Mercy for Moms

I've been thinking alot lately about the ever-present dichotomies inherent in being a mom, the desire to protect vs. the desire to foster independence, the need to trust vs. the tendency to worry. How, at the end of the day, more often than not, I feel that I've failed my children somehow, that I have not given them enough time or enough of myself, that I have not provided for them something which I thought they needed or deserved. And how do I manage, on a daily basis, when, as a mom, I take so much responsibility on myself...when so much of motherhood is really out of my hands and out of my control? Therein lies the root of the problem, doesn't it?

The struggle welled up in me again yesterday when I was reading the story of baby Moses to my daughter, Brynnley. Normally, we read about that story and concentrate on God's plan in saving Moses. Not only did He save that precious baby during a time when the Hebrew people were, once again, experiencing tremendous suffering at the hand of Pharaoh but, through Moses, He also provided a way to one day save the people themselves. How merciful and miraculous!

No one ever thinks about his mom. Did she ever question God's plan when He led her, somehow, to craft a basket, place her baby in it, and send him off, alone, into the Egyptian waters? Did she experience a moment of fear and anxiety and doubt when she considered how the basket could drift away or turn over and her baby could drown. Or, it could be found by someone not sympathetic to their plight! Even if found by a compassionate Egyptian, he would be adopted into a family that did not share their beliefs or values. How could she still hope that he would grow to be the man she once desired he would be, in spite of all that? What faith and trust she must have had, faith in a God who provides for those He loves over and over again and who always accomplishes His purposes in spite of, or even through, the people who stand in the way.

What about Sarah? Did Abraham tell her God had directed him to take Isaac to the mountain and sacrifice him? Did he tell her, "I am going to be obedient to God, so go say good-bye to your son?" What was her response? And, if she knew, how hard was it to trust that God knew best, in spite of all appearances to the contrary, and willingly let him go?

The Bible contains many passages on marriage and relationships, even on parenting and discipline, but it contains very little explicit direction for mothering. Why is that? Mothering is so hard! And I know, personally, that mothers are so hard on themselves. We are far less gracious with ourselves than God is with us. Why so little direction and encouragement? Yet, if you think about it, God does give us something to hold on to. He gives us examples. He gives us examples of Moms who MUST have struggled, who were not perfect, and yet, who trusted the Lord, or at least, held tightly and fiercely to the belief that God would HELP them to trust and to let go when it was required of them, because God is a God who promises to work all things out for His glory and for our good.

Consider Hannah. She begged and pleaded for a child. Any mother will attest to how life-altering it is when you become a mom. You would do anything and be anything for that child. Hopes and desires for them begin before they are even born. Yet Hannah promised to give her son away for His service, if God would only bless her with the gift of raising him for the briefest of times. She thought she could handle that, that that short time with him would be enough. Did she ever waiver when the appointed time came for her to take Samuel to the priest? Did she wonder if she had done the right thing, if she had made a promise based not on trust in a good God but in desperation? Which one of us has not had a desperate moment as a Mom?

In those desperate moments, do we still hold on to our faith? Do we question the way God answers those prayers for our children? I had a miscarriage many years ago, before the birth of my oldest child, and I remember it to be devastating. I have seen a child endure stitches, go through surgery, endure sicknesses and pain, frustration and sadness and rejection...but I haven't experienced the same kind of losses those women faced. I haven't said good-bye to a child, as Hannah did, and relinquished them from my care, dependent on God to be thier provider and caretaker. I haven't faced the impending death of a child, like Moses' mother or Sarah. But I hope I would respond in faith as they did. When I start to worry over all the things that COULD happen, I try to pray, "Lord, help me to recieve what you give, lack what you withhold, and relinquish what you take." Even then, sometimes I fail and my trust waivers...

Then I remember Rebekah. She made some monumental mistakes as a parent. She showed blatant favoritism for one son over the other, and then she encouraged Jacob to lie and deceive in order to gain the rightful inheritance and blessing of another. She did not trust that God would or could bring about His plan in some other, better way. Certainly, that was God's sovereign plan for the situation, and He used even Rebekah's failures to bring about His purposes for Jacob.

What comfort that is! To know that even at my worst moments as a parent, God can and will raise my children up to follow the path He has laid out for them. It is far better for me to be like Moses' mother, to trust and have faith as my children go down that path. But even on the days when I fail miserably, like Rebekah, God is not taken by surprise or thrown off track. My children are still in His hand and on the course He has chosen for them. I can have faith that, as the psalmist says in Psalm 139, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be!" That means, not only the length of their lives are predetermined by God, but also every trial, event and circumstance of every day that they live is within God's scope and loving care. All ordained for their good. All have a purpose. Every scrape, every tear, every smile, every laugh, every trial, every illness, every heartbreak, every frustration, every triumph, every joy...

Thinking back to a day last summer brings it home for me. I had been consistently sharing the gospel with Declan before and after times of discipline, reminding him of the great grace of God in sending Jesus to die for us and that, because of that, we don't have to be slaves to our sin. One day, shortly after we had moved, on a particularly busy and hectic day, he came to me, seemingly out of the blue, and told me that he had just prayed to ask Jesus to come into his heart and forgive all his sins! I wish I could say that I celebrated and threw a party and treated that day as the pivotal moment that it was...but I didn't. I have regretted it since. I have asked him about it, to gauge his understanding of the event, and he patiently and matter-of-factly replies, as suits his personality, "I know Mom, I already did that!" Maybe I am holding onto that moment and feeling guilty and anxious over it because I had so little to do with it! I would like to think that God graciously used some of my words to direct Declan and guide his heart, but really, it could have been any number of other influences, and it all came down to the working of the Holy Spirit in the end. I didn't lead the prayer; I wasn't part of it at all!

Maybe it is better this way. Hopefully he will grow in grace and understanding and knowing and loving Jesus will become such a part of his daily life that he will never remember it any other way, it will just be part of who he is rather than a date or an experience or just words. The point is, God did it. I didn't. He didn't need me to accomplish what He purposed for my son. Maybe he used me, and I am blessed and honored every day for the privilege of each moment with my children, even the worst ones!, but He's going to accomplish His will in spite of my shortfalls and without my "perfection;" He blesses the faithful and is merciful to us when our faith is weak.

God is so good, and I am still learning these lessons. I have an inkling I'll be learning them every day for the rest of my life and my children's lives. How is it that someone once put it? "Letting go and letting God." I can worry about putting food on the table and keeping them safe from harm and making sure they have the right friends and teaching them good morals and right behavior...but the God who loved us enough to send His son to die, while we were sinners!, also loves us enough to have a hand in all of those "smaller" things, which He knows we need, as well. Just this week I was thinking, with concern, that one of my sons didn't have enough long-sleeved winter shirts, and I was considering when I would find the time to search for some affordable options. The next day I was completely humbled as I dug through a bag of clothes passed along to us by my husband's boss. It was full of shirts and sweatshirts in exactly the right sizes for both of my oldest boys.

Why should I worry? God is in control of the trials that seem insurmountable as well as the smallest challenges of every day life. Praise the Lord that I don't have to do it all. What mercy for Moms, like me, to hold on to that!

The Gifts that Keep on Giving?

My two year old comes looking for me, because he has something he wants to give me. I'm thinking, "Oh, how sweet! This is going to make my morning!" What does he have for me? A booger. Yes. Specially selected for me, I'm sure. And one of a kind. But, still, a booger.

Anyway, it got me thinking about all the gifts I gave to my parents as a child, and how I feel really badly about some of them. Almost mortified. Ought to apologize, actually. I specifically remember the first Christmas I had saved enough pocket change to buy something for each member of the family all by myself. I chose all the items from one store (why not go for convenience and efficiency?). How I selected the store, I can't recall. It probably had the most colorful flier on Sunday or the most sales (way to go advertising department!). But whatever my motivation, I remember being super excited as I planned out my purchases, and we headed off to Michael's (yes, Michael's, of all places. I guess Walmart had yet to assert it's dominance...)

I don't remember what I purchased for my sisters. They probably didn't even pretend to like the stuff, and it's long since been tossed. =) But I do remember all the things I made for my mother. I bought a small undecorated wooden wreath and tied bells to it with green string. It was too small to hang anywhere but a doorknob. I have no idea what I thought she was going to do with it! If that weren't enough, I also made her an ornament. I made a green paper cup into a bell by running string through the bottom and attaching a collection of staples inside. (Her favorite color is green, you see.) It did NOT actually jingle. Finally, I made her a mixed tape. Oh, not just any mixed tape. A recording of myself, singing all the songs I knew...and many that I didn't. Where I knew the words but not the melody, I made it up. It's really horrifying to think about it.

And what do you do with gifts like that? I'm sure she accepted them with inordinate graciousness. Is that part of some unspoken "Mom code?" Do I really have to accept dead bugs, even when presented by children with bright shining eyes? (Let me go ahead and answer that rhetorical question for you. No, no I do not.) Do I have to keep EVERY paper ever scribbled on "just for me?" There's got to be a compromise, because I have one child who is, at best, destined to become a pack rat and, at worst, demonstrating tendencies of a hoarder! He would claim every bit of free wall space in the house if there were enough sticky tack on earth, and that which I don't display is kept in a box that becomes fuller by the day!

I guess it comes down to what you value and why. Some things are valuable because of what they are. It's intrinsic. Some things are valuable because of WHO gives them. It's transferred. It's sentimental. I can't promise I'll keep every piece of paper. It's just inconceivable. (Anybody want a peanut?) But I can understand how something seemingly worthless to almost everyone else, might become priceless to me, simply because it was given by someone I love...who loves me too.

But not boogers. Never boogers.

Raising Little Men

When I first found out that Declan (my oldest) was a boy, I was pretty overwhelmed. Coming from a family of girls, I really had no idea what to expect, and what I'd heard from my husband about his experiences with his brother only left me feeling all the more unprepared! Tales of pranks and resulting broken arms, fireworks, fireballs (yes, engulfing flame), decimated hot wheel collections, fighting with golf clubs...(and the list goes on and on). I had no idea how to raise a boy, and now I've been blessed with three! And if that weren't enough, considering how to raise a boy to be a strong young man: firm but gentle, determined but humble, protective but kind, assertive but wise...

These issues come up early. The simple "don't hit your brother" statement turns into a discussion about how to treat others and how to properly stand up for yourself without being hurtful or vindictive. Boys are naturally aggressive, I think. Most people would think it's just fine to hand them each a pair of boxing gloves or pugile sticks and pull up a chair for the show. But, the task is to guide those natural tendencies so that when they are angry, they are not overwhelmed. When they are frustrated, they don't act out in ways that are harmful. That, oh horror, they CAN use words to express themselves (carefully chosen words, at that) and that it's not a cop out to do so. God says "vengeance is mine," and He means it. God tells us, "so long as it depends upon YOU, live at peace with one another."

But, oh, sometimes it's so hard to get that message across! And when do you just let them have fun?! When is it good to just get out that boyish energy? Wack a tree or something. Wrestling free for all anyone? So long as it is playful and not intentionally hurtful? Sometimes when boys play it seems they artfully dance around that line (yes, dance, and probably the only time they'll enjoy it!). Especially now that they have been introduced to Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, they have become intensely interested in weapons, attacks, strategy and fighting. On the one hand, I know it's natural and also a good thing, and sometimes their antics do just make me laugh!

Declan has become very interested in sword fighting, and a number of our recent conversations have revolved around it. The other day he and Mike talked about war. Declan, very seriously, said, "Dad, if I had to go to war, I'd probably be the first to die, because I'm so young." Mike replied, "Well, Declan, they train you before you go to war. Besides, in our country, you have to be older before you are allowed to fight." Declan's response? "Well, they wouldn't have to train me TOO much, because I'm already good at sword fighting." (Apparently Mike neglected to inform Declan that sword fighting is not so much a part of modern warfare. If he had, I would surely have met with a disappointed little boy that afternoon!)

Instead, it came up again yesterday. As we were traveling home from school, Declan saw a dachshund, very similar in appearance to Peanut, in some one's yard. He very worriedly wondered aloud whether bandits might possibly have broken into our house and stolen her! I told him it was very unlikely, and then he confidently assured me, "Well, if we ever DO run into bandits, it's OK, because I'm good at sword fighting." I was pretty amused until he started deconstructing the battle that would ensue, which involved incapacitation using a heavy object and then decapitation...which brought me back to my original worry. He was using his imagination but, nevertheless, I felt the need to throw in a little disclaimer that we shouldn't physically hurt someone else unless it was absolutely necessary for self defense. We should always walk away when possible. With exasperation at my over-seriousness, he replied, "But Mom, they're BANDITS!"

Ah well, for every conversation where I feel like I just don't know how to say the right thing (Lord, grant me wisdom!!), there is usually a situation that makes me laugh! For instance, the other night the boys were in the bathroom together, and they both ran out, Declan yelling, "Keller peed on me!!!" When I asked what happened, Declan replied, "He was using his pee as a light saber!" And those are the moments of levity (because I could NOT help laughing out loud) that remind me of how much fun little boys are. And, while I will always be mindful of the fact that I have the awesome responsibility of helping them grow into men, for now I can also take every opportunity to enjoy the moments where they are just my precious little boys!

Summer Recipes

I got to try out some new recipes this summer, as I searched for ways to incorporate our garden harvest into our meals. Here are some examples:

How to Cook a Pumpkin:

(Apparently, all pumpkins are edible, some just taste better than others due to texture. If you want to try cooking your own, you can research which are the best to buy or just use whatever you have and see how it tastes. Ours turned out great!)

1) Cut the pumpkin in half, and scoop out the seeds and pulp.
2) Place flesh side down into a baking dish or pan, and surround with water up to 1/2 inch depth.
3) Bake at 450 degrees for 45-60 minutes, until you can easily pierce the skin with a fork.
4) Scoop out the cooked flesh, and puree in a blender or food processor. Refrigerate puree or freeze for later use!

Crustless Pumpkin Pie:

1 cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cups cooked pumpkin
1/8 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp ginger
1/8 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups milk
1 tbsp cornstarch

1) Mix sugar, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon and salt.
2) Add pumpkin and vanilla and mix thoroughly.
3) Separately, beat eggs, then add to the mixture.
4) Add milk and cornstarch and mix.
5) Pour into a greased dish, with or without pastry shell.
6) Sprinkle nutmeg on top.

Bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 or 325 according to your oven for about 45 minutes. Knife in the center should come out clean.

Chocolate Pumpkin Cake:

1 pkg chocolate cake mix
2 cups cooked pumpkin
2 eggs
2 tbsp vegetable oil (or applesauce)
1 container of cream cheese frosting

In large bowl combine the cake mix, pumpkin, egg and oil at medium speed. Pour into a greased 13X9 in dish and spread evenly. Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes. Let cool, then top with frosting!

Homemade Calzones:

(A fun and YUMMY way to use our garden tomatoes!)

1 pkg thin crust refrigerated pizza dough
1/2 lb cooked ground beef
diced tomatoes
shredded mozzarella cheese
Italian seasoning to taste

1) Spread thin crust dough over a baking sheet as if preparing rectangular pizza, and cut into 6 smaller rectangular pieces of dough. (Cut once down the middle, short-ways. Then cut three times the length of the dough, long-ways.)
2) Evenly distribute ground beef amongst 6 pieces of dough. Spoon ground beef onto one end of the dough piece (Not in the middle. Dough will be folded over later.)
3) Top with shredded cheese and freshly diced tomatoes. Sprinkle with Italian seasoning.
4) Fold dough over and use fingers to press top and bottom pieces of dough to seal.

Bake at 425 degrees for 10 minutes. Makes 6 personal-sized calzones!

Vegetable Beef Soup:

(I usually brown 1 lb of ground beef at a time, so this dish is a perfect follow-up to the Calzones later in the week, as it uses 1/2 lb ground beef.)

1 can diced Italian-styled tomatoes
1 can creamed corn
1 can Veg-all mixed vegetables, drained
1 can beef broth
1/2 lb cooked ground beef

Combine all ingredients and simmer on the stove until heated through! About 6 servings.

Our Golden Summer

I don't have much of an excuse for taking such an extended blog hiatus, except that with all the busyness that comes from having so many people in one household, I was, well, busy! We weren't really busy in the traditionally understood sense that you would associate with summer. The kids didn't attend any camps. We didn't take any exotic vacations to Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon or even the beach.

Not that we holed up in our house like hermits. We went to Discovery Place a few times which, with it's revamped exhibits, was a big hit with the kids. We went to the pool more times than any other year in my oldest child's existence put together! And, thankfully, while we don't have any swimmers yet, they at least became comfortable with the water and enjoyed playing in it. HUGE progress. Declan and Keller went fishing for the first time (thanks Uncle Casey!) and even caught one or two!

I got to squeeze in two viewings of the Twilight Saga: Eclipse, and I unashamedly wore my Team Edward apparel at the first. I suppose I can't say for certain those feelings were shared by those who attended with me. Perhaps that's why my sisters MET us there and didn't join us until we were already seated in the dark theater. Hmmm...I have to give big points to my husband Mike, though, for seeing the movie BOTH times (when I think he REALLY wanted to see Clash of the Titans in 3D instead) and for listening to the soundtrack all summer whenever we've been in the car together. (I tried to demonstrate my appreciation by renting CoT for him on it's first day in video...)

We also worked in the garden. (Ok, by "we" I mean Mike and the kids. I did other helpful stuff, like clean and cook the harvest.) They picked all kinds of yummy bounty, salad tomatoes, cucumbers, blackberries, raspberries, pumpkins and string beans! The yield DID have some particularly delicious results, as I learned to cook pumpkin, using the puree to make breads, pies and cakes! It was definitely better than anything from the can, and we even had enough berries for a cobbler!

We also occupied our days with some of the less thrilling parts of family life, like potty-training McCrea, which meant, unfortunately for the rest of the kids, that we did spend a couple weeks virtually home bound. They probably FELT like hermits towards the end! Baby Kennedy is now almost six months and has quickly become a pro with solids and spoon, already up to two full feedings of cereal a day!

AND we adopted a dog this month! She's a short-haired black and tan miniature dachshund, about the same age as Kennedy, named Peanut. She has fit right into the family and is getting along with the kids great! Just yesterday she was barking on the porch, and Keller suggested, "Maybe she wants to play with a shovel?" (He really meant it in the nicest way!) She sleeps through the night (which is fantastic, because I really didn't need another "baby" right now.) =) However, she is NOT completely house-trained, so some days I feel a bit like a stalker as I follow her around the house. My "training" days did not end with the close of summer...

Of all the events, big and small, that characterized our summer, I have a feeling the thing my children will most fondly remember when they look back upon this time years from now...was their introduction to...STAR WARS. It is a phenomenon that I cannot understand, and yet, they love it. Some of the funniest quotes of the summer have come from my mesmerized children as they have watched these movies for the first time. From Keller alone, we heard such gems as "Is Chewie a bear?" (Yes. Yes, he is.), "Will Luke regrow his hand?" (One can only hope.) and "Look, it's baby Yoda!" (No, he's just always that small.) Brynnley wants to be Princess Leia, and Declan always pretends to be Darth Vader in their reenactments. (Yes, there are reenactments!) I have tried to reason with them that Darth Vader is ACTUALLY the bad guy, but my rationale cannot trump the apparent "coolness" of the guy in the big black iron lung. (Who doesn't love that helmet, right?) At first, it seemed we might have a fight on our hands as both Declan AND Keller wanted to be Darth Vader for Halloween. I was prepared to point out that you cannot have two Sith apprentices at the same time. (It's ridiculous the kind of tidbits I've picked up in spite of my best efforts to ignore the whole production.) I was fully aware this may result in a duel, but lately Keller has taken to portraying Han Solo during their outdoor expeditions. Problem solved, perhaps? (I don't blame either of them though, both Vader and Han are better than Luke.) Last, unbeknownst to him, they have decreed that McCrea is R2D2, and I think he can pull it off.

So our summer has been filled with light saber fights and ridiculously intricate questions about the motivations of Emperor Palpatine and the physics behind the Jedi feats, to which my husband generally ends up replying, "It's the Force!" They constantly hum the Emperial March, in and out of unison. Even their Lego creations are Walkers and Robots rather than good old cars and buildings! All in all, it was a good summer. Nothing openly special about it. But, to them, I'm sure, it will be remembered that way. It will be their Golden summer. =)

Summer Fun?

When you're a kid, you always look forward to summer. It's a hallowed time. It feels like you can spend your time as you wish...it feels free. It seems like there are exciting, new things just around the corner. Even if you had nothing better to do than lounge around all day, it was great, because you COULD. I'm wondering when I lost that feeling? I'm starting to think that is probably NOT how my mother felt about it...because I'm dreading it.

We are a full week away from summer break, and I already feel the weighty oppression of time and expectation. It's not yet 8 am, and I already have whiny, bored children hanging off of me. Since when did "Entertainer of the Year" become part of my job description? What will happen when we add two more children to the mix when school officially ends? We have a few weekend visits planned, but no grand vacations to look forward to...

I'm not looking forward to the complaining when the grandeur of summer freedom fades, and they suddenly discover boredom. I don't have a plan or strategy in place to combat this formidable foe! I must either come up with something creative soon or accept the eventual annihilation of our playroom...or more likely, our home, as the disbursement of toys throughout the house creates a great black hole of chaos from which we may never recover! I'm tired just thinking about it. Preventing the impending self destruction could take all the hours in the day...and that doesn't include the seemingly too-few hours I spend with each child. How to do what is needed as well as, when possible, what is wanted? Lord, grant me patience, or I'm going to be the first one sucked in!

Truisms of Parenting

1. Your child will be independent as long as it serves their purpose...and helpless otherwise.

2. No matter how quietly you sneak a "treat," they will hear you and come running.

3. Someone will always dislike something about dinner. Yes, even if it's pizza.

4. Someone will need to potty AFTER you have left the house, gotten in the car, loaded the grocery cart...you get the picture.

5. Discipline is funny, until you are the object of it.

6. Their eyes ARE generally bigger than their stomachs.

7. It's never fair.

8. They WILL get dirty, no matter how hard you try to keep them clean, but especially if they are wearing something special or dry clean only.

9. If you leave diapers, wipes or a change of clothes at home...you'll wish you hadn't!

10. If you say, "Don't touch that!"...someone will.

11. Dad is WAY cooler than Mom in pretty much every situation.

12. Whoever thought markers and paints ought to be restricted to paper was obviously a very limited thinker.

13. Sharp things are the objects of GREAT interest.

14. So is fire.

15. They "know" things. And they think they're right, even when presented with indisputable contradictory evidence!

Dawn of Dogwood Dale

I was rereading Anne of Green Gables this weekend for the first time since high school, and I remember how I loved her precocious spirit, her propensity for mishaps and her vivid imagination. Once upon a time, I liked to think that I could invent names as fantastic as "Dryad's Bubble," "The White Way of Delight" and "The Lake of Shining Waters." Plus, how awesome would it have been to live in a time when people still named their homesteads? Green Gables just sounded like the homiest, most romantic place imaginable! I also used to envy Anne her gorgeous Titian (red) hair. Even though she disliked it's "carrot" resemblance, I always thought red hair was beautiful (just like my Momma.) =) Unfortunately, it seems the only thing I currently have in common with Anne is her knack for careless cooking. What fan of Anne Shirley could forget the infamous layer cake she meticulously baked for Mrs. Allan, the pastor's wife, only to discover after the horrified reactions of her guests that she had flavored said cake with liniment oil instead of vanilla! Or how Anne unintentionally got her "bosom friend" Dianna Barry drunk on current wine instead of raspberry cordial, because she grabbed the wrong bottle off the pantry shelf!

In this respect, my likeness to Anne started early...either I was not yet a very proficient reader or I was just a thoughtless inhabitant of my own world...but I remember a time when I happily prepared myself what I thought was a bowl of cinnamon applesauce. Only after tasting my concoction did I realize I had actually covered my snack with paprika! It does NOT have the same result, and I do NOT recommend the combination. It's dreadfully awful! I was riddled with guilt over having to dispose of the entire bowl full. It seemed so wasteful! I also remember another guilt-inducing occasion when I rummaged through the refrigerator and took a big swig out of a green bottle which I wrongfully assumed was a soda of some kind, only to quickly discover after the first mouthful that it was NOT any soda I had ever tasted. (I can only assume it was an alcoholic beverage. Serves me right for drinking out of the bottle...and without asking!) I would like to think I had outgrown the tendency for such mishaps...but apparently not.

At the age of 30 I am still doing silly things. This morning I prepared a steak to marinate for dinner tonight. I laid it out in the pan, salt and peppered it and went to the refrigerator to grab the worchetshire sauce. Without looking at the bottle I proceeded to douse the steak with the brown liquid. Only after noting it's suspicious smell did I examine the label...thereby discovering that I had actually marinated our dinner with Soy Sauce, whose bottle was unfortunately close to the other on the refrigerator shelf. To what should we attribute my carelessness? We could be charitable and ascribe it to the mental to-do list over an arm's length constantly running through my head. Or is it just a natural inclination? Sigh...

Worse yet, I put it in the fridge anyway, hoping it would turn out alright and, perhaps, have a slight Asian flavor to it. After a half hour or so, I started to worriedly think better of it and, after consulting with my mother (the other redhead in my life), I decided to rinse the steak off and start over. So, there I was, rinsing the steak in the sink and hoping that the combination of all these competing and not-so compatible liquids would still result in an edible dinner tonight. It remains to be seen...

So if Anne Shirley can be Anne of Green Gables, I will indulge my fondness for romanticism and alliteration and will be Dawn of Dogwood Dale for the day, since I happen to have a particularly nice collection of dogwood trees scattered about my yard. And, hopefully, this will be my only mishap of the day and will have gotten it out of the way early. Hopefully...but not likely!

Riding in Cars with Boys

This is just a sampling of the discussions going on between my boys today:

Keller: "Don't mess with velociraptors. They'll eat you." (Sage advice indeed.)

Me: "So, where do you have chapel?" Declan: "We have it upstairs. It's upstairs because it's like we're rising up to heaven. It's good for praising God." (So the closer the better? I've heard that argument before, Babel.)

Declan: "I'm the fastest kid in my class." Keller: "Are you faster than [your teacher]?" Declan: "Well, yah, 'cause she's HUGE. She's like THIS big!" (arms extended) Me: "Declan, do you think those were kind words?" Declan: "Yah. I didn't say she was fat!"

Declan (to Keller): "If you want, I'll let you put my stinky socks in the laundry tonight..."

Someone could write a pretty funny screenplay with some of this stuff...Like "The Office," but in a family. The one liners are just priceless!

About a Boy

There's something special about a boy. Little boys in particular. They can simultaneously drive you crazy with their antics and make your heart leap with their smile. Life with a boy is an everyday roller coaster ride of adventure, and I was thinking about it this morning after another of McCrea's surprises. With two older brothers before him, I'm not really surprised anymore, so to speak, but I am sometimes amazed at the new heights of fun and mischief we can reach...

I was still taking care of the baby this morning while Mike brought the kids downstairs to start breakfast. About five minutes later I hear Mike exclaim, "McCrea, why are you naked?! Where's your diaper?" I wonder to myself how this went without notice. How tired must Mike have been to bring a half-naked baby downstairs without skipping a beat? =) (Another boy thing?) Anyway, he treks back upstairs to access the damage and announces on his return that McCrea must have removed his pajamas and diaper shortly after laying down the night before...and slept that way...the rest of the night. Oh joy! It's not yet 7 am but we've already got two loads of laundry to do. Life with a boy!



Which gets me thinking of all the other fun parts about life with a boy, like the ceaseless energy, fearlessness or the incessant curiosity...how he wants to be part of the family and insists on having his plate filled with everything his siblings have, only to eat less than half of it. Or how he loves hot dogs, grapes and bananas one day, while they are anathema the next! Or how he helped himself to a box of yogurt covered raisins this morning not ten minutes after breakfast was over. Have you ever seen a bottom-less pit? I have. I'll introduce you sometime.

Or how they always look like they've been in a cage fight. He currently has a constellation of bruises across his forehead, a black eye and two scratches to seal the deal. And it's not like he plans to slow down...he likes to stand on his toy motorcycle, climb on the table, walk down the stairs like a "big boy," fall off the couch (head first, of course) and yesterday I discovered him 3/4 of the way up the ladder into our over one-story high tree house after I'd turned my back briefly to chat with a neighbor! With a boy you pretty much reconcile yourself to never getting an unblemished photograph. There will always be battle scars. You can accept it as one of the marks of boyhood and cherish the memories they represent...or you can be prepared with a bottle of concealer (assuming they'd let you slather them up with it) and the money for touch-up fees. I tried it once. It wasn't worth the effort! =)



All the things that blow my mind, also make me stop and laugh. Like the way he climbs on me like a monkey to give a hug. Or how he tries so hard to help me clean up that I find things that AREN'T trash in the trash can...only to turn around and find him eating old cereal out of the pile I just swept. And the way he absolutely loves to brush his teeth. If I can't find him, he's probably in the bathroom, either playing with his tooth brush or flushing the potty. Just for fun, because he likes how it sounds, and he knows that "big boys" do it. (Of course, it's also possible that he will be playing IN the potty. It IS a very cool resevoir of water, you know...) But I also love how he gets insanely excited over balloons, sirens, tractors and fire. (Yes, fire. He's a boy remember.) He practically dances! Then there's the way he brings his baby sister her blanket and pacifier whenever he hears her cry, because he is already such a good big brother and loves her. It melts my heart!



Boys are so precious. They have the uncanny ability to wear you out...and make you love them for it. It's a virtually unexplainable contradiction. When you have one...then you'll understand. =)

Never a Dull Moment...

Over the weekend Mike sat down with the kids for a life sciences lesson. (Mike is really good about taking time to teach the kids about scientific principles through simple experiments, and they love it!) He was trying to teach them how to read and interpret a timeline. He read through some example scenarios and posed questions to the boys about where on the timeline each event might fall. They seemed to be following the concept. At one point, Mike gave the hypothetical example, "If Annie loses a tooth before her sixth birthday, where does it go?" Everyone thought for a minute and Keller piped up, "In her mouth!"

Yesterday afternoon the kids were particularly hyper. I was trying to feed the baby quickly so that we could get outside and run off some energy. It was a tough choice, mind you. I was tempted to stay inside, put on a movie, and get the dishes done. It would have been more satisfying for ME, anyway. They were chasing each other and doing laps around the house, with the occasional mishap and bought of fussing, which I tolerated with mild and mostly silent frustration. At one point, Declan got a little ambitious and announced that he'd discovered he could pick up McCrea (his 27 lb 21-month-old "little" brother)! He proceeded to carry McCrea back and forth across the living room multiple times, to McCrea's apparent delight. I then heard Keller call, "I can do it too!" To which Declan responded, "Not by the head!" Great. We are DEFINITELY going outside.

Finally, last night, I am again feeding the baby, and Mike is graciously herding the kids around the house as they get ready for bed. They need minimal direction at this point, a HUGE plus, and aside from McCrea, they are mostly self-sufficient. Mike sent them to brush their teeth and use the bathroom before heading upstairs. All normal pre-bedtime events...at some point he went into the bathroom to help McCrea, and I heard him call, "Who put toothpaste in the toilet?" Hmmm, this should be interesting. Declan immediately disavowed any involvement...leaving...of course, Keller. Keller said, "Well, I had too much on my tooth brush." "And how did it get in the toilet?" Mike asked. "Did you WIPE it on the toilet?" I can only assume there was an affirmative response, because Mike responded in somewhat horrified exasperation, "Keller, you NEVER put your toothbrush on the toilet!!" Ah...never a dull moment in our house!

Quotes of the Week

Declan: "Dreams are short stories...like riddles. Except you don't have to answer any questions."

Me: "Did you step on your sister?" Keller: "No, she ran into my foot."

Declan: "Mom, is there a way to have babies when you're not married?" Me: "Uhhhhhh..."

Declan: "I'm going to tie up your hands." Keller: "Well, I'm...I'm going to pee on you!" Declan: "No, you won't. You won't be able to get your pants down!"

Keller: "Mom, do we have the game CHEST?" Me: "Yes, Keller, we have chess."

Keller: "Did we pass the Instruction site?" Me: "It's CONstruction." Keller: "That's what I said!"

Welcome Kennedy Vale!

I'm 13 days late in posting this announcement but, all things considered, I've been a little busy! The week before our little girl made her appearance was a long and tiring one. I was SO ready for her arrival and, apparently, she felt the need to give me a little extra preparation (as if I needed it with four other children, right?). Almost every night for a week before her birth, I was up multiple times in the night for hours at a time with contractions. Sleep was definitely hard to come by! Her brothers and sister were all delivered early, but as each day passed, I wondered if she was just planning to take her time and really make an entrance as the last addition to our clan.

Finally, on Saturday, March 13, things seemed to be moving in the right direction. I'd been up since 2 a.m. with contractions that just wouldn't stay regular, but I couldn't sleep either! About 8 o'clock they started to pick up in intensity, which I thought was a good sign, but after so many false alarms, I was hesitant to get my hopes up and decided to go about our regular routine as long as possible. I figured, they'd either go away as the others had or they would get strong enough I couldn't ignore them, and we'd eventually know this was the real thing. So, we went on our scheduled Saturday morning grocery shopping excursion, all four kids in tow. They were coming about 5-6 minutes apart and strong enough that I had to stop pushing the shopping cart until they passed. At that point I decided to be efficient with my shopping. Mike teased that I had never gotten through the store that fast! =) Guess I didn't feel the need to browse!

By the time we got home at about 10:30, I decided to call the hospital. Considering the strength and regularity of the contractions and the fact that this was, after all, my fifth delivery, they told me to come in! Finally! Our neighbors kindly came over to stay with the kids while my mother started her 2.5 hour drive up to our house. We got to the hospital at about 11:30, and the nurse put me on the monitor to see how things were progressing. It looked like we were in labor, but they decided to "let" me walk for an hour to really get things moving before I was admitted (oh joy!).

Those nurses didn't know who they were talking to though...because I speed-walked up and down that hallway for the entire hour. They were a little taken aback! I wondered to Mike what they expected, and he figured most laboring women weren't "waddling" nearly so fast. But, hey, if I'm going to walk, I'm going to make it effective! We were finally admitted and got things rolling at about 1:15 p.m.

Things went pretty quickly after that...in spite of a few glitches, like an epidural that functioned at about 50 percent (I know, because I've had a good one before. This didn't even take the edge off the contractions, only shortened them a little. Although I suppose that was better than nothing!) and some oxygen and a shot of ephedrine when my BP dipped too low. But, after those took effect, we were able to greet our precious little lamb at 4:17 pm after one contraction/push, and she was beautiful!



Kennedy Vale weighed 6 lbs 11 oz and measured 19 3/4 inches! She was a hungry little girl from the start, which has paid big dividends. She left the hospital at 6 lbs 4 oz, but only two days later, at four days old, she was back up to her birth weight! And at her first check up, at 10 days old, she weighed in at a whopping 7 lbs 2 oz! Kennedy is growing like a little weed and is so precious! Her brothers and sister are all adjusting to her presence in their own way, but she is already a sweet addition to our family.



McCrea is very interested in her and loves to check on her. I've caught the little leprechaun in her room numerous times, keeping her from napping...though it's hard to get too upset, because he's just so sweet. Anytime she fusses he runs to find her special blanket and bring it to her and, at 21 months, he's already a huge help. He makes regular runs to the trash can for me to deposit all the diapers we're going through! Brynnley is equally interested and is constantly informing me, "Momma, your baby is crying" or "Momma, your baby needs something!" As for the big brothers, Declan and Keller, they are doing their own thing for the most part, which is just fine. Keller did ask once, "Why is she crying so much?" And Declan grudgingly admitted, "She is pretty cute!"




We definitely agree and are so blessed to welcome Kennedy Vale into our family. We hope she will be proud of her Irish heritage, from which "Kennedy" derives its origin, and that she will grow into a young woman who holds fast to the hopes and promises inherent in her given name. In as much as Kennedy means "armored," we pray that she will heed the admonition in Ephesians 6:10-18 to "put on the full armor of God" and stand firm in her own faith, being "strong in the Lord and in his mighty power," just as Vale, of Latin origin, means strong.

Thanks to everyone for your encouragement and prayers! Please continue to lift up our family as a whole and this new little one in particular. We will be often busy, often overwhelmed and often in need of grace...especially as more crazy feats, humorous sayings, unforgettable memories and challenging moments are bound to come...!

Trendsetter

On the way to school this morning, Keller nonchalantly announced, "When I grow up, I'm going to be a bat." I found this amusing and just kept my listening ears open for the rest of the conversation. Declan replied, "You can't be a bat. People can't change into animals." (Obviously!) "Unless God wants you to, of course." Of course. Why didn't I think of that? Keller responded condescendingly, "I'll just wear all black." (Why not? That's what Batman did!)

When we got home, Keller took off one shoe and one shoe only. He's been doing this lately. I'll find the lone shoe under the table or lying askew in the entryway. He runs around, happy as a clam and completely oblivious, one foot properly shoed and the other just...socked. I have no idea what he's doing or, rather, what's going through his little mind. The other day I looked at him and said, "Keller, what are you doing?" He looked at me innocently and said, "What?" As if he really had no idea what I meant! So I've just chalked this up to his quirky personality. No harm done, right? Then today I walked into the playroom and saw Keller and my daughter, Brynnley, sitting contentedly at the puzzle table, BOTH one-shoed. "Brynnley, why are you only wearing one shoe?" I asked. "Because Keller's only wearing one shoe," she replied, as if it ought to be obvious.

This is an unpleasant development! I have a mischievous trendsetter and, apparently, a little follower. Who knows what he'll come up with next? Who knows when he will choose to wield his power!? Like the vicious trendsetter who decided that leggings could be worn by people not performing in the movie Flashdance...or the hairstylist who decided that mullets sported by the likes of Billy Ray Cyrus and Michael Bolton could and should be worn by the mainstream public (unless, of course, you are MacGyver, the lone, legitimate exception, because you rocked the mullet!)...or the evil man (you know who you are, Ashton Kutcher) who decided that trucker's hats should be worn by people not driving semis. Droplet examples in the water bucket of trends that never should have started...or caught on...and I have the makings of it in my own house! The brain and the perpetuator! Woe to the children of the next decade!!

Maybe it will be something simple and not too scary for Mom. Maybe, as he suggested, he'll just wear all black. =) I could handle that. Everyone else would think he was trying to adapt the Goth look of the 90s or the Emo look of the Oughts...but I'd know it was even better, and simpler, than that...he's a bat!!

The Wheels on the Bus Go...Bump, Bump, Bump

This entry features my oldest son, Declan, and a couple of the amusing situations I've encountered with him in the last few days. For starters, the poor little guy suffers from allergies and, although it seems odd to me that that could be a winter malady, he has been coughing up a storm lately. The other night Mike and I had rented "Eagle Eye" (very intriguing and suspenseful, by the way!) and had just settled down to start watching it, when we heard the boys upstairs talking. Usually they go to bed without much fanfare, so with all the hubbub I figured they were commiserating over something interesting. Before long (I actually predicted this) they both trooped down the stairs to our room. They stood there silently for a minute, obviously working out the right way to delve into whatever story or excuse they had concocted. Declan starts out, "I've been coughing and my throat hurts." Well, this is likely to be true. So we look at Keller. He adds, "I've been coughing too, and my throat hurts." This is...unlikely to be true. I chide, "Keller, I didn't hear you coughing." And Declan pipes up, "Yah, I didn't hear him coughing either!" Mike and I just looked at each other and busted out laughing. Mike's first words, "Way to stand behind your brother bud..." Yah, that bumping sound you hear? Oh, that's your brother...under the bus you just flattened him with...

The week's been bumpy in other ways too. Mike is out of town for work, and whenever Daddy is gone, things are guaranteed to get a little hairy. Declan always brings out the best smart responses when he knows I'm outnumbered and vulnerable. I think he saves them up especially for me. It's a wicked arsenal. So I expect a little confrontation. I usually just hope he limits this behavior to home rather than spreading the joy around at school too. Well, I picked him up Monday, and his teacher opened with, "He had a great day..." (YES!)..."until the very end." (Boooo.) I wait patiently for the explanation, and she continues, "When I asked him to clean up his things at the end of the day, he told me didn't want to and that I was bossy. He also said he doesn't like his Mommy, because she's bossy too!" Wow. Well, I've probably been called worse, but that takes some gall kid. I just sighed and apologized and promised to have a discussion with him about respectful speech later. Which we did, with a spanking on the side. I hope he remembers it...and that he puts that assertiveness to better use someday.

In the meantime, we keep pressing onward. I guess it's fitting then that, for some reason, as I contemplate the "Wheels on the Bus" song, it keeps playing through my head to Journey's "Wheels in the Sky" rather than the traditional nursery rhyme. Very weird, but appropriate. Those wheels keep on turnin'...and turnin'...and, occasionally, bump, bump, bump.

Potty Talk

I joked once that my son Keller could single-handedly provide enough unpredictably crazy, humorous, random comments and incidents to fuel my blog...and, though it's funny, I wasn't kidding! He's like a mini Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, one part mischeivious wild man and one part organized and focused. I secretly wonder if he's a little bit of a mad genious! My oldest is straightforwardly intelligent, analytical and logical. Keller is often completely unpredictable! So, I love that he likes puzzles, as mentioned in my last post, because it focuses all his energy on one giant visual problem, which he handles beautifully (and keeps him busy!). Along with this side of his personality, he likes to clean. He actually volunteers to do it! Sometimes he will just decide to reorganize the craft drawer or a section of the playroom. When it's time to clean up, we can always depend on him to work diligently and do a remarkably thorough job. It's absolutely fantastic. I don't know that many other four year olds who LIKE to clean, but I'm all for it. So whenever he gets in the groove, I let him go.

This afternoon he wanted to dust, which was great, since I couldn't remember the last time I dusted. Lots to keep him busy! He's working his way around the house, and I'm tending to the other kids when I hear him bumping around in the bathroom. I hesitantly ask what he's doing...since there's not a whole lot to dust in there. He comes out with his rag in the air and triumphantly announces that he's cleaned the toilet. Well, it really wasn't that "clean" an announcement. More like, "Mom, there's no more poop in the potty!"

Let's put this in perspective, shall we? Uh, no gloves. No special toilet scrubbing tools or cleaning products. Just bare hands and a rag. I'm literally speechless. Ok, very briefly speechless...then I quickly demand he run the rag to the washing machine (I realize speed doesn't help the situation or kill any nasty germs, but it seemed to warrant running, nonetheless) and immediately wash his hands. Sigh...for all intensive purposes, I really am speechless though. What can you say but, "Wow. WOW?" Or "Ewwww." That works too.

Just one of those days...

Today is going to be one of those marathon days for a large family. We have four dental appointments today, requiring multiple trips to Blacksburg, which is 30 minutes away from our home. Granted, I'd rather get it all over with in one day and have it done for the next six to twelve months, but it still requires lots of preparation and coordination. With four children and regular OB visits, we make frequent trips to the doctor, so I'm in familiar territory here. I'm armed with snacks, activities, games, diapers and changes of clothes. Keller has some Hidden Picture books that we're going to bring along too, and I asked him to collect some viable markers for his bag. (The way we go through them, you never know if you've got a good one or not, and you DEFINITELY don't want to end up at your intended destination with dried-out markers!). He picks one up that he found on the playroom floor (what is THAT doing in there instead of the craft drawer? Don't even want to know right now.) I instruct him, "Test it and make sure it's a good one before you put it in your bag." He whips out his arm and prepares to go to town. "Seriously, Keller?! Do NOT write on your pajamas!" He looks at me...and pushes up his sleeve. Seriously?

So, I finish prepping the bags, supervise everyone getting dressed and make my daughter's hair presentable (or at least out of her face and less likely to attract food and other sticky, gooey substances.) We are surprisingly ahead of schedule, and I announce to the kids, "Mommy just has to go to the bathroom, and then we'll be ready to go!" Before the entire sentence is out of my mouth, my youngest walks by, and I can tell with one whiff that our cushion is blown. It's amazing how quickly a five minute advantage turns into a deficit when...Poop happens. Obviously, this new development takes precedence and, as we are now automatically running late, I am having an internal debate over the necessity of my going to the bathroom or not. I'm an adult, right? I can make it to the dentist, get my paperwork completed, and work it in after we've arrived on time. My pregnant self argues back, quite convincingly, that you really shouldn't count on the reliability of a pregnant woman's bladder. It's a 30 minute drive, conservatively, and who knows when baby girl will decide to practice a few hooks and jabs?! So, I head to the bathroom and resign myself to being in a rush (doesn't it always happen? It's almost inevitable really...each child is a force of nature unto themselves, and they take turns wreaking havoc on even the most well-planned time tables!) THEN I remember that I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, and I'm pretty sure the hygienist would appreciate that small effort on my part. We finally make it out the door, armful of bags and clothed, freshly-diapered children intact, and I notice that I'm still wearing the clothes I slept in the night before. I shut the door and don't look back. It's just one of those days...

Out of the mouth of...Keller

Lately, Mike has been working with the boys to help them be more directed in their bedtime prayers, sort of a simplified version of ACTS (adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication). Each night he asks them to come up with something to thank God for and something to ask for. It's an effort to get them to think beyond selfish petitions to consider that God is their great and loving and merciful Father, deserving of praise as well as interested in their needs. We expect the usual, "I'm thankful for Froggy" or "I'm thankful for snow." Sometimes we get more serious requests like "I pray God will help my eczema feel better." The other night Mike started off asking the boys to consider what they were thankful for that day and then moved on to consider a petition. Mike turned to Keller and said, "What do you want to ask God for tonight?" Keller's response? "Stickers."

Well...we're working on it. =)

In addition to his silly, ornery, mischievous nature, Keller also has great visual problem solving skills and LOVES puzzles. He had just completed a new 300-piece puzzle a few days ago and wanted to save it on the card table until Mike got home so that he could show off his hard work. Anxious to encourage, I agreed. Of course, for reasons that remain a mystery to me but seem to be ingrained in boy DNA, Keller's puzzles are magnets for his equally busy 20-month-old little brother. After McCrea delightedly decimated a corner of the puzzle, I dutifully helped put it back together. After the SECOND too-gleeful pulverizing of the puzzle's top half, Keller looked at me seriously and said, "Mom, I really don't think we need any more babies." Though understanding of his frustration, as I am 35 weeks pregnant with the latest addition to our family, I solemnly reminded him that it was a little late for second thoughts. He responded, "Well, at least make sure this one's a girl."

And, lucky for him, God thought we needed another one of those as well. =)

Finally, yesterday in the car we were talking about the garden Mike wants to plant this spring. Keller started listing off all the good things he hoped we would include...blueberry bushes, strawberry bushes...and then he threw in a request for banana bushes. Slightly amused, Mike started to explain that bananas actually grow on trees and probably wouldn't grow well in our climate. Keller responded emphatically, "But I want to see all the monkeys!"

We busted out laughing. Of course...it's only logical. Think about it, if Curious George can hang out in the city, why wouldn't a hoard of monkeys naturally flock to and thrive in our backyard with a few banana trees? Makes perfect sense, all in the mind of a four year old named Keller!

"You'll Shoot Your Eye Out...!"

I never understood what was so funny about the movie "A Christmas Story." You know, the one about the little boy who desperately wants the Red Ryder BB Gun for Christmas. He memorizes all the specs, and he plans and dreams for weeks about all it's fantastic qualities and the ways he'll use it. I always figured, what's the big deal? Those parents are being really over-protective. It's just a toy! Now I have three boys of my own, and all the humor of the movie makes perfect sense. This morning, as I was getting ready for church, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, my two oldest boys running back and forth to the dining room table with supplies. This is not an unsual occurance, so I monitored their comings and goings from a distance. I couldn't hear their intent plans from the bathroom, but when I spied glue and scissors join their pile of materials, I ventured to ask, "What're you making?" "Bows and arrows, Mom!" they replied. I popped my head out of the bathroom and took a closer look. The most notable thing in the pile, it appeared, was a collection of toilet paper tubes. So I decided to maintain a "Carry on" attitude and encourage their creativity. Later as I walked through the room, however, I saw an accumulation of pencils. "No, we're not using pencils," I calmly informed them and went about my business. They regrouped and, apparently, dug through a number of kitchen drawers, eventually coming up with some fantastically arrow-like wooden skewers. My husband then got in on the action and declared, "No, we're not using anything sharp!! You'll shoot your eye out! There's a reason all your darts are made out of foam! And stop digging through my drawers!" I just had to smile. Especially when I saw THEIR smiles...and how utterly NOT deterred they were. That's boys for you.

There ought to be a rule...

...Occurs to me at 3:30 am, whilst I lay on my brand new mattress cushion and fancy sheets, specifically purchased to give me the best night's sleep EVER...that there ought to be a rule. There ought to be a rule that Moms and Dads are off-duty after 8 pm. Even the hardest workers usually limit themselves to 12 hour shifts (unless you are Nicholas Cage in The Family Man, and he had issues. Hence, the movie.) First addendum to the rule: Pooping should be restricted to daylight hours. Why any reasonable child would hold it all day and promise that he was fine, in spite of indications to the contrary, is beyond me. We have a very nice ocean-themed bathroom and umpteen opportunities to use it. It's not as if he has to wade through the wind and snow to some outhouse in the back. But no, obvious benefits of using the bathroom in daylight and having an undisturbed sleep notwithstanding, he is up at 12:30 am...pooping. And so, Mommy and Daddy have been woken up too. Second addendum to the rule: Children should only need medical treatment during daylight hours. Granted, my second child DID recently have surgery and the doctor DID say that coughing would cause soreness and pain for another two weeks...I'm not cold-hearted...3:30 am just feels REALLY early, especially when you aren't sleeping well otherwise. This leads to Addendum #3 (which kind of excuses and supersedes the others): Children should AT LEAST wait until they are born to disturb Mommy's sleep. The other disturbances wouldn't be so bad if baby girl wasn't sending me to the bathroom every hour, giving me heartburn or doing gymnastics. Let's say the glass is half full and she is considerately preparing me for her arrival. I respond, how about Mommy gets a restful third trimester to store up her energy? Wouldn't that be good for everyone? Like a hibernating polar bear, preparing to be the best seal catcher it can be...(wow, that's a little violent. That's what sleep deprivation does to your proper analogy-making skills.) This leads to Addendum #4: it's now 4 am, and I am thinking about blogging. This does not help me sleep, thinking about witty ways to recount the night's events, because for some reason, my Mom thinks my stories are funny. She thinks I'm the next Erma Bombeck. Ah, a mother's rose-colored glasses, if ever there were a case. I don't even know who Erma Bombeck is. Poor lady. But I can see the coroner's report now: Death due to natural causes. Exacerbated by: sleep deprivation. Contributing factors: Children and blogging. Back to my original thought. There ought to be a rule. Mommy should be off-duty at night. Right? Sigh...would I enforce it, if I could? No, probably not. It's 4:30 am. I need to go to the bathroom.

Never going to be Martha Stewart...and pretty much okay with that!

I accepted awhile ago that I'd relinquished any Martha Stewart-like comparisons. First of all, I can't sew. Although, I wish I could, aside from fleeting and moderate jealousy when I see posts about fancy curtains or cute homemade pillows acquaintances have made, I've never put out the serious effort to learn. So that one's on me. I taught myself to crochet last year, but I've yet to complete anything bigger than a dinky and practically unusable potholder. My house is not immaculate, as my sisters will readily attest to. Neat for a family of six, but not eat-off-the-floor ready-for-spur-of-the-moment-entertaining clean. Translation, there's a lot of dust and toys laying around. I don't garden. My husband wants to create an elaborate flower, vegetable and fruit garden in our back yard, complete with landscaping, butterfly bushes and benches. I've already told him not to count on my weed-pulling skills. I do think I'm a pretty good cook, and I'll happily prepare and/or cook any vegetables or fruits that come out of this garden, when it materializes. But I'd just as easily make a crock pot turkey with applesauce on the side than roast leg of whatever with parsley potatoes that Julia Child would be proud of, and my kids would thank me for it! Maybe that's just the kind of mediocrity you accept when you have four children aged five and under. And while I won't win any awards, some days I still start to think I'm doing pretty well! I washed, folded and put away four loads of laundry today, and I'm 34 weeks pregnant with number five! My husband and I even got our 19-month-old to sleep in his new big boy bed for the first time today after only 30 minutes of fussing and messing around. If you had seen the cartoon blurb over my head, you would have seen me starting to pat myself on the back with congratulations of "Super Mom." Then, God, in all his wisdom, saw fit to humble me with reality. The spice cake that I was so proud of myself for squeezing into the afternoon actually only got made because my husband, snowed in from work, graciously proceeded to follow the recipe laid out on the counter, since I was detained every two minutes putting out fires and answering questions for children in other areas of the house. I was only in the kitchen long enough to scour the cupboards and line the ingredients up on the counter. So much for being super woman. And then, after the first taste, without so much as a word, I could read in the faces of my family members that they'd be just fine with regular old chocolate cake from now on. Experimenting with cuisine is, apparently, not always recommended! Oh, and my Kindergartner, of whom I was so proud for working semi-diligently on his snow day activity packet from school, proceeded to have a meltdown after yet another reminder to get back to work, and so he lost the privilege of playing out in the snow. That went over like a lead balloon. So, I'm back to reality. MY reality. The one in which I have four very busy children, who are all precious blessings, but who also wear me out by the day's end and constantly leave me feeling befuddled. The reality in which I am very thankful for a thoughtful husband who is always willing to help and never flinches when I place hot dogs on the table instead of steak. So I'm off to the kitchen, and while Martha would also spend lots of time there, she might be appalled by the dirty dishes in my sink, the chicken nuggets in the oven and the macaroni and cheese (from a box!) on the stove top. Some might call me Super Mom, simply for keeping four kids fed and safe from bodily harm, but I know the truth. I know that God is providing for me and my family in ways that I see and in ways I will never see, every single day, even in moments of exasperation. I know that my husband will probably wash all those dirty dishes for me, and I love that about him! And I know that I'll never be Martha Stewart, even though someday I'd like to sew, crochet and cook more gourmet than Stouffers. However, after the kids are in bed tonight, I will put up my puffy pregnant feet on my bed, now covered with the new memory foam mattress cover and fantastic RED sateen sheets my husband bought me, and I'll fancy that, though I can't BE Martha, I'll be sleeping like her, and I'm pretty much okay with that. I'm a happy woman.