Rural Route 2

Rather Informative

2012-02-03T10:00:00.000-08:00

Hello.
Remember me?
Yeah. (Stretches and yawns.) So it's been awhile. Don't hate.

A few unrelated thoughts:

I wish someone had warned me how addictive shortbread cookies are before I baked them. Just so you know, they are wicked. Evil. Maliciously delicious.

My lack of confidence in my spelling skills is reedickoolus, when I should be far more concerned about my grammar problems. But I'm not. Just so you know, I whole heartedly embrace my poor grammar. Except for prepositions, something you should never end a sentence with.

My little W.Beans has a modern appreciation for unique, handmade gifts. She is eroding the baby quilt her great grandmother gave her by constantly carrying it around. And the darling little sweater that her Auntie crocheted for her birthday? She's worn it twice this week. I peeled it from her body this morning with a promise to give it back (freshly washed) tomorrow. Just so you know, it is white and she is three. Stains are just lining up to ruin the pretty.

Back to the grammar: My reaction to parenthetical statements is about as severe as my response to shortbread. Just so you know, (in case you were wondering) I {heart} parenthesis and shortbread.

The main floor of my house was pretty well picked up yesterday, right up until that big yellow bus appeared at the end of our driveway. Just so you know, the house has not recovered from the arrival of those elementary students.

The garment industry has not kept up with the apparent trend toward taller populations. Just so you know, pants with a 36 inch inseam are a bit rare.

I fully intend to spring-clean my house this year. Just so you know... actually, how long it has been since our dwelling was thoroughly scrubbed is none of your business.

Well, it is time to put those little female beauties down for naps... and then we'll see how much amazingness I can accomplish. Just so you know, housework is repetively tedious. And banal. And only sweet when it is finished. Pretty much the opposite of shortbread, (but not parenthesis).

Papa-rice-i

2012-01-21T14:39:00.000-08:00

I am usually excited when my children discover there is regular food that they actually like eating. Sometimes, the excitement leads to too many pictures.
Sometimes, the excitement just leads to more cooking.

Thanks, Mom, that rice was great! I'm so full...

Hmm... what's this? Well, maybe I can fit just one grain more in my tummy.

It's delicate work, removing one sticky piece at a time...

And then stuffing it in your mouth.

What? You're still taking pictures? Of me eating? Get a life, Mom.

You do know I can still see you down there, right?

Oh wait. What's this? More rice?

Seed Potato Flood

2012-01-20T11:04:00.000-08:00

So I ventured down to my basement grocery store to get ingredients for the evening meal. My list:
Potatoes from The Man's garden plunder (stored in large plastic bins, I think maybe from our Christmas shrubs past).
2 # Beef from some relatives cow.

I found six inches of water in the basement, flooding anything stored on the floor, including The Man's Seed Potatoes. I know he values his garden stuffs, even if he does store them on the floor, so I called him right away. He took care of the water (because he's a hero like that) while I watched YouTube videos with the kids. Hey, I didn't want them to go swimming down there, which is naturally what kids would want to do, right?

I am not sure what distinguishes a "Seed Potato" from a regular "Potato" except, perhaps, for the presence of "Eyes." Does this mean they're alive? Am I a hero for rescuing them from the flood or a villain for eating them?

It is more complicated than you might think.

I call this Potato Nude.

I think the lipstick makes her look a little trashy. Plus, she has some serious dirt crusted on her skin(s).
So maybe it was OK to eat her.
Wait a minute.

Don't Call Me Tonight

2012-01-15T15:34:00.000-08:00

Are you all ready? Tonight is episode 2! [big grins all around.] It's back to the parentals for our little Downton Party. I think I'll make some tiny cucumber sandwiches to nibble on - daintily - while I demolish the visual loveliness that is this miniseries.

So far, I have a few favorites.
Of course, I always have favorites. With the exception of my own children, every set of anything (colors, numbers, egg dishes, sweatshirts, Seinfeld episodes, Billie Halliday melodies, vacations, tampons) presents an opportunity to choose a favorite.
My favorite Downton characters?

Sweet little stupid Daisy. I love her stutters, little head shakes, earnest explanations and stumbling about the kitchen.
I.Can.So.Relate.

The grandmother who loves, meddles, protects and is always right, even when most assuredly wrong.

Enjoy tonight's show!

Leftovers

2012-01-13T12:43:00.000-08:00

Leftovers. Surplus. Extras. What to do with them?
Most of our table scraps go to the 9 cats (no, that is not a typo, we have NINE cats) that hang out on our back porch. I am beginning to see the point to what Bob Barker and Drew Carey have been saying all along. I didn't really think that we would ever have a cat over-population problem around here since most of our kitties committed suicide on the road before reaching sexual maturity (and the two that I thought were mating were actually brothers, not brother and sister, so I guess it was just innocent wrestling after all.) But suddenly, the cats wised up about traffic, made babies and then invited the neighbor's cats to live here. Now, with the leftover kittens and friends, we have nine very tame barn cats that think they live on the back porch eating scraps from our table. No wonder our dog disappeared.
Anyway.
What about the other stuff that remains past its purpose?
Like...

Candy canes.

I have a cup of pretty candy canes left from Christmas sitting on the counter in my kitchen. None of my children like them. I don't know why I bought them, except that it seems to be the seasonal thing to do and I occasionally like one sitting in a cup of hot chocolate. But most of these are left from Christmas 2010. And the newer ones are mixed in. I should probably just pitch them out, eh?

OK.
Thanks for solving that question for me.

What about

Chili peppers.

Also sitting in my kitchen. I dried them in the window sill. Let's pretend it was on purpose. Can I use them? Should I? For what?
Until you decide for me, I'm going to leave them in the entirely inappropriate setting they currently enjoy because I like the contrast of dark ripened red with the vintage blue.
And also because they remind me of a shriveled old woman's nose.
They're like a window into my future, I guess.

I still have more leftovers around here.

Leftover sickness.
The kind that hasn't bothered a child for three days until he is presented with a dinner that he does not enjoy.
"My appetite's just not back," he sadly murmurs as he pushes the plate away.
Well, I've disinfected the toilet and its surroundings too much this week to chance it. That kid was excused from the table.

I guess I didn't need your help with that.

What about these leftovers from this yesterday's afternoon?

Oh, no worries. I figured out what to do with those. It took a little help from the kiddos, but we got 'em sorted out.

What about chores left from yesterday? Or the day before maybe? Like the clean laundry folded and piled on my dining room table?
OK. I know the answer.
Sigh.
I just wish it would put itself away.
Or that my sister could keep her intended visit (prevented by sick cousins on either side) because nothing whips me into a fury of tidiness like knowing I'll have a "drop in."

Or how about this entire post, left from last night when I was interrupted by The Man of The House who wanted to watch "that trashy show" (known throughout the rest of the civilised world as Downton Abbey)? I quit typing and pulled up Netflix because I think he's feeling left out a little. And I think he's trying to get caught up on season 1 so that he can join me on Sunday night at my parents' house to watch more of season 2. Hey. Maybe he can help me with my hair this time. It's just so hard to arrange one's hair in a style leftover from the era of ladies' maids without, erm... a lady's maid.

I guess I'll just spell check and publish.
That's what I will do with these leftovers.

48 Hours Worth of Learning

2012-01-10T18:40:00.000-08:00

Sunday's Lesson:
Pride comes before a fall.
Let's just hope it happens to me next time, not the baby.

Monday's Lesson:
If the doctor asks, "Oh, they just glued [the cut on baby's forehead]?" the correct response is "Yes." Not, "Actually, we fixed it with superglue."

Monday Night's Lesson:
If you're going to be awake all night with vomiting and diarrhea, Cormac McCarthy's novel, The Road, is not a good reading choice.

Tuesday's Lesson:
It doesn't matter if she is pale, weak and has barf-breath, everyone wants mommy. The good news? Playing in mommy's bedroom while she is passed out in her bed is almost as good as having mommy actually take care of you.

I can hardly wait to see what the rest of the week brings!

Keeping Today

2012-01-05T19:26:00.000-08:00

An Official Scrapbook Expert once told me that you should "start where you are." That is, begin with chronicling the present, do not first attempt to catch up all those years that you're behind in your photo albums. Work on now, keep today up-to-date and then little by little - if you have energy remaining - go back and remember what has fallen behind.

I don't scrapbook anymore.
But I think it is advice that can carry over to blogging, right?

So, let's forget the last several weeks of my bloggity blog silence and just chronicle today. Maybe tomorrow, if I have energy remaining, I'll give a presentation of our just-passed Christmas Break.

Today something incredible happened.
I created a lengthy to-do list.
This is not that unusual; I love lists, and I always make them way too long.

Today's List included typical near-the-end-of-the-week stuff: laundry, cooking, bathrooms, dusting, sweeping, blah, blah, blah... Today's List also included holidays-just-past stuff: move the Christmas Shrub to the porch, carry boxes of ornaments to the attic, gather up all the Christmas books and nativity scenes, etc. etc. To state the obvious: Today's List was too long. By 10:30 AM (half-way through my most productive hours) I had only checked one item off. Incidentally, that item was already complete when I made my list. List confession: ~~sometimes~~ I purposefully include tasks that have already been accomplished just so I can have at least one check mark.

I {heart} checks.

In all forms.

But I digress.

Back to Today's List:

It's done.

Full of checks.

Incredible.

Hey, that wasn't digressing after all.

I {heart} checks. On lists. In the mail. Tiny little checks on tiny little dresses. Big "buffalo" checks. I {heart} them all.

And I {heart} typing {heart} instead of finding a little symbol to show my affection.

I think I need a fancy pair of shoes to click in celebration.

Or maybe some shiny new teeth to giggle through.

Because you know I'm clicking and giggling all over the place on account of all those check marks.
They're unprecedented.

This Post Has Nothing To Do With Christmas

2011-12-20T16:46:00.000-08:00

I bought a new calendar today.
We're less than two weeks out from 2012. I just had a little trouble typing those numbers, I tell you. How can that be? The year, I mean, not the new calendar.

It is a cutesy Mary Engelbreit number, not nearly as happy to me as the Dick and Jane 2011, but it was cheap and a much better choice than "Cleveland 2012" or "Precious Moments 2012" which were among my other options at the Big Box. Really? Cleveland? Who wants a whole year of Cleveland, except maybe Cleveland's mom and is anyone sure that she really exists?

Care to guess the first thing I wrote in my new calendar?
Hint: It is pretty awesome.
Hint: It involves TV (something I don't have here at the Rural Route 2 Residence) and so...
Hint: It takes place at my parents' home.

Do you need more hints?
How about a really obvious video hint?
OK.
But only because I love watching this trailer...

Downton Abbey.

Prepare yourself.

In other, slightly less exciting, perhaps even disturbing, news: every single Saturday of January and February 2012 has "basketball" written on it. Yep. Every single one. Yay. Rah. Trying to contain my excitement over here. What's the emoticon for resignation?

Compromising Christmas Shrub

2011-12-19T13:07:00.000-08:00

I've been gone from {my little bitty rural blog} here.
First, I was sick.
No pictures taken of sick momma.
Then, I was busy getting my life back from being sick.
No pictures were taken of that, either.
But now my kitchen floor is clean, I'm almost done with the little Christmas shopping I do, and I've returned to show you something.

In case you didn't realize how we do things around here, please note that these Five Little Ruffers are sitting in front of one of the Smallest Christmas trees in North West Ohio.
It is a compromise between the Man of the House and myself.
One of us likes seasonal decorations.
The other thinks cutting a tree
that took years to reach a height of six or seven feet just so you can
prop it up in your living room,
clutter it with lights, garland and glass balls,
spend a few weeks watering it and
shooing tiny children away from it
just to have it dry out and eventually burned is foolish.
Care to guess who holds which opinion?
So we get a live {potted} tree.
It is shorter than I, more shrub-like than tree. We use fewer lights, so I guess we're environmentally friendly. It lives in our house until February, then moves to the front porch. When the yard thaws into its natural state of mushiness, the tree gets planted.
We've repeated this compromise three times now. By the time GBaby is in high school we'll have a veritable forest of ex-Christmas ~~shrubs~~ trees in our yard.
Maybe some of them will be six or seven feet tall and we can revisit the decorations vs. foolishness debate.

Honestly, I didn't show you this picture to discuss our Christmas shrub/tree.
I wanted you to see how blessed I am. Truly.I'm speechless with gratitude.Only, I shouldn't be speechless, I should find words to say thank You for my Five Little Ruffers.

Discoveries

2011-12-08T15:50:00.000-08:00

"Look! Look!"
She ran into the kitchen, silken hair in disarray, nose running faster than her little feet, eyes bright with enthusiasm. She had news to tell her older sister. She settled for telling Mommy.
"There's Pink in the Sky! C'mere!"
I couldn't resist following.
"There. Pink. And Purple. And Yellow. And White."

[There was no white, but it is one of her three favorite colors, so she had to find it.]

I don't remember when I discovered the glory of a setting sun, but I hope I never forget when she did.

I tried hard to photograph this moment, fiddling with my aperture and ISO settings as best as I could. [Can anyone tell I've been reading my manual?]
I need some help, camera-wise. A new {unbroken} lens would be a good first step.
But really.
This fuzzy shot is a good enough reminder, it will jog my memory when I'm a dear old wrinkled lady and my little discoverer is a mommy herself.
It would be nice to take perfect pictures, but for now I'll settle with focusing my heart (if not always my camera) on the subject matter.
I am on the lookout, maybe I'll find my own "Pink in the Sky." Something tells me it is all about looking in the right direction.

Wow. I sound like someone in one of those 30-Second Self-Help spots on the radio. A little cheesy and trite. Oh well. We all get to have a sappy day here and there. I hope I run across this post sometime when I'm about to yell at those little discoveries.

Grandma Claus

2011-12-07T15:48:00.000-08:00

This is The Man's Grandma. She came over with toy catalogs and let the children give her ideas.

She's pretty much a terrifically Great Grandma. I am proud to share last names. I'm also proud of those little kridlets. Not one of them was rude or whiny. Although they do tend to have expensive taste.

Christmas Clutter

2011-12-06T19:21:00.000-08:00

Saturday marked the first weekend in December and officially the last day of the Holiday season when I can consider the effort of decorating to be worth the amount of time left before Christmas. Maybe I typed that backward, it doesn't read right.

Anyway, it was time to fight my way through the clutter and cold to those boxes in the attic. I love pulling out Christmas decor. If I repeat it to myself, I'll believe it, right? But still, I just couldn't bring myself to add more chaos to our already disorderly and dirty house. I made a deal with the kids: "You guys help me clean up the downstairs (just this one measly old floor, not even the toy room, bedrooms, or basement!) and then we'll get the Christmas stuff out."

They were more than willing.

First, though, we had to watch some cool videos on YouTube. We got stuck in a lineup of tiny home clips. Like this:

And this:

I am fascinated by the minute dwellings. I mean, how easy would it be to decorate this place for Christmas? Even more exciting, I bet I could clean it top to bottom in 30 minutes. Brand Spanking New Looking for minutes every day. {Side Note: check out the origins of your favorite phrase and thank me for the lovely little diversion.}

OK. So those little videos did nothing to make our abode more festive (or cleaner), so it was time to get to work. And then to adorning. I won't bore you with the details of our cleaning spree or the mom lectures delivered on-site throughout the process. Somehow, between dancing to Christmas songs (them) and vacuuming under the couches (me) to breaks for dress-up (them) and nursing GBaby (me) and laying on the couch (them, again) we got most of our downstairs clean.
Boxes lugged. Contents strewn. Discoveries remade.

In my mind, the perfect Christmas trimming scene is something like this: A fire in the hearth, Bing, Frank and Nat fill the air with old-timey songs while a mugs of peppermint cocoa sits near by. Hints of fresh pine waft from our potted tree, and I hum along with the music as I artfully arrange each meaningful ornament. The children don't fuss or break ornaments or grow bored and tired of the ~~chore~~ delightful task before it is finished.

Have we discussed that I'm not perfect here?
OK, good. Then we don't have to go over that again.

I still have boxes of decorations sitting out in my living room. (Excuse: We haven't purchased our tree yet, so we could neither put away the ornaments nor hang them upon the highest bough.)
The children's stockings are hung with tacky push-pins. (Excuse: It is pretty hard to come by a set of FIVE anything, let alone stocking hangers, let alone FIVE stocking hangers that are pleasant to look at and don't cost a few of my childrens' arms and legs.)
My unfinished wreath is sitting on a dining room chair, not the front door. (Excuse: Um. I'm out of excuses.)

Does it seem like I constantly post confessions of imperfections? Someday, surely, I will get my act together and pull off something impressive. With a camera that works. But it's not looking like it will happen this Christmas season. I could feel lousy about this. Instead, I'm taking encouragement from one of the first embellishments to make it out of the boxes:

This is The Man's favorite contribution to our Holiday celebration. I like it because he likes it. And also because it reminds me that the trappings of this Christmas time are mostly burdens I pile upon my own back. If he were home this evening (and not doing a disgusting activity that I will not even dirty my blog by discussing here except to say that it's initials are "Butchering" and "Deer") he would totally approve of me relaxing in front of a movie instead of perfecting the homeyness around me.
I married the right guy.
That's why we have babies.
And they're why we have a ginormous house that doesn't clean or decorate quickly.
*sigh*
I'm one blessed {if inadequate} girl.
Because, really, what would be the point of decorating for Christmas and then sitting around for a lonely cup of coffee? Right?

Well, maybe I could just have one of those tiny homes for a few hours each week. Sometimes a solitary cup of coffee isn't so lonely.

Dear Old Deers

2011-12-02T12:15:00.000-08:00

December 2010

I just elevated (or lowered) my blog to one of those frequented by red-neck types, didn't I? Maybe I'm just trying to broaden my base.

Well, it's that time of year.

I may not believe in Santa, but I sure as heck am convinced that Rudolph is real. And his cousin is dead.

The Man of the House is out and about seeking the Bambi types for slaughter. I can only guess that hunting is not politically correct, (I can only guess because I'm never sure about anything politically anymore) but it should be. Think of the benefits:
1. Venison is a very, very lean red meat. If ~~masked in chili~~ seasoned and prepared properly, it is also ~~tolerable~~ delicious. If you've had "Bad Deer Meat" it was probably from a bad deer cook, not a bad deer.

2. According to Wikipedia and Ohio DNR, the Deer Population in Ohio is over-grown. Basically, deer are becoming a pest because most of their natural predators (bear, wolves, man) don't bother to go out and get a hunting licence and deer tag. Without a license and tag, it is illegal to kill a deer with anything but your car. Of course, if you consult peace chickens, the deer were here first and therefore have a right to pester you all they want. But if you do not consult the chickens, deer hunting is a time-honored tradition that helps keep the deer population (also known as the herd count) at sustainable levels.

3. Hunting deer uses up bullets that could otherwise be used to kill people and their best friends.

4. OK, I can't think of any more benefits. Except that it gives pencil pushers and keyboard tappers a chance to don camouflage and traipse through the woods and mud. [ *Quiet Giggle.* I just used the word "traipse" in reference to The Man of the House. And then I giggled. Quietly.]

I'm proud to have cooked for hunters today.
I served chicken.
I bought it at the supermarket.
Because I don't hunt. I think that killing thing is gross. Honestly, I had to type this whole post with the box scrolled all the way to the bottom, just so I wouldn't have to look at that dead deer butt at the top of my screen. I'm really tired of this topic. It is so off-base for me. Do red-necks even have computers?

Me Time

2011-12-01T07:33:00.001-08:00

I've been complaining lately - as my husband can testify - that I don't really get to spend much time on my own trivial pursuits. Mom Life is incredibly rewarding, but emotionally taxing. When I'm done with the end of each day's laundry, cooking, dishes, toy-picking-up and toilet scrubbing, I don't usually have energy to tackle the fun projects. Yesterday I decided that the dishes, toys and toilets would all stick around until tomorrow. I lugged my mother's sewing machine out of the flooded basement and stitched out a few items on my "Christmas Sewing List." I did accomplish something, but my surroundings degenerated into sloven. Is "sloven" a word?
Hang on.
I have to look that up.
sloven [ˈslʌvən]

n
a person who is habitually negligent in appearance, hygiene, or work
[probably related to Flemish sloef dirty, Dutch slof negligent]

OK.
So my house, as many years as it has been around, has not achieved person status. Thus, my surroundings (i.e., the rooms of my home) could not have become a sloven. They did suffer my negligence in their appearance. Still, I do like using words that are related to Flemish & Dutch. I haven't had any Flemish relatives before.

I'm off subject again, aren't I?

Anyway. Time for my own pursuits. I've got to type quickly, as the taco meat is going to burn (it is Thursday, people!)

Good News: I am going to have a little "Me Time" today. Several hours of it! And it's going to cost lots of money! Woo-hoo!

Bad News: Today's "Me Time" is brought to us by the dentist. Yuckity-yuck. I have some emotional baggage from my dental past. Maybe this is due to being a sloven.

Making Christmas Happen

2011-11-29T05:40:00.001-08:00

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It is raining here. And leaking here. And so much not feeling the Christmas season here.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about Christmas. "It's up to moms to make Christmas happen," she said. She's right. Who shops, wraps, bakes, addresses, crafts, decorates, and remembers the hard-to-give-to people? The Mom.

This Mom needs some help.
I feel overwhelmed, and I picture my brain as one of those grabbing booths with little slips of paper swirling out of control.

On each slip of paper is a task that I must complete to make Christmas happen for our family. Christmas Card Pictures. Wrap Teacher Gifts. Sew Children's Stockings. Decorate House. Shop for Gifts. Bake Cookies. Pick out "Christmas Outfits" for children. Am I missing something? Oh yes. Jesus. What do all these Christmas things have to do with Him? I usually love this time of year, but right now I'm beginning to feel grinchy... and what kind of attitude is that for celebrating Emmanuel, the most amazing event in all of history?

These are my children, watching a Christmas movie last December. In the matching pajamas their Super {Christmas} Mommy made for them. Super Mommy has temporarily moved away; we're hoping she'll return when the baby is weaned. She didn't leave a note, so we're not sure.

My prayer this morning (and yes, for the rest of my life, but let's get through this morning first, OK people?) is that I will have wisdom and courage to discern what really needs to be done, and what can be done away with.

Maybe I can get it all done.

Maybe I don't need to.

I cannot allow "making" Christmas to ruin Christmas for my family.

And Now... I need to figure out what to do about the leaky window and the flooded basement. Oh yes, the basement: where all my sewing stuff lives.

Without Being Too Dramatic

2011-11-22T19:12:00.001-08:00

Without being too
Dra-ma-tic
I wish I could take
My pain and
Make money with it.

Others write of love
And then loss,
Angry dreams tossed
And burned,
Masses pay to cry.

Set my tears to song
You will find
They mean so much more
To someone
Who does not know me.

But then there is the problem of the chorus and rhymes and describing how your belly feels full of unbaked dough: squishy, fermenting and burbling. But it's just from being sad because no one is baking in this house today.

Look For The Lesson (while I finish my coffee)

2011-11-22T05:27:00.001-08:00

Day 1 of Thanksgiving Break:
"Let's put together a band!" quickly became "Let's play church!"

I love it.
Sorta. Their version of "church" is pretty loud for the living room.

And now Pastor W. is reading Scripture. I do not think they would sit so quietly if I was the pastor.

And now the children were just dismissed for Sunday School. Who is left in the congregation?

I so badly want to sneak in there to snap a picture, but then you know that they'd stop. Just imagine the joys of a toy microphone and the Spiritual blessings it can bring. ;)

Hmmm... that canned applause track adds an interesting element to church. There's a lesson in that, but I haven't finished my coffee yet, so I don't know if I can quite explore it fully. I do know that I'd like a little device to add applause through out my day.

Perfectly Thankful

2011-11-18T07:00:00.000-08:00

Through various conversations & readings lately, I've been reminded of the pressure we women place upon ourselves to achieve perfection.
Perfect marriage.
Perfect children.
Perfect home.
Perfect meals.
Perfect body.
Perfect job/hobby/creations...
Perfect spelling.

Perfection is the four-lane highway on the guilt trip of motherhood.
Anyone who's read my stuff before knows that I am not perfect in any of these aspects. Really not perfect. Some days, I'm determined that my imperfections will not keep me from joy. Some days I do allow my imperfections (and those of people around me) to keep me from joy. Some days I forget I'm not perfect, and I actually do something that impresses myself. And then my camera reminds me.

See, I made this perfectly cute turkey shirt for GBaby. Everything about it impressed me: I made it without a real pattern, loosely following an adaptation from one of my mom's sewing patterns from the 70's. I used only scrap materials, left over from other projects. I hand-embroidered parts. I even finished the seams and top-stitched it, people!
It fits perfectly.
"Gee, I'm so pleased with myself. I must be perfect. I'll take a picture to show everyone that sometimes I do things right. I can almost be a craft blogger (except for that whole I'm-not-a-Mormon part)."

Then.
I realized.
I dropped my camera two weeks ago. And now it doesn't like to focus. (Anyone want to sell me a lens for cheap?)

Durn.
I was this close to being perfect.

Now I have to pretend my picture is from the 1960's when I was perfect (except for that whole not-being-born-yet part).

Don't tell me that it's all The Awful Worldly World's fault, because it only has as much influence over me as I allow. So, what drives my (ugly) desire for perfection? Insecurity? Pride? Control? Painful Memories?
God sees every part of me, the perfect and imperfect. And still, He loves me. Amen. That's enough to be Thankful. With or without a turkey shirt.

Now, as a bonus reminder, go give a good listen to these two songs from a really great artist. And be thankful for your imperfections, because they can showcase the enormity of God's love.

Just so you know that I'm not making this imperfect stuff up: I had a really crappy attitude for about 36 hours. You can pray for me (and my poor little family). Thanks.

Boys and Baby

2011-11-16T16:13:00.000-08:00

Every baby girl should have patient, kind and helpful big brothers.

Look at GBaby's face. She knows she's got these big brothers wrapped around her little finger. She's such a blessed little girl.

Happy Birthday, Pirate

2011-11-15T18:00:00.000-08:00

My children are out to prove me old.

Example: Son #2 turned 8 just a few weeks ago. Ack - in six short months I'll celebrate a decade of motherhood.

Anyway.

~~Sambonio~~, ~~Sambonini~~, ~~Sammy~~, Samuel (he decided, suddenly, that mommy's baby names are too, well, babyish) has wanted a pirate cake since he was three-turning-four. I've been willing to try, but he's always picked a different "theme" two weeks or so before the other birthdays. This year we got it out of our system. And boy, are we glad that we did. It was a mess. But a yummy mess, so who cares?

I have to quit trying to make awesome birthday cakes. I just can't seem to keep them from falling apart. And then, they're not awesome. Do you see me in my pretty apron?

Instead of buying more candy (there was a lot on that cake!) or dollar tree toys, I got each boy a can of silly string. I hope the other mothers appreciated that it was junk that would get used up at our house and they wouldn't have to deal with it at home. I'm pretty sure the cats did not appreciate my thoughtfulness. But then, cats so rarely do.

After an epic 7 boys vs. adult tug-of-war, a 7 boys vs. cat silly-string fight, an enormous pizza and a very chocolaty movie, it was time to eat the cake! But wait... it had collapsed even further. Please note the entirely innocent expression of the guest in the background. I am certain that he was the pirate that chased us into the storm, but it's all good. Instead of a pirate ship, this was proclaimed to be the Swiss Family Robinson Cake. Thank goodness for quick-thinking older brothers.

I like to make a big deal about my kid's birthdays. Because, well, my kids are a pretty big deal.

Grown up names and all.

Seeking Order in a Haphazard Way

2011-11-14T18:23:00.001-08:00

As I reported in my previous post... I had a sick kiddo (or four) on my hands last week. Not fun. Not fun at all.
But not too bad, as sickies go. We have a lot to be thankful for.
Everyone is back on top of the weather.
And what weather we're having. Thunderstorms? In November? The booms were so loud the few pictures I actually have on my walls rattled. Seriously.

This is not what I was going to write about. This distraction-while-typing thing happens to me a lot, even when the kridlets are in bed. Kridlets. I made that word up. Then I joined urbandictionary.com just so I could add it and try to get a movement going. The problem is, too many other people are all trying to introduce new words into our vocabulary and they probably get more chances to write because they don't distract themselves with utter nonsense!

WARNING: I'm about to present a picture of everyday life. It isn't pretty. Well, except for the serious baby and singing toddler. Thanks to my Nine-year-old son, we have a permanent record of un-posed life.

Me: surrounded by chaos and kridlets.

Anyway.

I am finding myself drawn to order and schedule lately, although my housework begs to differ. But really, I am. Maddened by the "what to fix for dinner" chaos that haunts my 4:30 afternoon, I established a meal chart. Nothing new, nothing fancy, it is certainly nothing original. But it helps. That wasn't enough, because soon I found myself frustrated with the "what to put on our meal planning chart" problem. So I almost-randomly decided that we will always eat specific food on specific days of the week.

Monday nights we always eat pasta. Because I love pasta. And because The Father of My Children plays basketball every blessed Monday night. I'd hate for him to be burdened down with a heavy meal.
Wednesday nights are Soup-and-Sandwich nights because it's also a "Church Night" and I thought soup would be a quick meal. Only, it isn't always. But oh well. Now my kridlets (see? I'm using it!) are learning to like different kinds of soup.
Thursdays we have TexMex-style food because I haven't recovered from the taco obsession I had while carrying GBaby.
Sunday nights are cook-free nights and we have Nachos (made with leftovers from Thursday) and/or Popcorn.

Of course, I am without guidance for Tuesday, Friday and Saturday evenings but that's just because I haven't come up with specific foods to assign to those days. I'm sure I will, and I am hoping it involves The Father of My Children making some of his rather famous (at least as far as the kridlets - score extra points - and I are concerned) forays into the kitchen.

Here we are enjoying his delicious wings. I would never make wings from scratch. I would have bought them pre-cooked in a bag from the grocer's freezer. But he's much more adventurous than I.

Why am I telling the World Wide Webfolks all this? Well, because. It's Monday night. I've decided that's the night I will write... and not feel one bit guilty about the housework.

Unplanned Treasure

2011-11-08T11:37:00.000-08:00

So today I'm not doing what I wanted to.
Sickie-poo baby leaves me sitting with her in my arms.
We're watching youtube videos because it keeps her from crying.
And I resent that my projects were interrupted.
We watch this short music video from an artist I would never had called my favorite.
And now I'm crying.
And now I'm loving every minute "wasted" with my little ones.

Amazing Amplified Ante Meridian

2011-11-03T04:04:00.000-07:00

I just set a timer, giving myself 15 minutes to chirp out a post, so there will be few edits and hardly any connections between thoughts.

Sometimes a ratty old sweater just makes you feel better. Particularly a cardigan. Why is slovenliness so emotionally comforting? Up early, compliments of GBaby, I have "fixed" my hair & makeup before the household gets going. Because, you know, it is so important to have eyeshadow on before you bake cookies, which is one of my goals for the day. I've been a little Baker Queen this week. Muffins, biscuits, bread that is impersonating a brick... I don't know why I have such a hard time with bread. My dinner rolls are pretty decent. Anyway, despite the sweater dug out the depths of my bottom drawer, I am wearing my hair curled this morning. I think it looks like a mash-up of Farrah Fawcett and Nelly Olson. Really, a great look for 6:45 AAAM. I think that finger slip signifies Early Morning Greatness: Amazing Amplified Ante Meridian. GBaby doesn't have much hair yet, so no curls for her. She sat at my feet and grunted. Pretty sure I know what that means. When the timer goes off I'm on poop duty. Apparently, there is a world-wide shortage of snot (I'm really sorry about that word, but we're not talking "boogers" people, and I don't know the polite substitution for liquid running from your nose; maybe polite people don't talk about it.) and my head is storing it up for the winter. This stuffiness should help with the poop duty. Maybe I should wear a mask while I bake. Tomorrow night we're having a sleepover to celebrate Sambonio's 8th birthday. He doesn't like it when I call him Sambonio, so I won't do that in front of his friends. I am not really excited about it, because a "sleepover" probably means "little boys who will want their moms at 4:00 AM." And not AAAM. So I'm baking a birthday cake too. Shaped like a pirate ship. With candy. Hmmm... I'm hungry.

Happy Excuse-to-Dress-Up Day!

2011-10-31T05:32:00.000-07:00

I don't do Halloween. Neither my husband nor I grew up celebrating Halloween, so it's just not a big deal to us. Honestly, not much really appeals to me about the witchy festivities, and I really dislike all the ghoulish decorations. I'm not being a hater here; if you love Halloween and want to throw your energy into making it a big day, go for it. It is just not for me.

Except.

Who doesn't love candy? I mean, besides dentists and my Sammy?

And.

Pumpkins are so cheerful (and, uncarved, they make great decorations right up till Thanksgiving).

And.

I love love love playing dress up. Yep, I'm a grown-up mom lady person and I still play dress up. Only my kids don't know it yet. They must think everyone dons a polka-dot dress and vibrant red lipstick to perform domestic chores.

I happen to have a lot of candy and pumpkins around, but one can never have too many dress-up clothes. The happy, cute, creative costumes and the chance to show off my happy, cute, creative children are the only reasons that make me wish we did Halloween. Especially when I see something like this lovely little concoction from one of my favorite blogging crafters. What kind of dress-up loving mama would I be to deny my lovely little girls something like that?

When I saw The Cottage Home's duds, I started thinking through my stash of fabric, creating a similar ensemble in my mind... Let's see, I have shiny red satin, sheer sparkly organza, happy striped and dotted ribbon, and absolutely zero extra time. Bummer. Because my girls need some new dress-up stuff. Really. What they have only fills a small laundry basket and it is all Disney Princess garb (which I hate and they love.)

The next day a friend and I hit Old Navy for a massive sale they were having (a situation that deserves an entire post of it's own: 2 mommas + 2 nursing infants + 2 two-year-olds = absolutely hysterical chaos!) and I saw a rack of costumes marked down to $5.00. Plus, I had a "40% OFF" coupon. So, instead of the original price of $29.94 I paid a whopping $3.00 for each outfit! That's less than a happy meal, folks - and guaranteed to last a lot longer!

Is the construction of the garments solid? No, I've had to repair the queen bee dress twice already. Does anyone care? No! It was $3.00 people!

We are very happy on this last day of October, (despite the rush-to-school yelling) and we hope you all are too.

Boys dress up too! My sons had outfits (homemade, so take that!) for the school costume parade on Friday. Weston was a Christmas clown (say what?) and Sammy was a laptop computer (because his dad thought it would be cool). But OF COURSE, I did not get any pictures snapped. Maybe I'll ~~make~~ encourage them to become their clowny computery selves again today. We could hit up Great Grandma's house during the town's trick-or-treat hours. She always has lots of candy around.

Mornings at Home

2011-10-30T04:51:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful morning. I would try to take a picture, but my photography skills are not worthy. And I don't want to change out of my pajamas one moment too soon.

The fields and yard are frosted, the barns and trees silhouetted against the slowly waking sky. A thin band of pink rims the eastern horizon, a thin fog gentles the dark blue above.

I do not know what the rest of the day will look like. At this point, un-forecasted as I am, it is a guess either way. Maybe it is the suspense of early morning that appeals so much to me. I fluctuate somewhere between opti- and pessi-misms and would like to think this will be a beautiful day, but I know that it is late October and chances of rain abound.
Regardless, I have my love, my babies, projects and chores, and the confidence of God's love. It will be a lovely day, no matter the color of the sky.

And now... for some coffee!

**I should note that Sunday mornings are typically the least beautiful around here. But a sick-yesterday-I-feel-fine-now child keeps me home today, and it is far more relaxed and restful.

**I must note that I just overheard one son tell the other that we are staying home from church "because you were sick yesterday and the Bible tells us, if one of you is sick he should stay home." I think I need to do a better job with those Bible lessons.

Too Young

2011-10-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

I was going to write about the lovely colors around me this season, about the contrast of freshly-painted barn against the blue sky, the muted colors of a rainy fall day, the shiny hard orange of so many pumpkins...

But just as I started typing a distraught three year old flung herself upon my lap. "The boys say I'm too young to do it!" The new box of Legos (an 8 year old's favorite birthday present) has just been opened. She is too young for it. I gently try to explain, while at the same time loving that she fits so perfectly between the keyboard and me.

Will picking out a picture for mommy's post mollify her? It is hard to be too young for stuff, I know. I think I'm too young for this mothering gig, but...

Here's the picture she chose:

Cute little cousin friends. It's nice to be around someone who doesn't think you're too little to play.

What do you know? She chose a picture that showcases the beautiful fall weather we enjoyed for so much of October. Looking at this picture makes this rainy day a little better for several reasons:
1. I am not watching anyone play soccer right now, but sitting in my big, dry house smelling the homemade beef & vegetable stew simmering on the stove.

2. Remember? We have had a nice fall.

3. I love my nephews (and nieces!).

Bedtime Cometh

2011-10-25T17:59:00.000-07:00

I sent thee to bed; why dost thine screams echo down the hallways?
Thou hast been given the water, blessed with prayers, covered with the blankie of thine chief affections.

BE QUIET AND GO TO SLEEP ALREADY!

A Little Pumpkin Love

2011-10-23T14:14:00.000-07:00

Little things make me happy. Like the mini pumpkins we have in over abundance around here.

This little pumpkin, however, did not have any friends. He was very lonely.

Sometimes when we're lonely, we just have to look around. There's probably another pumpkin out there who also needs a friend.

See?

No wait a minute.
This is not that kind of blog.
Please. Get a mini-pumpkin room.

I'm sorry, folks. I had no idea pumpkins thought these kinds of thoughts.

Or Maybe

2011-10-21T04:21:00.000-07:00

There is something about a vacuum sweeper sitting with its unwound cord spiraling around itself that looks so unkempt. Or maybe it is just the un-showered and pajama-clad momma that projects feelings of unkemptness onto her surroundings.

* * *

If you give all your children names that start with the same letter it sure makes passing on monogrammed garments easier. Or maybe that negates the purpose of personalized stuff.

* * *

If you pretend that you're a Scottish housekeeper giving a video demonstration of how to do laundry it makes the daily task a lot more fun. Or maybe it just shows that you have soom oonderlying ishues ya need ta werk oot.

* * *

The Scottish housekeeper observed that it would be much better for the environment if all of mankind adopted a nudist lifestyle. Or maybe that would make phsychiatrists wealthy.

* * *

The spell check on this thing is broken. Or maybe I'm just a fantrastic speller today.

Puttin' On The Feedbag

2011-10-18T18:36:00.000-07:00

Hungry complaints.
"I don't like sitting here, all I do is watch you guys eat and I don't get anything but these crummy little puffs."

What is this new thing?

By tradition: Daddy feeds Baby her first cereal.

Unsure...

But she's liking the spoon!

An overly-helpful audience.

A (rather hungry) audience member. How does that hair taste?

And so it begins. We are no longer solely dependant upon Mama. Just one little step in a lifetime of moving away from me.

I think I'll go cry into some fudge.

Practice

2011-10-13T19:50:00.001-07:00

I am letting go of my temper a bit while making tacos, nursing an inattentive (but hungry) infant, correcting children, trying to ignore the building noise and hyperactivity... the dinner hour at our house seems far from peaceful.
"Lord... You're going to have to make me more patient!" My prayer hisses out through clenched teeth.
Realization.
This is supposed to make me more patient.
I will probably face more trying circumstances than these.
If the supper rush around our home makes me lose control how can I expect to handle real difficulty?

I'm practicing patience.
Practicing.
Practice makes perfect, it doesn't mean that it already is perfect.

When I'm perfect at patience, I won't have to practice it... I'll just be patient.
And probably dead.

2011-10-12T06:22:00.001-07:00

I need to change the layout of this blog! Help, anyone?

Glittery Wings in the Warm Air

2011-10-12T03:49:00.000-07:00

Typically, I'm one to want weather to follow the proper order.
Winter = Cold.
Spring = Balmy (and yes, rainy).
Summer = Hot.
Autumn = Crisp.
But this string of extra-warm October days have been lovely. The mornings are just a teeny bit sharp, a thin fog hanging over the drying corn. The mild chill gives way to afternoons comfortable for flip flops and t-shirts. Laundry on the line and paint on the porch both dry quickly. There may be an over abundance of those smelly orange ladybug-look-alikes, but even those catch the afternoon light on their wings and redeem themselves with glittery spectacle.

I've enjoyed these last two weeks.
Rumor is that real October arrives tomorrow.

Not a Real Blog Mommy

2011-10-10T03:17:00.000-07:00

I feel as though each time I actually do click "PUBLISH POST" I must re-introduce myself since such great amounts of time lapse between entries. [Hi, My name is Honour, I have a lot of kids in a big house. My kids say funny things and entertain us endlessly. My house is old and a constant source of work.]

What keeps me from writing? There is no shortage of inspiration around here. There's this cute little Lover of Standing...

Can you see the delight on her face? Doesn't it make you want to go find an ottoman and hold on to it? I had no idea furniture-assisted standing was such a wonderful thing. Imagine what she'll think when she can be up without help! And how about that helpful boy in the background? I have no idea what I would do without him around. He makes me smile.

We've also had a slew of Birthdayness going on lately.

Someone is always celebrating around here. More cupcakes coming later this month.

We also have been watching a LOT of this:

I'm sure that my esteemed readers (thanks, Mom & Dad) will recognize this activity. All three of my oldest children have chosen to play parks & rec sports this season. So four afternoons out of the week find us watching soccer, soccer and flag football. I'm ready for it to end. Very ready.

So I'm not lacking inspiration, just time. What is it that takes up most of my time?

Life.
Messy.
Silly.
Sometimes Irritating.
Always with lots of Laundry.

Let's walk through this picture, the one that "Real Blog Mommys" never show.

Upper left hand corner: a Fall Dress I made for G.Baby. I am so proud of this dress, since I got all creative-and-adaptive with it, only loosely following a pattern and adding touches of my own. Full of vanity, I love every compliment that she receives while wearing it. If I were a Real Blog Mommy, I would have already posted a charmingly upbeat tutorial with lovely pictures of each vintage button (really vintage - rescued from the trash!) and a link to my etsy shop where you can purchase one for your own darling infant!
Is anyone picking up on my little burst of jealousy here?
Moving on.

Middle background, behind Baby's head: a Stack of games for the "Family Game Night" we never had. [Sorry kids.] A Real Blog Mommy would have not only held "Family Game Night," she would have coordinated clever snacks and had a meaningful lesson to go with each game. And invited the neighbors.
And taken great pictures.
And posted about it the next day.
Let's keep going.
Center of picture: Four baskets of laundry, in various stages of folding. Real Blog Mommys do not mention laundry. Their children are clothed at all times in adorable, hand-crafted togs that never become soiled.

Foreground: Playdough. Not homemade (as a Real Blog Mommy would have) but a true obsession of the green-dressed beauty. We take playdough to soccer games. To the grocery store (it stays inside the diaper bag there). To Grammy's house. She loves playdough. I hate it; it is messy and the colors are always mixing themselves up.

Foreground: The Boxcar Children. One of my favorite bits of children's literature. A Real Blog Mommy reads to her children nightly. I am just thrilled that my children are independant readers so they can fulfill their reading requirements for school with minimal involvement on my part. I just approve their books, initial their charts and smile... And then scramble at the end of each month because I remember that my kindergarten student isn't actually reading yet (although she interprets the pictures wonderfully and provides much more interesting dialogue than the authors provide) and we have to read 30 books before bedtime so that she can get her reward from her teacher tomorrow.

Center: Much-cuddled (if diaper-neglected just the teeniest bit) Baby. Caring for my children and trying to make our home a clean, loving environment for growing those children up takes up the majority of my time. I do not have a "real" job and I have absolutely no idea how "working mothers" actually hold their lives together. I seem to struggle just to find my way out of a grungy t-shirt. Our home is constantly messy and always enduring one improvement or another. We know from pictures that Real Blog Mommys have lovely homes, white teeth, well-behaved children and sew, cook, homeschool, publish books, run an etsy business, volunteer, and photograph their every perfect moment.

I suspect that they also have maids and nannys hidden outside the edges of each photograph. This suspicion maintains my feeble grasp on sanity. That and the fact that I absolutely love my life, messy, silly, sometime irritating and full of laundry.

PS -- for those of you that are worried, G.Baby spends almost no time on top of the dining room table. She is the only part of this picture that was posed. W.Beans and the various props happened to be there already and I just plopped the baby in there and snapped a few pictures. I promise.

Have the Shirt

2011-10-03T18:52:00.000-07:00

I was such an awesome mom this morning that I wore the shirt to prove it. It's a long-sleeved tee that I bought in the boys' department of Old Navy for $2 and it says "Awesome!" across the front.
That was this morning, when I was on top of the world. Or at least on top of my little world. At the very last minute before the school kids left I remembered the dress-like-a-pioneer-and-take-your-lunch-in-a-tin-pail field trip. I didn't even sweat. Kid was re-dressed and packed in amazingly record time.
Then the battery was dead in the Daddy car (usual ride to school). No biggie: I whipped up the toddler and baby, loaded all five offspring in the car and dropped them off before the tardy bell even thought about ringing. On the return home, I listened to NPR's partial listing of Nobel prize winners. I felt like I could fit right in.
I played with the least'uns, tidied the house, even organized my fabric piles a bit. OK, I just mostly moved the fabric piles around, but I did put some pieces aside for a project I have in the works. By the time the Big Ones got off the bus, I had a snack ready, stuff packed and hurried us off to the soccer-meets-football-meets-piano lessons that is our Monday afternoon.
But now.
Now I've finally put five exhausted children to bed (late), at least one sleeping in her clothes and another crying for reasons unknown.
I am not awesome anymore.
That's what happens when you change your shirt, I guess.

Sorting [Unwillingly] My Times

2011-09-19T18:54:00.000-07:00

I'm realizing that organization may not be optional.
But it feels like it should be.
I willingly organize certain aspects of our family life. Ok, very few aspects.
But.
There's a pile of "Not Getting Itself Done" stuff. Maybe if I were more organized, I'd have time for all the fun and games and the diapers that need to be washed.
I doubt it, though. I secretly think if I were more organized I would just have more opportunities to be angry. Angry when my strictly ordered life was tracked through with the unexpected, angry when my strictly ordered life showed no time to sit and read.
We'll see.

August Around Archbold

2011-09-16T17:06:00.000-07:00

So I missed most of August in the 'ternet world.

Here's a little hint why:
The Man Husband's garden is so huge, it has become our secondary housing.
Except now it's getting cold...

Friday Night Blahs

2011-09-16T17:01:00.001-07:00

It only takes one little remark that sends me back to that other little remark, and the one before that... then I'm back to those old thoughts that I want so much to be done with.

I feel so Blech.
Which oddly looks a lot like Bleach.
Maybe I'll try to re-purpose some of this yucky feeling into a positively productive evening.

Is it wrong to put your kids to bed early on a Friday night so that you can have some cleaning therapy? Is that selfish? They seem tired to me.

Last Worms

2011-09-15T05:29:00.001-07:00

I'm up early most days. I like being the

Earliest Bird of the House.

It makes me feel more In Charge of my Day.

Maybe I need a badge to fulfill my power urges.

The silly part is, once I'm fueled by half a cup of coffee, (who actually gets a cup finished when it is still hot?) the others' bodies start moving, and I'm suddenly,

packing lunches,

tying shoes,

flipping eggs,

pouring milk,

scrambling eggs,

(because we can't all like the same style eggs; it would be communism!)

making ponytails,

nursing baby + surfing 'ternet...

and I realize I haven't had my favorite meal yet: breakfast.

But it is still morning, several hours till noon when I would have to officially declare breakfast skipped. So I eat last.

The early bird sometimes has to take the last worm available.

But she doesn't mind.

Been Busy Much?

2011-09-10T18:55:00.000-07:00

Life has continued to move along since I last updated my little spread here. Anecdotes and witticisms worthy of sharing with the World Wide Web are constantly popping into my brain, but time is not free around here. I know, I know; you make time to do what you want to do. This is slightly true.
Only slightly.
Some of us are busy enough making time for what we must do right now (can or freeze the produce that is ready right now and will not be available next week) that what we would really like to do (sleep, read, write, socialize) is put on layaway.
Do stores do layaway anymore? Or does everyone just use credit cards?

So maybe later this week I will write.

Or maybe in the winter. When the garden is not bursting with tomatoes.

WINNER!

2011-08-24T13:24:00.000-07:00

I won something! I really did!

The best part?

Its from one of my favorite blogs ever. Go read about how God is working in this dear and special family. And buy some shoes too.

Guilty Cool

2011-07-20T04:28:00.001-07:00

I am a lover of all things historical. I admire the way things "used to be" before my time, and I think that the modern soul is wimpy at best and evilly spoiled at worst. Conveniences have ruined us.
But.
I am ready to admit, I'm very thankful for certain inventions and innovations.
Like shorts.
And tank tops.
And freezers full of ice cream.
And air conditioning.

Yes, I am a wimp. My husband brought home a window-unit air conditioner last night, and I, who had decried the over-use of artificially cooled air, was pretty darn happy to hear its humming. Let's see if I can avoid becoming spoiled.

Monuments and Museums

2011-07-11T23:24:00.000-07:00

Or, "All I Needed to Know I Learned in the First Three Days, part 1."

So here is my re-cap of the first day of our Epic Journey to the East, a Ten Piece Listing of what I learned:

Day 1 (Washington D.C.)

Apparently, the sight of port-a-potties triggers some people's bladders (not mine).

It really stinks when you leave your camera at the hotel.

Walking in flip-flops around the Nation's Capital is not such a bad idea -- if you're guaranteed to be traveling at the pace of a two-year-old.

If Mommy walks in flip-flops, the children will not understand why Daddy makes them wear tennis shoes.

A lot of women are wearing breezy summer dresses this season, but not with tennis shoes.

Sometimes fashion ideals must be sacrificed for family unity. (Please note that I do not consider flip-flops the epitome of "fashion" but I was sure my days of tennis shoes with dresses were over.)

Not every person in my family wants to read every exhibit in the Smithsonian museums. Actually, none of them do, except me.

The pace of a two-year-old dramatically increases in air conditioning (such as they have in the Smithsonian museums).

While heat and hunger sap the strength of all ages, cool air and food may revitalize children much faster than their adults.

Even if kids are whiny and hot, war memorials are still solemn, fulfilling their purpose: to remind the living of those dead in the name of freedom. Faced with the names of so many young and promising sent prematurely to eternity, and considering the empty homes and aching hearts of families left behind, I do not stop to weigh the right or wrong of wars. I simply mourn and am thankful.

Yeah, this is not a picture from the scenic first day's adventures. This is a picture of the kids in our hotel, watching a TELEVISION with CHANNELS! I think that was vacation enough for them, the poor media-deprived dears.

I wish I could link up to more pictures from our first day of vacation, but... well, refer to #2 of my lessons learned.

Another great moment (even better than the museums and monuments) was meeting up with my dear cousin. But I already knew it would be wonderful to see her, so I didn't actually learn a lesson there... except, that it was another missed photo. (insert tongue-sticking-out-icon-of-frustration-with-self here.)

Back Home!

2011-07-10T13:30:00.000-07:00

Despite the work of unpacking ahead of me, I am so glad to be home! Maybe tomorrow I will conduct a day-by-day review of our vacation, but for today I just am lolling around, basking in an effortless Sunday at home.

*Insert contented sigh here.*

I love my home.

Before I post pictures and stories from our time away, let me give you a little taste of my happy place.

The hollyhocks I planted to remember my grandmother are finally blooming! Now if I could just get someone to teach me how to make the clever little dolls she crafted from these showy blooms.

Tid Bits

2011-07-01T04:59:00.001-07:00

The man and I walked across the dewy yard to pick these lovely raspberries this morning. The children promptly ate them.

The two-year-old doesn't say "nana" anymore, but properly enunciates "buh-nana." I'm a little sad and proud at the same time.

Tomorrow we go on family vacation. I have nothing packed. For seven people. But I have carefully rationed the last drops of milk so that we'll leave nothing to stink up the fridge.

The man and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye on how clean a house must be before you leave for a week or more. I think clean sheets, mopped floors, scrubbed toilets are all "Must Do." He's content with empty trash cans and a mowed yard.

The nine-year-old has informed me that we NEED to get packing (literally) and we don't have time to sit at the computer. Funny how I'm not amused by his surpassing maturity.

Laundry Issues

2011-06-30T11:13:00.000-07:00

I manage the laundry for a household of seven, including a cloth-diapered infant and a two-year-old potty-trainee. I don't have time to take a shower, let alone time for extra steps in washing clothes.

So, why does my clothesline look like this today?

I think we can all agree that I need some help. Do you think there are therapists that deal with laundry obsessions?

Playing {Mad} House

2011-06-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

I must admit to swinging on the playground of emotions. Especially of late. Certain days of my life as Keeper of the Home are such fun that I feel as if I'm playing house. Other days I walk through laundry piles, tossed shoes, scattered books, smeared food and feel anxiety, exhaustion and anger overtake me. Of course, the house is usually clean (or clean in significant parts) on the good days.
So why are my emotions so closely tied to my home? This seems wrong. Shouldn't I be more even?

Happily, today is a clean-house day and we're having fun.

And then...

I took children with me to the grocery store.

Picking and Choosing.

2011-06-25T07:22:00.000-07:00

It is a beautiful Saturday, with a clean kitchen. Our typical Big Breakfast was exchanged for a visit to the bakery. So without my usual clean-up to do, shall I craft or garden? Both tasks sound gratifying, and both promise to be oft-interrupted!

Stray Dog Powers

2011-06-23T11:25:00.000-07:00

See these children? They thought they wanted to go to The Zoo today. Or an indoor playground, on account of the rain. They are a Zoo unto themselves, and the overcast day has not driven them indoors. All they need is Grammy's flower-filled backyard and each other.

Of course, they may have actually spent more time naming and describing their imaginary selves than actually play acting.

"My name's Elizabeth and I have the power to make someone invisible."

"My name's Fighter, cause I fight."

"My name's Lightening, because I have a lightning streak on me -- I was just born that way. I am a mix of a Golden Retriever, Great Dane and a Dalmatian. I'm all white with a lightning streak on me."

"I am a Poodle, with black on me."

"I'm a mix of a Chihuahua and a Bull Dog." (Care to guess which one that is?)

And then --

"A Human!"

"The Dog Catcher! Into the force field house!"

They really don't have to fear; the clamor they create would keep any Animal Control Personnel away. You can't bring that inside and cage it, that amount of noise is sure to cause physical damage.

They didn't know I was listening in to their imagination collaboration until I told them they couldn't play "Mating Dogs Having Puppies." I'm a Meanie Mom, I know.

Here are a few of them, wondering why Grammy (the Dog Catcher? Or a more friendly human?) won't unlock the gate to her back yard.

Are you kidding? We can't unleash that sort of force out into the neighborhood.

I asked them what they called their game. "Stray Dog Powers." I call it better than cartoons, folks. Better than cartoons.

Baby Tears

2011-06-22T12:49:00.001-07:00

I'm extra-tired today.
That explains why I nearly cried.
I was holding Baby, and she was not crying.
Sometimes the perfectness of rounding little arms and legs, the brightness of two round eyes edged by fragile eyelashes, the cooing "O" of a mouth, the wispy hair... well, sometimes the beauty of my Baby makes me cry.
Maybe because she is so sweet. Maybe because a baby is so hopeful and pure in this ugly, evil world. Maybe because I love all five of my babies so much I hurt.

Or maybe because I am tired.

More of the Same to Come

2011-06-19T19:38:00.001-07:00

I have several posts started, both in my mind and on the computer. But children's baseball and early summer produce is taking over my life!

Hmm...

Boredom

2011-06-07T09:51:00.001-07:00

"I'm so bored."
This is Sammy's response to my "I love you so much, I'm glad you're my kid" statement.
I want to tell him that only boring people get bored, but he's reading over my shoulder, so maybe I don't have to. Maybe I just have to tell him to take the clothes off the line.

Happy Summer Vacation.

Smelling the Summer

2011-05-23T03:55:00.001-07:00

I came downstairs early today, courtesy of Ginger and her night of good sleep. An open window filled our house with the smell of a wet summer morning. It is a cool, fresh smell; before the heat of the day turns the dampness to sticky, almost mildew. Smells are strong memory cues, and summer is resplendent in their happy reminiscence.

Insect repellent is a family camping trip, delighting in the pain of sleeping outside.
Pond water is late nights with college friends, proving our adulthood by staying up too late.
Wood smoke is a charred hot dog, a toasty marshmallow, laughing and singing songs no one likes except by fireside.
Cut grass is a chore that I was willing, but not called upon to do. (I guess straight lines matter to some people.)
Coppertone is hot, sweaty sunshine on the beach, by the pool, atop the trampoline (sorry for the grease spot, brothers) anywhere that I could spread my towel beside a friend and lay about for lazy conversation with our eyes shut against the UVB.

I love me some summertime!

Embarrassed Me

2011-05-11T05:19:00.000-07:00

I just read through my last photo-filled post and noticed several spots in need of editing. Oops! Guess my current typing method needs a little tweaking. As Norah proudly told a dinner guest on Friday, "Mom mom can nurse a baby and eat and be on the computer all at the same time!"

Maybe I should try disentangling just one of those great activities from the other two.

Here's a bit of adorable to make up for those former mistakes:

Making Smiles

2011-05-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

This has not been an easy first week of May. Ugly, wretchedly painful heartache has touched some of those dearest to my heart. When those you love are hurt you hurt right alongside; the world seems full of tears and frowns.

Saturday it was time to find some smiles. I did not have to look far.

Saturday Morning Pancakes. Family breakfast food made by someone not me. Huge smiles there -- I {heart} breakfast food and I {big heart} food made by someone else.

Here is this morning's cook, enjoying the fruits of his own labor! This son of mine and the love and kindness he shows make me smile - even when he doesn't make breakfast!

And this little bundle of giggles makes me smile through out each day, but I wish she would acknowledge the clever invention of forks.

And who doesn't smile at consistency? Sammy and his cereal are not to be soon parted. He couldn't even manage to look at the camera. Silly boy.

Here is a smile that is missing a piece. It's a big deal.

The sight of the third generation to sleep in this "Moses Basket" makes me smile. Actually, anytime this child is not crying makes me smile.

I have been finding baby dolls wherever our real baby belongs. Funny that.

The intensity of her frown amused me.

Home-grown flowers... smiles inside and outdoors!

A niece that melts my heart with her simple goodness... she is a very peaceful child, gently smiling throughout the day at Aunt Honour's.

Ginger's first ride in the old stroller. She? Now she's smiling too!

Country Kid's slip-n-slide. I wanted to laugh aloud at this, but I made them turn off the hose (our yard is saturated already!)

Old-time gardening, with a technology boost: getting advice garden side advice from his mom. The juxtaposition made me chuckle. Also, taking the picture on an angle (which annoys him sometimes) made me chuckle. But that was a little bit mean, I guess.

*************

See how easy? Grab a camera and walk around your house LOOKING for happiness. It will cheer you up... at least for a minute.

Soggy Green Happiness

2011-04-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

Chilly spring raindrops are pinging the windows. Looking out, I see that the grass around the muddy patches is violently green. If the sun were to suddenly shine, the vibrancy of the brilliant, wet lawn would certainly hurt one's eyes. The muddy patches are usually called "flower beds." No blooms yet, but the promise is there in little emerald shoots. A dozen tiny birds peck away in the mud, ignoring the rain.

I'm not an outdoorsy type, and I am tired of cold and rain... but those birds and flower buds make me smile.

{Need Some} Sonny Weather

2011-04-20T13:45:00.000-07:00

One boy heard me calling the other boy "Sonny" and asked why I don't call him by that name. It just slipped out, I don't think of either of my boys as "Sonny." But I got thinking, of course, about Sonny and Cher. I had to share this video with my son. It just makes me happy.

Saturdays

2011-04-16T06:50:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up, my parents had this "Saturday Morning Breakfast Club." Basically, it was a very large, drawn-out breakfast followed by lists of chores. Lots of food = lots of work. Breakfast eatings have always been my favorite, but this meal was a mixed blessing. I hated Saturday morning chores. Somehow, I expected that my kids would love them.

Gassy Babe

2011-04-13T16:21:00.001-07:00

An old trick I suddenly remembered from my mother: curl a gassy baby over / around your lap.

It doesn't look comfortable, but G-Baby said that it was. She finally settled down. Didn't belch or toot, but settled.

Baby Neck. This tiny patch of skin, behind the chin and below the earlobe is my most favoritest place to kiss my baby. Soft and filled with baby smell.

Wardrobe {FUN}ction

2011-04-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

I was trying to tell G-Baby that she looked extra sweet in nothing but a soft blankey...Or atop a hand-made quilt.

But she didn't so much feel the same way I did about it. So I gave her a shirt. Now, I don't know if she was just cold, or if she was upset about the big Zero (the logic of my argument that she wasn't one month old yet, so she couldn't wear the number 1 yet was lost on her. Actually, after the mess of that run-on sentence, the logic is lost on me too.)

Maybe it was just the cold, because here she is, five minutes later in peaceful slumber:Or maybe she was just worn out from all that screaming.

You would think that by the time I brought home my third daughter, I would have learned my lesson. Girls have definite opinions about thier clothing, and these opinions are not usually founded upon Good Reason nor Common Sense.

Good Reason & Common Sense: if a dress is scratchy, don't wear it.

Norah's opinion: If a dress makes you feel beautiful, wear it and ignore the discomfort!

Good Reason & Common Sense: If it is cold enough for snow boots and long sleeves, it is not warm enough for hawiian print shorts.

Willa's opinion: if mom can bum around the house in sweatpants and a grubby t-shirt, a two-year-old can make any outfit work.

Sitting Around, Not Doing

2011-04-06T18:34:00.000-07:00

If the cupboards in my kitchen could see my invisible thoughts, they would slap their doors in raucous laughter. If cupboards could laugh, of course. Each morning this week, I purpose that This will be The Day that I sew Those Easter Dresses. If the cupboards can laugh, they probably can talk to the sofa as well. If the sofa is listening to the gossip through the house, it would shift its pillows in disgruntled agitation. "Sew? What about running the vacuum around here? How will she ever do anything if she never gets off my cushions?" Assuming a sofa can fuss, this one must also be bothered by the frequent diaper changes upon the upholstery. The house may be laughing at my neglect of duties and hobby, but A tiny head, soft with downy hair, just fits in the crook of my elbow, and it won't fit there for long. A small body, new to this world of light and sound, sleeps best when resting on my chest. A little mouth spends every waking moment rooting around for something to snack on. Yes, every waking moment. How do I take care of all that when sitting before a sewing machine or marching behind a vacuum? So I'm mostly just sitting around these days, justifying myself out of the chores and fabric. Ok, I don't sit that much, but it feels like I do.

At Home, In Restful Craziness

2011-04-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

My dear, fun-loving sister invited my older three kids to spend their spring break at her house. It was perfect timing, following immediately as it did the arrival of G-Baby. Kids 1, 2 and 3 completely enjoyed the time spent with their cousins (because Aunt J. really is the most fun-loving responsible adult on the planet) and the Baby Girls and I really made good use of the four days of quiet to rest and recover. However, after four days, I was definitely ready for everyone to be home together. Sure, it's already louder and a little chaotic in our house. Yes, we've had some bickering and whiney attitudes this morning. But... YAY! I'm the mother of five wonderful children and they're all here with me!

Little To Say, Rushing Off

2011-03-31T08:53:00.001-07:00

This is highly unusual for me, but I cannot think of anything meaningful to type. Yet, I feel the need to post an update. G.Baby is making some noises in her basket, and I hear the Toddler of the House offering her an apple. Sometimes the immediate is more necessary than the insightful.

Endeavoring to Update the Blog

2011-03-28T18:33:00.001-07:00

Baby has arrived!

Ginger Elaine 6 pounds, 14 ounces; 21 inches long.

Welcomed by a whole bunch of people who took an immediate liking to her.

Already growing at a ridiculously rapid rate.

I confess, I was a little concerned about how Baby #4 would adjust to Baby #5. She has proven herself to be a marvelous Big Sister! No jealous tantrums, very helpful with bringing baby wipes and diapers, flashing that dimple and using a very high-pitched and soft voice to say "Hi" to Baby Sister every chance she gets. The best part? She hasn't tried to pick up our bundle of joy even once!

I'm a little overwhelmed, even a bit weepy when I think of everything that God has given me. He has poured out so many lovely, wonderful blessings in my life. I do not deserve even a fraction of all He has lavished on me. Why is He so nice to me?

One more note: I'm not going to go into the full "birth story" here; it was pretty strait-forward and basic. Typical "in pain you shall bring forth children" stuff, but throughout the whole process, slices of Psalm 91 kept running through my mind. Just another gift from my God: peaceful refuge in the midst of work, reminders of His constant presence through out my whole life. Even in the after-delivery recovery stage where everything is emotionally out of proportion and I am overly exhausted, He has been my safety, my hiding place, my joy in the messiness.

Not So Grown-Up

2011-03-16T18:45:00.001-07:00

I was going to post something else, but...

How can I resist loving her?
This little girl seems to have all of mommy's irritation buttons on speed dial, and lately she acts way too grown-up for a preschooler. But when I walked into the living room and saw her sleeping in an easy chair, I realized... she's still just a baby. One of my precious babies. Not too grown-up after all.

Uncertain Endeavor

2011-03-14T06:45:00.000-07:00

My two year old is easily the cutest around. She is pretty smart too.

And she is about to have her world shaken upside down.

I have been trying to prepare her for baby's arrival, but success in this endeavor is uncertain.

She has helped get out all the baby clothes, cooing over each tiny onsie. "Baby's," she says in a sugary sweet voice; then she tries on the too-small hats and unfolds the soft receiving blankets. She still seems to be retaining some ownership.

Patting the sides of the cradle, she informs us "Baby sleep here." However, she is suddenly attached to her own crib, as fascinating as the big girly bed (purchased to be shared between two sisters) was just last month. Subtly resisting change?

Getting her dressed to go "bye bye" has never been an issue. Now she seems to purposefully delay each departure with particular needs for a particular bag, a particular pair of shoes, a particular jacket, a particular set of gloves. Great; in another two weeks we will have an infant in a car seat and her particular two year old self to carry out to the car -- and there is no doubt someone will be screaming if the particulars are left at home.

She has a group of favorite books that she "reads" to herself at naptime. Today, as I tucked her blankey around her and settled the small stack atop her lap she looked up at me and said, "My books... baby no read my books."

Oh boy. What is sharing Mommy's lap going to look like?

Wasted Endeavors (not really)

2011-03-09T14:36:00.000-08:00

March 9th, 2011
The really awesome thing about rainy days? There is absolutely no point in washing your dirty floors! What a total waste of time, I decided.

So I cooked and froze a couple more meals instead. (Yay Kylie project!)

Sad news: the sons received their first frowny face on their room chart. The "mess" was just two toys and two towels on the floor and I almost chose to pick them up and ignore the infraction, but I decided that wouldn't really help them learn to be tidy. So I picked them up and meted out punishment, because also the lights were also left on. Really, though, the Hilary is working out splendidly. I'm brainstorming a similar project for the girls' room, but it is trickier because I cannot count on a two year old keeping anything clean and should a five year old sister really be responsible for picking up after her?

That's enough updates on those projects.

Other crossed-off items on the Before Baby List:

Sew pajama pants for my sister-in-law, who should be having her own Darling Child any day now.

Clean out refrigerator. Well, at least I cleaned out the yucky food in the refrigerator. I'll save the Empty-Everything-and-Bleach-the-Fridge-Walls chore for when I'm overdue and going crazy.

Actually, this last task helped out with the Kylie project. "Hmm... don't want to eat this. But someone might; just stick it in the freezer."

Just kidding.

Maybe.

March 10, 2011

My sister-in-law delivered a lovely baby girl last night and I can hardly wait to go see her in person! First though, I'm going to whip up a new little creation for her to wear (I just hope her mother likes it, since she is probably too little to choose her own clothes). Pictures later maybe?

Endeavoring to Walk, not Waddle

2011-03-07T17:25:00.000-08:00

I don't need to say much more to tell you how my day has gone, do I?
It's not been a "Bad Day," just an "Unproductive Day." I woke up walking like an 89 year old, and haven't really sped up much since then. What did we cross off our list?
Laundry.
Fixing dinner (or part thereof).
Washing baby clothes.

Here's to moving more freely tomorrow!

Weekend Endeavors

2011-03-05T20:21:00.000-08:00

If not for the lengthy "honey do" list, yesterday was destined to be a boring Saturday for Corey. He had no outside projects he could do in the pouring rain, no work scheduled, not even a single friend or neighbor calling for computer help. Maybe it was sheer boredom that drove him to hang pictures and vacuum ceilings for his largely pregnant and reportedly grouchy wife, but I like to think that he was motivated by love. I can honestly say that having the house ordered and clean makes me a much happier individual. Joy can be had in any environment, but let's just allow this brief season of "nesting," OK?

So here are some pictures of our freshly-painted living and dining rooms. I'm not taking the time to set them up in an orderly sequence, nor am I fixing them up in photoshop... I hope whoever is reading this enjoys them anyway!

Dining room from kitchen doorway. And yes, that is the table that Corey rescued from the garbage and refinished. What can I say folks? He's amazing.

View from the "front" door. This is my favorite little coffee-and-visit corner. Someday maybe I'll recover the chairs, but for now I like them just the way I found them before "vintage" was quite so popular.

We don't really consider her part of the furnishings -- she moves around too much for that -- but she loves having her picture taken. Who could resist that smile?

Dining room, as seen from coffee-and-visit side.

Living room with dark green walls. I love love love this color! Someday we'll do something different with the fireplace (not shown here), but we can't exactly decide what we want. We're leaving it "as is" for now, and we found that the eucalyptus walls truly set the bricks off nicely!

One final Willa Bean shot. This is her special cow. She won't always rock away in the dining room, but for now she's OK in this empty corner and Willa is happy.

Small {People} Endeavors

2011-03-04T10:55:00.000-08:00

My favorite project today had nothing to do with Baby #5, except that being pregnant certainly made me look a little ridiculous. Today was Pajama Day at Norah's preschool. Since it is her week to be leader, (which means it is her mom's week to provide snack) I lugged my waffle-maker and ingredients into the church/preschool kitchen to make hot waffles for 12 preschoolers. They were so cute in their pj's and tennis shoes. Their teacher had them line up a safe distance from the waffle preparations and watch how "Ms. Honour / Norah's Mom" makes waffles. I felt a bit like a celebrity chef, despite my extra-large belly beneath the apron.

The mess we brought home.

The pajama-clad preschooler we brought home. Isn't she just the cutest?

My second favorite accomplishment was checking something off my Sew Before Baby list without the help of my sewing machine. (Ha! Take that!) I didn't take a picture, but I decorated some onsies for a darling little baby named Ivy Sue. (Isn't that the sweetest name?) I haven't met her yet, but I love her mommy and so I'm sure I will love her too, even if it is just because she has a terrific name.

The only "prepare for baby" things I did today were shopping for a coming home outfit (such fun) and napping. Obviously these were necessary chores, but if I must justify them, let me say:

I cannot bring my new love home naked

I a nap was essential for baby's development, for my sanity and for the betterment of my household and my older children.

One last fun thing: Texting daddy on a pink toy phone while eating lunch. The message that couldn't wait until after mealtime? "Daddy, you are the goofiest."

Flexible Endeavors

2011-03-03T17:42:00.000-08:00

Today I purposed to make some progress on my lengthy "Sew Before Baby" list.
My sewing machine had some other ideas. Like going on vacation, for example, while amidst a pile of specially-purchased but unused fabric and patterns. Or staging a protest for unfair treatment of broken needles and bent pins. Or suing for damages due to emotional distress ("You leave me down here in the basement, and only come see me when you need something! Well, I have needs too!")

So I changed my plans.
Fixed a large dinner with my five-year-old. (And froze half! Yay The Kylie project!)
Ironed and hung clean curtains in the freshly-painted living room.
Withstood (and withsat) some very painful pains.
And pretended that I didn't care.
No pictures.

I think I need to have a Musicals of the Decades Marathon party, because it's been awhile since I enjoyed the movies and songs that I love the most. And because I keep finding reasons to sit down, just not in front of the rebellious sewing machine. Who wants to join me?

Endeavor, Duex

2011-03-02T11:09:00.000-08:00

The Hilary project update: the sons got a smiley face this morning! Way to go! I knew it would be hard to mess your room up while you slept.

Today's endeavor is prolonged, but will only last a week or 10 days. I am trying to stock my freezer with at least a weeks' worth of casseroles and/or prepared meals to be enjoyed post-baby-arrival. I am accomplishing this by simply doubling each night's dinner recipe and freezing half of it. Several years ago, my sister-in-law gave me the perfect cookbook for this endeavor, so I am calling this

The Kylie.

Later, upon further reflection: I thought this would be simple. Turns out,we are bigger eaters than I thought; after dinner there was only enough super yummy chimichanga filling to make six very small chimichangas. I froze them anyway. A little bit of a discouraging start, but maybe I'll use them when I need a little dinnertime entertainment. Just set them in the middle of the table and see if we can reenact that dinner table scene from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Maybe I will have to triple dinner tomorrow night.

New Month, New Endeavor(s)

2011-03-01T16:14:00.000-08:00

endeavor:

noun,

1.) a conscientious or concerted effort toward an end; an earnest attempt.

2.) purposeful or industrious activity; enterprise.

It may not be obvious to all, but my main activity this month will be having a baby. Toward this goal, nearly all of my activities will be focused. I have 24 days left until the promised arrival of #5, but I am trying to be realistic with this forecasted date because as of yet, no one has asked #5 what his/her plans are. Still, I am trying to keep myself busy so I am not sitting around sore and bored, waiting for baby to come.

So here is our endeavor for today: cleaning the boys' room and devising a method to keep it thus. I'm calling this project
The Hilary,
named for my aunt who stood in their bedroom doorway and asked "do they ever have to clean their room?"

The Hilary

Phase 1: Big Clean Up.

The sons are currently in the midst of this part. I divided the clean up into six tasks, written on small slips of card stock.

Pick up books and magazines and put away (nicely) on the bookshelf.
Pick up small toys (like Legos and K'nex) and put away.
Gather up dirty laundry and bring downstairs.
Carry trash downstairs and put a new bag in the wastebasket.
Make bed and put away clean clothes (Weston).
Make bed and put away clean clothes (Sammy).

Each boy selected three face-down slips of paper. I have promised to come vacuum and put clean sheets on their beds when they finish with their tasks. Yes, there has already been conflict, but we will overcome so as to make progress toward Phase 2.

The Hilary
Phase 2: Maintain Tidiness

The sons will have until Spring Break (conveniently beginning in 24 days) to keep their room tidy. I will inspect their room each morning after they go to school. If it passes my inspection, I will mark a smiley face beside the date; if it fails, I will draw a frowney face. If they receive 18 smileys they will earn the agreed upon reward. If they never get a frowney they will receive a bonus prize.

I don't know if I feel like the prize announcer on a game show or like the bizarre rule-makers of my college years. All I know is that I'm largely pregnant and rather weary of bending over to pick up their messes.

Later, upon further reflection: I am quite certain that my presentation of this fabulous idea was unfortunately more in the tones of dictatorial rule-maker instead of Charlie O'Donnell, but the room is clean and we're all set for Phase 2. You know, maybe I need an inspector to keep me on my toes. A smiley face for every morning that the kitchen is tidy?

28/28 (Love)

2011-03-01T11:21:00.000-08:00

For this last day of February's pictures (and yes, I know that we're posting on March 1, but I did snap the moment yesterday) I absolutely could not select just one picture. There was too much specialness going on!

First: Cousin time.

My dear cousin, Emily, came to visit for the afternoon and Norah fell in Love with her. Norah climbed in her lap, literally hung all over her, monopolized her conversations, sloppied up her hair, et cetera, et cetera. At several points, it seemed that Norah was trying her best to be on her worst behavior. But Emily handled like a champ. She smiled, held, laughed, and permitted way more than I would. And at the end of our visit, they posed for a fake "chat" to mark the crazy afternoon that it had been.

Love puts up with a lot.

Next, Great Grandpoppy time.

Also along for the day trip, my darling Grandpoppy. Grandpoppy loves little girls, especially 5 year old girls. When I was small, my favorite part about a visit to my grandparents' house would be when he shook my hand goodbye and then pretended that he had glue on his palm. "Oh well, you'll just have to stay here with me!" I've seen him play this game with all of my cousins and little sisters and nieces... Norah was too clever (and a bit shy of Grandpoppy) to fall for the hand-shake routine, but she did agree to stand with him for a picture.

I Love my grandfather.

(even if I'm too old to shake hands)

And finally, good bye time.

This is my strong and handsome baby sailor brother.

His two week leave ended today and he returned to his base in Virginia.

I am very proud of him and happy that he is doing something meaningful, but...

I wish it did not involve distance between us.

I wish that it were a safer task.

I wish that he could have somehow stayed the adorable curly-haired toddler that he was.

I love you, Chris.

Be careful with yourself, because you are important to a lot of weirdo people you call family.

27/28 (Love)

2011-03-01T11:16:00.001-08:00

Love is a potluck?

Really?

Yep. Sometimes it is.

27/28 (Love) (soon)

2011-02-28T20:12:00.000-08:00

We're nearing the end of the picture-of-love-each-day project! A little sad... that's probably why I'm behind in posting the pictures I took these last 2 days...
Actually, I have the pictures ready to post, but my computer isn't helping out.

26/28 (Love)

2011-02-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

See these people making a big mess in my house?

I think they really love me.

A Really Huge Lot of Love.

They let me pick out the colors and they did all the painting.

I really do not deserve this love.

Love

Undeserved.

25/28 (Love)

2011-02-25T16:57:00.001-08:00

Everyone is feeling healthy! (insert cheering crowd noises)

And we had another snow day! (increase volume of cheering crowd)

And we did chores! (silence cheering crowd noises)

And took naps! (insert quiet disgruntled crowd noises)

And were sent outside! (increase volume of disgruntled crowd)

And read books! (increase volume of disgruntled crowd)

And made a craft! (collective sound of relief from crowd)

Love has fun...

and does its work (one last murmur, quickly cut off.)

24/28 (Love)

2011-02-24T19:47:00.000-08:00

This is my dearest seven year old son.

Today this one asked me if his daddy and I "tussled" at night.

I'm not sure what his definition of "tussle" is, so I said no.

Sometimes Love waits until you're older to explain things, right?

Lately...

2011-02-24T10:14:00.001-08:00

I'm on the computer way too much!
Off to be craaaafty! Maybe some pictures of completed projects will follow? Or maybe just some in-progress pictures.

23/28 (Love)

2011-02-23T18:34:00.001-08:00

This picture does not need many words, but, you know me, I will give them to you anyway.

If you are sick, missing your favorite school time, not getting to use the computer ('cause your mom is on!) and still willing to share a pink princessy book with your little sister, that is

Love.

Just Mom, Not Almighty.

2011-02-23T12:09:00.000-08:00

"Mommy can't get sick," I explained to Norah as I crawled onto the couch.
"Why?"
"Well, Mommy has to take care of everyone else. Who else would do the laundry and cook and..." I continued on with every task I could think of.

But who am I kidding? I just wanted a nap. I'm not sick. I am not planning on being sick.

And

The world - the country - the state - the county - the school district - yes, even the household is not held together by my strength, wisdom and genius. My presence may make these entities (or at least the household) run more smoothly, but I am not indispensable.

You see, I am not God.

What a relief.
(And, yes, I had to spell check "indispensable.")
(And, yes, I enjoyed my nap immensely.)

22/28 (Love)

2011-02-22T16:29:00.000-08:00

Ahh... a snow day. As I wrote this morning, I was pleased with the prospect of a schedule-free day and looked forward to filling it with fun activities.

"My children will remember what a great mom I am," I thought. "We will do crafts, a few chores, bake cinnamon bread and take a frozen trek around our yard. Then they'll nap and I'll pay bills."

I did not anticipate the ridiculous amount of time I would spend messing around with photoshop. Nor did I consider how much laundry I had to fold.

"Good thing I never mentioned crafts or baking to the children."

After lunch and clean-up (more tasks that took longer than they should have) we started suiting up for an outside adventure. "What a great chance to take pictures of nature's beauty! Let's look for today's Love picture outside, kids!"

Turns out, not everyone wanted to go outside.

But they went. "They are going to have fun whether they want to or not!"

Turns out, not everyone had a good attitude or a good time.

And the snow scenes didn't take my breath away. No, that was accomplished by lugging a weary and cold toddler atop my 8 month pregnant belly as I trudged on the ice-under-snow-in-the-cold-wind.

The pictures look like we had fun (you can see them on my facebook page) but I didn't really "see" the love I was looking for. There were some examples of love: Sammy loving the pets by feeding them, Norah loving her sister by pulling her sled, Willa loving her mommy by not complaining, Weston loving... well, um... the outdoors? But really, it wasn't the special write-a-book-about-what-a-great-mom experience I hoped for. And really, I should have known better; two of my children have been sick this past week, they probably shouldn't have been outside so long.

Needless to say, the frozen trek wore most of us (including me) out too much to carry on with any more activities besides napping.

But after naps, when I went to retrieve Willa from her bed... I saw this picture out the window. It was the beautiful love I was looking for today. Something I couldn't create or manipulate. I could only try to record the moment through the dirty glass in my upstairs hall. How much God loves us: He not only prepares our paths and orders our days, but He surrounds us with loveliness.

I know this sunset was not just for me. I'm not the center of the world. I'm not even the best mother in the world... this peaceful sunset was there because God wanted it, because it sang a silent song of praise to Him.

Love humbles us when we're proud.

21/28 (Love)

2011-02-22T07:54:00.001-08:00

I love a broken bedtime.

Late dinner.

Cookie baking & eating.

Family Bible time.

I think these four love it too.

Snowy Ramblings...

2011-02-22T06:44:00.001-08:00

Snow day! Baking, craft projects, card games, books... how long before they're begging for movies and computer games? I love these relaxed days at home with no schedule to keep.

Ok, I guess I have a few chores to do too, but I am not going to let them (or the bored children's bickering) steal my pleasure in the cozy house, beautiful snowy landscape and all the wonderful ways I see God at work around me.

Hmmm... maybe we need to bundle up and work a freezing family hike around the back yard into our no schedule day.

20/28 (Love)

2011-02-21T14:50:00.001-08:00

Love

bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

1 Corinthians 13:7

(Ruffer translation: Love still plans a garden in the midst of an ice storm.)

Love never fails, never gives up.

19/28 (Love)

2011-02-20T11:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday all those affiliated with the David Hutchins family (minus one) gathered at my parents' house. I think the final count was 37 people, but I'm not sure. I really like my big, loud, obnoxiously strange family and I was really excited to look for examples of love in action. I walked around the house snapping pictures, no doubt annoying several of the two-year-olds (sorry, kids, but you're too cute!) and happened to be chatting with my sister when her sweet son, Jack, approached her. Nearly in tears, he said to his mommy "I make Papa sad."

So his mommy located Papa and Jack made his apologies. I have never seen such a tender heart in such a young child. Maybe he takes after his dad's side more than ours. ;)

Love makes it right.

18/28 (Love)

2011-02-18T18:44:00.000-08:00

I forgot my camera, but tonight I had some "mom" time with others... and it was truly restorative! Maybe you can't tell, but those fine lines are from laughing, not stress.

So here is a shot of my "thank you" eyes. Thanks to my husband for staying home with 4 children (one still yucky feeling) while I ignored my responsibilities for a couple hours.

I Love You!

I had to crop out the rest of the picture, because I resembled Miss Piggy too much. Although, I think she has "thank you" eyes too.

17/28 (Love)

2011-02-17T17:56:00.001-08:00

Love is comforting a sick child and ignoring the housework.

I have a chore list from here to next week. But she's had a fever and been in my arms nearly all day. During her nap, I got a few tasks completed. When the boys returned from school, she was entertained by them for a brief time while I checked another item off my list. For the most part, however, today has not been very productive. I do not like unproductive days.

But.

When she so willingly allowed me to put her "key-key yammies" (monkey jammies) on her instead of insisting that she do it herself...

When she laid down in her bed so willingly, snuggled under her "bebe" (blankie) and waited until I retrieved the camera...

When she turned to look at me through the crib bars and said "love mommy" as I clicked away...

I remembered that I don't love my house, clean or dirty, I love the little people inside it.

16/28 (Love)

2011-02-16T17:10:00.001-08:00

My parents, not perfect, but excellent examples of Love.

Truly best friends, they have given their lives to one another.

They are so marvelously woven together, I cannot imagine one without the other.

I love you, Mom and Dad, and I love your Love for each other.

15/28 (Love)

2011-02-15T18:20:00.001-08:00

Love shares the details,
even when they're not that interesting.

My dearest husband likes to play basketball. It's good for him, I'm sure. One of the most endearing things about him is that he doesn't care that I have a very limited capacity for understanding any type of sports. Regardless of my lack of attention or concern, he comes home from each basketball game (church league, industrial league, what have you league) and reports on how well he played, who used "dirty" tactics, if he felt slighted in the calls, etc. etc. ad nauseum (and I do mean nauseum.) The only thing I really care about is that he remains uninjured, but I do appreciate that he wants to share with me the details of his life.

In regards to organized athletic endeavors, I'm really begining to like football, purely as a spectator pursuit. However, I am very glad that he doesn't play football.

14/28 (Love)

2011-02-14T19:29:00.001-08:00

Love is Silly Breakfast food.

We've had a rather busy day... parties at school, sledding with preschoolers, home manicures (when we really needed naps instead), basketball games, and of course... heart-shaped food. I love my family and I took a lot of pictures today, but this one summed-up my feelings the best. Sometimes the over-rated holidays are just the excuse we need to show some nourishing affection through the necessary parts of life.

OK, that last sentence is a bit far-reaching, but it made sense to me, so I'm leaving it.

13/28 (Love)

2011-02-14T19:08:00.000-08:00

Love puts others first.

Corey, I'm sure, wanted to take a typical Sunday afternoon nap on the couch. But after fixing the family lunch (tator tots guaranteed when daddy cooks) and putting away the leftovers (sorry, dear, but no one else wanted second helpings of sauerkraut) he took the older three kids outside to build "The World's Greatest Snowman" (Sammy's description). I want my kids to know what a great man their dad is. If they don't understand it now, I think they will someday.

12/28 (Love)

2011-02-14T18:56:00.001-08:00

Love is genuine friendships.

On Friday night we went out with our dear friends, Matt and Tanya. Greater love has no one, Jesus said, than one who lays down his life for his friends. Time after time, Matt and Tanya have laid down their lives for Corey and I, allowing us to inconvenience them, confide in them and be our real (sometimes annoying) selves with them. Thanks for the Love, friends!

11/28 (Love)

2011-02-11T14:56:00.001-08:00

I Love to craft and sew. My gifts are far from perfect, and perhaps I get more pleasure out of them than the receivers do, but the deliberate act of making something for someone in particular feels right to me. It feels like Love.

10/28 (Love)

2011-02-11T14:50:00.001-08:00

My children Love to play with laundry baskets... I believe the moment I captured yesterday was when she was the "caged puppy" game. Creativity: another echo of our Creator who Loves us (even when we say "woof!")

9/28 (Love)

2011-02-09T17:35:00.000-08:00

Don't rush to conclusions; this isn't a picture of how much I love my daughter (although I do very much) this is a picture of how Norah showed love to me this evening. I love love love to "fix" little girl hair. She hates hates hates the pain of having her hair "fixed." But tonight, at her own suggestion (quickly pounced upon by me, of course) we put 5 french braids in her hair so she can have "wavy" hair tomorrow. She sat perfectly still and uncomplaining through the whole process. Thank you, sweetie... I love you too.

8/28 (Love)

2011-02-08T18:49:00.000-08:00

I hope I showed Love in many ways today, but perhaps the most time-consuming, if unemotional, demonstration was laundry. It is one of my favorite household chores, but a chore no less. With four children and two adults, the laundry is never ending 'round here. Still, I like the transformation process: disorganized, soiled, wrinkled, stained becomes sorted, cleaned, folded... well, sometimes the stains don't come out. I love folding my children's clothes: matching soft pajamas, tucking one sock inside it's mate, shaking out those-didn't-I-just-buy-these-but-there's-a-hole-in-the-knee-already jeans... I feel so benevolent and close to the little bodies that will wear these items in the next few days. I don't know for sure why I like it, but I do. Maybe I'm more of a tactile type person than I realized. [What is a tactile type person?!?]

7/28 (Love)

2011-02-07T17:40:00.000-08:00

I got to visit a two-day new baby today.

I Love the wrinkles on tiny baby hands and hugeness of tiny baby yawns.

Newborns point my heart and mind toward our Creator... who Loves this precious new life more than we can ever imagine.

6/28 (Love)

2011-02-07T14:33:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am a day late.

No, I am not beating myself up about it.

Love knows how to give and receive a joke.

My sister, Amy, knows that Corey is a Steelers fan and thus we all are. Yesterday she made an extra special effort to help him celebrate the Superbowl. Weston was not amused, but then, maybe Corey understands a little more about love.