November 9, 2016

Dear my Children,
Yesterday, after months of hearing about these people, these 'presidential candidates', we took y'all with us to the polls.  You'd watched a presidential debate where you aptly made note of the likeness of the candidates and 3 year olds.  You'd heard snippets and snatches of radio personalities, your parents, and other adults and you had definite opinions, though you knew enough to know you didn't know anything.

And so you were right on par with the vast majority of the voting population, just minus cynicism and experience.  

Last night, y'all stayed up late to watch as the results started coming in.  You asked questions and some of them were really excellent questions, too!  Some of those questions I would love to know if the average American voter was asking.  When we sent you to bed, nobody had any idea what the outcome would be yet.

But Daddy and I sat up to watch.  We listened to the talking heads for hours.  We talked trash over Skip-Bo - game trash and political trash.  It was all intermingled with the curiosity and the prayer and the tired.

Here's what I know, kids:  Yesterday, there was a lot of uncertainty.  It's been the hallmark of this election.  Who knows what he'll say or what she'll do. Today, there is a lot of hurt and a lot of fear.  Because now who knows what he'll say or what he'll do.  Fact is, though, he has the nation's stamp of approval to go forth and be our Commander in Chief.

But guess what?  That was the order for today regardless of the outcome of this election.  Fear.  Hurt.  Uncertainty.

This year, like never before, I feel like there was no real choice for America.  Neither one of the candidates who were put forth exhibit the qualities that we most want the leader of the free world to embody.  Honesty, integrity, wisdom, humility.  Here's the truth of it (as I see it, of course): He stinks.  She stinks.  There are evils associated with each that terrify me. 

And really?  I don't believe that most people voted for a candidate so much as they did against a candidate.

I know that as I sat there with the ballot in front of me, I realized I'd been holding out until the very last minute for something, anything, to change to make my voting experience a more palatable one.  With the tangible weight of voting on my shoulders and you kids watching me, asking questions about the ballot and the whole process and who was I going to vote for, I buried my face in my hands.  My eyes cried tears and my heart cried out to God.  I did the best I could with the information I had, which is all that can ever be asked of anyone, when I made my choice.

My choice was what I hoped would be the best for your future.  Because, like anything else, voting for this person or that person to have such a role in our future's history takes on a whole new meaning when you have kids or love kids who are our tomorrow.

Oh, my children, I want so much for your tomorrows.  I can only pray that our yesterday brought about the best decision for our tomorrow.  For your tomorrow.  And for your children's tomorrow.

Today, though, today I'll give you all hugs as I tell you who won the election.  Today, we'll do math and language arts and science and run errands while election talk and what-ifs pepper our conversation.  Today, we'll discuss again why it is so important to honor the office and pray for the man.  Today, we'll do laundry and clean the kitchen and mess it up again.

Today, we'll do the best we can to give you the tools you need for the best tomorrow. 

Capturing A Moment

That moment when you're watching your child do something mundane (like rolling up a map) and you see that he's struggling just a little (because it's laminated and slippery) and you offer to help and he says 'no, thanks, I think I've got it' and you know he does but now he seems so much bigger than he did just eight seconds ago?

He's just growing so fast.  His face is still soft and full, but the curves are beginning to melt into planes.  His hands are larger and more capable.  He's tall and I see his ankles peeking out between the hem of his jeans and his shoes because we can never keep him in pants long enough.  His heart is thoughtful and his laughter is quick.  He's still ever so impulsive but I see an awareness that wasn't there before.  

How did we get here? 

I have these moments regularly.  When I look at my kids and realize that we're not in Munchkin Land anymore in the House of Freeman.  My heart catches and I want to wrap my arms around those lanky kids and hold them tight before they get all grown up on me.  I ache to cuddle longer.

It's all as it should be.  But I needed to try to shove this moment into simple words and wrap it up with pictures that don't do it justice.

Because these people are my babies.  Always my babies.  

Little Bits of In The Trenches Truth

It's the end of another day.  It hasn't been a horrid day, but neither will it make my list of Super-Fab Days I Want To Remember Forever.

We had good moments and bad moments and in-between moments.  Quiet moments and loud moments and crying moments and laughing moments.  They all came fast and furious and made up this one little day.

Some days seem to wear on forever and others are over before I know it, but the truth is, all the pages on the calendar fly by and I can barely breath as these years spin away so quickly.

I want to slow the clock.  I want to squeeze every ounce of joy into a bottle and savor it.  I want to remember the rainbows, though I think I want to forget most of the rain.  Not all, because balance is necessary, but fewer memories of days like today would be okay.

There were sassy remarks.

Lots of unkindness and bickering amongst the kids.

A handful of training moments due to not listening the first time.

Plenty of disrespectful moments towards Mama.

Several temper tantrums.

No lack of whiny people (them and me).

Lots of prodding to get through with school.

A few sobs over hurt feelings.

More than enough unthankfulness for what we have so generously been given.

There was one child who was up in my grill All. Day. Long.  Child and I spend a lot of time going in circles with one another.  We miscommunicate as our primary language, we get on each others nerves, we just struggle with one another on so many points.

It's hard.  I love Child with all my heart.  Child makes me laugh, amazes me with abilities, and is a cuddle bug (all my kids are, and I love this in big ways).  Child is in the moment and tends to not think about how actions in this moment will effect the next moment or the moment two hours down the road.  Child is kindhearted and wants to be of help, but Child will frequently hatch a brilliant-to-them plan that is way off base from my expectations or even my specific directions.

Child is so very capable but needs almost constant monitoring.

And so we dance.  These days that aren't horrible, but just wearing.  Emotionally, physically wearing.  In my mind, Child should be beyond this kind of childishness.

Which is why, among other reasons, Child needs me.  To point out those childish ways.

I'm in the business of raising children into adults. Don't get me wrong: I want to enjoy every single moment of their babyhood, toddlerhood, little person, medium sized kid, adolescence, young adulthood, and any other phase.  Ultimately, though, I want the kid to walk out of my house with a heart for the Lord and confidence in their step and a mind that can think for itself!

I don't have a pretty bow to help wrap up this messy package of thoughts.  I don't have any words of wisdom to share about how we are making the most of these swift days with Big Moments of fun and frustration. 

But I place my faith in a God who is so much bigger than even the Big Moments.  He is faithful to carry us when we wilt and cry out to Him.  When we hide under the covers for a few minutes of peace, He gives us the courage to come out again and carry on His work with His children that He has entrusted to us. 

I know it's okay to have All the Feelings about today.  I know that our entire family is being refined every day.  And I know I'm thankful that He loves us enough to change us for the better. 

And tomorrow?  Tomorrow I get to wake up to a fresh day full of His promises.  Tomorrow we dance again.

The Middle Part of Parenting

It's almost like a lull in life around here, except it's not.

Those first few years of parenting were physically exhausting.  There were the middle of the night feedings, the constant attending to of needs, the diapers, opening doors for small children, Sesame Street, bending over them in the bathtub to scrub off the day's dirt, the obedience training, dressing the wriggly little bodies, the potty training, the meal making, the never ending laundry parade, and the All Of The Things that come with having a house full of Littles.

But somewhere in there, things started getting easier.  Sure, there was still plenty to do, but they could pour their own bathtub or buckle their own seat belt.  Then they poured their own breakfast cereal and put their own dishes in the sink.  And one day, you look up and everybody's potty trained and can dress themselves.

Suddenly, your days leave you with energy and time to think.  Suddenly, you have time to ponder intentional living and read a book or two.  Suddenly, your 'one day' is your 'right now'. 

The right now looks like children who have daily chores that teach them responsibility and give me breathing room.  It looks like kids who read to each other and know how to wash their own clothes.  It looks like children who are learning to cook meals and everyone knows how to open the door by themselves.  It looks like real conversation time and laughing over things that are actually funny.

Just around the bend looms awkwardness and uncertainty in the lives of our soon-to-be tweens.  Just barely behind us are the days of barely keeping our heads above water for all the demands we were trying to meet.

But right now?  Right now is a time of sweet mellowness.  Sure, there are challenges.  There are lessons being learned on their part as well as theirs.  There are mistakes being made on our part and theirs.  But it's a forgiving chapter of parenting.  The energy requisites are much lower and the harder emotional stuff hasn't reached us just yet. 

We're resting here.  Indulging in the now.  Relishing the busy calmness of it all. And, as always, the right now is precious.

A Decade of Being Mom...

...and a sampling of what I've learned.

I've survived the tenth birthday of my oldest child.  My first baby.  The one who officially made me a Mommy.  That means...

...well, I'm not sure what that means.  It feels like it oughta be a milestone, though, don't you think?
Considering I've birthed five little humans in just over half a decade, I've survived first doctor's appointments, first teeth, first haircuts, first steps, first over-nighters, and oh-so-much more, perhaps I've gleaned a nugget or two of truth.

Obviously, having made it for ten years as a parent, I've learned a Whole Great Big Lot of Things.  And since I fancy myself helpful, I've created a list to help all y'all out.  Just for your education entertainment.

1.  If you think you smell poop, go with that instinct.  It's rarely wrong.

2.  Find ways to say 'Yes' to your kids.  Even if it means glitter in the rug, it feels good to say yes and they LOVE to hear it!

3.  The Mommy Wars?  Forget them.  We each wage war against the Enemy every day fighting for our sanity and the souls of our children.  Let go of the one-up-manship and focus on YOUR day.

4.  Krispy Kreme for dinner every once in a while is a treat for everyone.

5.  Little moments build big trust.  Listen when your four year old wants to tell you every detail of her seven page illustrations.  Look your eight year old in the eye when they are giggling their way through a narrative that seems more annoying than amusing.  Make talking to you a safe and inviting place.  Tween issues are just around the bend.

6.  Play with those babies.  The laundry will wait.

7.  Set aside intentional Family Fun Nights.  Movies or games or walks in the park.

8.  When your child sits quietly and serenely through a two hour church service, it's definitely not all your fault.

9.  When you child pitches a fit every eleven minutes through a two hour church service, it's definitely not all your fault. 

10.  Spend time with your sweetheart.  Date night?  Fabulous.  Can't do it?  Put those munchkins to bed and have candle-light dessert in the living room.  It's not about what you do, it's about making the time.

11.  Take a vacation with your family.  Anything that allows you as parents to lay aside the Everyday Routine and spend more time focusing on your family qualifies as a vacation.  Camping, beach trip, Disney.  Just change the scenery and the routine and the responsibilities.  It's hard when they're all little, but it gets easier!

12.  It doesn't matter how your family is put together, somebody isn't going to like it.  But rest assured, God has a good and perfect plan for how He's ordered you and your people.  Trust Him.

13.  This Parenting Gig is the hardest dang thing you'll ever do.  Don't get it in your head that it's supposed to be all rainbows and milkshakes and clean, white pinafores.  It's raw and limit-testing and breaking and rewarding and imperfectly perfect.

14.  Don't be afraid to blow the day's schedule to bits and curl up on the couch to cuddle and watch a movie with the very people who are making you shake with frustration and disbelief.  Bonding over Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and a bowl of popcorn covers a multitude.

15.  June Cleaver is a character.  Beaver's lines were written by adults.  Wally's real siblings weren't on air with him.  Ward is not your narrator.  This is Real Life and it's messy.

16.  Pajama days decrease your laundry workload and are novel to the children in your life.

17.  Work hard in those early years to train your child right.  It's exhausting, but it pays off in the short term and the long term.  I promise.

18.  Pick your battles and ignore what you can.  We are immune to quiet giggles and light thumps that come from the kids bedrooms after lights out.  If they are on their beds, we win.  You can't force sleep, potty training, or eating. 

19.  Find your village.  Nothing builds or eats away at friendships like raising children.  Just because you've been with your friends throughout college and the pre-parenting years doesn't mean those people are the best honorary aunts and uncles for your kids.  If you're super lucky, some of these relationships pass the We All Have Kids Now test.  Chances are, there are some that won't.  Don't burn bridges, but certainly look to build new ones that benefit your family's world view. 

20.  Pay attention when a kid says, "Mama, watch me!"  You could witness a first time achievement or prevent a trip to the emergency room.

21.  Let them take risks, but be there to help them if they really need it.  Allowing independence builds confidence.  Kids need both.  And they need your arms there to hug them in success or failure.

22.  Apologize when you act out.  And oh, sweet Mama, you will.  Even if you're incredibly patient and creative and together, you will lose your ever-loving mind with those precious little ones upon occasion.  It's okay.  They need to know you're a real human and they need to see you practice repentance and humility.

23.   Revel in their quirks.  Be thankful.  One of those weird little personality traits may be The Defining Gift God gave them in this life.  It's your privilege to pray over that child and their strengths and weaknesses and do your best to model Christ and mold them to be Christ-like.  We've already established parenting ain't a fluff assignment.

24.  Television is not evil.  Pick shows that reinforce good character and clean humor and then utilize those bad boys!

25.  Pray.  A lot.  For you.  For them.  The more you're on your knees before God, the less likely it is that your kids will bring you to your knees. 
 

Sticky Business

Friday night was late - Joshua and I are all caught up in a series on Netflix and, while we usually don't push our aging limits, it was Friday and the show left us on a cliffhanger we weren't willing to wait another day for.  Next thing we knew, we were hanging off another cliff.

So we watched another episode.

Netflix is the breaker of all resolve.  All those episodes available at the click of a button - no need to wait for a week or even a day.  Just a few seconds while it buffers and your good to go.

All that to say, it was the wee hours of the next day before we crawled into bed... wondering what was going to happen next in our series.

Joshua was amazing and got up with the kids the next morning and I cat napped in the bed until nearly 10AM.  Because I'm a spoiled girl, I am.

When I finally emerged from my room, I was greeted with a slightly worried looking Elizabeth.

"Mommy, Daniel has the glue and he's used it everywhere."

Well, that could mean a lot of things.  It could mean he'd dumped it on his belly and smeared it around. 

Or maybe he poured it all in the potty (he's been known to put weird things in the potties around here). 

It could mean he'd dropped a splotch between several pages of the science book. 

Possibly, he'd poured it in the bag of chips. 

It could mean he'd created a semi-permanent hair-do for himself. 

I mean, really, the possibilities are endless.

The real story?

There were strings and dollops of glue on the floor in the upstairs hallway.  Driplets across the carpet.  Larger blobs in the room he shares with Anna.  Not too terrible.

And then there were the blocks.  The kid went all Lord Business with his bottle of Kragle.  Joshua and I giggled as we sat there with our bowls of hot water and rinsed the glue off the blocks while the kids helped by drying them.

Joshua and I chuckled back and forth but not until we'd firmly spoken to the little stinker about his misdeeds.  And pried out of his sisters WHY there was glue upstairs in the first place.

We walked around double checking to be sure we'd gotten the glue out of the carpet and off the floors and walls.  After swiping a few spots we'd missed, we felt pretty good about closing this case.

Joshua went downstairs and I went off to my room to shower and get ready for the day.  I'd just finished making the bed when I turned to see Elizabeth standing in my doorway with that look on her face again. 

I followed her into her room to see this:

 Just a large pool of glue on a small table.  I was thankful for the ability to just use a paper towel to mop most of it straight into a trash can.  I was also quite thankful it was school glue and came up pretty easily.

And then I went and threw out all the school glue.  We will be a house of glue sticks only until further notice.

That's not overly dramatic, right?

Real Life Parenting

That's what's been going on around here and the reason the blog has been ignored.  There is a certain someone whose birthday we celebrated this month, and I can't wait to share that, but that's not what I'm here for today.

Today, I am documenting this season of life.  This school year wrap up, life with five walking, talking, curious children who've learned much and have much to learn.

And their Mama, who is woefully aware that she has way more to learn than her children think.

We noticed a few weeks ago that we (as in we, the parents) were spending an enormous amount of energy repeating ourselves or calling our children back to take care of something that, in theory, we shouldn't have to tell them about (leaving shoes or pajamas in the middle of the floor, toys in the yard, etc).

Some of our kids are still too young to 'know' to do these things, but they are ALL old enough to obey simple commands.  Even Daniel puts his shoes away when told to.  Joshua and I firmly believe in training our children to share in the workload, so we start early.  As soon as a child is steady on their feet, the first thing we train them to do is to take their own diaper to the trash can/diaper pail when we finish changing them.  Picking up toys and shoes comes quickly after.

So, in theory, by the time a kid is, ohhh... let's just say 7 or 8, they should know to put their shoes away, right?  Right??

Maybenotsomuch.

After a particularly extended go round of do this, now come back and do it right, take care of your stuff, no, really, take care of your stuff, we decided to help them.  We took away all the distractions we could.  Screen time?  Down the tubes.  Toys?  All of them boxed up. 

Quit clucking your tongue at me.  It's not forever.

There were slumped shoulders as we worked to clean the rooms that were in horrible shape and sort through the clothes that may or may not have been clean (they ALL got tossed in laundry baskets because my OCD needs to KNOW those clothes aren't smelly and folded up to masquerade as clean clothes).  Which means that laundry has been going non-stop for days on end trying to catch up with the gi-normous influx.

There were misgivings as all the toys landed in boxes and the boxes stacked in the corners of their rooms.  Instructions to not touch those boxes under any circumstances were handed out and dejected looks were worn by everyone between the ages of 4 and 8.

But it's helped.  The first day after the great Toy Pack Up, it rained.  We built a fort and I held my breath.  Pandemonium did not break out and there were no tears or even any questions to watch a show on television.  Books and flashlights and pillows and blankets disappeared into the fort, and harmony reigned.

They don't have as many things tugging at their gnat-sized attention spans, so they appreciate one another and their own imaginations better.  They remember to make their beds every day.  After just a few days, they are more reliable about keeping their junk picked up.  We're almost ready to give the toys back.

Maybe.

It's been SO MUCH MORE PEACEFUL without things to fight over.  The weather if perfect for playing outside.  Suffice it to say, we're in no hurry to return the toys.  But we'll definitely consider it when they ask.  

A decidedly more lighthearted episode of Real Life Parenting found me wielding scissors near my not-quite-2-year-olds tender skin.

Daniel is going to poop while he naps.  It's just The Way Of It with that kid.  Today was no exception.

I got him up from nap and my poor nose was assaulted with the contents of his drawers.  I put him on the back deck and threw a package of fruit snacks to him.  A little something in his belly makes him more cooperative when it comes time to deal with the dud.

Once he was finished, I brought him inside and whipped his pants off him.  'Stuff' kind of flew out.  I grabbed his ankles together so he wouldn't kick the mess around and surveyed the damage.

He'd managed a diaper wedgie at some point and his mess was all over the onsie he was wearing, down his leg, up his side.  We eyeballed each other while I mouth breathed and called my minions to come forth his siblings to assist me in this hour of need.

Thomas ran upstairs to pour a bath for our stinky boy (only good ol' soap and water was going to cut through this stench), Elizabeth grabbed a towel to put under the baby so I didn't have to clean the floor anymore than the damage that'd already been done, Anna brought in a plastic bag to contain the trash, and Sarah Grace brought the scissors.

My baby was wearing a plain white onsie that had seen wear by most of his siblings and definitely better days.  I debated for less than a nano-second before I grabbed it at the collar and started cutting down towards the snaps.

There was no way I was going to pull that shirt over his head.

I'm not nearly as delicate as I was with the first child, but I am still not willing to put my hands in the mess any more than strictly necessary.

Nope.  I got all surgical and snipped it right off him.  All the kids stood around looking at me in disbelief.

I was cutting clothes! 

Instructions to NEVER-EVER-EVER-NO-NOT-EVER cut their own cloths off came out of my mouth as my brain conjured all kinds of exceptions in which I would want them to cut their clothes off. 

Truth: Real Life Parenting is a delicate balance. 

I'll let you know when I'm balanced.  M-kay?

In Which I Say A Lot About Our First Farmers Market

 Spring is finally springing around here.  Gone are the frosty mornings, here to stay is the sound of songbirds.

As is my usual custom, I hit the 2 for $5 on flip flops at Old Navy and am smack in the middle of the acclimating process.  That slightly painful period of time when you have a perpetual bruising sensation going on between your big toe and it's neighbor (would you call that your pointer toe, since it's hand counterpart is called the pointer finger?) and you dread putting on the flops but can't stomach the idea of having your feet all encased inside leather or tennis shoes.

Or maybe that's just me.  I dunno.

Either way, it's not what I sat down to write about.  Not by a long shot.

Nope, I am here to unabashedly brag about my ah-mazing children.  My children who want to go to Costa Rica to visit family friends who are there as missionaries.  Joshua and I support this, but our budget isn't so supportive.  We told the children that we were totally on board and that we would help them earn their way to Costa Rica any way we could.

Which is how I found myself at our local Farmer's Market at 7AM this morning.  Me, my two oldest children, and a vast array of homemade breads, muffins, and cookies.

It all started a few months ago when the family sat down to dinner and discussed in depth the pros, cons, and the commitment we would be making as a family.  Joshua and I laid out the details and left it in the hands of Sarah Grace and Thomas to choose if they were up to the task.  They mulled it over for a couple of days and I sent in the application.  I explained to them that we might not be accepted into the market, but that proved to be a moot point.  We were accepted.

Honestly, the first week couldn't have been worse timing, but that just goes to show that the devil is really and truly mucking around in the details. The girls and I went to Montgomery Monday and returned Tuesday evening.  We spent Wednesday recovering and trying to gear up for the end of our week.

Only the resting happened.  Which is to say that I did no house work on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday.  So we didn't exactly have things set up to our advantage concerning the state of our living quarters. 

Thursday, we started our first batch of bread at 8am and shut down just after 6pm.  We'd made cookies, muffins, and a lot of bread.

 I was thankful for the countless extra amounts of patience and grace the Lord poured over me all day long as my children wreaked havoc on my kitchen.  My OCD kicked in several times.  I'd walk over to my happy little essential oil box and breath in 'Serenity' and I'd be ready for the next round of flying flour.  

Then the kids cooked spaghetti for dinner and the angels sang.  I was wiped out after a day of supervising in the kitchen.

Elbow deep in flour, sugar, and yeast!

Friday, we repeated the madness.  Only we still had bread rising when the kids were shipped off to bed.  It was then that I realized that nothing was priced, packed, labeled, or any kind of signage made up.  I was busy until 11:30.

I woke up minutes before my alarm clock this morning and willed my blurry vision to focus.  My body was tired after spending two full days standing on the hard tile floor of our kitchen and keeping myself from booting my two messy little bakers out.

I knew that we had a day ahead of us and all I could do was lay there and beg the Lord to help me put one foot in front of the other.  I wasn't unwilling, I was just nervous.  I desperately wanted my children to succeed.  They had worked so hard and were so sweet and so excited!

Finally, I rolled out of the bed, dragged some clothes on and brushed at my teeth.  I grabbed my shoes and walked out of the bedroom, ready to wake Thomas and Sarah Grace.

They were already downstairs, dressed, shod, and ready for me to say the word!  We went over again 'how to talk to customers' and 'remember your manners' and 'this isn't a game day' as we loaded the car and drove to the field where the market is held.  They nodded and asked a few questions, but it was obvious neither felt the butterflies in their belly I was experiencing.  We parked the car and said a quick prayer for our day and our attitudes together and I went to find the coordinator to tell me what to do.

We set up and were totally ready by 7:30.  Our friends from Eat Wright Farms arrived later than they'd wanted, and we helped them unload their van and set up some of their stuff and loved on their sweet little 8 month old girl and suddenly, we realized people were beginning to mill about!

The kids and I made our way back to our booth to find that the booth right next to us was also selling breads and other baked goods.  The kids both got worried looks on their faces and slumpy shoulders.  I hugged them and spoke encouragement to them while the mama bear in me wondered why two people selling the exact same things would be placed side by side. 

Turns out, it didn't matter.  By 9:30, less than halfway through our day, both booths were down to slim pickings.  The kids were ecstatic!  Their table was down to less than half the items they'd baked up for the day.

Then Thomas came over and hugged me with a sad expression.  I was totally baffled.  "But you haven't sold anything, Mommy!  I'm sad."

The kid has a heart of gold, I tell you.  I'd made up a coupe dozen bottles of house cleaners to see how they'd do.  Thomas had taken note that they weren't doing well at all.  I had talked to a few people about the cleaners and the benefits they offered, but I had put most of my energy into being supportive of the kids, helping them count money back, and answering questions they weren't sure of concerning the ingredients we'd used in our bread.

Thomas, who is quite unafraid of anyone, started talking up not only the baked goods, but the cleaners, too.  Sure enough, within minutes, he'd made my first sale!

By the time Joshua and the other kids came by to see what was going on, there were only a handful of baked goods left and about half as many cleaners as I'd come with.  By the time the market was over, I'd sold well over half my stock.

The kids brought home half a dozen muffins.  They'd sold absolutely everything else!  The booth next to us was totally sold out of baked goods and had just a few canned items and bars of soap left.  The kids in both booths were pumped!

The success was lovely.  I'm grateful the Lord blessed our first foray into farmer's market-eering.  I'm proud of my kids for the work they put in and their attitudes and the lessons they are learning.  I'm even a little excited that the cleaners did as well as they did.

But the best part?

When my daughter wrapped her arms around me, tilted her head back to look me in the eye, and said, "Thank you, Mama!  We couldn't have done this without you."

My heart will treasure that moment, that serene little face with the sun shining off her baby fine hair.  It's mine and I am so thankful for this whole Mommy-ing way of life.

Thanks, Lord!  I couldn't do this without You.


**Also, I'm a horrible Mama who only took one picture of any of this!  Not to worry, though, we have 8 full months of market on the calendar!!  And I finally got around to folding the load of laundry that has been hibernating on my couch since Monday morning. 

The Hardest Kind of Teaching

A few weeks ago, I was standing with a group of mama's chatting while we watched our kids roll and romp in the sneak preview of spring with its glorious sunshine.  The kids were all crazy-insane and had to have several reminders on how to act appropriately. 

I called Thomas down and advised him on how to best correct his behavior.  He yes-ma'amed me and went back to playing.  I went back to watching kids run about while listening to the conversation of the other women.

I clenched my teeth as I watched my son do the exact same thing I'd just called him down for and I growled out for him to come see me.  He obediently trotted over, looking somewhat downcast, and stopped in front of me.

I stood there for a moment, breathing and chewing the inside of my lip.  I was just about to speak to Thomas when one of the other mom's nudged me a bit.

Thomas eyed her and seriously said, "Don't interrupt her.  She's talking to Jesus."

There were giggles around me and I cracked a grin because, he was right, I was talking to Jesus, imploring Him for wisdom and patience.

Two weeks later, that same child and I were going 'round about something else.  In exasperation, I called him to me and looked at him while I beseech-ed the Lord for a calm manner, wise and not cutting words, and patience. 

Thomas waited while I wrapped up my little conversation with God and he asked me, "Mom, what do you say to God when you're talking to Him like that?"

"That I won't kill one of you children because I don't look good in orange.", I shot back sarcastically. 

Thomas smiled like the charmer that he is so capable of being and replied, "Well you look pretty good in that orange!" as he indicated the shirt I was wearing.

I giggled and ruffled his hair.  I also told him that his sense of humor and God's faithfulness had just saved his hide!  With the tension of the moment broken, I knew that he knew what he'd been called over for and we just hugged and that was the end of the conversation.

These two stories have brought about much laughter as I've recounted them with others, but they've had me thinking, too.

Do my children realize that I have conversations with God off and on through-out each and every day?  Or do they think that the only time I cry out is when I'm frustrated or sad or need something?  I desperately want to model to them that our God is an every-day, all-in-the-little-things, whatever-is-on-your-heart-I-want-you-to-share-it-with-Me kind of God.

Like many, I've been keeping a notebook to jot down my 1000 Gifts for a couple of years now.  Because of this practice of seeking out the gifts of each day and recording them in a thankful manner, I've become much more aware of the little things that I had so often taken for granted. 

The discipline also encouraged more 'talk time' with the One who gave me the greatest gifts of all...Forgiveness.  Love.  Hope.  More 'talk time' has stirred my heart to a desire to spend more time in the Word.  More time in the Word brings about a hunger to know more about what He has said to us and the beautiful story He has recorded for us to help us to understand more about His heart and what He wants for our lives here on this Earth. 

All because of a attitude of thankfulness. 

The kids have their own 1000 Gifts notebooks now.  I pray I will be better able to show them that our God is a God worth talking to and sharing with and, though He is an ever present help in times of need, He is also good all the time and worthy of our praise, and that he cares about us so much that He wants, longs, for us to choose to chat with Him.

About all of it.  Not just the pleading of a soul-weary Mama.

When Plans Fail

In April of 2012, I carefully mapped out what our school year would look like come fall.  It wasn't so much the curriculum choices that needed my attention, as we were basically sticking with the same things, but I was evaluating what activities to commit ourselves to.

By the end of June, I had our 2012-2013 school year all wrapped up and ready to be opened by the kids the following month.  In July, we kicked off our school year and had been rolling along for about nine weeks when the first wrench was thrown in the works.

The class schedule for the girls' ballet school changed and conflicted with our music class.  Joshua and I had agreed that we wanted music to be a part of our kids intentional education, not an extracurricular, so we dropped ballet.  The girls were very sad.

While the girls had chosen ballet, Thomas had opted for karate.  He enjoyed the class immensely, but we soon discovered the class wasn't a good fit for our family.  His class times were a little inconvenient, but the real challenge was that the school wanted the parents to stay on hand while the student was in class.  This presented a huge issue for our family because the place was not designed to hold more than one watcher per child (one adult watcher, no less), and we had an adult and four other children.  Twice a week.  It wasn't pretty, and we soon opted to simply drop Thomas off for his class.  This worked against us because we realized we were missing information that the instructor shared with the children and the parents were meant to overhear.  We weren't overhearing it because we weren't there.  It was cycle that was maddening.

Ultimately, we opted out of karate, too.

We had arrangements to be a part of a once a month meeting with other families for a character study and topical craft type thing that wound up falling through, as well.

Is short, all my plans failed.

Thankfully, my mother raised a ridiculously over-confident gal who's not particularly afraid of failure.

I soon realized that this slower paced, quieter life was exactly what our family needed.  We've been able to really settle in and find a routine that works for us.  Instead of being out of the house three days a week (what was I thinking?!), we are only out one day.  Two days, tops.  I've been able to really sit back and see the academic weaknesses and strengths of our schooling children and, more importantly, character issues that need to be worked on.

We are more serene.  We are more focused.  We are more content.  As a person who loves to be busy and thrives off a full calendar, these kinds of quieter days were not something I thought I would ever be able to appreciate.  It's an answer to prayer, I tell you.  I struggled when I became a stay at home mom with how to handle my 'all me free time' and feeling like an unproductive partner in my marriage.  I prayed about my restlessness and tried to fill my days with 'stuff'.  Now I know that I need to revel in these slower days because, all too soon, they fill up with their own 'stuff'.  

As I start looking toward planning for next year, I'm keeping things pretty loose.  We'll continue with piano and our general music classes.  We'll stay home more and focus on being at peace with what we have and cultivating the most important of our relationships.  Everything will still be there when and if we decide to jump back into it.

But for now, rest and a calmer pace are having their way in our home.  

Monday Merriment

Thomas was in a mother's day out program when he was three or four.  They focused heavily on pre-reading and blends and by the time I started working with him on reading, we more or less coasted.  Sarah Grace was impatient to get started learning and then deemed my pace to slow for her little self.  So she leap-frogged ahead of my plan and basically taught herself to read.  I quit 'teaching' her about a quarter of the way into The Ordinary Parent's Guide to Teaching Reading.  I simply corrected her when I heard her mispronounce something she was reading, and it was forever locked into her brain.

So this year when I started officially teaching Elizabeth to read, I was in new territory.  Although she knew all her letters and their sounds, stringing them together was quite a challenge for her.  We plodded through the first semester arranging beginner words into sentences 'Jim pat the wet pet cat.'  But it wasn't true reading.  It was tripping and stuttering along and not realizing what the sentence had said when we reached the end.

I knew we just needed that final pin to fall into place and she would take off.  That pin just wasn't in a hurry to fall.  She was never discouraged and because of her cheerful and excited demeanor, it was sometimes tough to hear the stuttering about, but not at all stressful to work with her.

And then it happened.  She picked up a book and, instead of making up stories she believed fit the pictures, she read the words on the page.  We'd just finished our first several lessons of consonant blends and she put her new skills to good use and only asked about the words that had special vowel sounds.

I nearly cried as I stood there and watched her beam as she read the story to her little brother and her baby doll.  Her gentle spirit and quiet perseverance had finally paid off and she had reached the long awaited moment when she could pick up a book and uncover the mysteries locked in the arrangement of the letters.

I don't know who's prouder, the student or her teacher.  

Once Upon A Time...

....is the frequent next line in this conversation:

"Mama, can I tell you about someting?"

"Yeah, babe, what's up?"

"Weeeeellllll....once upon a time..."

She reads numerous books per week, so it's no wonder she is full of imagination!  She told a fabulous tale of an evil octopus and the unicorn, chipmunk, and little girl who saw to the fall of the reign of terror over the "sea.  Except it was a small sea, like a pond.  But a big pond, so really kind of like a lake, you know?"

I'll admit, it had a bit of a dark twist somewhere in the middle that shocked me, but the end was sunshine and flowers.  Just as things should be in the live of a seven year old child. 

Hearing her spin her stories is just one of the many reasons my job is the best.  Hard every day, but rewarding in ways words cannot contain.

Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

I woke up in the wee hours of the day to hear the wind howling around the corners of our home and the streetlight that filters through the crack between the shades and the window sill flickering as tree branches were blown to and fro.  The clock read somewhere between 4 and 5 AM and I buried myself under the covers determined to ignore the storm.

It worked.

Until I got out of bed and started my day.  The kids were a little pent up, and while not horrible, they were still more clingy and whiny, maybe a little more snippy with each other than usual.  I rolled my eyes, gritted my teeth, and pushed through with the necessary routines of our day.

We flew under the radar all day.  Most of the general chores were let slide because I needed peace in attitudes over peace in appearance.  I allowed more television than normal because I was tired from a late night of saying good-bye to a dear friend.  I allowed them to plan and execute the lunch menu.  It was a basically a very relaxed day in an effort to keep everyone as chill as possible since the weather was disagreeable and I wasn't much better.

It's the end of the day now.  Joshua is playing piano as the kids finish up their evening chores and we've all indulged in an ice cream sandwich or two.  I've been flicking through the pictures on my phone, smiling because they just have that effect on me.  The little things that add up to make our lives momentous in their own special way.

Left to right: Daniel scrounged some cookies from a random plate at a holiday party. Brunswick Stew. Thomas as Zacharia in our church Christmas play.  Daniel walked over to Anna and wrapped his arms around her.  My sparkley Keds.  Elizabeth peeking up from her newly made-up flannel sheeted bed.  Daniel was here.  Sarah Grace caught again with a book after lights out.  Peppermint bark. 

Survival Mode

We dated for a sweet forever and then planned a wedding in 4 short months.  We had vaguely outlined our plans for a family.

We hosted Thanksgiving for 13 after a month of marriage,  Christmas was celebrated and before just New Years, barely two months into marriage, I told Joshua we were expecting our first child.

It wasn't our plan.  We walked around dazed.  We said two years, not two months.  

Thomas arrived not quite 10 months after the wedding.  Things were complicated at first.  Not long term complicated like the paths so many have walked, just a little complicated.  He was a sick baby and had to have constant attention and numerous doctors visits until finally the diagnosis was given.  About the time he healed from his surgery and we were finding a groove, we discovered we were pregnant.  Again. 

Sarah Grace was due on his first birthday.  Less than 22 months after we'd exchanged vows. 

19 months after that, Elizabeth arrived. 

Another 19 months went by, and Anna was born. 

Fast forward 29 months and Daniel joined in the mix.

When Daniel was born, we'd been married for 88 months.  Of those 88 months, I'd been pregnant for 45 months.  We'd had a baby in the house for 78 months of our marriage.  We'd been preparing for or caring for a baby for 86 months of our 88 months together. 

Those are hard numbers, y'all.  I'm not gonna lie.  

Here are some more hard numbers - 6 years, 5 years, 4 years, 2 years, newborn. 

Those are the ones that nearly sunk me.  I trusted God, but I wasn't dealing well with the day to day reality of what He'd given us.  It's a lot.

The past two years have been the hardest of my life.  My pregnancy with Daniel while trying to keep up with the needs of my four other very young children pressed hard on me.  The week leading up to his birth?  Hardest physical demands I've ever had to answer to (you simply have to read Daniel's birth story to understand that statement).  Childbirth was a piece of cake after that insane week.  Caring for a baby with a 'strong personality' these past 18 months and maintaining my role as mommy to 4 other children, wife to my husband, and keeper of my home?  Hard.  Hard, hard, hard.

We call it Survival Mode.  And our entire marriage has been just that: Survival Mode. 

Go ahead and chide me if you need to.  I've broad shoulders and can bear it.  I've also the knowledge of what living in Survival Mode is like. 

I know the demands.  I know the rawness of born of exhaustion.  I know the darkness of depression.  I know the hurt of failed friendships.  I know the frustration of changed plans.  I know feeling trapped.  I know helpless.  I know fear. 

But I also know the triumphs.  I know the chinking away of selfishness.  I know the balm of an encouraging note.  I know the grace He pours over a weary heart.  I know joy.  I know peace.  I know His ways are not mine, but He is my hope, and if I but trust Him, He will make straight my paths. 

Joshua and I laugh when we tell people that we didn't plan our family, but that God did it for us.  We KNOW that His ways were to our benefit.  We KNOW we are rotten, selfish people and that our faults and weaknesses are too many to number.  It's scary, really. 

I really believe that God gave us our children in His timing and not ours because He knew that we really had some rough edges that needed to be sanded down.  He also knew that those rough edges were only going to become more jagged if He allowed us to have our plan.  He knew that if He'd given us those 'couple of years' we would have been doing our children more of a disservice  than we already are, making it even harder for them to see Him in us.  And because He's not a God of confusion, He didn't want that for the precious children He had planned for us.

So I'll take these past nine years and be thankful for the stresses and the hard times and the tears.  It's grown us, molded us into who we are now. We've had to let go of a lot, re-shape our minds and clean out our hearts.  We've been blessed beyond measure with the people God has put in our path.  Just the right person at just the right time every. single. time.  Things have been full tilt and cry-your-eyes-out hard.  We haven't planned our lives so much as we have chased after the leash of our lives, but we're in a place of grace.  We're in a place where we can see His sustaining hand through the crazy.

For our ninth anniversary, we had the chance to talk and plan and really think about what we want to do as a family and with our family and for our family.  We were able to finally sit back and breath deep and look over where we've been, where we are, and where we'd like to go.  We hold these plans loosely, but we have them in place.

In His good and perfect will, of course.  

Pictures courtesy of N&N Photography

 And y'all, it is good.

Sometimes It Doesn't Pay To Be Frugal

You may find it hard to believe (others certainly do) but somehow I had never heard of American Girl dolls until about a year ago. I went from blissful ignorance to sudden bombardment.

Then my girls discovered American Girl. Sarah Grace started reading the Samantha books, then the Addy books, and on it went. At some point, she became aware that there were actual doll characters to go with each of these books.

And then she and Elizabeth made a friend who has several American Girl dolls.

Naturally, for Christmas all my girls could talk about was wanting American Girl dolls.

However, being the penny pincher I am, I couldn't see forking over the moo-lah it took to own one of these little dolls. So I started researching and became armed with an embarrassing amount of information concerning Madame Alexander, American Girl, Our Generation, and a few others. I knew about issues with arms and hair and stuffing and eye movement. I opted to get one each of two different brands that were considerably less expensive that American Girl.

Woe is me! To recap this story quickly, there is simply no substitute. My girls were pleased as peaches with their dolls, but the quality, or lack there of, was obvious straight out of the box.

By the end of February, I knew that Sarah Grace and Elizabeth would be getting American Girl dolls for their birthdays. The dolls I had so carefully researched and purchased for Christmas were obviously not going to hold up.

I set about figuring out what American Girl dolls were the girl's favorites and then bit the bullet to be sure that Elizabeth's doll arrived in plenty of time for her birthday. To keep Elizabeth as in the dark as possible, I had the doll delivered to a friend's house.

The day finally arrived and I wrapped the box in bright, cheerful paper. Elizabeth was so thrilled! I took pictures, but we are experiencing technical difficulties and I cannot find/access the pictures of that wonderful moment in her sweet life.

The same friend who allowed me to have the doll shipped to her home also put a lot of thought into her family's gift to Elizabeth. Here are Elizabeth and Julie modeling the sweet little pajamas that Auntie Erica lovingly sewed for them!


Julie rarely has time to herself. She changes clothes several times a day and her hair is carefully kept tangle free. She is very loved.

The girls are already planning an American Girl doll tea party with all of their friends after Sarah Grace's birthday. They are also asking for both dolls and themselves to all have matching dresses. They haven't totally discarded the dolls they got for Christmas, but Julie is the definite favorite of the bunch.

Stay tuned to see who Sarah Grace's American Girl will be!

Middle of the Day Mommy Dates

In the movie White Christmas, Danny Kaye's character tells Bing Crosby's character something to the effect of 'Get yourself happily married and have nine kids. If you spend just five minutes a day with each of those kids, then that's 45 minutes I get all to myself!'

In case you've lost count, we have five children. You would think that I could find five minutes a day for each child to stop and look into their eyes and listen to them.

You'd think.

It's hard to do things one on one with our kids. We call it the Me Too Syndrome. If one child gets special attention in anyway, there's at least one other child two steps behind me or Joshua saying 'me too, Mommy/Daddy!'

Personally, I find that since I am home with them all day long, reading books, making meals, teaching, training, disciplining and all the other stuff that comes with being a stay at home/homeschooling Mama, I just want some me time. I don't want to spend every evening out with somebody after a full day of Mommy-ing.

Frankly, I just want to spend some time with my husband. I want to decompress. I want to prop up my feet and veg out.

I struggled for a while with what to do, trying to give every kid some personal attention everyday. The fact is, I can't do it. Not in this season of life. The physical needs of our family as a whole prevent me from scheduling out 3 hours a day to give each child one on one time.

What I can do is pay attention to them and try to keep their little love tanks filled.

Elizabeth just needs to be close. She is happy to help me with whatever I am doing or cuddle next to me while I feed the baby or use the computer.

Thomas needs praise. He wants to show off his latest dragon slaying and get proper credit for it. He loves to tell me in detail how he solved a problem or defeated a particularly hard level in some DS game and beams like the sun when I applaud his work.

Anna wants to relate. She demands conversation and look-me-in-the-eye attention. A simple nod of the head is not an answer in Anna-Land. She needs words and conversation.

Sarah Grace wants it all. She's not demanding, but to really fill her love tank, she needs conversation, one on one and away from anything that might distract your attention from her.

Daniel needs diaper changes and entertainment and to be stopped from eating electric cords and distracted from tipping trash cans and to be trained to heed "no" and to be fed and to be put down for nap and to be pointed in a different direction than the steps and... Well, as a ten month old he obviously has different needs than the others!

I've discovered a super-duper way to give each of my children a Mommy Date. Every single week. On Monday, it's Thomas, Tuesdays are Sarah Grace's, Wednesdays are for Elizabeth, and Thursdays are all about Anna.

When Daniel goes down for his morning nap, I take my 'date' to my room and we spend at least half an hour just hanging out. We read, we chat, we play DS together, we play dress up, we sing songs, we cuddle close, we share a special snack. Whatever. The child gets to choose. Anna's favorite thing to do is jump on my bed and sing songs to me while I watch her and listen to her. So I do. I just sit and smile and laugh and she's fulfilled!

I know that as the kids grow, these little meetings will be more precious and that they will change in content. But I love having this time that we both know is about just us. We still have a monthly date with each kid, but this allows me to keep better fellowship with them in the in-betweens.

Do you have dates with your kids? How do you fit them in?

A Child's Prayer

Bedtime prayer is a special time. Here is where much of the heart-talk between the girls and I take place. Here is where questions are asked, thoughts are voiced, worries are aired, and fears are wrestled. Here is where many of the rewards of Motherhood take place, and where we find our children in intercession for others. It's a sweet, sweet time.

Right now, at this moment, the girls all pray on their own. Joshua and I tuck them in and he kisses them before he goes off to the boys room to pray with them. It thrills me with each child when they speak the prayers of their heart after a year or so of repeat-after-me prayers. It makes me look forward to that special time with the girls even more to know that all three of them have things they want to say and want to express, with regards to prayer or to the whispered chats.

We always start off with me walking around to each bed and tucking each girl under the covers and a bug hug and kiss. While I make these rounds, we all sing a hymn. My sweet Sarah Grace, who sings loudly and adoringly and off key. Elizabeth, whose voice is barely a whisper as she hides half behind her beloved blanket, but whose heart is sincere. Anna occasionally misses a word or four but sings right on pitch and always with a smile.

After the song ends and all three girls are tucked in, I settle on one of the beds to pray for them. I ask them if they have anything they want me to pray for, and then we do.

Then, the precious begins. We take turns with which girl begins. All three of them start off something like this:

"Dear Lord, Thank You for the day so great. Thank You for the world and how You made it. Just thank You for Mommy and Daddy and Thomas and Sarah and Elizabeth and Anna and Daniel. Thank You for friends and family. Thank You for our church and our friends there and thank You for our house. Thank You for my soft blanket."

And then they diverge. Sarah Grace goes on to thank God for how she gets to learn about Him and to pray for people who don't have homes and for children who don't have parents. She prays for any person she can think of that has an illness or is pregnant. She gives thanks for Jesus, the life He lived, the way He healed people, and how He died for her. She wraps up with asking God to "just put a hedge around Satan so he can't do his mean tricks" and then assuring Him that she loves Him very much and is so glad that He lives in her heart. "Pwease help me to be good and to love others."

Elizabeth goes on to pray in broad strokes, encompassing pretty much every person in the world in one way or another. She then reiterates her thanks for her blanket (each girl has a special blanket from their babyhood that they love), tells God she loves him and thanks Him for Jesus.

Anna...now Anna just started praying on her own a few months ago. She is at the stage that I find endearing and entertaining. She prays with her eyes wide and her head on a swivel. She gives thanks by name for her grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Then she goes into great detail and gives thanks for every. single. object. in the room. Or at least the ones she can make out by the glow of the night light. Then she thinks carefully about what she might have forgotten and is thankful for those toys and books and clothes and food items that aren't in the room with her. And always, her toothbrush.

I laugh, but then I remember that God loves to hear her sweet prayers. She can't comprehend, in her two year old mind Who God is and all His greatness, but what she does know is the she wants to talk to Him. She is beginning to understand that He is responsible for all the good we have. Including our toothbrushes.

Moment Blessings

"Anna?" I called.

"What, Mommy?" came her sweet reply.

"I need some love from you. Can you come give me hugs?"

"Well, I'm busy wif my dollhouse wight now. Maybe way-ter."

I giggled. Then I ran across the room, scooped her up and showered her little face with kisses while hugging her close.

"Mom! I can't deal wif dat wight now! I needa go pway!"

But she grinned when I asked for just one little kisser, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a sweet, sloppy, two-year-old style kiss on my face.

It's these little moments that make me love my job and energize me to keep doing it. In all the crazy that happens in our daily routines, there are seconds of sweetness that bless my Mama heart.

Tough Decisions

Recently, the subject of Thomas' education came up. As many of you know, we home school. It is a decision that makes me choke a little bit at the beginning of each school year... can I handle all the demands of all my little people, the schooling of my older little people, the character training, the upkeep of our home, the juggling of schedules, the cooking, the laundry, the errands, etc.

And more importantly, can I do it while maintaining a peaceful home? While being nice to my children and not growling around every other minute.

I won't lie. It's a difficult balance. I fall off the tight rope regularly and need to ask my childrens' forgiveness frequently.

I panicked ugly-big this year. With a seven year old and a six year old in the house competing for top dog, things get sticky. Their interests are diverging more and more every day and it's hard when two people don't evolve together, especially when they have been playmates for their entire lives. We won't even start on how vastly different their little personalities are and the conflicts that arise because of that.

Plus a four year old who begs to do school. And a two year old who is potty trained but still needs a Bathroom Monitor and spends most of her mornings clinging to me. Then there is the baby, who's needs are many and independencies are non-existent.

While far from under socialized, the fact is our children don't leave the family unit very often. We are in each others business all day, every day. This kind of life style might have worked better when there were cows to milk and chickens to feed and fields to plow and quilts to make and bread to bake and food to can and a list that goes on and on and on. Facts are facts: Life is easier in many ways than the 'good ol' days' and all, but idle hands are the devil's playground.

It takes careful planning to orchestrate the day of a family like ours. I can't even begin to tell you how daunting it is, how easy it is to fall into the trap of feeling like a failure, and how very alone I feel some days surrounded by nothing but the noise and the squeals and accomplishments and the tale-bearing and the joy and the whines of all my beloved little children.

All of the sudden, I was overwhelmed with it all. All I could come up with was to ship Thomas off to school for seven hours a day, leaving me with just the girls and Daniel. Joshua and I talked and prayed. I agonized and he supported me, because when push comes to shove, he leaves the house to support our material needs as a family and I am here with the children all day. The man is a saint in all the many ways he backs me up and all the extras he takes on, but he still has to leave the house eight hours a day. I asked for prayer from sweet heart-friends. I spoke at length with ladies who are hoeing the same row and ladies who have already harvested from similar rows.

In the end, I couldn't send him off. I didn't feel that God had released me of this responsibility He's given me: to train up my child in every area.

It is already shaping up to be a really tough year, but His mercies are new every morning. And though I know the road will be more challenging, I also have peace. The peace that comes with obedience. Next year will come, and we will re-evaluate the needs of our family then. As one of those wise ladies whose row is nearly completed said, "Nothing's permanent."

Have You Ever Heard A Building Sigh With Relief?

Because I think that the actual cement bricks blew out the breath we didn't know they could hold when the door closed behind our exiting family today.

It's Sunday. After church Joshua made the command decision to treat us all to 5 Guys, the kids absolute, hands-down, all time favorite place to eat. I'm pretty sure this was the first time we have ventured out to lunch as a family since Daniel joined our family nearly four months ago.

Suffice it to say, all of this craziness could have been simply that we were out of practice.

We arrived through the front doors of the restaurant at about 12:15. Ordering went well; I love that they give free drinks to the kids. It's the only time our kids ever get anything besides water.

Which could account for the craziness, too. All the sugar from the soda they drank. Or absorbed...

Sarah Grace and Elizabeth were sitting at a table for two. Joshua, Anna, Thomas and I were across the almost two foot aisle from them at a table for four. And Daniel, who was sleeping, was in his infant seat on the floor between the two tables. Got that visual down? Because it is important later on.

We got everyone's food set before them and commenced eating. Within seconds, Elizabeth spilled about a quarter of her cup of root beer in her lap. On her white dress. We blotted her lap dry and went on with things. I mean, really, what's a meal with five little people if you don't have at least one minor accident?

Just as I sat down after cleaning up Elizabeth, Anna squeaked out her needs.

"Mommy! I needa go to da poddy!"

So, yeah, I forgot to mention that she had told me this while we were in the van on the way to the restaurant. And I forgot about her needs in the midst of getting everyone corralled and into chairs so we could eat.

I jumped up and off we went to the bathroom. She did her best, I'm sure, but her undies were already wet and there was a small circle on the front of her dress from where she had been holding herself as we duck-walked to the bathroom. I did what I could to clean her up and rinse her off after she finished up with the potty.

We got settled back in at the table and Thomas started telling me that he needed softer food until his other tooth fell out. You need to know he lost one of his top front teeth yesterday and the other was very loose. He had no more than finished his request for a dietary change when he took a bite of his sandwich and the tooth in question flipped out of his mouth, rolled down the sandwich, and into his lap! We giggled and listened to him sweetly lisp his way through his excitement.

I looked over to see Sarah Grace and Elizabeth both with their pointer fingers on each hand topped in ketchup. They were playing finger people and their little ketchup-ed capped people were talking to each other. I reminded them of their status as ladies and they quickly licked their fingers clean. Because that's what ladies do when they find themselves with ketchup tipped fingers.

Eating resumed for two short minutes, Thomas still reliving his newest tooth loss, before the next round of crazy.

Before I could finish chewing a bite of burger, Elizabeth spilled the entire contents of her cup. Root beer in her lap, on her chair, on the floor, all over the table, and dripping towards the baby's car seat. Some lady I don't know picked up Daniel's car seat and moved it safely away from the dripping soda. Then the lady and one of her daughters continued to run back and forth with napkins, napkins, and more napkins until the mess was under control. I couldn't thank them enough for their random act of kindness.

Elizabeth, who'd immediately started crying when she spilled, regained her composure, the mess was cleaned up, and we all went back to eating. Except that Daniel had awakened during all the commotion. He happily sat in his seat and played until just before Joshua finished eating. Popping the last of his sandwich in his mouth and taking a quick trip to the bathroom to wash his hands, Joshua then took the baby and gave him his bottle while the rest of us tried desperately to finish our food.

Daniel downed the bottle and, true to form, did The Doo. Joshua looked up at me, grimaced, and held out his hand to show that Daniel had gone so heartily that he left a gift on the hand that was supporting his bottom. I got the giggles and told Thomas to go and fetch some napkins. Thomas wandered back a few moments later empty handed.

"I couldn't find them," he said, looking guilty.

I dashed off to get the napkins, but not before I really got the giggles as Joshua pointed to the floor. Daniel's diaper wasn't holding things in to well. There was a dollop of poop on the floor of the fine dining establishment.

Joshua handed the baby off to me while he mopped up the floor real quick. I dropped a handful of napkins in the car seat and settled Daniel in it so I could fish out a clean diaper. Joshua whisked off a handful of trash before he came back for Daniel so he could go change him. I was staying behind to clean up the leftovers of the meal and get the other kids ready to go out the door.

And then, then... 

...then a bag that had been sitting on the table collecting peanut hulls and uneaten french fries was knocked over. It's contents spilled all over Daniel and his car seat. Joshua and I looked at each other and exploded in laughter.

I was trying to reign it in as I bent down to start clearing the food from my baby and his seat when Joshua pulled out his phone and told me that perhaps this was God's way of telling me it was time to update the blog.


Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he took a picture of my poor, french fry covered baby. And then we quickly pulled ourselves together and left.

I'm pretty sure nobody misses us.