My bucket list in progress...

My Bucket List: 

Go back to Italy to visit my dear friends.

Make homemade pasta!

Go whale watching in Prince Edward Island, Canada.

Run a marathon...or maybe a half marathon...or even a mile.

Visit Ireland with my husband.

Make homemade bread.

Be able to to sight read piano music.

Write a novel...or five.

 Make my stomach look like it did before I had kids.  (That would mean I have to stop eating those chocolate-covered toffee bars that are addictive...and I'm not totally sure how I feel about that).

Make a strawberry-rhubarb pie from scratch.

Take swing dancing lessons.

Knit something really cute (after I find some hypoallergenic yard--ugh...).

Take karate with my kids?? (I still haven't decided on that one).

See the Holy Land.

Buy a metal chicken...because it's funny. 

There are some things I've already done that have made my bucket a little fuller:

Sleep on a sandy beach next to the ocean.

 Laugh until I cry.

Sneak in to a fancy hotel in the middle of the night and go swimming.

Visit Italy and speak semi-fluent Italian (that's all gone now--it's been 15 years).

Observe monks praying in a pagoda.

Visit a third-world country.

Take the train to Chicago.

Get a college degree.

Live in one place for more than three years.

Get married to a wonderful man and have four amazing kids.

 And then there are some things that just can't be checked off a list:

 Love with complete vulnerability. 

Be a faithful friend and companion.

Make my kids feel loved every day.

Make my husband feel valued and treasured every day.

 Allow God to use even a flawed person like me.



I know there is a lot more, so I'll add to the list as I think of things.  What about you?  What's at the top of your bucket list?  What are the things up to now you are most happy you have experienced?  Oooohhhh, this is fun.  I can't wait to hear your answers!


 

Why we homeschool

People often ask me why we decided to homeschool, so I thought I would answer that question in a blog post, both for myself and for others.  

For the last couple of years, Super Boy had been coming home with hours of homework at night.  Hours.  I spoke with his teacher(s) who told me that he really shouldn't have that much, but that he wasn't getting it done in class.  Okay, so my kid is a space cadet.  

Tell me something I don't know.  

I talked to other moms and yes, there were days when he just wasn't getting his work done, but it turns out there were a lot of days when the homework was piled on--not just for Super Boy, but for everyone.  Four pages in an English workbook might be assigned.  Four pages is a lot for a third grader who has been in school all day long and really needs to run around like a crazy nut to work off some energy! 

Then there was the feast or famine thing.  

There would be no homework for days.  And then there would be homework from 4:00-10:00 p.m.  (This was most days).  Yeah, I pretty much would've rather eaten chalk than suffer through those nights.  Because Super Boy has a very active mind (i.e. can get distracted by something as simple as a loose thread or the fringe of his paper), I had to stay right on top of him.

But there was still dinner to cook, dishes to clean, floors to sweep, babies to change, homework to do with Cindy Lou Who and baths to give.  Where was I supposed to fit all of that in?  

I was maxed out.  Completely.  We all were.

Then there was the "you have to memorize this to pass a test and get a good grade" thing.  Don't get me wrong--I recognize that memorization is necessary.  I believe it is beneficial.  However, I do think it has to be coupled with teaching kids strategies for remembering and a true understanding of the material. 

Yeah, we didn't have time for all that.  We were trying to make it through to the next day when we would repeat the whole thing over again.

The kids started to dislike school.  Okay, not to sound super-nerdy (which I already know I am), but learning is fun!  Really, there are so many amazing things to learn and that gets lost when kids are force-fed information.

I want my kids to have a true love of learning.  To understand how things work.   To be hungry to know more.  

Since we've started homeschooling, I've seen this in full bloom and it has been a beautiful thing to watch.  Every day isn't roses, I can assure you!  However, because we can pore over books and play with math (both my kids and myself used to despise math, and now we LOVE it because of this amazing manipulative-based program!), they are enamored with learning.  

And I guess having four kids makes you more controlling of your schedule.  Poor Ralphie...there were days when I would say, "I'm so sorry, I promise I won't take you in and out of your car seat one more time."  We were constantly on the go.

I decided that it would be easier for me to teach the children at home when it was convenient for me (in the morning, not at the dinner-hour rush).  The amount of time I was spending on sifting through the ever-growing pile of flyers and "Don't forget your cake raffle money" reminders, could be spent intimately teaching my kids.  

There is time to be a kid.  Time to explore.  Time to be creative. 

Disclaimer: I know this is not for everyone.  I have never been the one who says homeschooling is a good fit for every child.  Or that parents who homeschool get a gold star.  On the contrary, I am amazed by women whose kids are in school and can balance everything.  I couldn't keep up and I didn't like how it morphed me in to Cruella DeVille.  Or how stressed out it made my kids.

Some assume that if you're homeschooling, you're a religious nut or that you have to wear jean jumpers (which, I won't lie, I used to have one but it was only because it had big pockets on the front that I could put pencils in and I know that's really nerdy, but I don't have it anymore, I swear).  

There are many, many reasons for homeschooling.  But this is a general overview of why we did.  And that whole socialization thing that people always bring up?  If you have spent any time with my children you will know two things:

1) They love people and love to interact with others who are both like and unlike themselves.
2) Our family was weird before we ever started homeschooling.  There was no hope for us to begin with.

Why I should not have taken Dynamite to Staples

All I wanted were two very simple student planners.  No frills--just something to write down my kids’ individual assignments in.  After church, I ask my dear husband, “Do you mind if I just shoot over to Staples for a few minutes?  I just need to run in really quick.”  

Then Dynamite and Cindy-Lou Who chime in, “We want to go too!  Can we go too?”

“Okay,” I say, “that’s fine.  But it’s just going to be a quick trip.  In and out.”

Like that would ever happen…

Two minutes in to my perusing the clearance rack for some discounted planners, I notice Cindy Lou Who doing the pee-pee dance. 

 

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”  I ask.

“The very tiniest bit, Mom” she says holding up her index finger and thumb to give me a visual.

“Mm-hmmm.”

Now to find a bathroom.  We find a store employee and are pointed to the bathroom. 

 

“Okay, just go potty and I’ll wait out here for you,” I tell her.

Now, here is where the story twists.  That’s right, my friends.  In just a moment, it can all fall apart.

“I have to go potty too!!” Dynamite chimes in.

Oh man.  This is the kid whose butt is so little, he has to scoot all the way back on the toilet seat so he doesn’t fall in.  This is the kid who still hasn’t mastered the art of aiming and leaves “art work” for me to find on my shower curtain. 

There’s no, “Just go in and come out” anymore.  That ship has sailed.  So, the three of us trudge in to the bathroom.

It smells like…well, poop.  There you have it.  It totally smells like poop.

 

The toilet is splattered and disgusting and I really don’t want my kids sitting on it.  I get out my all-purpose baby wipes and meticulously wipe the seat.  Then, I lay out strands of toilet paper for the child who only needs to go to the bathroom the tiniest bit, but is doing this amazing number that reminds me of Lord of the Dance.

As I’m trying to do damage control, Dynamite says what we’re all thinking (but not really):

“It smells wike pwetzels in here or sumping.”  Probably not the first thing I would analogize the smell to, but I guess pretzels do have a different kind of smell sometimes.

As he’s doing what he needs to do, I can be overheard saying, “Point your peeper down.  Dynamite, do not pee on your underwear.  Make sure it’s pointed down.”

He’s agreeable and understands, I’m quite certain, that mommy is just doing a very quick in and out trip to the office supply.  He totally gets it that I just need two freaking little notebooks that would’ve taken me five-minutes tops if I had only come alone.

 

“Um, I fink my undapants are wet,” he says as he’s getting off the toilet-paper lined seat.

“Seriously?”

“I fink so.”

Now, perhaps any good mother would’ve said, “Okay, let’s go home right this minute.  We need to change your clothes.”

But I didn’t.  Because sometimes I'm not a good mother.  Sometimes I'm a very utilitarian kind of mother.  And I really needed two measly little notebooks and I was out with only two kids instead of four.

 

So I said, “Okay, I don’t think they’re that wet.  Let mommy just find these (insert naughty word that I said in my head so only I could hear it and prayed later that God would cleanse my heart and help me stop thinking those naughty words when I’m frustrated) notebooks.”

Dynamite walks around pinching the seam of his pants and pulling it out so it doesn’t touch his rear end. 

 

“My pants is wet, Mom.”

I’m beginning to think they’re a little more wet than I realize

.

I grab some cute stripey paper-clips as a consolation that I am not getting my notebooks, but at least I will have gotten something that I needed (read: helped ease my feelings of defeat). 

And that is why, next time, I will leave Dynamite and Cindy-Lou Who at home when I need to get two little things at Staples.

On Aging

As we were eating dinner the other night, Super-boy asked with much seriousness, "Do you hate getting old?"

It caught me by surprise.  Did he somehow know that I've been wrestling daily with thoughts of aging?  

Or see me trying to disguise those fine lines with my newly-found primer product?  

Did he know that I feel a constant stirring in my soul to accomplish something of magnitude before this heart stops beating?

The awareness of how short my life really is is always upon me.  But do I hate getting older?

I won't lie.  Maybe a little.  But not much.

If we lived forever, perhaps we wouldn't feel that sense of urgency that begs us, "Do something beautiful with your life!  Your days are numbered!"

Life gets increasingly precious as another sun rises and sets.

Along with the lines on my face reminding me that I'm aging, my hope is that wisdom and grace run a little deeper as well.

There is a beauty in getting older.  I've learned to love myself...even my ugly feet.

I've learned that time and experience are continually shaping us in to what we are meant to be.

That flaws can be lovely.

That life is precious. 

I've learned to listen to the little voices in my head inspiring me to be better.

Listen harder.

Break out of that man-created box.

Do I hate getting older?  No way.  If I continue to grow in goodness and joy, I should be just about ripe for picking at a hundred and two.

"Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul." -Samuel Ullman

Camping is, like, hard.

Dear husband and I decided to squeeze in one last camping trip this weekend.  I wouldn't call ourselves "campers," but we did buy a camper...to see if we liked camping.  It's kind of a long story. 

I tend to get a little ahead of myself.  I have visions of the way I want things to be.  Like the visions I had of sipping coffee in the early morning, yellow sun streaming down on us in thick blades that sing in heavenly chorus, "No where on earth will you experience a morning like this, except while camping."

And then there was my husband's illusion. When I asked him about taking the baby backpack to go for walks with Ralphie (read: keep him out of the fire pit), he very matter-of-factly stated, "Honey, camping is all about sitting around and doing nothing.  That's the whole point of camping.  We're not going to be walking around with a baby backpack."  Mm-hmm.

As I was trudging through the rain three separate times in the middle of the blackest night ever to take three kids (one-at-a-time) to the bathroom, reality brought my fantasy of camping to a halt that would give you whiplash.  I grumbled to myself, "We're paying for this??  We're actually handing over money to be here???"

Now, before you go thinking I'm a little princess who doesn't like dirt and all things nature, I'd like to say in my defense that I grew up tent-camping...and loved it!  That was before I knew about germs and how much babies like eating dirt and leaves.

The minute we landed at our campsite, there was a torrential downpour.  No, I'm not exaggerating (that much).  More rain fell than has ever been known to man in a single thirty minute time period (in my scientific estimation). 

Dh and I were trying to get the camper "popped-up" (if only it were that easy!) while Ralphie, who had self-induced red spots all over his face from crying, wailed to get out of his car seat. 

Nonetheless, we did it.  With many words flitting about in my head that I will not share with you, dear reader. 

Next battle: getting ready for bed.  I walked to the bathroom, pajamas in tow, and found the least disgusting changing stall I could.  There was a hook.  Oh, blessed hook. 

I found a semi-clean spot on the bench and very strategically placed my pajamas on it, taking great pains to avoid that lurking stray hair.  (Cue scary music).  I hung the days clothes up on the hook and then put my pajamas on (in hindsight, I should have hung my pajamas on the hook) and as I looked down, I realized that the hair was gone!

Stuck to my pajamas, no doubt.  I gagged.

On to the potty.  Be brave, I told myself, after carefully lining the toilet seat with toilet paper (sorry if this is TMI).  Looking over, I spotted a big-stripey, winged disgusting little creature with his antennae pointing right at me...and his beady little eyes boring holes in to my very soul.  One false move and it was over.  He had me right where he wanted me.

It was a face-off.  I moved deliberately, but slowly. 

I made off without the bug trying to eat me. Barely.

When I came back and shared this hellish ordeal with my husband, he mockingly said, "Honey, you're like Goldie Hawn in the movie, Overboard, and I'm like Kurt Russell."  Eye-roll. 

I want to like camping.  I really, really do.  It has the potential to be fun (does that sound convincing?) and is affordable for a family of six.  And maybe I'll like it a little more when Ralphie is one year older. 

And I'm one year braver.

Got any good tips for roughing it with kids?  Are you a camper?  Have any good camping stories?  Is there hope for someone like me? ;-)

Making Room For The Good Stuff

For years, I have dreamt of being inside my house and "discovering" new rooms.  I'll just happen upon a never-seen-before staircase or a sprawling kitchen.  And when this happens within my dream, I have the thought, "What was I so worried about?  We have plenty of space!"
Now, because I had this pie-in-the-sky flight of fancy repeatedly, I decided to google it (Don't you love it that "google" acts as a verb?).  I am not in to dream interpretation, although I've had some very telling ones.
Apparently, I'm not the only one to have this dream.  It's quite common.  In fact, in talking with friends and family, I've discovered that they too have had this same thing happen!  
Here's what one website has to say:

  To dream that you find or discover a new room, suggests that you are developing new  strengths and taking on new roles. You may be growing emotionally. Consider what you find in the discovered room as it may indicate repressed memories, fears, or rejected emotions. Alternatively, such rooms are symbolic of neglected skills or rejected potential.  (www.dreammoods.com)

Interestingly enough, lately, I've found a new passion for organizing.  Living in a one thousand square foot home can be a challenge.

A close friend came over a few weeks ago and helped me organize my kitchen.  I got a little crazy and labeled pretty much every stinking cabinet that I have.

Amazingly, when we were done, I actually had one shelf that had nothing on it.  Now, if you've been in my kitchen, you'll know that that is no less than an act of God Almighty.  Our kitchen is tiny!

In the weeks that have followed, I've done the same thing in many other areas of our home.  My husband might say I'm a teeny-bit obsessed.

But here's the crazy part: my dream is coming true!  In making a place for everything, I've got extra space.  Extra space in an itty-bitty house with four kids and two adults. 

And more importantly, a love of order has been ignited within me.  Order allows room for beauty in my life.  Getting rid of physical clutter also eliminates the mental clutter.

I spent way too much time putting together the kids' school binders the other day...because I could!  I knew where all of my craft materials were and that my vellum paper was in a file folder labeled "vellum".  My husband was all, "You know that's not necessary."  And I was all, "Um, school is way more fun when you have cute binders."  Here is the result:

Anyway, this post isn't about my kids' school binders. :-/  (But aren't they cute??)

Physical space creates mental space and allows for beauty both internally and externally.
I'll post more on this very soon, but in the meantime, tell me about what inspires beauty in your life.  Is there something you can do within your life that will allow room for growth and generally good stuff?



I am SO not a morning person.

“The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night... All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere. The Vedas say, “All intelligences awake with the morning.”-Henry David Thoreau

Let me start off by saying that I am so not a morning person.  I wish I was.  I admire those who wake up early and start their caffeine drip before their kids wake up.  I am generally not that person.  I stumble out of bed when I hear the baby crying, clumsily get the coffee going and stammer to the crib with eyes half-open.

But this morning...oh, this morning, I pried my lazy butt out of bed at 5:30 a.m. and went to the gym.  I should say that I am so not a gym person either.  I wish I was.  I have a membership and I rarely go...as in, I make it about once every three to four months.  I don't think I'm really building up any muscle to say the least.  

 However, last night, I got my gym bag ready.  I made sure I had everything I needed including my things to shower there and dare I say, it was a success!  Except for the part where I kicked over my coffee cup (which had an ample dose of half and half--A for effort!!) and then tried to clean it up with a paper towel and then got my ipod headphones wrapped around the machine and did a super-fast head whip.  That was awesome.

Anyway, it's been a great start to the morning and I've gotta say, I think Thoreau might be on to something.  

Overpowering sadness with gratitude

The dirt path leading back to the woman's hut had turned in to a stream of thick mud.  Mud so thick one of my flip-flops was suctioned right off of my foot.  I stood on one fit trying to pry the cheap, rubbery shoe out of that seeming quicksand.

Tired, hot, and hungry we pressed forward.  

As we were walking, the men started speaking Burmese in hushed tones.  There was a foul odor that made you choke and cover your face as not to drink in the scent.  The men walked over to a nearby dumpster and looked inside.  They very matter-of-factly closed the lid and shook their heads.

We continued on to the hut.  There was a cluster of them close together and people carrying woven baskets on their hips.  We finally came to the woman we had come to see.  Her skin was brown and her long, black hair was greasy.  As we were leaving, the preacher told me that Burmese women do not bathe or leave their homes for a month (and sometimes longer) for fear of becoming ill; they do not want to be exposed to any breezes.

We extended a loaf of bread to her and took time to pray.  Even though she professed the Christian faith, there was a small statue of Buddha in the corner and some other paraphernalia  There was also what looked like a prayer card with Mother Mary's face on it taped to the wall.  

Her baby slept.

We said our good-byes and passed the foul odor once again.  I asked the preacher what the smell-- that rotting, make-my-stomach sick smell was.  

"There's a dead baby girl in the dumpster."

He said it with a tone that implies, "We see this all the time."

"Why would anyone throw their baby in a dumpster?" I questioned.

"Because she can't help the father in the fields.  He probably wanted a boy and threw her away."

Threw her away...like a candy wrapper.  Threw her away...like gum stuck to my shoe.  

These are hard truths.  Life is not always what you make of it.  There is evil and deep sadness. 

Needless lives are lost every day due to brutality of one form or another, as we saw in the tragic Colorado shooting. 

And I find myself wanting to put something good and meaningful back in to this place we call our home.  Beauty.  Joy.  Gratitude.  I count gifts, because if I don't, I will allow despair to swallow me up.  

Ann Voskamp states in her 10 Point Manifesto of Joyful Parenting:

"Today, when stress mounts, I pray to dismount it with gratitude. My stress management plan will be intervention with verbal thanks. I can only feel one feeling at a time, and I choose to give thanks at all times. Fight feeling with feeling!"

Fight sadness with joy.  Create beauty.  Recognize evil and counter it with putting goodness back in.  

Here are a few things I've been thankful for over the last few days:

Living slow

Vegetables growing in the garden

Eyes full of wonder in my baby boy

Too much stuff

Breaking free

Semi-clean kitchen

Cherry tomatoes on my window sill

Kids who wake up in the middle of the night

Slip covers smudged in finger paint

Reconciliation

Getting a shower (hey, it's a big deal with four kids!)

The quiet that comes after a thunderstorm

A heart desperate to be in communion with God--God bless you, sweet girl

The hum of the air conditioner

A list of things to do that tells me I'm still alive

Husband drinking coffee, watching out window

Warm forgiveness

What are some of the things you're thankful for today?  You can always read here for more inspiration:

http://www.aholyexperience.com/category/1000gifts/ 

 

Getting Naked and How!

Last night, my very dear friend treated me to a Sarah McLachlan concert for an early birthday present.  I have loved Sarah since I was about sixteen.  I remember hearing her on an alternative radio station in Lansing and struggling to hear the name of this amazing artist whose voice had just captivated me.

Last night, however, was the very first time I heard her perform live.  Her voice sounded exactly as it did on the discs at home...even more lovely.  

About halfway in to the concert, she performed her song, "Fallen."  I absolutely love this song.  If you haven't heard it, click on the link and give it a listen.  It's a song about making mistakes and the hard realization that we are, indeed, fallen.  For anyone who has ever wanted a do-over or looked back on poor choices and felt pure contrition, this song cuts to the core.  

The air outside was cool, the trees were lush green and there was a full orchestra filling up all of that beautiful space.  As she sang, "Though I've tried, I've fallen/I have sunk so low/I messed up/Better I should know/So don't you come 'round here/And tell me I told you so," hands were raised above heads.  Faces were lifted and clearly contemplative.  For those four minutes, the scales fell off our eyes and we were all raw in our humanness.  We weren't in church, but it was a spiritual experience.  

By the artist allowing herself to be naked in her lyrics, we all were as well.  There are those profound moments in life when I think, "Damn.  It feels good to be human."  No facades.  No questions.  Just acceptance and gratitude.  What a gift to offer others peace through your song.

And we all have a song of some sort, don't we?  It might not sound the same and the words might be different.  Instead of spellbinding notes, it may be gritty.  It might not come out in music, but in authenticity within our relationships.  The songs are all individual, but at the core, we are all wonderfully human, broken.  

What are some works of art, music, film, etc. that have moved you deeply and pulled you out of the mundane?  That have stripped you of your niceties?

I'll leave you with a great quote taken from a video titled, "The Power of Art" loaned to me from a friend: "Great art has dreadful manners.  The greatest paintings grab you in a headlock, rough up your composure, and then proceed in short order to re-arrange your reality." -Simon Schama

Training Us Into Laziness

Today, we took the kids to Barnes and Noble after church.  I was browsing homeschooling books along with some knitting, piano and how-to photography.  These are all things that pique my interest, but I know little about.  You know that saying: Jack of all trades, master of none?  

Anyway, what caught my attention were all of the "Knitting For Dummies!" and "Piano for Idiots!" type books.  I refuse to pick them up and concede that I am one of them (even though they would probably teach me a heck of a lot).  

It makes me ponder all of the quick-fixes that are offered.  We are being trained in to laziness.  "Get rich quick!" "Lose 30 pounds in 3 weeks!"  (Seriously??)  "Read this book for morons and you will be able to knit an afghan!"  Think of all the magazines that fly off the racks because of the empty promises they offer.  How many of those magazines would sell if they said, "Bust your ass and follow this super-intense workout regimen."  

We want quick and easy.  I, for one, am always looking for that silver bullet.  Not in just one are of my life, but many. 
We continually set ourselves up for failure if we think anything of worth is going to come easy.  Do you know how long I have wanted to learn how to knit, but will not afford the time to sit down and figure it out?  I've dabbled in piano for years, but again, do not make it a priority.
I waste words from my daily word quota talking about how much I've always wanted to do this or that. 

And when the offer to be spoon-fed something presents itself, we jump on it...only to be disappointed that even the very least amount of work is not yielding the results we desire.  We actually have to WORK to accomplish the goal, whatever that may be.  Dang it.  

Do you have something you've always wanted to learn how to do?  Have you been able to overcome the inertia and learn it? 

When the experts lead us astray...

 When I found out I was expecting our first child, I read every book I could get my hands on.  I was clueless about babies having been raised as an only child (my brother did not enter in to our lives until I was twenty-six).  And for the record, I wasn't a spoiled brat having been an only (I was, however, spoiled with my parents' time)...but that is for another blog post.
I continued reading as my first-born got older and new babies came along.  It seemed the battle-cry of the experts at the time was "Compromise!"  Don't say no too often or you will break your child's spirit.  Let them feel like they are in control.  In short, the parent-card is taken out of your hands.   
Now, I know that is not the intended effect of these methods.  However, that is often what has happened in our home as a result.
Case in point:
One day, while homeschooling Super-boy in first grade, I said, "It's time to do our work for the day."  To which dear eldest replied, "I don't want to do my homework!"  I then replied (with all of my parenting expertise in the forefront of my mind, "Okay, let's compromise.  Want to go on a nature hike?"  "Yes!" he replied, ecstatic.  We got to the trail and both of my older children whined about how cold it was and that they just wanted to go home.  Ugh.  All of this work to get everyone out the door in the vein of compromise.
After we returned home and it was time to hit the books, Super-boy slumped over his chair and cried, "But I don't WANT to do my homework."  We were in the same spot we had been in two hours before, only more tired.
Kids crave boundaries.  I don't care what anyone tells you.  Now, had that same scenario erupted in our house as of late, I would respond, "This is the time for homework.  When we are done, you are free to use your time as you wish."  And despite kids responses, I believe it makes them feel secure; they know exactly what is expected of them, no ifs ands or buts. 
Not to mention, the more children you have, the more impossible it is to play the "compromise game" with each child.  There is a schedule and that schedule is mommy's saving grace.  Otherwise it would be mayhem!
I will say, however, that if I am able to compromise, I will. For example, "You don't want to take out the trash right now?  Okay, that's fine.  But today is Saturday and also the day you get to play video games.  Until the trash is taken out, there will be no video games."  
Or, for those of you who know my Dynamite, he loves to wear a suit DAILY.  Even on 80 degree days.  I explain to him that he will be a hot, sweaty mess if he wears the suit, but that it is his choice.  And most days, he still chooses to wear it.  Which is totally fine with me! (smile)
What are your thoughts on this?  How have you seen the tide turn in what the "experts" are telling us as parents?  Do you feel that we are encouraged to be too lax or too strict?  How has the advice of the "experts" translated in to your own homes?
As always, thanks for reading and for sharing!

Life Lessons I Learned From My Kids Today

I took Ralphie in to the Dr. this morning because I thought he may have an ear infection. My dear, patient Dr. told me that I probably just needed to feed him more. (smile) See? Even after four children, I need a little (sometimes a lot of) guidance.

But getting to my point:

We were seated by the entrance and Ralphie intently made eye contact with each person walking in. Upon eye contact, he smiled the biggest, seven-toothiest grin. And then he would wait for his next victim, being the slayer of hearts that he is. And it struck me: Ralphie thinks everyone in the world is in love with him. He smiles at everyone and absolutely turns inside out with every morsel of attention given him.

Lesson learned: Drop the insecurities. Life is too short to worry about what other people think about you. Assume that everyone thinks you are the wonderfully amazing person that you are, and if they don't, that's their problem! But above all, don't forget to smile!

Dynamite reminded me to dance. Dear eldest had Smoky Robinson on the radio and Dynamite had to break it down for everyone...in his suit. For those of you who know us outside of Blogworld, you know that Dynamite wears a suit every. single. day. Except on Tuesdays when I can talk him in to wearing a blazer and jeans because it's gym day at preschool.

Lesson learned: Get down with abandon. Have fun. Seriously have a good time. Do the moonwalk. Okay I'm getting carried away, but you get my drift.
Cindy-Lou Who reminded me to give hugs. All day long, she fawns over sweet Ralphie. She squeezes him, sits him on her lap, kisses him until his little cheekies are red. She swings Dynamite around while they listen to music. She even gets away with laying her head on Super-boy's shoulder. She is a lover by nature.

Lesson learned: Give affection. Hug them even when they seem like they don't want it. Ann Voskamp says in her Joyful Parenting Manifesto that the moment we are "repulsed by a child's behavior, that is the very moment we should draw closest to them." Cindy-Lou Who reminds me to stop being so goal-driven and give affection freely.
Lastly, today while Super-boy worked on thank you cards for his birthday he decided he was going to draw a picture of each gift he was given on the individual's card. So if he was given a BeyBlade, he would draw that for the person. In my head, I was screaming, "Don't do that! Just get it done! It's going to take you forever if you do that!" But to him, I just smiled and said, "That's really nice, honey, they'll love that." While we worked on spelling homework, there were sentences that said, "Insert a girl's/boy's name." He sat there thinking of all the hilarious names he could write. Again, I'm saying, "Just write Jimmy and be done with it!!" But that's not his style. If he's going to do something, he's going to find enjoyment in it. "Mom," he said, "How about Herbie?? That will really make Mrs. Sophiea laugh."

Lesson learned: Life is not always the race that I make it out to be. That endless checklist that I have might be a lot more fun if I allowed myself to slow down. To not be in such a hurry. And to LAUGH!! Be creative! Enjoy the journey and not just the destination!

"Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life." -Sophocles
"He who teaches children learns more than they do." -German Proverb

Redeeming Brokennes: A letter to my daughter

This morning was embarrassing. I felt like a loose cannon. I lashed out. I told my husband that I didn't know if I could take it anymore. I made my daughter feel sad.

And so, I decided to write her a letter in her journal. This journal is intended for when she gets older; for whenever I think the time is right...perhaps when she gets married or when she has her own little ones. I don't write in it as often as I'd like, but this morning I felt such a need to explain things to her. To explain that it's just a little nuts around here right now.

It's humbling to screw up. I wish I could keep it together all of the time, but I don't. And so, in the words of a wise friend, I decided to try and redeem this moment. How can I take something ugly and make it beautiful? How can I turn a failure in to a gift?

I know these little pieces of paper don't make it all go away, but I hope she'll be able to look back and realize that some times it all falls apart and there is healing power in contrition.

The reason I choose to share it is because I think that many of us have been there.


My dearest girl,

I believe I startled you this morning--made you feel sad, and I want you to know how sorry I am.

I know you are too young to understand now, but it is my hope that when you are older, you will realize that mommy is so very sorry.

I set my alarm to wake up at 5:15. Dynamite crawled in to bed and would not go back to sleep unless I laid with him. And so I did...and then I fell back asleep as well.

At 7:15, your dad said, "Oh no! We overslept!" Then it was rush, rush, rush to get everyone ready for school. It was crazy hair day at school and you did not want that side ponytail; you wanted four buns on your head.

You are supposed to walk out the door at 7:35 and at 7:30, Grandma Shriver called to tell us that dear Aunt Bev had died. Dad was tearing up in the bathroom and all the while, we still had to get you out the door for school.

Dynamite was in the background continuously yelling, Get Me Dressed!!!!"

As I was putting your hair in to buns, I yelled. Loud. Probably loud enough for the neighborhood to hear. "YOU NEED TO WAIT!!!!" I was yelling at your brother, but you jumped.

I had to find a book bag for Superboy because he'd left his at his friend's.

I'd planned on making lunches at 5:15 a.m. when I woke up because I was so wiped out from the day before.

Oh, Cindy-Lou Who, life is a little crazy right now. I am sorry. I get so frustrated. I don't want you to have memories of me yelling.

My prayer regarding this morning is two-fold:

1) If and when you have children~or simply within the rigors of everyday life, that you will be gentle with yourself. Life is hard sometimes, but it is also full of wonderful discoveries and relationships. Try not to take things too seriously; I have such a hard time with this. I think I may adopt the philosophy (upon the advice of a dear friend) that you can be late every damn day for school, but I am not going to be a screaming lunatic. In the grand scheme of life, if you're late once in a while for something, it's not that big of a deal.

2) That you will be able to forgive me for all of the times I've failed you or hurt your little heart. You are the world to me and I'm sorry for the way I treat you at times; that I get so frustrated.

Always know that mommy adores you. I think of you all day long while you are at school and my heart swells with pride at what a sweet, sweet, girl you are.

I love you, Cindy-Lou Who.

I'm an instant gratification junkie!!

I guess I have a bit of an addictive personality. I like to see what's new in everyone's world...and I really like to avoid doing what I have to do, like mop the sweet potatoes off of the floor. And so I meander over to my computer. What?!? Twelve new stories since I checked it ten minutes ago??

Oh man, I had no idea that Paula Dean Jr. (not their real name) was having sweet potato pancakes with homemade strawberry sauce. Man, I am such a freaking loser. My kid had a hot dog today. What?? Jimmy's skiing in the Alps? My life stinks. Sally went to the museum with her kids and took super-cool pictures? My Dynamite's busy chewing on crayons (only the non-toxic ones).

Seriously though, I do love keeping up with friends that I haven't seen in ages. I love seeing how cute their kids/puppies/hair-dos are. But does it make my life richer?

Here's what I think about and you may call me overly-analytical: When I am 102-years old (because that's how long I want to live), will I be pleased with how I spent my time? Did I really need to know that Freddy's kid flushed the clicker down the toilet again? Yes, it's downright funny...and it makes me feel better about the insanity of my life, but is it necessary?

Now, I could ask this question about many things. There are so many time-suckers out there. You may be saying, "Kendra, lighten up! It's simply a past-time." I suppose the reason why I zero in on Facebook is because it is the biggest distraction for me. I dawdle away my precious time fascinated how others spend their precious time (and you know their fiddling it away on Facebook too).

My time is limited. The older I get, the more I am aware of it. The older my kids get, the more I recognize that these wonderfully busy days will come to an end.

So here's what I'm going to do: I will check my Facebook no more than once a day to check for messages and to respond. I will spend no longer than fifteen minutes doing so. That is my commitment to myself (oh dear, I am already feeling withdrawal just writing those words of "letting go").

There are other things I am putting in place to be more deliberate with my time. I will save these for a later post, but they all have to do with "being connected." I can always be reached--by home phone, cell phone, text, e-mail, or Facebook. And I really do believe my family gets the leftovers. What time-suckers do you have in your life? How do you go about not letting them take you over? Is it time for you to de-friend Facebook?

Disclaimer: I think Facebook is wonderful for a lot of reasons. i.e. re-connecting with my college roommate who I adore, sharing great recipes, hashing the heavy out, etc.

Singing in the rain

I took Dynamite in to the shower with me tonight for two reasons: 1) to bathe him and 2) to keep him out of everyone's hair. He is three and is very impressed at his ability to affect the environment around him, sometimes in negative ways.

I've been thinking a lot about how I interact with my children. About how quickly the time goes. It's hard for me to believe that my eldest is going to be nine next month. Another nine and he will be contemplating college and moving out. Sometimes I wonder if time is truly absolute as it seems that it goes increasingly fast as I get older.

As I was in the shower tonight with dear Dynamite, I had the thought that I will never get "these" five minutes back. And so I knelt down and sang the Itsy Bitsy Spider to him, complete with hand motions. A wonderful smile swallowed up his face as our fingertips danced in the "rain" coming down.

God, give me the grace to remember how quickly it all goes and to make every moment, even the most ordinary, magical.

I think I can, I think I can...

I almost threw in the towel. The laundry was overflowing. The kids were non-stop bickering. One of my kids had way too many cavities when we went to the dentist despite my constant nagging about getting rid of the "sugar bugs." The dishes were piling up on the counter and I was sporting sweatpants almost everyday. The diapers I bought at the store did not absorb as much as they promised, and my mattress got soaked...more than once...by our sweet baby.

Each and every day, I would wake up and say to myself, "Today, I am going to get on top of this place." As if I could do that in one day. In my mind, I envisioned a candle burning, me sitting on the couch reading a book with a well-deserved glass of wine in the midst of my gleaming house. Of course, all of the laundry in the house would be folded and put away and my children would magically skip in to bed and say, "Thank you, dear mother, for making us go to bed early. We wish you would just relax and know how much we appreciate all you do for us. And no, I do not need a drink of water. Nor do I want you to rub my back or turn my light up just a little bit more. I have used the bathroom as much as I possibly could in a day and will not use that as an excuse to get out of my bed no less than four times. That gate?? You don't even need that, mom. I will not try to catapult over that tonight. I am obedient and long to please you." Wait...where in the heck was I going with all of that? I got kind of caught up in my blissful thinking...

Ahhh, yes. I was trying to get my head above water and was failing miserably. I would make unrealistic expectations for myself, and then be disappointed when I didn't meet them: "You sluggard. Why can't you wash/dry/fold/put away eight loads of laundry in a single day. You are a worthless piece of crap." Or, how about that attic that took years to get as disorganized as it is...why shouldn't I be able to make it tip-top in a couple of hours filled with countless interruptions?

And so I began saying things like, "I just can't keep up." "I'm not even going to try." "This is just a stage in my life where I can't get anything done and I need to accept it." And did this way of thinking make the chaos okay? No, it just made me feel like I had lost the fight. And so, I committed to get back in the ring.

I often feel that chore charts, allowance, cleaning schedules, etc. just give me one more thing to do. The thought of them overwhelm me and I can't keep up anyway. What I'm finding is that, if I take the time to implement these things, my days are much smoother. All of the time that I sit on Facebook (how I have a love/hate relationship with that site), I could be printing off charts or setting my timer for fifteen minutes to do a quick-clean.

Here are a few of the sites that have really helped me:

www.flylady.com- for the cleaning
www.onethousandgifts.com- for gratitude
www.aholyexperience.com- for the soul
www.freeprintablebehaviorcharts.com- for the kids

Don't try to do it all in one day. One thing at a time. And be gentle with yourself. If you have any questions about things we're implementing here, feel free to ask. We don't have it all figured out by any means, but is empowering to be on the right path. My husband said to me last week, "It actually feels like more organized chaos." Hey, that's a beginning!