bag with clothes I deemed useless. I was pregnant at the time and had a closet full of maternity clothes, so also rid myself of all non-maternity garments. We looked great at the staff Christmas party. Hubby in his cargo shorts and a short-sleeved button down shirt, me in maternity pants with a waist up to my chin and a shirt that had once allowed a watermelon sized stomach to reside.

I did it again this summer. I was putting shoes away and I thought, "I don't wear any of these shoes besides the tennis shoes and 2 pairs of sandals." So away went all shoes suitable for cold weather.

If you see me at the grocery store in my maternity swim suit and rain boots you'll understand.

Skillet Spaghetti Bolognese

2011-10-21T18:13:00.000-05:00

Super easy, super yummy and my family always acts like I've just slaved for hours.

3/4 pound(s) raw lean ground beef, (5% or less fat)
1 medium onion(s), finely chopped
2 clove(s) (medium) garlic clove(s), minced
1 medium carrot(s), chopped
3 cup(s) mushroom caps, fresh, sliced
14 1/2 oz canned diced tomatoes
1 Tbsp canned tomato paste
1/2 tsp dried basil
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/4 cup(s) fat-free skim milk
1/2 tsp table salt
1/4 tsp black pepper, freshly ground
1/2 pound(s) uncooked whole-wheat pasta, spaghetti variety
1 leaf/leaves basil, fresh, for garnish (optional)
Instructions

Spray a large nonstick skillet with canola oil nonstick spray and set over medium-high heat. Add the beef and cook, stirring frequently to break it up, until browned, 5–8 minutes. Add the onion and garlic; cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the carrot and cook about 2 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms, tomatoes, tomato paste, basil, and oregano; bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, 10 minutes. Add the milk and cook, uncovered, until the sauce is thickened, about 15 minutes longer. Stir in the salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti according to package directions. Drain, divide among 4 plates, and top with the sauce. Garnish with the basil leaves (if using). Yields about 1 cup pasta and 3⁄4 cup sauce per serving.

Tonight I added mozzarella and didn't have basil - still yummy, though.

This post was inspired by The Joys of Homeschooling. Hop on over there to get some more yummy recipes!

I got this recipe from Weight Watchers.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

2011-10-21T06:49:00.002-05:00

The Good: Waking up early, having a cup of coffee by myself. It makes me feel like a grown up.

The Bad: Finally making it to the car when you're already running late and realizing that there is no gas in the car.

The Ugly: Remembering that you have corn in the spare fridge in the laundry room. That was purchased in August. Oops. I had no idea that corn could turn so many colors.

What made your list this week?

Superpower

2011-10-20T08:30:00.002-05:00

I am not, by nature, an organized person. It's been this way since I can remember it. As a child my mom would occasionally come into my room, sweep everything to the center and tell me that I had 2 hours to get it cleaned up before she came in with a snow shovel and a trash bag.

I still occasionally use this method in my own home today. In my bedroom.

Yet I try. I long to be organized, to know where everything is, for everything in our home to have a place, be it on a shelf in our playroom or at Goodwill. I don't care. I just don't want it on on the living room floor where I inevitably step on it in the dark of night.

So, I have been working on it. I have enlisted the help of super-organized friends, bloggers, and books. I have implemented systems of baskets, folders, and checklists. I am getting there.

However disorganized I may appear, though, I have a secret weapon. A tool even better than organization. I have a superpower.

I am able to give the location of miscellaneous items to children and husband in dire need during the most stressful of situations.

Child A asks where the striped pink sock is and I am able to answer "Under the far left cushion on the blue couch."

Child B asks if anyone has seen his red dragon and I quickly quip, "Behind my headboard.Right side. Under the pair of dark blue shorts also behind the headboard."

Child C laments that her piano music has forever disappeared. Mama to the rescue! "No, daughter, your piano music is under the stove."

Husband cannot find missing flip flop (he wears them year round, f.y.i.). No problemo! "In laundry room near the toolbox Lift up the yellow tablecloth. It's there"

Child D does not seem to care if things are missing. He happily uses any items as toys which is why I know to look for the mixers in his bed where he had been using them as a microphone.

My family is amazed, and frankly so am I. I can't seem to remember what day of the week it is but I know the general position of *most missing things.

Dear reader, you must be wondering, how can this woman of so little import have such a magnificent gift?

I know where the pink striped sock is because when I was walking through the living room I saw Child D playing tug-of-war with the puppy with a striped pink sock. Child D took sock and hid it under couch cushion. Boom. Instant recall.

I know where the red dragon is because as I came out of my bathroom Child B used dark blue shorts to catapult red dragon against my bedroom wall where it fell to its current location. Dark blue shorts were thrown as well to throw me off track. Child B quickly ran from room hoping I had no idea what had just happened. Boom. Instant recall.

I know where the piano music is because as Child C came in from lessons with her music half out of her bag she tripped and fell over husband's flip flop and piano music slid across floor to it's locale under the stove. Boom. Instant recall.

I know where the flip flop is because Child D was,again, playing tug-of-war with the puppy, this time with said flip flop. As I made my millionth trip to the laundry room Child D and puppy followed me. Child D was distracted by all of the shiny things peering out of the open tool box and then set flip flop down next to tool box. As I bent down, with laundry basket tucked under one arm, to pick up Child D with free hand a yellow tablecloth fell onto the tool box and flip flop. Boom. Instant recall.

This all happens Matrix-style in my head. So cool.

Who says you have to be organized?

*As long as the items don't belong to me.

All the Signs are There

2011-10-17T09:55:00.002-05:00

I'm only 37 but I feel that the aging process is beginning to move at warp speed. I wanted to share some sure-fire signs that I am getting older.

1. I enjoy watching documentaries and PBS. Truthfully, I have always felt that middle age was suited for me because I have always loved these types of shows. Except when I was a teenager and they just put my to sleep.

2. In my free time with girlfriends I find myself discussing where the lowest meat prices in town are. Or coupons, or gas prices. I remember thinking that my parents had to have been the most boring people ever to even know about this kind of stuff, let alone share it publicly.

3. I don't remember what my 'real' hair color is. I really don't. I started coloring my hair in high school, so who knows? My roots tell me that my real color is gray. I used to buy my own hair color at the drug store. I showed Spencer the box and told him my hair would look like the picture on the box. After I rinsed and dried it and came out to let the family approve Spencer announced his disappointment. Apparently I didn't look anything like the woman on the box. Ouch.

4. Upon seeing my wedding photos people comment, "You were so pretty!" with the emphasis on were. The last person that did this got the laser look from me. I have since put all pre-children photos away.

5. I think I'm cool. Discomfort with oneself is really a youthful thing. As I get older the better I feel about myself, or maybe I care less about what other people think. Possibly I'm embracing my dorkiness.

6. I browse on-line for sensible shoes. My search criteria is often for a wide shoe that's water proof. In my defense it does rain a lot here, but the truth is comfort is my main motivation for shoes. No longer am I willing to cram my wide feet into a shoe that looks awesome but kills. So, orthopedic shoes here I come!

7. My daughter saw a silent movie from the 1930's and said, "Wow. I feel sorry that those were the kind of movies you and Dad had to watch."

8. I have facial hair. Seriously. My husband shaved his beard last week and our son (innocently) asked if I was going to shave my mustache. I have made an appointment to have it waxed, rest assured.

9. I walk into a room and forget why I'm in there. Even when it's the laundry room and I'm holding a basket of laundry.

10. I clip coupons for things like Metamucil and Colace and I'm not embarrassed to use them. My Grandma Krieg was b.m. obsessed and I blame it all on her.

Got anything to add to my list?

Don't be Fooled

2011-10-12T08:06:00.002-05:00

Have you ever seen the movie "Baby Geniuses"? I think they're on to something.

Our youngest is getting ready to turn 2 and I'm pretty sure he's got us all figured out. I sometimes believe that he's performing experiments on us to see how we'll react to situations he puts us in.

For instance, he has developed a special scream that we refer to as the 'teradactyl". It's almost superhuman. He puts forth this scream if he has something that he knows he shouldn't have, if we begin moving toward him to pick him up, if we try to stop him from eating dog food or drinking rubbing alcohol. This scream is shrill. It frightens me. It causes people to stare in public. I have to always say to myself, "He doesn't scare me. He's just a baby."

So far, I always win.

Also, just now, as I was typing he brought me a doughnut. I thought he got it from his dad. Lee has no knowledge of said doughnuts. Liam doesn't know I'm watching him and just walked over to the china cabinet and got a whole box of doughnuts. Clearly he went to the store last night while we were sleeping and bought himself some doughnuts for today. That explains why he looks so tired this morning.

I think he likes to gauge our reaction times, too. Spencer has been working on teaching him the ABC's. Liam will repeat back what big brother says. It's very cute. Sometimes, out of the blue, Liam smacks Spencer in the face. He'll look from me to Spencer. Waiting to see what we're going to do. Unfortunately, Spencer usually laughs. I always have to be the disciplinarian. He goes obediently to his time out spot, but I'm not convinced he doesn't get out a small notebook and pencil and write down his observations.

While I'm folding laundry Liam 'helps' by unfolding and carrying the laundry around the house. I sit him on the couch for questioning and he looks at me with his liquid brown eyes and says sweetly, "Help, mama." Good cover, kid.

Sometimes I think I hear him speaking in intelligible sentences in his room when he's supposed to be napping. Liam makes it so believable that 'no' is the only word he knows how to say. I'm onto him, though.

I know that somewhere in his room there is a hidden panel in his closet where he communicates with some secret agency.

I can only hope that we're getting a good report.

Communication Skills

2011-10-10T07:29:00.000-05:00

I hear many people complain that their children don't talk to them. This is not a problem in our household. I have stumbled upon several sure-fire scenarios that will spark dialogue between my children and myself. These methods may not be conventional but nonetheless, I am pleased to be able to share my secrets.

First and foremost, a parent must seek privacy. Children have a sixth sense and this will trigger the speech area in their brain. Seriously, this is scientific, and I can prove it. Below is a list of the rooms in your house that will best serve your purposes for communicating with your child, or children, or even the whole neighborhood if the experiment goes well.

The Bedroom: You can actually just lie down on your bed and wait for the kiddos to come rolling in with questions. Let out a sigh of contentment if they don't come immediately. Also, changing clothes can trigger the speech response. Just stand in your underclothes and before long someone will come barging in, maybe even with a friend, to ask you where the band-aids are, or if they can use your nice china for a picnic in the backyard.

The Laundry Room Now, I'm not suggesting that you enter the laundry room to do laundry. Pshh. The laundry room is where I go to seek adult conversation on the telephone. Children have excellent hearing despite what they would have adults believe and can hear the tones of the telephone buttons. They will then seek you out. First you will hear a knock, or maybe just feel the tug of your sleeve. They may try and use primitive sign language to convey their messages, but eventually words will come. And probably won't stop until you must bid adieu to your friend.

The laundry room is also where I go to participate in the ritual eating of chocolate. Some call this ritual "Getting Through the Day". The children can hear the wrapper as it crinkles and smell the chocolate before it even hits your lips. You must be prepared in this circumstance not for conversation but for a confrontation. There will be questions of fairness and you may even be tied down for questioning. Don't give in. Hold your ground; tell the child/children that there is chocolate hidden outside in the bushes just for them and then lock the doors when they go out with a shovel. Only then are you safe to eat the rest of your stash.

The Bathroom This room, for obvious reasons, is to be used only as a last resort. This is only for the most drastic of situations. It truly never fails that as soon as I think that my business can be conducted in private a child is knocking on the door. "Where is the brush?" or "Have you seen my shoes." My heart does a little pitter patter when one of them asks through the crack in the door, "Can I talk to you?" My children seem to think that when I am visiting the powder room that I must also want to talk to other adults. No one but me EVER answers the telephone, but by-goodness if I am in the bathroom they will not only answer the darn thing but bring it to me. I once had a UPS man brought to my bathroom door so that I could sign for a package. For the neighbor.

The shower is another place children will seek you out. I think it is because they feel safe. You are captive. There is no where for you to go. You must communicate and/or do their will. I have been asked to open nacho cheese sauce jars, peel apples, and braid hair while trying to scrub down. Once a child even brought in a tray with all of the ingredients needed to make a peanut butter a jelly sandwich. It was soggy, but apparently edible.

I hope that these tips are helpful in encouraging much verbal interchange in your home.

Homeschool Peeps

2011-10-08T10:41:00.003-05:00

I read quite a few blogs during my *loads of free time. The one I've been visiting most recently is The Joys of Homeschooling. It's a great blog for homeschoolers. The author, Shawon, is having a give away, so go take a look. Just click on the name of the blog, it'll turn purple when you pass the mouse over it, and you'll land at the post. Look around her blog for a little bit, too, though. She's got amazing organizing skills as well as excellent links to other helpful sights. Today her post offered quite a bit of encouragement to me.

So, what are your favorite blogs?

*sarcasm used fluently here

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

2011-10-07T09:14:00.000-05:00

Here's my list for the week:

The Good: Listening to my kids play a board game while in another room. I love hearing the oldest explain the rules, mostly with patience, to the younger two. My heart swells as our middle daughter helps the youngest along in the game. Hearing my youngest guy get excited over understanding the nuances of the game is thrilling. The chatter that goes on, subjects discussed, secrets shared. It is a true pleasure to hear their relationships forming. I pray that they are life long friends!

The Bad: Falling into bed at night, and just as I settle into the best spot on my pillow having a worry hit me like a hammer. Worry that I didn't do my best, worry that one of my children felt that they didn't measure up, worry that choices I made weren't the right ones. It doesn't happen every night, but once a week is enough to be bad.

The Ugly: Taking the last gulp out of a water bottle only to get a mouthful of food that the baby left behind. That is ugly.

So what makes your list of the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly?

Humpday

2011-10-05T13:48:00.000-05:00

It's Wednesday. That means it's the middle of the week - things should be looking up, right?

I knew it was going to be a rough day when the baby woke up at 4 a.m. I tried to ignore but he was knocking on his door screaming, "Mom! Mom! Want out!" I gave in and opened his door. He sat in the middle of his floor with his entourage of stuffed animals: Pooh bear, turtle, bat, a pillow pet. Scooping him up I brought him into bed with me ( I know, I know, a major Dr. Spock no-no. Whatever.) I don't think either of us ever really went back to sleep.

One child offered to make pancakes for the family, which was lovely. Except the dishwasher had not been run because I forgot to get dish washing detergent while at the Dollar General yesterday. So there were dishes to be done, which put everyone off. Ugh.

So off I went to our local CVS to by a few necessities. Can I just say hooray for Extra Bucks? I returned home to find that my ready-to-please children had been replaced by very cranky people. People who think it's fun to run in the house while screaming at each other. People who think its fun to make the baby laugh by ringing the door bell. Repeatedly. At 8 a.m. Ugh.

I sat down to eat breakfast and all of the Shepherd kids disappeared, minus the baby who just wanted to camp out on my lap whilst eating my breakfast and simultaneously dumping it all over me. The big kids all think that if they lay low I'll forget about homeschool. So I flushed them out by offering the choice of folding 4 loads of laundry or getting started on the days work. Much grumbling, eye-rolling and looks of contempt was followed by said children doing their school work. Ugh.

I returned to the kitchen to discover that Liam had dumped my coffee on the kitchen table. The kitchen table that was covered in school work for the day, which was now covered in my coffee. Ugh.

As we started to get some school underway everyone voiced their complaints. Everything from headaches, stomachaches, and hangnails were keeping these kids from doing their best. Meanwhile the toddler was trying to ride the dog by way of her neck while wielding a soup ladle at anyone who tried to stop him. Ugh.

All I could think about was the retreat that I missed on Friday because I was sick. I was so looking forward to that time away. I needed that time away. A bed by myself, a shower by myself, only adult voices, someone else cooking, Going to the bathroom alone! How bad of an injury must one have to get a 24 hour hospital stay?

Today this Wednesday definitely feels like a hump day. Like a camel's hump. Like I'm on the camel's hump for a 100 mile trek through the desert with a troupe of well-trained torturers.

Here's to riding it out!

xoxo,

Kara

"But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in ourlives:love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things." Galations 5:22-23

Turtle Soup

2011-10-03T17:00:00.000-05:00

During the summer of 2009 our two oldest daughters went away to camp for a week. Our son, who was 5 at the time, really wanted to go to camp, as well. We found a day camp for him to go to, I printed off the registration form and budgeted in the fee for the month of July.

That's as far as I got with that process. I figured that out the day before the day camp was supposed to start. Registration was, of course, closed. Guess who got to break that news to the little guy? There were tears. Lots of them. So many that my husband said, "Well, would you like to go get a turtle?"

What? My husband is not a pet guy. Really. I am not sure if he knows our dogs' names.

We had budgeted that money, so I agreed. Lee called to find out how much turtles were at our local pet store, and off we went.

We came out with an African side-necked turtle, an aquarium that takes up half of my kitchen counter, a filter, a heat lamp, and a UV lamp. We went a little outside of our proposed budget. We call him Big Turtle.

Fast forward two years. I notice when I am cleaning the tank ( oh, yeah, Mama cleans up after Big Turtle, too) that Turtle is pink. I don't think that's healthy, but he's still eating so, whatever. At a pet food run I ask the manager about Turtle's pink hue, and she says it might be septicemia.

I then proceed to make one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I take the turtle to the vet.

Oh, yes. I took Big Turtle to the vet. I mean, we have a bit of cash invested in this guy, and he does hang out with me when I'm making coffee and doing the dishes. The vet was nice, and told me they would call me when they knew what was going on.

I was chatting with some homeschool moms at our co-op when they called. I was embarrassed to tell them that I had to take the call. I actually think they thought I was kidding. I mean, who takes a turtle to the vet?

The vet lays on the news that yes, it is septicemia and that if I want Big Turtle to make it he is going to have to receive antibiotic injections every day for two weeks. Here's the kicker: there's only a 50% chance that this will actually work.

It seems like a no brainer to me. Turtle's gonna have to die. I need shoes, the kids need shoes, etc... I break the news to the kids in the car on the way home from co-op. Gently, of course. It went something like this.

"Turtle's not going to make it, I'm afraid." Lots of crying.

I explained that turtle is just a turtle and that for the $30 it will cost to get his injections we could feed a family in Africa for a month.

"So we're just going to watch Turtle die, Mom?" Spencer asked.

I joked about having turtle soup. I mean, these are the lessons that the kids need to learn, right? We have to make hard choices in this world. Choices that sometimes cost turtles their lives. It's not pleasant or pretty, but it is the harsh reality. This is when it's hard to be a parent. This is where the weak back down. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and do that hard thing, right? What kind of an idiot would inject their turtle with antibiotics?

Wet /Dry Vacs and Leafblowers

2011-09-28T15:38:00.000-05:00

These days I find myself in the position of being the 'more experienced mom' in the room more often than not. Kinda hard to believe really. It honestly feels like a short leap since I was 23 and having my first bambino. It has been almost 14 years, though, and I am armed with an arsenal of advice. Everything from positive parenting, potty training, eating habits, sleep habits - you name it and no doubt I have read a book about it. Applying this wealth of information - that's another issue.

I can say, though, that when embarking on parenthood for the first time I would advise most parents this way: invest in a wet/dry vacuum and leaf-blower.

Don't bother with that fancy-schmancy Dyson that looks so pretty. You need practical. You need something to suck up the wet messes that will abound and the wet dry vac is your man. I'm telling you, those things don't quit and they don't break. There is a nice wide nozzle that will suck up anything that's not nailed down - even shoes! I don't fear the belly of my children's bed; I just bring in my trusty shop vac. I don't cringe when there is wet toilet paper in the living room; I have my wet/dry vac! Something spilled in the refrigerator? Go get that wet dry vacuum! It is a bit cumbersome but can also double as an end table when you're in a pinch. Just put a table cloth over it.

Now, the idea for how to use the leaf blower came from my brother, Erik, who is obviously a genius. Well, he's mentally handicapped but he's a genius, too. You know what I mean? So, I was visiting my mom and dad and Erik offered to clean out my van. I handed him the keys without thinking twice. Thirty minutes later my dad and I went to the front door to check on his progress. Here's what we saw:

Erik had opened up all the doors of the van. He stood on the left side of the vehicle with leaf blower in hand. Debris was flying from the right-side door. It was so efficient! Unfortunately my parents' manicured lawn was now littered with several weeks of accumulated junk. Socks, wrappers, straws, napkins, toys of various sizes. I think there was even a pair of underwear (?). I looked at Dad and said the only thing I could think of. "WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT??"

So, now the leaf blower is employed in many aspects of my house cleaning. I do have to warn you, though, the gas powered ones can have some pretty potent fumes.

Need any more advice from the expert?

Sick Days

2011-09-26T17:59:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning knowing that a doctor's visit was in store for me. It started on Saturday, but frankly I did not feel that I had the time to go to an urgent treatment center and was hoping that the issue would just disappear. So I self treated with cranberry juice and gallons of water. Anyone who has ever had a UTI will recognize my efforts.

Today the razor blades had not disappeared AND I was running a low grade fever. Accompanying these symptoms must havebeen a sickly looking mother as well because the whole family sprang into action. I was placed on the couch with pillows and blanket. Laurel made oatmeal, Kiley made coffee (probably a mistake but I needed it!) and Spencer gathered his favorite toys for me to look at with him. Even his potato-shaped rock! Lee made an appointment with our physician and even offered to take me since I was feeling so puny.

Did I mention that I took the kids to the library before my appointment so that they could get their required reading assignments? I spent most of the time in the bathroom with the kids knocking on the door asking, "How many books can we get?" I calmly explained that I was just dying and that everything would be fine and that I couldn't care less how many books they got.

The biggest downside to sick days when you home school is that there is no substitute teacher. I had to hope that the older two would do their reading for history and literature and feel motivated to do some math without me using the electric cattle prod*. Spencer could get most of his work done this evening or make it up throughout the week.

Frankly, no mother should ever be sick for more than 12 hours. The havoc that can be wreaked! I remember emerging from the bedroom after 5 days with the flu....we still refer to as the Day Not to be Spoken Of. But that's a story for another day.

So I made it home from the doctor with antibiotics and cranberry pills. As I walked into the house I witnessed miracles!! The kitchen was clean and Kiley and Laurel were able to answer my questions about Justinian and the beginning of the Byzantine Empire! I took a a thirty minute nap.

And the sick day is over.

There are happy sounds of bickering, piano practicing, complaining that there's no food in the house, toddlers eating dog food, and questions about the whereabouts of clean laundry.

One of them even declared that they will be not be using plates for their food anymore.

"It's not hard to load your own plate," I encouraged.

"It's not that I think it's hard. It's just that I'm against loading the dishwasher in general."

No one can say that I do not have a purpose filled life.

*cattle prod not really used around here

Happy Birthday Dad!

2011-09-22T18:09:00.000-05:00

Today is my dad's 68th birthday! That's my dad and me in the photo to the left when I was a baby, and on my wedding day at the bottom. My dad and I are separated by 30 short years, and every year that gap seems to close a little. These days Dad feels more like a friend than a parent to me. I am blessed by his wisdom and humility and get the biggest kick out of making him laugh. Nothing is better than watching him with my own children - have I mentioned that he's also a wonderful grandfather? Dad and I love to plan road trips (even if we may never take them) and taking long walks.

I have never been more grateful to celebrate a birthday with my father, though. He began battling colo-rectal cancer in May, and while his diagnosis was mostly positive, there were moments when I envisioned what my life would be like if he were suddenly gone. So I want to thank Dad now for the man he has been in my life.

Dad, thanks for teaching me that I can do anything. Thanks for reminding me not to complain - especially about my husband. Thanks for teaching me about forgiveness by apologizing when you made mistakes. Thanks for teaching me what love looks like by loving my mom so well. Thanks for showing me that letting go of something I think I can't live without always frees up space for something I will love even more. Thanks for showing me what a God centered life looks like. Thanks for reminding me that I don't need you to fix everything. Thanks for always letting me know that my best was good enough. Thanks for always being on my team. Thanks for making what I thought would be 'old' look pretty darn good!

Most of all, Dad, thanks for having this birthday. I love you.

Passive Aggressive

2011-09-20T11:35:00.002-05:00

So, apparently I am a little passive aggressive.

My 13 year old daughter has some unique fashion choices, which I love. But recently a pair of her jeans became so ripped and torn that I did not want her to wear them any longer. Not to they were EXTREMELY small. I wanted them gone. I lovingly suggested that she remove the offending pants from her wardrobe. They kept resurfacing from the sea of clothing surrounding the island of her bed.

I again came across the raggedy blue jeans the other day. I examined them, and still found them lacking any saving qualities. So I threw them behind the dryer. No one ever looks there.

Yesterday Kiley asked if anyone had seen them. I kept silent. She looked me in the eye and questioned, "Mom, do you know where my pants are? The ones you hate?"

"Nope, I haven't seen them," I lied. I LIED!! I lied to my daughter.

I won't say I had a crisis of conscience but I will say that I was troubled. How could I lie to her? It was easier, I must say, than having an emotion wrought conversation about why the jeans were no longer welcome in our home. The only thing I could think was this is how it begins: hiding the truth from my kids so that I avoid their (insert any emotion here). If I had a problem telling my daughter I didn't want her wearing a certain pair of jeans where would I stop?

This morning I knew that I had to come clean with the dirty jeans situation. I called Kiley in and told her that I lied about the jeans. I told her that I knew where they were. I told her that I didn't ever want to see them on her body again and that I would be willing to cut the back pocket off for a sentimental keepsake.

"What? Where are they? I KNEW you had done something with them!" She was kind of giggling, though.

And now she's moved on. Plotting a room rearrangement with her sister. Jeans all but forgotten. Truth told, battle won.

Thank goodness. I thought she was going to ask if I had been lying about babies being born in cabbage patches.

Who did this?!?

2011-09-14T08:53:00.000-05:00

Growing up in my house it was not uncommon to encounter unclaimed messes. It was also not uncommon for my father to try to seek out the source. My dad has always been a man of few words and is generally mild mannered; however a bag of chips hidden under the couch in haste would bring out the tyrant in him! I can still remember his booming voice seemingly coming from outer space, "WHO DID THIS??"My mother, upon hearing dad trying to flush out the perpetrator, would roll her eyes. My brothers and I had an unspoken rule - we never sold each other out. We learned to simply look at the floor and wait it out. To my horror I find myself playing the part of Mess Detective. "Who did this? Who would do this?"It dawned on me today while on the phone with Shanna that no one is going to confess under those conditions! Serioulsy, who in their right mind is going to admit that they were responsible for stuffing chewed up sucker sticks in between the cushions of the sofa to a woman whose veins are bulging from her forehead? Do I really want to know why the bathroom counter is blue or there are three towels in a bathtub full of water?I was talking with Dad on the phone last week and I confessed that I used to think he and mom looked downright looney. My mother, on occasion, looked as though one more finger-poke on the shoulder might just send her running from the house. I remember thinking that Dad just needed to loosen up at the dinner table - what was the problem with me and my brother cackling like mad people while our youngest brother sculpted his food?? I went on to offer up to my dad that I got it. I got the haggard expressions and bloodshot eyes. I understand now because I am living it. "I'm sorry we drove you guys so nuts sometimes Dad. You and mom must have wanted to strangle us!" I offered.Dad chuckled. "What? You kids were great - we had a great time with you all!" Yeah, that's the truth of it. The kids are great. Now I'm going to go remind them of that fact.

Mondays

2011-02-17T08:13:00.000-06:00

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Mondays are stinky
And so is my shoe!

I know it's juvenile but that's how I felt on Monday. In fact, it's how I feel every Monday morning. But this week I had a plan. A plan to thwart all Monday morning blues. We were going to a Valentine's Day party that afternoon and so we had a a shorter agenda than most days. But all of my children seemed to be feeling my cranky. We all sat huddled in our corner of the kitchen holding a mug of tea like a life-line. I think I even heard growling from the baby!

Things were not going as I had written them down in my lesson plan book. There was no place for surliness, not a time slot devoted to pure grouchiness. So I did the only thing I know to do in these situations.

I forged ahead. I made them do their work. Even the 13 year old who has mastered glaring and eye-rolling. I attempted humor and silliness and when that didn't work I got out the timer. I tried to be loving and not hold a grudge against the children who were not grateful for my special plan. I think I only gritted my teeth twice.

I forged ahead to honor my mother and father who also forged ahead. I am sure we had days like this - but I don't remember. I only remember the good stuff (mostly). We make our children do what they should but they don't remember it that way. They just remember that they did it.

For instance, I know my parents made me go to church every Sunday, but I don't remember it that way. In fact, in my mind it was often my idea to go. The point of parenting isn't to make everything fun and wonderful and exciting; it's to model the right response to difficult situations. I certainly do not do this every day. In fact it's a good day if I've only blown it once. But I am finally learning that it's not about forcing my children to respond - it's how I respond to having to guide them to making the right choice. If I can respond to my child's willfulness with gentleness and understanding it's amazing the transformation I witness.

So on those days when I'd rather avoid a battle, however big or small, I need to remember that avoiding a battle for a time is only putting off the inevitable and allowing the fight to build force. I must remember that my attitude is the only essential attitude in our home. So I'm gonna say my prayers, prepare a plan, and have a stash of dark chocolate. Because dark chocolate is the only known substance to truly fight off crankiness.

A gentle answer deflects anger,
but harsh words make tempers flare.Proverbs 15:1

Back When Women Could Faint

2011-02-11T20:24:00.000-06:00

I love watching English romance movies. I have watched every version of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice at least 4 times each and seen most any of the screen adaptions of her other works. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte is exquisite, and I just finished a BBC series called North and South. Lovely, lovely movies. There are so many thing I love about this genre. The tension between the protagonist and the antagonist, the serene setting, the fact that tea is taken, bonnets are worn, and handkerchiefs carried by gentlemen. (Insert sigh)

If I'm to be honest, which I think I am, it's because the women faint in these movies that I find myself fascinated. As a novice viewer the habit of swooning annoyed me. I felt embarrassed for the character. However, the fainting not only appeals to me but I relish the fainting scenes. Perhaps it's because as a mother of four I can seriously understand the urge to faint, or perchance it is because I, thanks to my firstborn status, relish being the center of attention. More than likely my fondness for fainting comes from the fact that I would like to check out for a bit every now and then only to have my husband rush into the room, put his arm tenderly around my waist and wave smelling salts under my nose. Then, said husband being devilishly handsome and strong, would carry me a chaise lounge and insist that I have quiet and tea. And possibly a servant fanning me.

Once this daydream dissipates and I realize that I am wearing pants and not a frock fit for an Austen gal, that there are no servants behind the scenes waiting to meet my needs, and that my life will not be put on hold for a mere 'impassion of the heart' I come to several conclusions all at once. They come as follows, although not in any particular order:
1. My pants are tight, but not tight enough to cause me to faint
2. I may very well lie on the floor for hours before anyone noticed, especially if the baby were napping and the dogs were out, the turtle had been fed, and the dishwasher unloaded.
3. If anyone were to notice me it would first be my youngest children who would then proceed to do strange things to cause me to wake. Envision my eyelids being forcibly lifted and stretched, my nostrils explored with foreign objects, and drool or the dog's water being splashed upon me as a last resort.
4. If the youngest of my clan did direct the older children's attention their mother's lament I think that the first emotion felt by my daughters would be relief that perhaps school and chores would be postponed for the day. Then, I am certain Hubby would be fetched.
5. Hubby, upon being fetched would come into a state of upmost panic. After all, I had never really answered him about exact plans for the evening meal! Hubby, diligent and dashing, would race into laundry room to grab the only substance sure to wake me from my stupor. Hubby would race to my side, lift my head and shake a bottle of open bleach under my nose.

At this point I would come to. Viewing the people who mean the most to me in this world peering at my overwrought face with concern, horror, and anguish, I would then be greeted with questions such as, "Where are my shoes?" "Is the dishwasher dirty?" "What's for dinner?" So much for my chaise lounge!

In truth I have not a doubt that hugs and kisses would abound AND that I would be able to answer every question with perfect clarity.

Phblttt. Who needs to swoon? I can fix my own cup of tea.

No Comparison

2011-01-24T11:44:00.003-06:00

I am constantly comparing myself to others. I compare myself to pioneer women who worked from pre-dawn to post-dusk and feel inadequate in my daily accomplishments. I compare myself to my friends and feel that I am not keeping up. I compare myself to my husband and feel sorry for myself that I don't have the 'freedom' that he appears to have. I compare myself to public-schooling friends and worry that I'm not pushing our children enough academically. All of these comparisons also have pre-conceived notions attached them. Ultimately I am judging others and myself in ways that I have no business doing.

I remember when Spencer was in pre-school a few years ago. I was struggling deeply with anxiety and depression. I would get my son ready for 'school' and watch all of the other moms pull into the parking lot at our church as they brought their children to the preschool. (Our house is on the church property where the pre-school is also located). I thought all of their cars looked so nice and I imagined that they were immaculate on the inside. As the women stepped out of their cars I felt they were all well-dressed - in mom uniform of yoga pants and cute shirt - I allowed myself to believe the lie that I was less than and they were greater than. I felt shrunk inside myself. As I would walk Spencer over to pre-school every stain on my jeans felt magnified, every extra pound I carried on my body felt tripled, my hair became limp, and I felt older than my years. I would even look at my sweet child and see imperfections - mismatched socks, unkempt hair, a torn book bag. I cannot tell you how painful these days were for me. I wanted to turn around, go back home, and climb into bed.

It seems the other women sensed it - they would not speak to me. I was invisible.
No one seemed to remember me from week to week. All of the mothers would congregate outside the classrooms chatting easily about their lives. Except me. I would stand against the wall trying not to cry.

One morning I was running more behind than usual. I rushed to give Spencer a piece of toast and we headed out the door. It is seriously and 2 minute walk to our church. As we trotted over I felt something moving down my pant leg. I took a couple of steps before I realized it was something loose. I stooped and reached into my pant leg thinking I was going to pull out a sock from the day before. No sock there. I pulled out a pair of underwear. UNDERWEAR FROM THE DAY BEFORE! I had pulled on a pair of jeans that were on the floor of my bedroom and never noticed the discarded undies. I started laughing and couldn't stop. I was mortified that someone would have seen but also spectacularly tickled at my faux pas. Spencer was laughing, too, perhaps just from the joy that I was finally laughing after so many days of frowning.

I jogged my unmentionables back home and retraced our steps back to pre-school. I couldn't wipe the smile off of my face. I can't say why that absurdity brought me out of my melancholy but it did. I realized in that comical moment that I am unique. My problems are unique, but so is my sense of humor, and my approach to life, and my parenting, and everything else in my life. That morning the other moms acknowledged me - or did I acknowledge them? All of my ideas about how perfect their lives were was shattered with the realization that we all have something creeping down the proverbial pants-leg. Something we didn't mean to leave there, something that drags us down and makes us feel ashamed. It's when we try to hide within ourselves that destruction sets in. Acknowledging something that causes us pain brings it into the light.

I still watch the pre-school moms coming and going but I no longer compare myself to them. I still struggle with occasional feelings of inadequacy, but mostly I embrace who God is transforming me to be. Everyday I work on looking at myself realistically (Romans 12:3-5) and remembering that in Christ I am not alone.

And I always give extra attention to any person that seems to be on the outside looking in.

Ephesians 1:18 "I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called - his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance."

Somebody's Watching Me

2010-10-22T08:09:00.001-05:00

Last night the senior high girls and I began a short study of the book of Ruth. This is definitely one of my favorites. I love it because it is a story of love, loyalty, perseverance and mercy. It is the story of a redeemer who points the way to our Redeemer. But last night as we were reading it aloud I had a flash.

Naomi was Ruth's mother-in-law. Naomi's husbands and sons were dead and she had released her daughters-in-law from any obligation to her. Yet Ruth could not leave her.

But Ruth replied, "Don't ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go/ wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. may the Lord punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us!" When Naomi saw that Ruth was determined to go with her, she said nothing more. Ruth 1:16-18

Naomi had displayed a faith so moving that Ruth would follow her anywhere. But Ruth was not just following Naomi, she was following the One True God. Naomi, even in her loss and despair presented an active faith that was life-changing for Ruth. Naomi wanted to change her name to Mara, which means bitter, yet was still a beacon of hope to Ruth. Naomi had a faith that was solid even in emotional turmoil.

My question for myself is this: Do I shine for Christ even when I am in distress?

As a wife and mother I must be aware of the example I am setting for my loved ones. As a friend I must balance empathy with Truth. As a child of God I must remember God's promises for my future to help me persevere in the present. And like Ruth and Naomi I must lean on my Redeemer when all hope seems lost!

Learning Styles

2010-09-11T08:23:00.001-05:00

One of my recurring frustrations in home schooling is trying to engage each of my children's learning style. The other night I was listening to focus on the family and heard a great broadcast. Thought I would share it: http://listen.family.org/daily/A000002856.cfm Cynthia Tobias is the author of several books. It's a two part series and totally worth listening to. One of the many things she touched on was global vs. analytical learners. Global learners tend to learn best through material that they are able to relate to their lives in some way. Global learners like to be with other people while learning and do well one on one. Analytical learners, on the other hand like a check list and to work on their own. Anyway, give it a listen and tell me what you think!

Other Things

2010-08-19T09:58:00.004-05:00

I have been a full-time mother for 12 years. I cannot count how many times I have been told that finding other things to fulfill me would be a good idea. I cannot imagine having more 'other things' in my life right now. There are so many things I do in a day, so many things I learn about myself and the world. Where would I fit more in? I never want to give more to the world than I do my husband and children. My time with them is precious and finite and I cannot stretch it like taffy. I want to savor it and really enjoy it.

I feel like the perception of mothering is very altered from the reality. People look at me with pity, as though I accidentally had 4 children and am now forced to care for them. Staying home is a choice I have made and I would not have it any other way. I am not an autobot who does chores and keeps my children clean. Mothering is a multii-layered experience. I am constantly thinking and processing. I find myself using creativity and also being quite business-like. Frankly, I am at a time in which I am in love with every aspect of my life. Even the painful parts.

Each day I am so thankful for the time with our children. I am training them up to go out on their own, and while it will be tinged with sadness I also look forward to the time when they venture out on their own.

Dreams

2010-08-02T07:33:00.002-05:00

Our youngest son had always slept through the night beautifully. Until the month of June. We visited family and while staying with them Liam began cutting his first teeth, which meant he began waking up in the night. It has taken quite a bit of time to get him out of this habit, but for the last three nights he has slept for 11 solid hours!

I don't know if it's because I'm not having broken sleep but I have been having the craziest dreams. Last night I dreamed that my living room was filled with empty laundry baskets! Two nights ago I dreamed that I had a party in my children's piano teacher's back yard and we woke her and her husband up. In my dream I invited them to come join us and even gave them a potted geranium for their troubles but they did not want to hang out.

I seem to have always had vivid dreams. I can still remember a hand full of dreams I had as a child. I had three that were recurring. As a very young child, maybe 5, I would dream of winter and winter clothing. In my dream my mom was bundling me up, to the point of not being able to move, and I would go outside and sneak into the backyard. Once there I would strip off my scarves, mittens and hat and bury them in the snow. But then spring would come and the snow would melt and my mom would find out what I had done! I had that dream pretty frequently as a kid.

I love hearing about dreams, especially from my kids.

TV Land

2009-09-05T07:28:00.003-05:00

Wow. I cannot believe it has been so long since I posted something on here. I'd love to blame in on my pregnancy, home schooling, or even a decision I made to take a break. But really comes down to is this:

I sold my soul to cable t.v. this summer.

I told myself it was okay, that I was watching shows that bettered my mind, like House Hunters, Clean House, and Design on a Dime. I thought that these shows were spawning creativity in me, that they would help me make improvements around our home. What they actually did was cause me to remain firmly planted on the couch while my home collected clutter and dust. It allowed my children to have free reign around here for a while, and get out of a bedtime routine, because who has time to put kids in bed when you're bettering yourself through cable television.

Then I turned my children over to cable t.v. in order to get my house back in order. I justified allowing them to sit in front of the boob tube for hours by saying that I was getting the house put back together and that when I was finished we would go out and ride bikes.

That never happened though, because when their shows were over then mine came on and the house got messy again. So then I would have to let them watch t.v. in order to get the house back together.

Ridiculous, sick cycle.

So we pulled the plug on cable t.v. We are in week 5 of no cable, and I have to say that the house may not be perfect but it feels better. My soul feels clean. Our children have been far more creative in their play and much better about doing home school. We really missed cable in the first week...we joked that we were going through Disney detox. The pull of Miley and iCarly was almost as strong as Niecy Nash. But we fought the battle and won.

I suddenly find myself thinking about reading, writing, and painting. I find myself decorating our home with things that we already had around here rather than pining for things that are simply too expensive. My husband and I find ourselves talking with each other late at night rather than staring at the t.v. as we flip through channels.

It is awesome to be cable free!

Good Book

2009-04-13T07:45:00.002-05:00

Rather than doing what I should be doing (housework, Bible study, budget), lately I have been reading a slew of books. One of these books is called Gilead. Hubby had to read it for seminary, and I couldn't resist. It's written by Marilynne Robinson, and is so poetic I fell in love with it.

The narrator is a man who is at the end of his life. He had been a preacher and has much to say about his calling, his life, and God. He is writing a letter to his young son. Here's an excerpt from the end of the book (p.246 to be exact)

"Theologians talk about a prevenient grace that precedes grace itself and allows us to accept it. I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave - that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm. And therefore, this courage allows us, as the old men said, to make ourselves useful. It allows us to be generous, which is another way of saying exactly the same same thing. But that is the pulpit speaking. What have I to leave you but the ruins of old courage, and the lore of old gallantry and hope? Well, as I have said, it is all an ember now, and the good Lord will surely someday breathe it into flame again." (Gilead, Marilynne Robinson)

Ponder that.

Mornings

2009-03-04T06:49:00.002-06:00

I wake up at 5:45 most mornings. Some of my friends think I'm nuts, but I love the quiet time before everyone is awake. I read my bible, pray, listen to a talk show, sometimes watch reruns of Angel (that's just embarrassing), or play a little Word Challenge on Facebook. I get laundry done, get breakfast ready. It's actually amazing what I can get done between 5:45 and 7 a.m., which is when I wake the kids. I don't get all of those things done, though, just some of them.

I am absolutely not a night person. Lately, I've been in bed at 9 a.m., asleep by 10 at the latest. I have friends who stay up til 1 in the morning doing what I do early in the morning. I just love getting up, looking over what I have to do for the day, filled with the knowledge that I might be able to accomplish most of what I have planned.

But it's time for me to go wake up the sleepers, which is another of my favorite activities. I love how they smile like people drunk on sleep, crooked and bleary-eyed, and give me hugs with horrible breath. I love how they try to convince me to cuddle rather than stepping out onto the cold floor!

Irritation

2009-02-26T07:46:00.002-06:00

The other day I dropped Kiley off at Scouts and decided to take advantage of having a babysitter. I went to the grocery. I don't know what was going on that day, but I was really out of it. It was a store I had never been in and so I was taking in all the new stuff. I really just wanted to go sit in the car and sleep, but decided that a cappuccino (splurge!) might do the trick. So with my groceries, cappuccino and a USA today I went back to my car.

As I left the parking lot area I realized that I had turned the wrong way down an aisle, but there was nothing for me to do about it. I saw someone I knew and then waved and then continued on my erroneous course. A fellow traveler, who was headed in the correct direction, took it upon herself to shake her finger at me, yell through closed windows, and shoot me mean looks.

I wanted to do many things. I wanted to stop my car and ask her if she really thought I intentionally went the wrong way. I wanted to make her see that I was not a bad person. I also wanted to throw my cappuccino out the window,but was not about to waste that $3 drink!

Then I started laughing. I mean, what was going on in this woman's life to get her this upset over a car going the wrong way down an aisle? Please, God, let me never be so upset that I read people the riot act over such mundane mistakes.

Giving In

2009-02-19T22:21:00.002-06:00

I used to have dreams of perfection. Home cooked meals, clutter free home, toilet paper always available. You know, Better Homes and Garden.

Today, though, when I walked into our bathroom and found an army man stuck headfirst into a tub of lip balm, I gave in. It seems that I am not someone who can do it all, and I'm okay with that. Sometimes my house seems CRAZY - dog barking, kids yelling, clutter on my kitchen table - but I am embracing it. It might be nuts here, but people seem to feel comfortable, and in the end that's all I really care about.

I'm not giving up on those dreams, but I'm going to wait until I care a little more about things being just right.

Vacation

2009-01-17T09:46:00.002-06:00

I am having a hard time getting back into the swing of things after our Christmas break. I planned on focusing on reading, writing, and math for the first two weeks of January. We were able to do this, but we started late almost every day, which causes our school day to run long.

On top of feeling like I'm playing catch up in school I feel like I'm playing catch up on house work, too. I need some motivation!

I tend to not be terribly self-motivated, so this is something that I'm working on. Often times music gets me in the mood, but everything on my ipod seems stale (which is RIDICULOUS since I have like 12,000 songs).

So help a sister out and share some things that motivate you. Please. :)

New Year's Revolution

2009-01-01T23:07:00.002-06:00

Kudos to my pal Sarah for some great New Year's resolutions. This post is a response to hers, which you can check out here.
So here are mine:

Parental: I want to chill out and enjoy my kids. I want to play pretend and not stress out when things don't go according to plan. Unlike Sarah, I have given up hope of ever going to the toilet on my own.

Physical: I want to participate in a mini-marathon. I probably won't be able to run it, but I want to finish one.

Domestical: ORDERLINESS is to be my motto. I have to be careful here because if my parental resolutions are to be reached I have to keep this one in check. I've ordered a book on cooking for a month so that my evenings can be more orderly. More on this later.

Marriagal: I will beat my husband at wii ping pong, and any other wii games we play. Like Sarah, I feel that competition makes a marriage healthy.

Here's to 2009!

Happy Dog

2009-01-01T22:31:00.002-06:00

I have this dog, Pippin, who I love. She is corgi/border collie, maybe. We rescued her a few almost 7 years ago. She isn't the best dog, but she's great with the kids, extremely obedient and loves me even when I'm cranky. Don't worry, I'm not going to all 'Marley and Me' on you. But this dog will lay outside the bathroom door waiting for me because I am her alpha. She has sweet velvety brown eyes and ears that are floppy.

However, Pippin has an odor about her that is best described as rank. It doesn't matter how often I bathe her, she just smells. It's kind of her thing. I have a love seat in my kitchen that she has been trying to take over. We don't let her on the furniture, but I know she was sitting on it when we weren't in the room. I know because if I, or anyone else, sat on said loveseat for any amount of time the smell of the dog the smell was ever present.

So I got her a bed. I can't believe I paid money for a dog bed. I usually look at pet stores and feel shame at the plethora of decadent pet products. However, I wanted to save my couch. So I brought the bed home and have never seen my pooch happier. And my couch is smelling better!

New Year's Eve

2008-12-31T13:54:00.002-06:00

So here it is, New Year's Eve. I used to get so excited about this holiday marking the end of an old year and the beginning of a new one. As a child my cousins and I would go to my grandmother's house for the night. It was a three store Victorian home filled with lots of stuff in cavernous closets. We had the best hide-and-go-seek games EVER. For some reason we also always listened to a scary record that had ghost tales and the songs Monster Mash on it. Weird, right? That was our New Year's Eve, though.

Tonight Lee and I are alone, sans children, and we are just going to camp out in the living room. I'm so excited! Movies, food, and my hot hubby! Yay, New Year's!

Refigerator Woes

2008-10-28T13:06:00.002-05:00

Today, as I pulled out a jar of peanut butter, I noticed a large amount of dark red gook on the shelf. The gook had firmly cemented many different jars in place. I quickly identified said gook as hoison sauce. I began the clean up.

Here's the thing, though: I will never be finished cleaning the shelves of my refrigerator. The hoison sauce, now gook, will spread and grow and reach crevices that I did not know existed. Next spring I will likely be getting potatoes out of the bottom drawer and find gook holding my apples. The gook can even travel upwards.

I have to say that this is not the worst mess I've had in a fridge - I once kept a bowl of watermelon for an entire year. Gross! Not much is worse than potatoes, either.

So, what's the worst mess you've ever clean out of the fridge?

New Floor

2008-10-18T21:22:00.002-05:00

I am so excited! We are putting in new flooring in our house, and although it has been hard work I know it will be worth the reward. There is just something so gratifying about doing work yourself and seeing the progress! Plus manual labor give you time to think about things that normally you just don't get around to.

We are fortunate to have friends who are willing to pitch in and help us out. This is a huge blessing because we would have no idea what we were doing otherwise. David, Jenna, their kids, Joe, his son Adam, and my Mom and Dad and brother, Erik, are all here to help. I hope to post pictures soon!

Oil of Olay

2008-10-14T11:46:00.002-05:00

This month I turn 35. Ten years ago that seemed really old to me. Today, though, it feels good. In my bible study I am the wise, older mom who knows a thing or two. I am settled in to who I am and to who God wants me to be. I am still changing, mind you, and know that there are many more things for me to learn. But I have a confidence now that I just didn't have as a young mom of 23. I'm no longer hindered by what the world expects of me when it comes to how I look, how I dress, or what I eat. I am empowered by my age!

Last night at the grocery I found myself perusing the beauty aisle, looking at the many products claiming to erase the signs of aging. Some of them claim to be 'natural' yet warn that they may cause a burning sensation until your skin gets used to the ingredients. That cracks me up. I decided on just plain old Oil of Olay. Its simple, probably not natural, but it won't be burning off the top layer of my skin.

I'm really thankful that I've made it to this age and that I don't worry about what other people think about me. I'm okay with who I am and I'm excited about the possibilities in front of me!

Lap Dancing

2008-10-01T15:14:00.003-05:00

I teach at a local home school co-op,EduKids, which I love. We meet on Fridays and its just a great way to end our week. We offer three classes and a club option and have recently added a teen program.

While I love Fridays, after a long week I can be a little bit frazzled. In a good way, though. I am pretty flexible and don't mind jumping in anywhere I am needed. This past Friday, though, I was even more discombobulated that usual. I woke up 20 minutes before I needed to leave, all three kids were still asleep. I had to beg Lee to run to McDonald's (healthy, right?) so we had some sustenance. Not to mention I big cup of coffee that was entirely too hot to drink for an hour.

We made it to co-op with little arguing. After a little running around to make sure that teachers were situated I sat down to look over my lessons for my class, Spanish Culture with 1st and 2nd graders. We are making lap books. Last week we had learned about flamenco dancing so I thought that we could start by reviewing what we head learned about this beautiful Spanish tradition.

As the class came in and settled down I passed out their lap books. Then I asked:

"Who can tell me what we learned about lap dancing this week?"

I paused as I waited. The assistant, Shanna, quickly looked down. That's when I realized I had asked this group about lap dancing instead of flamenco dancing. My face turned bright red. Shanna and I had to try as hard as we could to keep from laughing.

I hope none of them asked their parents if they could google lap dancing.

Time Flies

2008-09-29T16:07:00.003-05:00

I am so embarrassed that it has been sooo long since I posted. What can I say other than life is crazy and I am slacker.

Two weeks ago we had some serious windstorms come through Evansville and we were without power on Sunday, September 14. It was kind of funny the first couple of days, but then it became tedious. We ran an extension cord from our church to our house ( we live next door) and plugged out fridge in, which was great. But at night there was nothing to do. We got the oil lamps out, but they don't have a lot of light. Kiley and I played Scrabble in the evenings, but most of the time we all just went to bed really early.

No wonder our forefathers got up at the crack of dawn.
I did come up with some positive side effects to having now power:

1. I did not have to do laundry.
2. Cooking was minimized.
3. I finished 4 books I had been reading.
4. I could not see the mess the kids had made.
5. We didn't know about Spencer's 'sprinkling' on the toilet seats. Eew.
6. Lee and I enjoyed candle light talks after the kids were in bed.

The Vectren trucks got to our street at about 1:30 a.m. on Friday (September 19, people) and at 2:45 the lights flickered on and then there was an explosion. I just kept praying that everyone was alright. Finally at 4:30 in the a.m. we had power! I was so happy I got up and checked my e-mail.

Ten Year Old

2008-08-08T16:40:00.000-05:00

My oldest is 10 and half. She fits into the category created by advertising companies as 'tween'. Kiley is a very petite girl, but suddenly seems so very tall to me. Her front teeth, which at age 8 seemed enormous, are starting to look normal. Kiley has grown much over the summer and I can already see the young woman she is turning into. I seem to frustrate her more than usual these days yet I find her clinging to me at bed time. "Mama, just come lay with me for a few minutes," Kiley will say after a day of going round and round over how much computer time is acceptable.

It is so much fun watching her develop,answering her questions about life, God, and being famous. She loves to go bike riding with me, do yard work with me, and cook on her own. Kiley keeps asking when she can get her own cell phone (ha!) and if I believe she can be famous.

I remember when I was ten and the world seemed to be stretched just out of my reach. I longed for so many things - to be 'grown-up'; to be a famous writer; to be on a stage performing 'Annie'. Simultaneously I was terrified of leaving my parents, my bedroom that I loved, and the unseen future. What an exciting time in a young person's life!

Raising a ten-year old brings back the ache of that age, and while my fearful side wants to protect her, my God-given instinct tell me I need to help her embrace growing up. I know she still has a lot of childhood left but I can also taste the teenage years headed our way.

What changes have you been noticing in your kids?

In a Funk

2008-08-07T17:16:00.002-05:00

We just finished our youth week, which is our kick-off for the incoming. It was a great week. We took a trip to Holiday World, did a traveling scavenger hunt, an amazing race through and around the church, fed 70 teenagers 6 meals over 4 days, and kept the church from falling apart. Not bad. The kids had amazing devotions, worship times, and I loved witnessing Christ within them (even during the chaos).

But today I find that I am in a little bit of a funk. I am tired, yes, but it's more than that. It's like that depression some people get after Christmas. But I know that with a little sleep, a lot of prayer, and some time with the Bible I will feel better soon.

What do you do to get out of a funk?

Gardening

2008-07-11T09:26:00.004-05:00

This summer I have been working on beautifying our yard. We live in a parsonage house and the landscaping is very minimal. Well, there was no landscaping. So I have been doing research on indigenous plant life, which is more sustainable. Now I am looking into a rainwater collection system. I am going to try to get this in by early fall, with the help of the fam. The girls are interested in composting, so I'm going to try to figure out how to build my own.

Gas prices, food prices, and our medical expenses have made me keenly aware of the need to conserve our natural resources. My rainwater collection may not impact the environment in a huge way, but if we all start doing this maybe our natural water sources will see an improvement, which will positively affect animal life. Did you know the Association for Zoos and Aquariums is calling this the Year of the Frog because amphibians are experiencing such a decrease in numbers? It seems pretty easy to do a little bit that will go a long way.

Budgeting

2008-07-07T13:01:00.005-05:00

Argh! It is time for me to sit down and create our yearly budget. I am finding that we simply are not planning well enough for emergencies, family outings, and medical expenses. In the past budgeting has saved my sanity. Now that we have the hang of what it means to live below our means it's time to start seriously saving and planning for our future. I found a website that was really helpful in looking realistically at our spending. betterbudgeting.com had some simple worksheets and tips to help me get it going. I love spreadsheets and lists because it gives a clear picture of where we are financially and where we want to be.

The biggest expense we have is medical. We don't have great coverage and Lee and I pay out of pocket for everything, as we only have catastrophic coverage. Our goal is to set aside a medical spending account so that we are not constantly draining our savings paying off medical bills.

I'm especially thankful for my friend, Marsha, who is helping me with our budget. Sarah also has some great stuff on her blog on saving money.

Summer School

2008-06-25T07:55:00.002-05:00

I have declared the next two weeks summer school for my girls. We are going to be working on spelling and math and doing a mini-unit study on bees. They both grumbled at first when I reminded them on Saturday that Monday would begin our summer school schedule. Yet when the day finally rolled around they were surprisingly into it. I daresay that they enjoyed stretching their brains out a bit.

Our spelling curriculum literally takes 15 minutes, and we work 30-45 minutes on math. Learning about the life of bees is something that appeals to them right now, so we are going to start a flower garden to encourage more bee activity. Although thanks to an abundance of clover in our yard we already have quite a few.

I love the lazy days of summer. I love the freedom from constraining schedules but I also love routine. My home suddenly feels more organized and I feel less like a hamster on a wheel and more like someone who gets the job done.

Good Song

2008-06-19T20:15:00.001-05:00

For your listening pleasure and to encourage bike riding.

Bicycle

2008-06-19T20:09:00.002-05:00

I've been riding bikes with my kids all week long. Loving it! I had started to feel a little old and crotchety at the ripe age of 34. Looks like bike riding was a cure I had been overlooking. I've even been sneaking out by myself in the mornings and riding while I enjoy not having to look out for little people.

As a kid I spent hours on my bike with a couple of friends. There is not much better than feeling the wind in your hair after pumping really fast. I find that I still enjoy zigzagging around, too.

I am shopping for a different bike, though. One with a wider seat. I fear it looks like my behind is eating the seat I currently sit on.

Go ahead, laugh. I do.

Sick Kids

2008-06-16T07:18:00.002-05:00

Spencer caught a virus last week. He was so sick. He ran a fever of 104 and eventually his mouth broke out into blisters. Spencer was such a trooper, though. His sisters helped take care of him and popsicles seemed to make everything all better. Once I knew that it wasn't something caused by ticks we had gotten when we went camping I wasn't worried.

It's so different with the second and third one. I remember when Kiley ran a fever for the first time how I fretted over her. I was sure she was going to have a seizure (which she didn't), and I was equally sure that I was doing everything wrong. I now have something that only experience can give you: confidence.

Winding Down

2008-05-16T14:16:00.002-05:00

I have always loved a deadline. I feel like I work more efficiently when I have a goal (duh, right?). There is something about this time of year that can make me feel a little bit crazy. End of the year stuff, trying to finish up home school, making it to soccer games on time on top of keeping up with regular life.

Today we had our end of the year picnic with our home school co-op. It was so fun and relaxing! The kids and I have been working really hard to get our school work finished, Lee has been working on getting mission stuff together. After a rainy week we had absolutely gorgeous weather. A bunch of us made solar-heated ovens out of pizza boxes which worked nicely.

Now we're home cleaning and getting the house in order after a VERY busy couple of months. Good day to hang out with good friends!

Mother's Day

2008-05-12T11:44:00.003-05:00

Yesterday morning I was awoken from a crazy dream to my little girls bringing my husband and I breakfast in bed. They didn't want their dad to feel left out! They brought cookie sheets covered with tea towels, flowers, an English muffin, and coffee (just the way I like it!). It was perfect.

That's my kind of Mother's Day. I don't want jewelery or fancy stuff. I want my kids to show me that I have made an impact on their lives. Seeing that they are thoughtful little people who know how to be kind and do things for other people is a great reward for hard work. When we start out as parents we cannot see the impact that we will have on our children's lives. In other words, the fruit is hard won. But at 10, 8, and 4 my kids astound me at their kindness, generosity, and humor. What's equally amazing is that my husband and I have played a role in their lives.

Mothering is hard work but so worth all of the transformation. What makes it worth it for you?

Silly Girls

2008-05-09T18:26:00.004-05:00

Kiley, 10, interviewed Laurel, 8. Hilarity ensued. See for yourself:

T.I.L.T.W.

2008-04-04T15:56:00.003-05:00

I think I'm going to make this posting a weekly regular. Things I learned this week, or T.I.L.T.W., will consist of tidbits I pick up that will range from the poignant to the profound (slight sarcasm here). So here goes:

1. I learned that you can live without shampoo. My children have been for at least ten days. Yesterday I asked Kiley, "What have you been washing your hair with?" because I was growing suspicious of her slightly stringy hair. Kiley, 10, hesitantly answered, "With water?"

2. I learned that Chapstick, when tightly closed, gives laundry a lovely scent.

3. I learned that soy milk sours when you pour ginger ale into it.

4. I learned that watermelon does not turn into wine when left in the fridge for nine months.

5. I learned that you don't have to eat a Chucky Cheese to have a good time. In fact maybe you have more fun with just tokens.

6.. I learned that the vacuum cleaner was not intended to suck up styrofoam peanuts, and especially not 100 of them!

Funny Kids

2008-03-24T23:38:00.004-05:00

I always think that my kids are funny, but today they really made me laugh! Thought that I would share:

Spencer walked into the living room and casually said, "Hey, mom, you know what I do when I'm real thirsty? I climb up on the counter, open the cabinet, and drink the syrup."

In our town everyone is on spring break, except we home school and I had the flu, so we have some make up work to do before our spring break. As I was tucking the girls into bed and giving them a rundown for tomorrow's schedule Laurel said, "You know, I bet the kids who don't go to the beach don't stay home and clean, either."

As I was helping Spencer, who is only 4, change into his pajamas he said, "Mom, you have to get this new purse I saw on t.v. It comes with a calendar reminder and a cell phone holder so you'll never miss another call. And it can't get stolen like other purses."

"Really? It does all of that? How does it do that?" I asked.

"You'll have to watch the commercial. But if you want it I'll get it for you."

I can't think of any Kiley-stuff, so tomorrow I'll interview her.

I wish I could remember all of the things my kids say.

Unidentifiable Goop

2008-03-20T19:48:00.003-05:00

I cleaned out my minivan today. Cleaning seems to be a recurrent theme in my blog postings as of late. It happened really out of self-preservation, though. I was so embarrassed for someone to see the inside, and things had started to fall out when I opened the doors. Things like empty water bottles, shoes, a bar of soap. I wish I were kidding about that bar of soap. I was also beginning to feel that a family of raccoons may be living in the dark depths of my vehicle, sustained solely on nasty food that they would ordinarily find in a dumpster.

I did it, though. I pulled my steed over to the dumpster and commenced the dumping. Spencer helped me to identify things which seemed unrecognizable to me, yet to him were easily recalled. I quit asking what things were when he identified chicken bones. I don't know when we ate fried chicken, and I certainly don't remember eating it in the car. After I had gotten out all of the largest pieces of trash I began using Windex and a rag.

That's when I found the unidentifiable goop. In the rear cup-holders there was a substance that was sticky, green, and had a faint (not unpleasant) odor. What was it? What had this goop been in its life before putrification? I'll probably never know. I theorize that it may have been soda in a McDonald's cup (thank you Nancy).

I persevered and made it through to the vacuuming stage. This is the part where you can really take out your aggressions. Aerobic vacuuming, we'll call it. I took out all of my anger at the nastiness that had occurred in my van. I took out my anger that my van has been abused by child, husband, and dog.

Then I stepped back and felt pleased. This is my van. It is clean and shiny and I made that happen.

And, I am NEVER letting anyone eat in my trusty van again.

Motivation

2008-03-13T09:10:00.002-05:00

I need to invite someone over for dinner.

Having people in my home is something that God wants me to do, but it also helps me to clean my house. When I am expecting guests I become efficient and organized, suddenly capable of planning wonderful meals, keeping up with my housework, and keeping my children orderly.

If someone were to drop in today they would find pebbles in the soap dispenser in the bathroom, counters cluttered with more paper than I know what to do with, and a slipper stuck in a glob of goo on my kitchen floor. All of these things can be remedied quickly, in under 15 minutes. If only I could muster the motivation.

So, who wants to come for dinner?

The Flu

2008-03-07T15:59:00.002-06:00

I went on a retreat over last weekend and came home with a fever of 103. Not pleasant.

My mom packed her bags and was out of there before I could call for a glass of ginger ale and a pretzel rod.

I was left ALONE with three children, one dog, one cat, and one husband.

I was taken good care of, I want to say that right now. Oldest daughter, Kiley, fixed me scrambled eggs for breakfast. Laurel was loyal with drinks with plenty of ice, and Spencer delighted in taking my temperature every ten minutes or so. (Where was that thermometer in between usage?) Lee made sure that I had blankets and movies at all times.

On day three of the flu after I asked Lee to start a load of laundry after he settled the kids into bed he exclaimed, "What do you want from me? I have cooked, cleaned, and gotten them to do school work. I just want to sit down." His voice was kind of cracking at the end there. I just smiled. This was not in my plan, but it did have a nice effect.

On day four when I emerged from the bedroom, more like a slug than a butterfly, the shock I felt over the sight of my kitchen caused me to feel lightheaded. The decongestants could have also added to this, however. There was a thorough coating of salt, jelly, and sprite on the counters and the floor. There was an open jar of peanut butter with three knives sticking out of it. There was a cake plate with finger smears in the left-over icing.

I sometimes feel that I am not vital to the functioning of my family. Now I know otherwise.

Screaming Mommys

2008-02-06T09:31:00.000-06:00

The other day I was at a department store with only one of my children. Laurel and I had taken a couple of hours to run errands and spend time together and it was really fun. I only needed one item at this store so it was to be a quick trip.

As the clerk checked us out I was surprised at the total. I thought the item was $9.99, it rang up $19.99. I knew immediately that it was a mistake that I had made, but the clerk wanted to check anyway. We stood waiting for verification, laughing and making small talk. From the right hand side of the store I heard a woman's voice tense with anger.
"Get over here. No, not there, right here."

As she approached I saw that her little guy was no more than three or four. He did look a little mischievous (I recognize that!) but was smiling sweetly and doing his best to do what his mother asked. The mother continued to berate her little boy while they checked out. The final blow came as they went to walk out of the store and he reached up for her hand.
"Don't touch me. Go put the cart back. Not that door, this one."

My heart broke for this little guy and his mom. Don't get me wrong, I have no idea what happened in this woman's life this particular day. I have definitely had moments of serious regret when it comes to how I have spoken to my children.

However, we should never take our stress-filled lives out on the most innocent. More importantly we should help each other out. Could I have lightened the mood with a kind remark or a show of sisterhood? I won't know because I let the moment slip away.

It won't happen next time, though. I hope if someone sees me being harsh with my children they would help me out.

Boy Power

2008-01-17T16:30:00.001-06:00

Lee was so happy that we were having a boy. Not because he doesn't love his girls, but because he felt that there might be more balance in this house. Spencer, despite the fact that he has been surrounded by girly-girls all of his life, is very tough. He's going through a monster phase; Laurel took this picture of him growling. His new thing is to wander around in his underwear with a sword tucked down in the band. I love it!

Lost: One broom

2008-01-17T15:51:00.000-06:00

How does one family of five go about losing one slightly used, but still perfectly useful, broom?

As I prepared to sweep the kitchen I was perplexed at first to not find the broom in its normal spot in the laundry room. However, I was not dismayed. My daughters' chores yesterday involved sweeping out the bathrooms so it was likely it had gotten left in one of the bathrooms. Sadly this was not the case. I looked in every bedroom, closet, and corner I could find. I was moving from befuddled and perplexed to ticked off. I mean, who is so careless with a broom???

I announced that an exhaustive search was to begin IMMEDIATELY. We looked under couches and chairs (that obviously could not hide a thing such as a broom), and in desperation looked outside of the house. I walked into rooms and looked at the corners from different angles. When I feared the worst, that one of my children had either disassembled the broom, fed it to the dog, or used it as a catapult, I called my husband.

"Please call me back immediately. This is an emergency." my message said.

Ten minutes later he responded.

"Do you know where the broom is? I've looked everywhere."

"Yeah, it's in the van."

Right, because that's where everyone stores their broom, right?

"The van. Why in the van?"

"When I left this morning I had to sweep the snow off," said my darling man.

"Okay, thanks." I am just so relieved to have my broom back. But the next time he makes fun of me for putting my keys in the fridge by accident I'm going to remind him of the moments of panic he caused me over the broom.

Piano Practicing

2008-01-14T15:27:00.000-06:00

Oldest daughter wanted to take piano. I couldn't have been happier. She has learned to work hard and be disciplined about practice. Plus, she really likes to please her teacher! Here's some of her work.

NAP

2008-01-14T14:56:00.000-06:00

Our third child, Spencer, came into this world when his sisters were 4 and 6. Kiley, the oldest, was learning to spell. We did a lot of home schooling while Spencer was napping.I began saying, "We'll do that while Spencer's taking his n-a-p," so that Spencer wouldn't feel that he was missing out on anything. True to Pavlovian response Spencer began crying whenever n-a-p was mentioned. He's four and he'll now shout, "NO, not the n-a-p!!!"

What's up with that? I love a nap. In fact, it's 3p.m. and the couch is seducing me like a siren. I fantasize over a good nap. With age comes an appreciation for finer things and I am simply not willing to compromise good quality sleep for crummy sleep (i.e. sleep interrupted by hubby, phone, children, hungry dog, or yowling cat).

After Spencer was born every afternoon I went into a deep sleep that was difficult to come out of. I usually only slept for about an hour but it was that kind of sleep that comes from exhaustion. I would put in a video tape and tell Kiley and Laurel to wake me up after two episodes. As asleep as I seemed, though, I always knew if one of them left the room. I could be drooling out the side of my mouth and suddenly my primal instinct would kick in and I just knew that one of them was getting into the cabinets in search of chocolate. I could tell by the creak of a floorboard who was stealing toilet paper to do God-knows-what with. This ability still amazes my family.

Now I do not nap every day. I cannot imagine what horrors I would wake to. I mean, during my waking hours it scares me what these three kiddos think up. Just today while I was in the laundry room oblivious to their plans. As I walked out twenty minutes later I felt something was amiss. Yes, there was. There had not been a mattress used caddy-corner to the front door housing all of the Shepherd children and every stuffed animal they could fine.

Sadly, I really only get a nap in about once a week. I nap on Fridays and each person in my home knows it. I plan what book I will read. It is something that I look forward to from Saturday on. And I love hearing the kids go, "Quiet, Mom's taking her n-a-p!"

Procrasination

2008-01-12T16:56:00.000-06:00

Today was dubbed 'get this house together' today. My organization has gotten sloppy, laundry is threatening to get up walk somewhere else, and there were more tubes of toothpaste in the kitchen than in the bathroom. I got going in the kitchen by putting everything that didn't belong in that room on the table. My theory was if we wanted to eat lunch or dinner we'd have to have it cleared off. Obviously, I have forgotten who I live with.

I have to say, Laurel got down to business right away. The added incentive of scooter time probably helped. Spencer even wanted to pitch in, asking "What chore can I do?"

Kiley's first assignment was to finish cleaning the playroom. Unfortunately she decided that it was easiest to just lay on the floor and cry.

I would understand this response if I had asked her to saw her finger off with a rusty spoon. She doesn't even put up that much resistance when it's her turn to clean the cat litter! As I was loading the dishwasher (AGAIN) I gazed on my nearly ten-year old daughter lying on her back in the playroom. Kiley had stopped crying. However, she seemed extremely resigned to laying on her back.

I had a quick memory of myself at that same age. My mother would come into my room and sweep everything into the center. She would hang a trash bag on the door and give me an hour to have my room cleaned before she would come in and put EVERYTHING into the trash bag. I hated it and loved it. It always took me forever to get started and probably about 30 minutes to actually complete the cleaning. I would spend the rest of the day in my room listening to music feeling very pleased with my efforts.

I have read quite a few books about procrastination. I get that perfectionism has a lot to do with it. I also think that having someone else tell me what to do gives rise to some innate instinct to freeze. So, I did what my mother did. I set the timer.

Amazingly the room was finished and my girl was pleased with her work.

Now I've got to clean my room.

The Manager

2008-01-12T09:12:00.000-06:00

I used to be a woman who frowned on empty threats. I once heard of a woman who told her children that the oil spots in parking lots were actually the remains of children who didn't hold their parents' hands! I was horrified that anyone would inflict this Grimm-like story on their young children.

Then I had my own children. Two I handled pretty well. When we added our third one, though, my thinking changed one day at the grocery store. My daughters were four and six and their little brother was around six months old. The grocery store in our neighborhood had carts with little plastic cars in the front for children to ride in. Things started out fine, but then we left the produce section. The girls began frantically collecting coupons out of all those goofy machines that spit them out over, and over, and over. I used my best positive parenting techniques to encourage them to stay in the cart. It worked but they saw a loophole in my plan and climbed on top of the cart while grabbing can goods and laughing hysterically. In a moment of panic I sternly said, "The manager is coming. He does not allow for children to get of hand in his store."

Kiley and Laurel began looking around for the manager. Spotting an adult in a business suit they quickly sat down and behaved for the duration of our shopping. This worked for a few years with Spencer, too. Spencer often would ask me where the manager was - a sure clue that he was preparing for some stooge-like antics. Now that they're older they behave well when we're out (for the most part :)) I hope I haven't given my three kiddos an unnatural fear of persons in managerial positions.

So, what are some of the goofy things you tell your kids to encourage them to behave?

Little Girl, Big Shoes

2008-01-07T14:43:00.000-06:00

This is for all of the middle children out there!

Yesterday was a long day at our house, as Sundays usually are. I had gotten up extremely early in order to get some house work done. I made blueberry muffins for breakfast and got us all off to church with relatively little yelling and we were almost on time.

We took Spencer out to lunch for his fourth birthday (more on that later)and then brought a friend home for the day. The kids played computer games and board games. Then I pulled out oatmeal boxes that I had been saving for 'something' and let them get creative. I got a lot more house work done (although, really, do you EVER get it all done?). Before I knew it was dinner and then bedtime. Oldest daughter, Kiley, was ready for some quiet time and went to bed at 7:45. Laurel and Spencer wanted to play Scene It for a few minutes. I was honestly barely able to keep my eyes open. I had the kiddos brush teeth and then head to bed.

I was just settling in when I heard the dog barking. I forgot that I had left her out. I let her in, and checked on the kids. Kiley was quietly reading, Spencer was listening to a story on cd, and then there was Laurel. I could hear her little voice chattering away in her room. She has no door on because of a slamming issue, so it was easy to see in. Laurel, 7 1/2, was sitting at her desk with a family of plastic cows. The mama cow was giving her children orders and the bull was making sure they followed through. My girl was so lost in this world she had created that she wouldn't have heard me if I had spoken. But I didn't speak. I just watched as she carried out her play. Each cow had a different voice, and she can even do accents! Laurel has done this since she was tiny. She's not picky. She'll use crayons, sticks, or coins as her characters. She can just go into this little bubble and drown the world out with her drama.

As this middle child, she does have a hard way to go. I often expect her to keep up with her older sister, to be more patient with her younger brother, and to react immediately to what I request. Her histrionics can wear me out, her temper is exasperating.

Last night, though, all of those tumultuous feelings were washed away. Looking on my angel wearing her pink pajamas and a pair of my black, high heeled shoes my breath was taken away. This little girl of mine is so perfect.

Christmas Misadventures

2007-12-28T19:37:00.000-06:00

Well, we made it through three weeks of two Christmas pageants, four Christmas parties, three days of wrapping, one day of sewing, three days of traveling to four different homes while eating WAY too much. We are all still speaking, the children behaved beautifully, and my husband and I are possibly more in love than ever. How did we accomplish this feat?

By letting go. I let go of pushing to make everything perfect and decided it was more fun to bake cookies than have perfectly wrapped gifts. It was okay that my home did not look like something out of a magazine. Rather than buy sparkled dresses that would break our budget I took pride in our seven year standing proudly in front of the congregation singing carols in her multi-colored outfit topped off with brown cow girl boots! Our son wore his new superman pajamas under his clothes for three days and it just made me smile each time he wanted to show someone that he was a superhero. I even let my oldest child roller blade without (gasp) a helmet! (Not that I advocate not wearing helmets, we just didn't bring ours with us :))

This Christmas I, and consequently my family, was blessed with the gift of contentment!

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

2007-11-28T15:14:00.000-06:00

On November 26, my parents celebrated 38 years of marriage. I think that this is an outstanding feat! Especially since I am approaching my own twelve-year anniversary. I now know how much hard work goes into a marriage. But enough about me, I want to share some things about my Mom and Dad, Julie and Mike, respectively.

Mike met Julie in Lexington,KY. Mom was 19 and in the Air Force, and Dad had just gotten out of the Navy. Mom was stationed in Shriveport,LA, where my dad drove as often as possible to visit. Anyway, they fell in love and married in 1969.

What I love about my parents is that their relationship has never been about appearances. They are who they are, and they absolutely adore each other. It doesn't matter if they're driving one another crazy...they always stick up for one another. They also know how to laugh with each other. Nothing makes me laugh harder than to see them laughing. They were always a couple, too. I have two younger brothers and, as hard as we tried, we could not divide and conquer when it came to our parental unit.

So today I want to say, "Way to go Mom and Dad. You always made it look easy. You made it look fun enough that I want the same longevity in my marriage. Thank you for blessing us with a strong upbringing! I love you guys!"

Mission Trip

2007-11-21T15:26:00.000-06:00

Hubby and I are already planning next summers mission trip to Quest Farm.

We took our youth group there last summer and it was INCREDIBLE! The kids had so much fun working on the farm and with the farmers. As soon as I find the usb cord to my camera I'll post some pictures.

Today in Home School Land

2007-11-21T15:17:00.000-06:00

Today we have accomplished a lot. Really, over the last six weeks we've achieved many of the goals that we've set. On this day, though, the girls got up at six a.m. to serve breakfast with their Dad. They came home and did some chores at around 7:30. We sat down for Bible study and breakfast at 8. We're reading through Matthew together. Good stuff. I took Spencer to pre-school...how funny is that? I home school but send my three-year old to school. I have to be able to get something done a couple of days a week, though.

While Spencer was at school Kiley went to work with her Dad and did math and handwriting. I mopped the floor while Laurel went through part of her reading lesson. Then Laurel and I went on a walk together. It was so much fun looking at leaves, and my middle-child daughter needed that special attention. We came home, picked up Kiley, and worked on math for a while longer. Then it was time to bring Spencer home. I fixed lunch, then went to the grocery.

Now Spencer is napping, the girls are happily making Thanksgiving cards, and I'm checking out all of my favorite blogs. We'll do our history work and some more reading next.

Today I am thankful for hard work.

Boy Stuff

2007-11-14T11:53:00.000-06:00

This boy of mine cracks me up! He loves to lounge in his underwear (is this genetic?), can't get enough of bugs, has more energy than I find possible to deal with, and attracts dirt like white on rice. Last week as I was picking up his room I was hit by a powerful smell. After much sniffing his sisters and I figured out that the source was located in one of the hollow bedposts. Gross. A flashlight revealed a fluid pooled in the bottom of the bed post.

"Spencer, did you put something in there?" I asked.
"Do you mean the old soy cheese that I didn't like?" he returned.
"Why would you put that in there?" Why am I asking a three-year old questions like this?
"Well, I didn't want it. It's not good." So matter of fact. That's what everyone does with cheese that they don't like; find a hole to stuff it in.

I did the only thing I could think of. I stuffed a bandanna in the opening to trap the smell. I'm going to clean it soon.

Little Gifts

2007-11-07T13:22:00.000-06:00

I love having kids. They are constantly teaching me new things, like how to enjoy life, and how fun it is to rake the leaves then back up ten feet and run and jump into the pile. The best gifts I have received from my kiddos, though, are patience, humility, and honesty.

Patience is seemingly one of my strong points. Other mothers are constantly asking me how I am so calm. One friend recently asked me, "Do you ever yell at your children?" Yes, I do occasionally lose my cool with them. Less often now that I am more seasoned as a mom (my oldest is almost ten) yet much more frequently than I would prefer. Patience is like an art that I am trying to master and every day I come so close to really getting it. I pray for it, I find scripture that speaks of it, but truthfully it's like a foreign language. You have to immerse yourself in patience, letting go of all your expectations of how things should be and dealing with how they really are.

Home schooling has definitely helped in this area. Just because I expected both of my girls to reading Shakespeare in early elementary doesn't mean they were ready to. There is nothing so rewarding, though, as sitting across from a child who's proverbial light bulb has just been lit and they 'get' whatever I was teaching them. It's like a reward for your patience.

The humility part came in a more round-about way. I make their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'm not talking gourmet, but I do make healthy meals. I do laundry, keep our schedule, send out bills, and a million other things. There have been moments that I felt resentful for all of these things, but now I see it as my way of blessing my children. I enjoy serving their needs as well as teaching them to care for others. I also enjoy making sure my husband has things that he likes to eat in the pantry and fresh coffee in the morning. It really is humbling to care for others.

Children do not like being lied to. They understand that, "Maybe later," usually means "No.", so we should just say what we mean. I want to be honest with them about everything so that they don't feel confused or let down when something doesn't happen. I have learned that following through with a promise is more important to a child than almost anything else in their lives. If they feel let down by a parent, or other adult who is important, it is difficult for them to trust. There have definitely been moments when I wanted to spare my children from momentary disappointment by lying, but I force myself to be truthful. I have had to say, "I have wasted too much time on the computer, we do not have time to go to the library."

I'm so thankful for these three little gifts God has given me, and in turn for the huge gifts He has allowed me to raise them up.

Perfect Saturday

2007-10-27T12:33:00.000-05:00

The television has become a serious obstacle in my home. The t.v. is a huge temptation to all of us, especially during the day when we are homeschooling, getting chores done, etc. In recent weeks I had been staying up WAY too late at night watching ridiculous programs.

A month ago I made the discovery that I can disconnect the electrical cord from the t.v. I keep it disconnected and we only use the t.v. for watching movies. This has been great. The kids are being so much more creative in how they play with each other, crafts that they do, and our home school life is much more productive. Lee and I were able to watch the t.v. after they are in bed if we want, but even he and I found that reading books or talking to each other is more fun than Top Chef.

Thursday I found a new hiding spot for the cord because I sensed that Laurel had caught on to my usual spot. The last thing I remember is disconnecting the cord... and then nothing. Friday night is traditionally family game/movie night, but last night it was 'help mom find the cord' night. My memory, normally very sharp, is dull when it comes to the best hiding spot ever.

This morning I awoke at 8:30 to hearing Kiley and Laurel laughing in the kitchen. I walked to the kitchen and was so pleased to see the girls sitting at the kitchen table with their breakfast playing our favorite board game, Sequence. Spencer was building towers with his blocks. It was great.

Hello perfect Saturday, goodbye crappy t.v. programming.

Mountain of Yuck

2007-10-24T12:15:00.002-05:00

This is a shout-out to my darling husband! I think he is the best guy in the world (many days out of the year, anyway) but today I think that he should be named King Lee, defender of gentle women.

I woke early this morning to get a head start on laundry. I realized quickly that I was going to need a LOT of coffee. As I rounded the corner from our living room into the kitchen I noticed a disturbing patch of brown in the corner. As I drew closer the smell hit me and I realized that our dog, who ate cat food yesterday, obviously had some upset bowels, which she unloaded in our dining room.

Gross, right?

Well, smells get to me in a way that cause me to gag. Sometimes even just thinking of a smell gets to me. I woke Lee up and said, "If I go get the milk will you clean up the dog stuff in the dining room?" I was banking on two things: a) Lee would not be awake enough to fully understand the agreement, and b) Lee would not want to leave the comfort of our cozy home to step out into the windy, rainy, cold morning.

Good thing I'm not a gambler. He jumped up out of bed and said, "I'll be right back."

Off he went to the store bringing home milk for our children's breakfast.

I was trying not to pout, but dog-gone-it, I did not want to clean that junk up!

He must have known through his perceptive super-powers (or the fact that I was angrily folding laundry while muttering under my breath) because he then said, "If you let me have first shower I will clean up the poop."

I could not believe how wonderful he was. I got the paper towels and other necessary items. I have not heard him shout like that in a really long time. "Oh, PLEASE...this is horrible...it's disgusting...it's like a giant mountain of yuck!...what does this dog eat...AAAGHH!" All the while I was laughing hysterically, partially with relief that I was not participating in the grossness and partly because he's just really funny.

So, today I am in love with my husband even more because he conquered the Mountain of Yuck and went to the store for milk.

You rock, Lee!

KidSpeak

2007-10-21T22:11:00.000-05:00

Today Spencer was talking about Halloween. I love how he says it. Hallowink. My children have always had their own special words, kind of like compound words, but morphs of two similar words. Here's a list of some of my favorites:
1. Hallowink
2. Double-knot stroller- Kiley always said that instead of double stroller
3. Piggy-bank ride - all three of them use this instead of the more traditional piggy-back
4. Pupcake - rather than cup-cake. Spencer coined this one.
5. Remoke control - really, this one makes sense.

I'll add more as I think of them.

Plain Folk

2007-10-20T11:42:00.000-05:00

After our excursion to Chicago we traipsed over to Bremen, Indiana to visit with some beloved relatives. My aunt and uncle live near an Amish community so we drove around the area. Talk about a week of extremes. Going from skyscrapers and incessant traffic noise to the serene setting of Amish farms was a serious contrast.

I find myself strangely attracted to the Amish life. I have read many books about their culture and find it fascinating. I also think it would be much easier to decide what to wear every day.

I find myself wondering, though, do their children act up the way that mine can? Do they have the same parenting issues. My guess is no.

We have been having a very difficult time with Spencer. He is 3 1/2 and lately he cannot go to a store without having a melt down. We are careful not to buy him things when we are out. When I am grocery shopping I tell the children that we are only shopping for food (Kiley often tries to find the loophole here) and not to ask for anything! That doesn't stop Spencer, however. My only solution is that I will limit his time in retail stores and the minute he starts to throw a fit we will leave, even if that means having to go back later by myself.

Back to the Amish, now. I think what I crave about their life is simplicity. I have gone through the house recently to weed out the 'stuff' that we just don't need. I am shocked at how much there is to go to donate. I find it difficult to reconcile the notion that there are things that many people live without every day, yet I have a dependency on them. Like my coffee maker and microwave. I don't feel guilty about using those things, I am just curious about living without electricity, cars, and immediate gratification.

Chicago

2007-10-20T10:56:00.000-05:00

My family took a much needed vacation to Chicago this past week. I love traveling and it had been far too long since we took the kids anywhere. We picked Chicago because my mom, Julie, has been wanting to take my daughters to the American Girl Place. I have never been to Chicago and thought it sounded like a great get away.

We stayed in Mt. Prospect, a suburb on the North West side of the city and took the train in. I have to say that it was very exciting riding into the city. The kids loved it, and I think that Spencer would have spent the day riding the train. My mom and I, along with both little girls, caught a cab to American Girl. This was daunting. I have never done it before and obviously we are not pushy enough. I ended up paying a homeless man three dollars to hail a cab for us after we politely waited 30 minutes for a cab.

After our afternoon at the A.G. Place we stepped out onto the busy city streets. I just wanted to take in the semi-fresh air and people watch. Alas, we had to meet the men-folk at a restaraunt so it was time to catch another cab. I watched the corners to see how other people got their rides. "Mom, those people are having a really easy time," I said, pointing down the street. So off we went as we watched people easily catching cabs. As we got closer I realized that the people were stepping out of a hotel and had obviously called ahead for their taxi. DUH!

So we finally got one but a man accused my mom and I of trying to steal it from some other man who was about 20 feet behind us. Go figure. The cab driver felt that was rude and opted to take us instead. VICTORY! I made the mistake of asking the driver if he had been here long. It was then that I realized I am seriously sheltered when it comes to dealing with persons of other nationalities. I did smooth things over with him, though, and gave him a nice tip.

I don't think that I could dwell permanently in a big city, but I loved our visit. We live in such a white bread town I have become sadly unaccustomed to seeing different skin colors and hearing many different foreign languages. While I try to teach our children about other cultures there is no substituting mingling with many types of people. I don't ever want to be someone who only wants English-speaking people in my town. I loved sitting in our hotel breakfast room listening to so many different conversations in so many different languages.

We all came back refreshed, even after the hectic pace of the city. I wasn't sad to leave Chicago behind but I do look forward to our next trip. I wish I had friends from other countries. Would it be weird to look for English-as-a-second-language-friends?

Fall

2007-10-09T16:54:00.000-05:00

So it's finally feeling like fall here. This makes me so happy. I love the smell of the air, I love the way that I feel like moving around outside. If I were the kind of person who ran, which I'm not, I think that this would be the kind of weather I would want to run in.

I do, however, love to go on walks. Taking my three children for meandering walks picking up acorns, sticks, and the best leaves we can find is one of my favorite autumnal activities. Everything just seems to slow down about right now. We walk and see who can make the most noise in the leaves. We rake up leaves and roll around in them. We have fires and roast marshmallows (and anything else the hubby and kids can find to throw in the flames).

This is the time of year when I remember to enjoy these precious gifts. I take naps and don't feel guilty. I read as many books as possible. I sit outside listening to the high school band practicing. I remember to fall in love with my hubby.

I guess it's the changing leaves that remind me that none of this is permanent so I'd better enjoy it. How about you?

One Day

2007-09-29T17:21:00.000-05:00

I am watching my girls play outside as I type. It's 5:20 and I'm thinking (just thinking) about making dinner for my little family. Hubbers and son are sleeping soundly and I am wondering just how we have managed to fit SOOO many things into just eight hours. Yet, I feel like I have accomplished very little today.

Except, I did get all that laundry folded. And there was a lot of it. The kids had to clean off the front porch after scattering fern leaves all over it. I had to bathe two of my children in fingernail polish remover after big sister Laurel painted her little brother's nails bright purple. This was done after she covered him in ink while trying to make a quill for herself. I got one daughter off to her Brownie field trip and went to the library with the remaining two children while keeping my sanity. Then I came home, began reading The Invention of Hugo Cabret, which I subsequently finished. Not bad for eight hours.

If Mama Ain't Happy

Hot Diggity Dog

Choices

Bumps in the Road

Surprise!

An Eeyore State of Mind

The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Keep Calm and Carry On

Advent

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Wishbones & Turkey Legs

LaLa Land

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Body Language

Basketball Diaries

Humble Pie

Twenty Years

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Closet Case

Skillet Spaghetti Bolognese

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Superpower

All the Signs are There

Don't be Fooled

Communication Skills

Homeschool Peeps

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Humpday

Turtle Soup

Wet /Dry Vacs and Leafblowers

Sick Days

Happy Birthday Dad!

Passive Aggressive

Who did this?!?

Mondays

Back When Women Could Faint

No Comparison

Somebody's Watching Me

Learning Styles

Other Things

Dreams

TV Land

Good Book

Mornings

Irritation

Giving In

Vacation

New Year's Revolution

Happy Dog

New Year's Eve

Refigerator Woes

New Floor

Oil of Olay

Lap Dancing

Time Flies

Ten Year Old

In a Funk

Gardening

Budgeting

Summer School

Good Song

Bicycle

Sick Kids

Winding Down

Mother's Day

Silly Girls

T.I.L.T.W.

Funny Kids

Unidentifiable Goop

Motivation

The Flu

Screaming Mommys

Boy Power

Lost: One broom

Piano Practicing

N*A*P

Procrasination

The Manager

Little Girl, Big Shoes

Christmas Misadventures

NAP