So help me, Lady,

If you don't get that camera out of my face....
Have I mentioned I got a new camera for Christmas? (Thank you, hon!)

Nothing fancy. Nothing big. In fact, it resembles a box of cards. thin. sleek. capable of more things than I am aware.

I got it just two days before my other camera died. *ka-put*

And, as you can see by the above picture, the Maternal Paparazzi is driving the kids to do senseless acts of vulgarity.

Anything to make that lady with a camera go away...

Sounds heard around my house this evening....

**Don't forget to go to the previous blog and leave your blog site (or email it to me) since my computer has rebelled, committing electronic mutany... effectively erasing your blog sites from my Favorite File.


Joe Cool here (21 months) likes to do things her way. Enough like our way, so she feels like a good girl...just her version of it.

Like meal-time prayer, for instance.

The three oldest girls were sitting at the table. I was just walking into the dining room when Raegan busts out, "Food. Body. Amen."

And then she proceeds to devour...

I foresee Inner City Ministry in her future. Not a lot of fluff. just straight to the point. :)

...
And then there's my oldest girl. Charis (6)...

The ever sweet-spirited little lady. always wanting to see the bright side of things. always wanting to encourage.

Jet was holding Lani, and trying to manuever a knife at the same time. I offered to help. To which Charis yells out,

"Mommy is so very awesome!! She can cut food with a fork!"

Just reading that, it may sound sarcastic. But sadly it was beyond sincere. Apparently I'm not very impressive...if my ability to cut meat stands out and dubs me awesome.

Eh. Who am I kidding? I'll take whatever "awesome" accolades I can get!! ;) Even though it always appears to be the small things that leave a lasting impression on the girls' awe of me.

.....

And then there's my little Selah-bug (4 1/2 yrs).

She walked up to me today, crying "I miss my Daddy!"

After having him home (and all to themselves) for five days straight, his going to work this morning came as a bit of a shock.

Me: Do you want to call him?

Selah: No. (Imagine those big eyes puddled with tears. saying no only because she knew he was busy at work. but wanting to talk to him all the same)

Me: Maybe he'll call you? Because I know he misses you, too!

Selah: It's okay if he doesn't call me. She sighs and walks away. (insert me frantically emailing Jet that he had better call. Seconds later, the phone rings.)

Selah answers the phone: It's DADDY!! She cries all over again as says that she misses him.

I don't know if, outside of this blog, that she'll remember this little interchange years from now.

But I know, without doubt, that Doted-on Daddy will.

....

After writing some of what my day looked like today, my mind rests on one thing. And that is this...I truly feel sorry for people who view children as a bother. an annoyance. a "have to" if you want to wear the hat of Parent.

Because children are treasures. Beyond worth.

I can't imagine my day without them. And I'm so glad I don't have to.

Need Your Help

My computer has...hm...how to say this? Personality.

The not nice not kind. The kind with grudges and personal vendettas. The kind that likes to delete my saved emails without asking me. and purges my Favorites Folder without so much as a warning.

And it's done it. Yet again.

All of my Blog Friends have been deleted. People who's blogs I visit daily are now erased from my favorites list. Yes, Jo, even yours.

And though I read their content on a regular basis, I have neither the time nor the memory power to track the addresses down.

That's where you come in.

Please leave a comment (yes, I am opening comments for this blog) ;)....just so I have record of your blog once more.

And no, I usually don't comment on blogs...so even if you THINK I read, I probably do. Just silently. PLEASE leave a comment, so I have your address again!! (I may leave this up for a while...as I know that people are traveling and not spending time in Blogdom)

And yes, I will be getting kicking AOL to the curb in the near future. Enough is enough.

Premanufactured. Why not?!

For the record, I neither bought nor assembled this beaut' of a gingerbread house.

And my girls loved every minute it took to put it together.

To them, it is completely normal and even fun to pull out:
1. Cardboard-like stale gingerbread.
2. Frosting, thick enough, that it would kill you on the spot, were you crazy enough to try it
3. Hard little candies that no one with a taste bud would want to try

all from the convenience of a handy-dandy box. designed to aid you in baking building a gingerbread house of your very own.

Awww. Can't you just feel the Christmas cheer just looking at the picture?

Well apparently, my husband...upon viewing said gingerbread house...felt something a tad bit different.

Shall we call it "I-want-to-one-up-you-ism"? Yes, lets! Because I'm not quite sure how else to refer to such...uh, ambition. But you be the judge. Mkay?

*clearing throat...as I prepare to relay a story that still makes me shake my head in awe and wonder*

Jet: "We should make a gingerbread CASTLE next year."

Christin: "Uh. right." I look at him and give him 'that look'. to which he smiles and returns it.

But after completely blowing him off, I try to make amends by offering: "Well, I have a baking kit to make those things."

Jet: "Castles?!"
Christin: "Well. No."

I was thinking of the Pampered Chef Stoneware Gingerbread House Baking Molds. that I have in a box in the closet.

A box that's been set aside for things I had rendered completely useless. things that would most assuredly never be used. things I unsuccessfully tried to sell on Craigslist.

And honestly? I was feeling pretty stinkin' MarthaStewart-esk just confessing that we owned such an oddity.

I mean, really...Walmart sells KITS, people. Why make it from scratch? I scoff.

But Jet wasn't impressed by my confession. Nor was he kidding...or backing down.

Jet: "No really. I could draw it up on AutoCad..."

He lost me after that. My mind went blank.

I hear when extreme shock occurs, your brain sometimes has to shut down. ignoring all stimuli, in order to remain conscious. Especially when confronting that of an excessively talented husband, who is honestly much more Martha than I will ever be.

He bakes. He sews. His poop is gold.

Next year, after my husband has successfully autocad-ed (is that even a word?) us a Gingerbread Castle, I will forever be deemed the Lesser-parent. (like many times before)

Note to self: Must track down a Gingerbread Bill Gate's Estate Making Kit. Call Costco in the morning.

Recipe for love. Canine style.

Take one rather large dog...
With a propensity to love little people...



Add one small girl with a strong desire to lavish gifts on large animals.

And you get one huge pile of brand new raw hide bones.

And a very happy dog.

As you can imagine Toby tends to favor the little Cabinet Thief.

I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap...

Hello Poison Control?

Uh, yes. I have a problem. You see my 21 month old got into the bathroom.

Well, no. She didn't ingest anything. At least not that I'm aware.

Because...I didn't know where else to turn. and you people are supposed to help, right?!

Well...she came out of the bathroom with sopping wet hands. The bathroom that has no sink, mind you.

Uh-huh. That's my guess. She stuck her hands in the toilet.

Well, it's just that... *sigh* when I walked in, those same hands were in...well, they were in her mouth.

I know it's not really a poisonous substance! But you don't understand. I'm a busy woman and that toilet isn't always the most sparkling fresh place in the house. I wasn't planning on someone using it for a punch bowl.

I will from now on. trust me.

But all I want to know from you, Poison Control Dispatcher, is should I try and make her throw up or something? Because if she doesn't, I may.

Thankful

My mind goes into a thousand directions these days. Christmas shopping. Baking. Wrapping. Planning. Watching my amazingly adorable girls innocently interact with All Things Christmas.

Hence the lack of posts, as I can't seem to keep my brain still long enough to record anything.

Yet. There is one thought that I find myself coming back to again and again. And it all revolves around an indescribable thankfulness when I think of my little girl, Alana.

But first allow me to back up a bit...

Ever since I was a baby, my Mom has bought and/or made me a Christmas tree ornament. After a couple of years, my Nana joined in on the fun. So when Jet and I got married, I came equipped with enough Hallmark Holiday Flair to outfit a 12 ft evergreen tree.

When Charis was born, it was only natural to continue with the tradition. So each year, the girls get all giddy unwrapping their own personal ornaments from when they "were little".

(Note to my incredibly intelligent readers who will want to start this cool tradition: make sure you use a permanent marker to write their initials and year on the bottom. helps to eliminate sibling rivalry over who Frost the Snowman really does belong to)

Well, this year I found the perfect ornament for my little Lani...



Many of you will remember that when she was born, her umbilical cord had two knots. knots that were incapable of being pulled tight because of the thickness and elasticity of the way-healthy cord. And therefore, rendered unable to do damage.

My midwife said she had guardian angels on her shoulders. Because in all reality, outside out heavenly intervention, she should not be with us today.

And it's here that my over-active mind will pause.

Every single day of this holiday season, I have been reminded... as I look into the face of my chubby, happy little girl...that this holiday would be inexplicably different had Lani's "guardian angel" not been assigned my child. had God not saved the life of my little one.

Just as this ornament will remind her, every year she hangs it on her tree, that the Hand of God held and protected her before she was even born.

I got my Christmas gift on September 16th (also my birthday) when the midwife handed me a perfectly healthy baby girl.

Straight No Chaser - 12 Days

I posted this last year, but had to do it again! *love it*

Jet and I must have watched this thing at least 20 times. And I have a feeling we'll be hearing it a lot around our house this year too, as the girls are LOVIN' it!

The wonderful world of Blog.

The odd thing about putting it all out there, in the from of Blog, is that people read it. Shocking revelation, I know. But tis true. tis true.

And as with anything else that people read...people judge. It just comes with the territory.

I suppose as a blogger, you could pick and choose what side of yourself that you want to display. The funny side. The deeper side. The confused. The motherly. The... on and on the list of human traits continues.

For me, I had determined long ago that I was just going to go with whatever I was feeling at the time. I wasn't going to try and showcase any one part of me...or of our family. I just want to be completely real.

Because years from now, I want my children's children to be able to read this and have a full understanding of who their grandma is/was....and who their mommy was as a little girl.

(Shew. now if that isn't a weird thing to call yourself: 'grandma')

Anyway.

With my just putting it all out there, I know that I run the risk of people making loads of assumptions about me. about my heart. and my life.

Is that why I've taken off the ability to comment? NO. (this is why) I actually love people commenting. Please email away!! GvnJCmyALL@aol.com

But what I don't appreciate is someone reading my blog once. and then making negative generalizations about me. as if they were infallible facts.

That said.

One of my most recent blogs created quite a stir. I received more emails regarding that blog than any other since I removed comments from my blog site.

But in the first email I received... I was accused of being indifferent to scripture, as well as being in sin because I was "wrestling with God" over my feelings....among other things (and yes, I am serious...I have her emails in front of me).

I've debated back and forth over whether to even share some of the harsh comments that I received from that one woman. But have ultimately decided against it. Regardless of how she sees me, I still feel some sort of desire to protect her even though she is a stranger to me...as well as to my blog.

Her emails (there were multiple of them as she and I "conversed" during the course of a day) disturbed me to the extent that I called one friend and emailed two more (this gal and this one) to ask them to read my posts and tell me if I am off, deceived, or just plan wrong. I picked them because
1. I know them to be heartfelt believers. and
2. I knew that they'd tell me the truth and not just what they thought I'd want to hear.

They, in fact, encouraged me beyond belief. (thank you guys) And then...by God's divine timing...the emails started to pour in from, literally, across the globe.

People thanking me for the exact post the one reader pummeled me for. Their emails were filled with how the Spirit used my writing to bring refreshment to their hearts and hope to their current circumstances.

And so my heart was refreshed as well.

...I told my friend that if anything I was glad for the emails from that one stranger. That though I didn't appreciate some of the things she said nor the obvious judgements she held against me and her assumption of my walk with Christ, her accusations only caused me to draw nearer to Him.

And for that I am thankful.

This world of Blog is an odd one. Friendships are created...deep ones...with people you may never meet. People put their heart out there again and again, sharing their life's story with the masses. Women connecting with women...and in some cases, being drawn to the Father heart of God through these connections. in others laughing hysterically together over the daily trials of mothering these little monkeys we like to call children.

I cherish each one of you guys as readers. You encourage me, challenge me, and bring joy to my days.

You remind me that even though this season of my being home with the Littles can feel like a lonely one at times...that there are thousands upon thousands of you out there. experiencing the same thing. making the same sacrifices. and living, essentially, the same life.

this layed down life of Motherhood that some of us have been asked to walk. this blessing of simply being a Woman, regardless of the particular life calling.

Thanks for taking the time to read my random thoughts...to care about the ins and outs of our days...to press together with me, into the Throne room of the Lord.

I will continue to write, not for the masses, but for my children. my own sanity. and for the One to whom my soul longs. I'm just so honored that you've decided to join me in the journey.

I feel pretty oh, so pretty

If there's anything about raising daughters that worries me, it's the thought of what the world may try to do to their self image as they grow into adulthood.

All you have to do is look at magazines and read its articles to get a taste of what's out there. Haven't picked up a magazine recently? Just read this post.

Those are truly the pictures that the author used to describe women who needed to help to "appear thinner." The article still makes me gag.

OR not one for reading? The, turn on the TV. Apparently women are supposed to be fearless and completely devoid of need for men. Until the urge to kiss or other such...*cough cough*... urges come upon them.

Those same fearless women get all weak in the knees. Because then, she needs her man. You know, to fulfill her carnal desire. All the while flaunting an enormous amount of cleavage. Dolly Parton style, of course.

Give me a break.

Yet. this is the world that my girls will be growing up in.

And the thought of sending sweet little ladies-in-training... who, at present, innocently live to twirl around so all the world can marvel at their uniqueness and beauty... into a world who makes it casual sport to dissect women's bodies and harshly criticize it at every angle... Well, it doesn't bring me peace.

BUT... *somewhere angels are singing the Hallelujah chorus*... Yesterday did!

Because something that I've been saying has obviously stuck in the mind of my 6 year old daughter, Charis...

We had to arrive at church early so Charis could prepare for the Christmas play. Last minute instructions. Pep talks. and Stage Make-up were on the Director's To Do List.

It came Charis's turn for the blush and eye shadow. Monica, make-up sponges in hand, positioned herself to paint her face.

"This is going to make you really pretty."

Being that I wasn't there (this was all relayed to Jet after the fact), I can only imagine Charis sitting there for a second and then in all sincerity announcing what Monica told Jet she said:

"My mommy told me that I'm already beautiful. Without make up."

I about cried with joy when Jet told me. Have I ever said that?! Maybe? But being that make-up hasn't become an issue yet, I highly doubt it. But I do remember conversations like this:

Charis: "This dress makes me look pretty."

Me: "No, YOU make that dress that good. You're already pretty."

I cannot explain the feeling I have knowing that conversations like that...one liners that sound like they originated from corny pick up lines in movies... obviously stuck with her.

And impacted her enough to encourage her to speak up and correct a perfectly harmless statement. Just so she could clarify that she didn't need anything else to be attractive. ...that she already embodies it.

*insert a large motherly sigh of relief*

Moments like this show me that all I'm doing...all the small moments that I fear go unnoticed and unheard by their distractable attention span...are worth their weight in gold a rock solid self esteem.

Because sometimes being one of the youngest

...just plain stinks.

Dear Raegan,

In order to save you the time, I am giving you this picture as a reference... when, later in life, your siblings challenge you to prove that you were, indeed, the least favorite among the crew.

For when we had a round of hot chocolate, your sisters got buckets. And you, my dear one, only got got a wee drop.

in something resembling a shot glass.

But for the record, you loved it. and had three "shots" full.

My humble apologies,

Mommy

My heartfelt thank you...

My days here are very busy as I'm in Holiday Prep Mode and have no time to write... this blog originally published christmas 07, but it's still as true as ever.

... to all of you that so willingly display Christmas-in-the-Form-of-Gaudy on your very own front lawn. Transforming your normal-suburban home to something resembling Disney Land.

Multi-colored, flashing lights. Metallic-tinseled trees. Six-foot tall Snoopies dressed in Santa costumes. Baby Jesus flanked by the Three Stooges in lu of the traditional Three Wisemen. Blow-up snow globes larger than my bedroom.

Yep. Those are the houses to which I refer.

Can I just say...My girls L-O-V-E you! They scream and holler and clap. Loudly announcing which side of the road the Christmas festivities lie. And there you sit, in all your 130,000-watt glory. Twirling, spinning, and Ho-Ho-Hoing.

Yes, that's right. We drive around looking for you. Trying to find your yard so the girls can squeal and laugh and point. You know, getting in a little family entertainment. The free kind.

And I do appreciate this.

For you add a whole new dimension to our holiday season. This family viewing of your house from a far. Because God knows those blinking, multi-colored, frosted lights and Santa-fied cartoon characters will not be seen in our front yard. Ever.

But I, on behalf of my girls, thank you for being so willing to sacrifice the look of yours. Truly.


Though!! I have to say...I do love this house. Though I'm so glad it's not my neighbor. :)

Let's not be flaky. Shall we?

I have four daughters. God may give me more. He may not. *shrug*

But whether I have only four children or step into the craziness of forty, I am sure of this: my relationship with each one of my children is and forever will be unique. My motherhood cannot be defined by my relationship with only one of my children.

It is dynamic in its nature.

I don't relate to Selah like I do with Raegan. Charis doesn't need to hear the instruction that Selah may have to. and on and on.

Each of my children is different. in every way imaginable. I can see, already in their young ages, that their passions, their temperaments, their humor...are all different. And so I can only assume that the call God has placed on each of their lives is different as well.

So knowing that...and knowing that God has allowed Jet and I to share, on a small level, in the joy of parenthood...why would I assume that God's relationships with His children is any different?

In His unmeasurable ability to create, He's given each of his children a uniqueness that goes unmirrored.

He has placed in us a combination of desires, love languages, strengths, etc...that when combined make up a completely individual child.

Requiring a completely individual relationship with the Lord.

Am I implying that he changes? No. The word says that he does not. But I do believe the way he relates to each of us varies. just like I do when relating to each of my children.

That said.

I think sometimes we, as Christians, can become self-centered and dub it spiritually mature. Meaning, that God can give us certain instructions to carry out in a season of our lives. And we go and proclaim it The Only Way for anyone wanting a right relationship with Jesus.

Like say...oh I don't know. Homeschooling for example. or full-time international missions. or dedicating your life to raising a large number of children.

And yes, while I do home school, I do not believe it is for everybody. I do not believe it is a black and white issue. or a point of salvation. Nor do I believe it is a pivotal necessity in the walking out of a pure relationship with God.

Same with international missions. I've devoted large portions of my single life to it, though have yet been able to go full-time. Do I think that puts a wall between me and the Lord? Thankfully, no. Do I think that if I stepped out and trusted the Lord in that way that I would get to see a whole new facet of his heart? Undoubtedly.

And while I do want a large family, I don't feel my small brood yet qualifies. But the last I looked, the number of children I have neither grants me access to heaven nor favor within its bounds.

Did the Lord ask us a while back to trust him in the planning of our family? Yes. But during that season, for US, it's a matter of obedience in regard to a specific conversation between the Lord and us. not an automatic "have to" within the body of Christ.

Why do I say all of this?

For two reasons.
1. Because God has been challenging me to have a dynamic, evolving relationship with him. one that does not set up camp at one door he has opened to me in the past.

2. Because in response to my last blog post, I received an email. One from a SWEET stranger, who I know was trying to encourage me through her experience and realm of understanding, as God has challenged her to live.

But some of what was said, did not resonate within me as all-encompassing truth in regards to the body at large.

" You are wrestling with this, yes because your flesh is going against God. "

No. I am wrestling with this because God has not called us to be robots and the way I process is to be completely real before God with my fears and weaknesses. He is neither offended nor annoyed at my laying the depths of my emotions before him. regardless of how "unstable" they may be for a time.


"God wants to be in charge of planning your family...it is His business not yours."

Part of being in relationship with Christ is being IN the relationship. I agree with the heart behind that statement and the underlying issue of "Are you willing to let the Lord guide you in all manners of your life? to trust him to give you what you need?" But the whole "not my business" ideal represents a wrong understand of the father heart of God. period.

Does he have Lordship over my life? Yes, by his mercy, he does. But he also, just this year, told me outright, "I want to be your friend."

God walked with Abraham. He was called the friend of God. And Abraham dared have conversations with God about what God was planning. (Gen. 18)

I completely agree that God's way are NOT the ways of the world ...especially when regarding children and family planning. But do not feel that ALL Christian women have been specifically called to stay at home and raise a large family....


"You are walking into the light of being a true woman of God...do not be afraid"

Though I completely understand that the woman that emailed me had only pure motives, this statement irks me. My having more children does not suddenly cause me to walk in the light of being a TRUE woman of God.

My heart attitude before Him does.

If God has specifically asked me to devote more time to more children and I do not, then that hard heart of disobedience and indifference to Christ's request needs to repent. and is not in right relationship with Him.

But to look at the Christian woman as a whole and say "Thou must breed inmasse in order to fulfil your specific calling" is ridiculous.

And though I don't believe this to be the heart of the woman who emailed, I have known this to be the decree of some.

Now don't get me wrong. I am ALL for large families. If you've read my blog for any amount of time you know this. My FIL in one of 14 children. My MIL is one of 6. My husband is one of 6. I know families who have 10, 11, 12....and they do it amazingly well.

I admire those women with more respect than my limited verbage could ever describe.

But I do not appreciate it when we, as women with a calling to have large families, stamp this across the forehead of the church. dubbing other women who have not had that calling revealed in their relationship with the Lord as Less Than...

Its this mindset that sets Christians against Christians. This ideal of: "Well, its what He's asked me to do, so it must be what He wants of you too. You know, in order to enter into a deeper intimacy with Him."

Whether that be to have two children...or twenty. to homeschool or public school. to minister to my neighborhood full time. or Azerbaijan. It doesn't matter the topic, that mindset is a trap.

and only sets walls between The Church. a people supposed to be unified to win the world for Christ. not to win the debate over the particulars of day to day living.

Seriously, let's get real as Christians. Lets stop being flaky and start fighting the enemy of our souls instead of the woman sitting beside us at church who only has *gasp* two children and is rumored to have had a tubal.

Lets stop being distracted that someone dare be on a different course than we are. and start running with integrity and confidence, the race set before us.

Truly Knowing

"You'll just know."

Before I got married, people would repeatedly say this to me regarding my future husband: I'd "just know." Apparently, I could expect an all-encompassing knowledge of sorts to hit me upside the head. upon introduction to "The One".

So they said.

I had visions of introducing myself to him and suddenly the heavens would open, angels would sing, and he would carry me off into the horizon. on horseback.

Because, of course, he'd also be endowed with said knowledge. And conveniently have a random stallion standing by.

But this was not the way of it for me.

Jet was not what I was expecting. nor what I thought I wanted. (in all honesty, he's all that I didn't know I needed...and way more than I could even have asked for). And though I knew our budding friendship appeared to be a gift from God... I wasn't sure.

And I wanted to be. I needed to be.

I had been a "word of the Lord" for far too many people where marriage was concerned. I did not want to deceive myself into thinking our relationship was something it wasn't intended to be.

I had to wrestle through my thoughts, my fears, my prior expectations. I had to duke it out within myself. within the Throne Room of God. And so I did...until I had peace.

Consequently, this is where I find myself yet again. "duking it out" in yet another arena which everyone else deems a no brainer: "You'll just know" they say.

Maybe I'm just dense. Maybe my 'knower' is irreversibly broken. But I find myself not knowing. not having total peace. complete clarity. Yet wanting to.

Regarding children. Mine, specifically... and any future ones that may come our way.

"How many do you want?" "Are you finished?" "Gonna try for that boy?" "How do you do it?" "Surely, you're done now. Right?"

We get asked these questions so often they've become commonplace in our day-to-day conversations. Even with perfect strangers. The questions amuse me. confuse me. frustrate me.

I suppose the questions could stem with the fact that as a married woman, the number of months I've been pregnant outweigh the months that I've not been.

So people are used to seeing me pregnant. And, I'm sure, are just curious as to whether they should expect my body to swell yet again. People like to be prepared like that.

But eh, that's only speculation. ;)

I know the questions are genuine. they don't come laced with venom. most aren't meant to be insinuating that we should stop. But I have no answers. Because I am asking myself these questions. constantly.

Honestly, my mothers heart doesn't feel full. When people comment about how we have a "large" family, I have to smile. It doesn't feel big to me.

Now 6. 7. 8... That would feel like the beginnings of a big family. Not my small brood of four girls. *shrug*

It's in this place that my thoughts reside. my emotions wrestle. On a daily, if not hourly, basis.

More processing to come...

A quick fix?

I admit it. I'm sucked in when I read things like "How to look 10 lbs. thinner".

I figure it's not flaunting some worthless promise of a miraculous breakthrough way to lose weight. Since I'm fairly certain the only tried-and-true method to losing weight is simple: burn-up more calories than you're eating.

No miracle there. Just hard work.

BUT this lovely little promise just said ways to APPEAR thinner. So I had to look. Since I'm still carrying around 15 lbs of baby weight.

And so I clicked on that little icon.

You know the things to which I refer... those alluring little boxes that lead us to places where we're supposed to be filled with educational help. tips from the pros. people who, though have never met us, can somehow empathize with our plight. like a dear friend.

Aw. Don't you just want to hug her for taking the time to help?

But as the page uploaded and the picture popped on my screen, I was horrified to see what my dear friend considered overweight and in need of a good 10-pound slimming via the miracle jeans she's so easily slipping on.

Are you kidding me?! This chick needs to be gaining a few pounds! Those legs look like...well honestly, I'm feeling rather inclined to sing about a chicken.

So if, dear friend, those are the pants that you are advising I put on, I'm thinking we need to have us a good chat. Those would not fit above my knee.

And even then, that may be pushing it. Since I'm not a big fan of cutting off the circulation to my ankles. I'm picky that way.

Yet.

Being the brave soul that I am, I ventured on. Wanting my friend (notice the missing "dear" part...I demoted her) to have a chance to redeem herself.

But you, Friend, disappointed me once again.

by showing me this waif of a woman. and citing her shirt as the example for how to make arms appear thinner.

I'm thinking if her arms got any thinner, they'd be rendered useless. completely inept when it comes to things like...oh, manning a 30 lb. toddler. opening a SUV's hatch. holding a toothbrush.

I'm beginning to think, oh-writer-of-this-article (notice the missing friend title? demoted. once. again) that you obviously need a strong reality check. or kick in the pants.

Because I have to admit, I think you're bound and determined, not to help me. but rather to ruin my day. stomping to bits any remaining self-confidence. silently mocking me from your side of cyberspace.

And then with one click of a button, I knew I was right. For this doozy of a picture appeared.

You're laughing right now. Aren't you, oh-spawn-of-all-things-evil.

The last time a rear view shot of me looked like that I was...oh , 10. and in 4th grade. Though I remember being a lot shorter. and completely incapable of walking around in the stilettos that your 10 year old model is sporting.

So in closing, horrible hateful Internet terr*orist, I have to say the next time you try to advise me on ways to just disguise my "jiggly bellies or chubby hips," you had better post a model who actually weighs more than 90 pounds. who actually has faced puberty and lived to tell about it. and who... maybe, just maybe...has birthed a child.

Instead of using girls who resemble the mannequin I saw in the children's department last weekend.

A foreseeable career in acting ahead...

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen unseen, I watched Raegan.

She was standing beside the oven, happily talking to herself. when all of the sudden, she caught sight of her reflection in the oven door.

You could tell that she'd never noticed it before because her "mirror" image immediately captivated her attention. stopping any and all chatter from her mouth.

Instead, her lower lip popped out. then a little further. until it started to slowly quiver. and out of no where she started to whimper. then cry.

This girl was totally watching herself pretend to cry! and doing a pretty convincing job of it too!

I had to laugh, which made her take notice of me...

...suddenly the waterworks stopped. causing her to laugh hard as well. And just like that, she was "fine" again.

All in the day's work of our local drama queen.

Yikes.

Practicing for later...

Saturday morning, bright and early, we bundled up the girls against the *bitter cold* Because we needed to head church for the children's Christmas play practice.

How the directors (Wendy, Julie, and Reatha) do all that they do with this yearly play is beyond me! But somehow they get the kids to quiet down and listen AND learn all the many lines, hand motions, dances, songs, etc!

Sydney, at almost 12 years old, stood out among all the littles. (Charis is standing on a riser beside Syd)

The play is for the 1st-6th graders. But I'm thinking Sydney was one of the ONLY 6th graders to agree to be a part of it. (I think there were two more...?)

At one point during the practice all I could think, as I watched the different groups of kids up on stage was:

"Oh my word! One of these boys may someday date one of my girls."

It was a sobering thought. trying to image one of these rowdy elementary school boys as young men. driving to my house to pick up my daughter. Yikes.

So I took out my trusty pen and paper. determined to take note of the boys that weren't listening. One day this information may come in handy, you know.

"You want to date my daughter? well...you DO realize that I was there Christmas of '08, don't you? I SAW what you did." :)

...

I knew that Charis was singing a solo. I knew that she had two short "one-liners". But I had no idea that there is a portion of the play where she narrates. from memory.

Twice.

That girl is like a sponge. I hadn't worked with her on those lines. I never saw her practicing them. She just picked it up along the way...reciting it without pause at practice.

Nah, I'm not proud or anything.

While Charis practiced, Selah was off-stage doing the hand motions to the songs. She's a part of the 3-4 year old class that will come up on stage at some point and join in the singing.

Raegan, who's been listening to the practice CD at home with the Big Girls, knew all the songs as well. :) She will NOT be joining them up on stage.

I have a feeling this lack of "stage presence" may be a battle for us come Play time.

After practice was over, a bunch of the kids ran around church playing "Tag". As I called my girls over to get their coats on, Isaac (another 1st grader) ran over to Charis and said,

"I'll see you tomorrow, Charis. You can chase me all you want then. Okay? Tomorrow."

Was this kid asking my girl out? practicing for the play and future pick-up lines? Uh-huh. Out came my handy-dandy notebook. That little guy is getting written up. *grin/wink*

Too bad sickness kept us from church the next day. *cough cough*

A favorite... finally.

I've never been one for "favorites". I have no favorite color. I like too many... for different reasons. The same can be said for movies. books. people.

I just don't do favorites. which doesn't bode well when trying to fill out those holiday internet questionaires that are going around again. You know, the ones that ask about your taste for eggnog, your wrapping preference, and your favorite childhood present.

Well, I don't like eggnog. I have a large stash of recycled gift bags up in my attic. and in following suit with my inability to pick favorites, I simply can't think of the best gift I ever received.

Being one of only three grandchildren on my mom's side, I was never lacking in the gift department. To point it mildly.

I can think of many presents that I really liked. and a rare few that I still have. Yet none that ever made my Christmas complete. at least that I can remember.

But there is one Christmas that stands out. for a reason having nothing to do with something you upwrap.

It was the eve of Christmas Eve. We were all sitting around in Nana's living room...not touching the piles of presents calling out to me from under the tree. Unfortunately, opening presents was off-limits that evening. Well, except for one that my Papa always let me sneak! *grin*

Out of the blue, someone suggested we play a game. Twenty Questions to be exact. Brilliant.

We played for hours. I've never seen the adults smile so much. laugh so hard. let loose like they did.

I loved every single minute.

The memory, to this day, still makes me smile. So if Family Time can be considered my favorite gift, I'd pick it. For so many reasons.

This year, for us (and most everybody else, I'd wager) money is tight. And wisdom warrants cutting back wherever we can.

But I find peace in remembering that long-ago Christmas.

For if my favorite Christmas memory comes from a couple of hours of game-playing with the adults, then I'm determined to give my children that gift.

My heart on the matter

I need things to line up.

Ever have that happen? You enter a season of life where the possibilities lie endless before you. Only you are rendered unable to move...completely inept when it comes to moving even one step forward in life.

Until certain pieces fall into place.

That's where I am... where we are as a family. Waiting for pieces to be laid, doors to be open, and God's promises to be fulfilled. Excited in the possibilities, yet trying desperately not to become frustrated at the lack of "movement".

The Lord has given us a vague understanding of what's to come: by His voice. by confirmation in dreams. in the Word. and through prophetic words. But we are seeing none of it.

Nada.

And it's taking everything in me to remain at a place of peace. to not rush in and "make" something happen. or cause a door to open. or turn my prayer life into a rant of demands.

Because really, I don't want human terms laid over our heavenly promise.

Ishmael and Isaac come to mind. Galatians 4 tells us that Ishmael had been "born according to the flesh" while Isaac had been "born according to the promise".

I want our inheritance to be born of the promise. Truly, I do. But sometimes the Clock of Heaven runs so. slow. that. I. want. to. throw. it's. proverbial. booty. out. the. door.

"Hello up there!! Can you even hear me anymore?!!! Because really, I'm having my doubts. Remember those promises you've repeatedly given me over the last seven years? Well...you're late on cashing them in. And I just need to give you a head's up; I'm moving on. I have to. You've left me no choice really. Emotionally, I just can't handle waiting one more day. I figure you no longer care about that which you promised me you'd do. Do you even remember them, Lord?!! Do you?!!!!"

Though that thread of thought is not where my mind is anchored... Trust me, I feel like I'm only one bad day away. one carelessly shared conversation, vented in frustration.

And so I am trying to remain silent and in control of my thoughts. so as to not spark a fire of frustration that lies dormant in my heart.

But waiting is never easy. especially when waiting for the Life Altering promises that we've received.

God, help me to remain yielded to your timing. regardless of how overdue it feels.

Say it with me.

picture taken during Charis's kindergarten year

..."It's not a big deal."

This can be heard throughout our homeschooling day. Not in a bad-attitude type way. Not in an indifferent sort of way.

But in a way that leaves little hearts from being scared to try and fail. or scarred from a mom's outburst of frustration.

When I first began formally teaching Charis, I ran across some hurdles. My daughter's feelings, for one.

Meaning, I would find myself carelessly plowing over her feelings every time I turned around. with my impatience. with my tendency for perfectionism. with my frustration at her wavering attention span.

I soon found that this wasn't the way to produce good fruit in her life.

What can I say? I have a knack for intuitive parenting. *rolling my eyes*

So, during her kindergarten year, I backed wayyy off. We stopped doing anything formal. Choosing, instead, to just wing it throughout the day.

Reading books. Playing words games that I'd make up on the fly. Practicing handwriting in a way that didn't seem like work.

I stepped back from anything that felt like structured school. and just let Charis do her creative imagination thang.

Not because I'm of the unschooling approach. I don't think I am. Not because Charis needed time to get a hang of the whole learning thing; she didn't. It had nothing to do with her. or her capabilities.

But rather mine.

I needed to learn how to home school in a laid back fashion. how to present learning in a fun way. and to intentionally kill off any and every perfectionism streak that ran through my being when confronting home education. and life in general.

Before my careless words did permanent damage.

One day, the Lord stepped in and filled my mouth with words that have forever changed the way I try to approach the girls and their mistakes.

I don't remember what had just happened. probably some casual mistake like writing a 3 backwards. or spilling mustard on the rug.

Whatever it was, tears started to flow. I'm sure, in part because they were sad over what they had done. and in part because they were afraid of what I would say.

"Oh honey, it's not a big deal."

It really wasn't a big deal to begin with. but my words of assurance cemented that reality in their hearts. The 'offending' child relaxed. smiled. and moved on.

And so...it's become a motto of sorts. when tears start to flow over something not important, one of us will say "It's not a big deal. Say it with me!"

I'm hoping it will become like a little tape recorder in their brain for later on in life when they make an honest, simple mistake. that they'll immediately hear our little conversation (that comes complete with hand motions) and will inwardly recite, "Eh, it's not a big deal."

And move on.

I want our homeschooling time to equip them. For their lessons, yes. But for more than that, you know? I want to be able to teach them how to maturely deal with their honest "less-than" moments in life.

By my example. by my reaction to their mistakes.

And a lot of time my example stinks. Royally. But I am so trying...because the way I respond to their mistakes does matter.

Today becomes a memory

me...with Charis (6) and Alana (10 weeks old)

The Comedian Bill Cosby once said, "You are more likely to remember your childhood than the place you left your glasses."

Yep.

Ask me about a dream I had when I was 4 years old. I can relay it back to you like it occupied last night's sleep.

Ask me the full name of a boy I met in kindergarten. and never saw since then. I can tell you. and point him out in a crowd of people twenty years later. (yes, this happened)

Ask me about a song I made up about my first grade crush. I can sing it for you on the spot.

Ask me about a field trip I took in grade school. I'll give you specifics.

Go ahead. Ask me any number of random questions from my early childhood. I can tell you. Usually without skipping a beat.

For those years seem to be locked in my brain. set in the very foundations of my memory.

Yes, my ability to easily recall information is fast fading. But that's not what currently grabs my attention. I stand more in awe of the fact that my children are now in that season of their lives.

The season that I so vividly remember, they are now living. The memories that obviously became a cornerstone for my identity, they are now playing out. I am now creating.

Honestly, I'm not so sure if this excites or scares me.

Okay, so yeah. It completely freaks me out.

But on one level, it also motivates me to try and live out today as if *NOW* will become one of those unbudging, childhood memories. The ones that are etched into the framework of their minds. forever set into the beginnings of their budding personalities.

Because, in all reality, today may very well be one of those random life moments. the kind that, for some unknown reason, leaves a lasting impression.

God help me.

So I have to ask... If this moment was to become a "forever memory," how would they remember me? how would they view themselves? view my perception of them as people?

In this moment.

Today I will smile more. I will stop what I'm doing and truly listen to what they're thinking. I will make sure that 90% of what I say is not correction, instruction, or aggravation.

I want to BE the mom that I hope they'll remember me to be.

Today.

For all too soon, it just becomes a distant memory.

Gobble Gobble

Well, we finished it...

...our sorry looking excuse for a turkey pinata. Minus the red wattle. it fell off in the car.

Uncle Ikey (Jet's youngest brother) held it for the kids. I would say he was a brave soul, but these armed children were not blindfolded. Therefore, his body parts were not in danger. :)

The kids opted out of blindfolds. wanting to make strategic, repeated *wacks* at the turkey.

Raegan, being the youngest (20 months), went first.

She was just thrilled to be the center of attention. allowed, even encouraged!, to hit something with a bat. Who needs candy when you got permission to destruct?!

Than came Symantha (2 1/2 years).

She actually made contact. And ripped a leg right off our fine feathered friend.

Then came Selah (4 1/2 yrs). She's going through a season where she avoids being the center of attention. So she only took one hit...

If you take a look at her stance, you can see that she was ready to bolt right after she swung.

And then came Trent (4 1/2 years). He meant business.

Then Jacob (5 years)...he only put the blindfold on for a few seconds. He wanted to plainly see his target.

...we had a hard time convincing him that his turn was, indeed, over. ;)

Moving onto Charis (6 years). She gave it her all. quite pleased that she took his head off. See the orange balloon flying off?

And then came Chris (7). He was so swift and powerful that I:

1. didn't have time to get a picture before he nailed the beasty. causing candy bags to fly across the room. and

2. didn't trust a 7 year old, boy-with-weapon enough to take my eye off of him so that I could take a picture. You could see he meant business...

So in order to avoid that taste for blood... Uh, I mean candy...I bagged the sweets in little ziplocks and put their names on the bags.

I had visions of larger children plowing down the smaller. all in attempts to stockpile the most candy. This way they just looked for the bag with their name on it. each with equal candy.

tear free. fight free. blood free. ah, sweet victory!

And just like that, we had a moment of calm while they ate their candy like sharks.

Raegan was especially intent on eating whatever she could, as quickly as she could. We don't do candy in our house very often. (next to never)

Afterward, they entertained themselves with the turkey's carcass. compliments of Uncle Ikey's example.

Man, how my girls love that guy! ;) ...and their Thanksgiving pinata that's gracing his head.

Cousins!

9:30 AM...

Hungry people descend upon my home. from different sides of the valley, my family came. each bearing gifts of food.

and offspring:

Hannah (10 months), Sydney (almost 12 years), Skyler (almost 4), Charis (6), Raegan (20 mo), Alana (2 months), Courtney (18 years), Selah (4), Justin (16), and Eli (2).

Then we had a little "intermission" of sorts. A time to recharge our batteries before diving, headlong, into a mass of children. ;)

5:00 PM. We pull into Aunt Joanna's drive. The last to arrive. effectively causing the already loud atmosphere to raise a decibel. or ten.

Raegan, Selah, Charis, Grandpa, Seth (maybe 4 mo?), Grandmama, Alana, Jacob (5), Trent (4), Symantha (2), Chris (7)...and Michael (1) was MIA. taking a nap, I think.

To our girls, a day just doesn't get any better than this!

Pilgrim Hat Cookies

Before people get the wrong idea about me and think that I'm one of those moms that spends hours being crafty, allow me to assure you. I am not.

though I am artsy at heart...and though I think it highly commendable when pancakes are made to look like dog faces... I do not take the time to create masterpieces with our breakfast foods.

I am lucky to get through breakfast without an emotional outburst (the girls, not mine *grin*) without adding the pressure of "Art Class 101" in the midst of it.

Don't get me wrong. I have high hopes of one day being "That Mom". But in general, that's where my motivations remain. Hopeful. nothing more.

Only this Thanksgiving, I did want to make the attempt to include my girls in more than just the eating of our elaborate spread. I wanted them to feel like they're a vital part. to know they are.

And at this age, that is accomplished by the making of food. the creative kind.

Thus, the Pilgrim Hat cookies:

Take a bowlful of dark chocolate chips. Melt in microwave. Be sure to not burn it!! Mix in between the heating session.

Take large marshmellows. Dip in melted chocolate with toothpicks.
Place on striped shortbread cookies (the kind that you used to wear as rings when you were young. remember them?). chocolate side up.

Put them in the frig immediately. Allow to cool. then use yellow frosting to make the gold buckles.

Jet, my ingenious homeschooled husband, came up with the ever-so-helpful idea of putting the frosting into a baby's medicine dropper...

for a more precise miniature square. Worked like a charm!

Thanksgiving Fun

In two days, my girls will be spending the day surrounded by cousins.

In the morning, we'll be with my family. For a laid-back brunch, where we have the opportunity to just sit around, talk, and hopefully play some games.

Oh yeah. And eat.

There are 10 kids, ranging in age from 18 to 2 months. So I expect there will be a lot of laughter!


But then that afternoon, we'll be with Jet's family (most of them anyway). Where there will be 10 kids ranging in ages from 7 to 2 months.

Can we say LOUD?! CrAzY, fun times ahead!

So...this year, I wanted to make sure that all those young kids had something specifically designed for them. a special sumpin-sumpin for them to remember. hopefully something that they will not only remember, but cherish.

One of the great things about children is, it doesn't take much to please them. Just a little recognition and interaction. And so I researched Thanksgiving Crafts and Games.

Here's the template for the Turkey Hat we'll be doing at Aunt Joanna's house:

You can find the specific directions here.

I am using the kid's handprints for the wings and white construction paper eyes instead of pom-poms. I figure there's enough to spend money on without buying little white pom-poms.

And to help the different parts glue, I used clothes pins. Just *clip* them on, keep them there for about 10 minutes, and ta-da...it's glued! Otherwise, I'm sure the pieces would fall off before they made it through 5 minutes on the child's head.

Now. I'm off to finish up the Turkey Pinata. God help me.