"Fiery" is not a four letter word

When it comes to my girls, I...like any mother...am fiercely protective, intensely in-love, and obviously completely unbiased. ;)

*picture taken this past Easter at my parents' house. Selah (4.5), Alana (7 mo), Raegan (2), Charis (6)

Having four girls, one might assume that my days are filled with All Things Pink and Frilly. and that a fly on the wall of our day-to-day might hear shrill girlie shrieks, questions about how to best accessorize, and intense conversations about what it's like to be a real princess.

And while that may be partly true (as I type this my two oldest are playing dolls) you can't always assume what life is like based on preconceived ideas. Well, I suppose you can, but you won't always be right. ;)

especially if your assumptions revolve around the little girl that possesses this perfect, chubby profile...


and this mischievous, endearing grin...



Because my two oldest are (now) very mellow when it comes to personalities and how they interact with others, people naturally assume that my 3rd daughter...the 2 year old who has a fire about her...is a "handful".

Now of course, this could be due to the fact that this little one came from the womb fully equipped with the knowledge of how to effectively throw her hands over her face, flail herself on the floor, and whine this incredibly fake whine when things didn't go exactly as hoped.

I mean, sure...she waited until her place in the family was secure before strutting her stuff... all of 12 months. But still, she knew how to...uh, shall we say emote?... from early on.

So in all fairness to those who knew this about her, this could be the reason for the "I bet she's a real handful" assumption.

But

It's just not true. She's one of the sweetest little girls I know. Honestly.

When Lani came onto the scene, Raegan immediately loved and doted over this new little baby: "Raegan's baby", as we called her. There was no jealousy. no fear on our parts that she would vendictively hurt Alana or callously ignore her.

Nope. She gladly welcomed Little Bitty immediately.

In fact, she still spends her days trying to make this little blond girl laugh. bringing her toys. and giving her drinks.


(THIS is why Lani still doesn't hold the cup by herself. Who needs to learn new skills when you have three older sisters who will do it for you!?)

Raegan, though she does have an independent, fiery streak, has become the sweetest little girl in the past 6 months or so. gentle. patient. sympathetic.

And I want to document, for memory sake, some of the sweetest that oozes out of her:

I've been sick for the past week. throwing up sick. *ech* But every time I was in the bathroom, she would come to the door and say "You okay, Mommy?"

I'd come out and she hug my neck, patting my back and saying "It's okay" over and over.

And when I'd ask her to pray for me, she immediately put her hand on my shoulder and start singing "Jesus loves me" over me. :) Too precious.

She's not one to throw a fit. or even require a spanking. All it takes is a couple of minutes in the naughty corner and she's crying, saying "I'm sorry!" over and over again. throwing herself in our arms and hugging us hard.

She doesn't want to disappoint or disobey. (and when she does require a trip to The Corner, it's because she didn't listen when we said to come in from the pool. and really, who wants to leave the fun of water to come inside?)

When she wakes from her nap, she doesn't sit and scream. In fact, she'll stay up there for an hour if I made her...just singing songs to herself that can be heard over the baby monitor.

Twinkle Twinkle little star. Deep and Wide. Jesus loves me. Psalty songs. ...it's just too adorable for words.

There's not much to her, body-wise. She's a petite little bug...


But she's got enough energy, spunk, and joy for people three times her size.


Yes, she's got drive. Lots of it. When it comes to water, she's got more confidence than her older sisters ever have had...


and she's determined not to let them leave her behind. What they do, she will do. Or at least some version of it...

(she's yet to master the tricycle. but that doesn't stop her from "biking" when her sisters do)

And yes, she loves running and always being on the move. but she asks "Can I run?" before doing it. Where she got that from, I'll never know. But I think it's unbelievably adorable.

So yeah, my little Raegan Roo is full of fire...as she brings warmth and life to the room.

Yet. She's not one to demand her way. or throw herself on the floor, kicking and screaming (thankfully, that's out of her system). or retaliate by biting or hitting a sister when toys are not shared (thankfully, that too only lasted for a few weeks a lllooonnnggg time ago).

Honestly, I just can't even put to words how precious this little girl is. But it's very important to me that I try.

Because I want my little girls...ALL of them...growing up knowing that they are priceless to me. That their differences from their sisters don't detract from who they are, but only add to the sweet spirit that our home has. And that I will, without apology or hesitation, make sure that people don't proclaim her to be something that she is not.

I want my girls growing up knowing that they can be fiery and determined and energetic and independent without being dubbed something negative.

As parents, I happen to believe that's our job.

Parental Irony

An Irony of Parenthood:

When your first child is born, you carry around a hand-santizer. At all times.

You actually go so far as to place it in the carseat next to the newborn reminding on-lookers of their incriminating germs and your full support of their improved hygiene practices before touching your child.

Fast forward 5 years.

Gone is hand-santizer. Replaced is the plea:

"If the dog licks you in the face, just please make sure to keep your mouth closed."

Mr Sandman

Charis took this picture of herself. :)


"Mommy? Don't you think that very very soon, I'm going to be a woman?"

At 6 years old, she discusses marriage, wonders what her husband will look like, dreams about having her own children, and plans for how she'll get to spend the day with me when I'm a grandma.

I know those days will be amazing. But for now, I'm so trying to convince her that to be young is a special gift from God. designed with things for her to accomplish as a single.

to which she, all starry-eyed, replies: "But He has things for me to when I'm married too."

Oh to be able to leash Time and hold it back. At least in the mind of my "almost grown up" little girl.

They get it from their father's side.

Selah, from the time she was little bitty, was known for her adventurous spirit. It wasn't abnormal to see her with a black eye. or two.

By 6 months, my aunt declared Selah into Extreme Sports.

Always having to find the hard way to do things, she was walking up the hardwood stairs... backwards... when she could barely walk on even ground. Freaked me out.

and brought out the intercessor in me. ;)

She loves finding the physical challenge and attacking it. hence doing push-ups as a 4 year old!



That's why when she started doing backflips off the couch, we weren't surprised.

She lands on her feet as well. like a cat.

Though apparently, doing it that way became too easy. suddenly lacking in the "challenge" element.

Because she began to try it a different way...

I have no problem with this display of daring. With one exception.

My daughter Raegan appears to have the same drive running through her veins

and will try everything that she sees her big sisters do. Even the things she's never seen them do...like walking up the stairs backwards!

I'd say I have another Extreme Sports Girl on my hands. God help me.

But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, being that their Daddy did the most Extreme Sport there is.


Bull riding. And yes, that is my husband a top 2,200 lbs of untamed terror.

Maybe I should keep those home videos secret? under lock and key. away from the eyes of my girls who love a good challenge.

...It's what's for dinner

When I think about "family dinner time", I wax all sentimental. I just can't help myself.

I imagine laughter and unending conversations and good-natured teasing. Oh, and of course, a high falootin' five course meal that my inner Martha Stewart has conjured up. Sans the recipe books, thankyouverymuch.

Have I mentioned that side of me currently lies dormant? Um. Yeah. I'm waiting for the resurrection power of Jesus to breathe life into her one of these days. A girl can hope, can't she?

But the point is that at the words "family dinner," I envision joy and fun.

Yet. Can I be honest here? You feeling up to a rather large helping of Christin-Unplugged? I hope so because here it comes....

By dinnertime, I'm feeling like Mr. Hyde! less than fun and joyful.

Allow me to set the stage, mkay?

Jet walks in the door around 5:45. I'm usually throwing last minute things together while simultaneously convincing my youngest she does not, in fact, want to nurse... again. All while instructing my 2 year old, for the 20th time, to stop touching the hot stove. A concept she's determined to learn the hard way.

One (or more) children are at their wits end. and I just want to barricade myself in my room, pretend I am responsible for no one, and phone the nearest Take-Out restaurant. Ben and Jerry's does take out, right?

Sounds all-together inspiring, doesn't it? Yes, well I do try.

And if I'm being even more honest (why stop now, eh?) I'd go on to tell you that sometimes I'm so ready for the whole day of "Fun Family Time" to be over that I finally give in to my girls' cries of "Can we just go ahead and pray?" as they sit at the table with their plates set before them (while Jet and I are still trying to get our own together).

Yes. yes. For the love of God, thank Him for this food and be done with it.

I know. There I go being all Inspirational and...stuff.

Then there's the happy dinner chatter.

Yes, we do have it. We laugh. We joke. We talk about the day. But sometimes that inner jerk of mine rears its ugly head and demands to be heard.

I correct their chewing. or manners. or use that precious time to bring up a past fault that needed to be brought to Daddy's attention. or ...some other form of lively, indigestion-induced conversation.

things that evoke neither fun nor joyous.

Growing up, family dinner times were anything but fun for me. They were used for correction and bickering and put-downs that oft times left me (or my brother) leaving the table crying. Or the flip side, we'd eat in complete silence. Four members of the same family sitting side by side but emotionally miles apart.

What a waste.

I do not want to recreate that for my girls. I refuse to have my girls dread dinner time like I did. or Family Time in general, for that matter. I grew up feeling that I was emotionally safe with anyone but my family.

Maybe that's why I'm so sentimental when it comes to the dinner time ideal? because I want my children to have what I wanted when I was little.

But what I'm finding is that the reality of living out the Fun Family ideal takes intentionality and work. And a renewing of my mind.

a reminding myself that dinnertime is not the time to correct. or tell Daddy about the day's shortcomings. or...anything negative.

It's about *enjoying* family.

I know, novel concept, right? But let's face it...when we, as adults, are trying to do something different from the way we experienced it as kids, it takes surprising effort. regardless of how "duh" the needed change is.

Years from now, will it truly matter that someone forgot to chew with their mouth closed? or that they accidentally spilled milk and watched while it ran all over the floor? or that they did something else less-than-perfect in the span of the last 24 hours?

NO. But I do know that the atmosphere Jet and I are creating today will forever shape the way they view Family. that the short amount of time that we spend both preparing and eating dinner is the pivotal point in time...the CRUX... of where that mindset is established.

and I want to take special care that I do everything in my power to submit to His Power in this.

Because, yes my days are exhausting. By 4 o'clock, I'm fairly worn out. By 5 o'clock, I'm trying hard to hold it together. By 6...I'm just glad that Jet is home and that I can emotionally "check out".

I know, I know. Mother of the Year. Just pass it over.

But bottom line, even in the midst of my exhaustion and (sometimes) stress, I have a choice. A choice to go after that ideal I so giddily dream of.

The one where my children are all sitting around the table, laughing and talking and enjoying one another.

I just need to remember that it starts Today. in the midst of exhaustion. not in the absence of it. in the midst of less than perfect children parents. not because of some perceived perfection.

In this moment, I want to create the Joy. not wait for it to grab me by *cough cough*....some body part...demanding I take notice of it. because by that time, it'll be too late.

Beef? No! JOY...it's what's for dinner.

The kind of dinner I want to serve up anyway.

Do Overs

There are many things in my life that I'd love to be granted a "Do Over".

You know, the past moments that cause you to inwardly cringe with just the thought of them. Those times where you look back and blush, thinking certainly I didn't say or do that. No, not me.

The freeze frames of your mind that hold only regret.

regarding the person you dated. the argument you started. the horrible 80's bangs so proudly (and stiffly) hairsprayed.

When considering those moments, I find myself longing for the magical ability to immediately intervene. You know, like on I Dream of Genie. One little *wiggle wiggle* of my nose and a blink of my eyes and *bada-bing*...masterfully undone.

All my stupid, not so graceful moments *poof* gone. Just. like. that.

Ah. doesn't that that sound so comforting? so freeing? so perfect?

This is, admittedly, one of the ways that the Enemy often attacks me. I'll be living out my day, doing nothing of great significance, when out of the blue, a thought will hit.

A thought of my past stupidity, past sin, some past regrets. At times causing me to physically react: my body temperature rises. the pit of my stomach tightens. and my facial expression contort and cringe.

And if I'm not careful, I'm immediately taken back to that moment. reliving it all over again. wasting time getting caught up in a moment that no longer exists.

Outside the realm of my memory, that is.

Yep. I could write pages and pages, giving detailed accounts of the days I would so love to erase from the pages of my life. Heck, I would love to wipe out whole seasons, if I'm being completely honest.

There are just some things that you want to be free of, you know? especially when you're as busy as I have been. *wry grin*

But it's in that moment of regret that I'm finding myself running into the exact Freedom that I so desperately hope for.

For I cannot change those moments. Yet undeniably, they have changed me. Making me better. stronger. smarter. more humble. The list is unending...

The only negative influence that those "Do-Over Hopefuls" can have is the kind that I allow, you know?

So just consider this your fair warning, you vile hounds of Hell.

For I no longer plan on wasting time wishing for life to be Undone. I plan on Living life. Fully facing the "Full-steam Ahead". Determined to be wholly free from the entanglements with which you so desperately try to ensnare my mind.

"(Sisters), I do not consider myself to have embraced it yet. But this one thing I do: letting go those things which are past, and stretching out to the things which are before." Phil 3:13

Bottom line. We are who we are because of those moments. God's intervention in the midst of them. and our choosing to embrace freedom despite them.

Math links for homeschooling

These pictures have nothing to do with homeschooling. With the exception of this little girl is present during our homeschooling day. Social services demand that I keep in her around even when it's not convenient. ;)


Lani @ 7 months

When Lani (pronouced "Lah-nee") was born in September, it put a little kink in anything resembling structured school. In fact, if I remember correctly it shot the whole "school" concept to... *ahem*... pieces.

So I had to depend on some little help from the computer to drive home concepts for Charis. and to help me maintain a position of sanity during my next-to-no-sleep lifestyle.



Thankfully, as an added bonus, my girls think it's Way Cool to be allowed to use the computer. They lived for time they got to spend on the computer, regardless of the fact that it was school stuff they were doing.

My only advice? Don't let the kids get on the computer and do frivilous stuff. Because then the whole Educational Computer Time loses its appeal.



Honestly, I'd go over and over a math concept with Charis only to have her give me that glazed-over "Are we done?" look.

But 10-15 minutes on certain math games, and she'd have the concept nailed!!

That said, here are some Math Sites that I've found helpful in driving a lesson home.


A Money Game... click here.

Another Money Game... click here.

Telling time game...click here.

Adding game...click here.


And here's a blog dedicated to Math. She gives ideas on how to teach things as well as links to other sites that you may find helpful. While I haven't had the time to really puruse her site, I wanted to add it in here...just in case you find it helpful.




I know that we used some other sites as well. But for whatever reason I can't find them right now. But what can I say? It's Summer vacation. My brain is taking a much-needed break.

Hopefully soon, I'll be able to post some more sites we used for other subjects as well.

The Locals

I love yardsales. I love bargains. I especially love yard sales where the sellers are so focused on getting rid of clutter that the price isn't an issue. "Yes. Please just take it. I want it gone." Love those.

Not so hip on the ones where everything is priced based on the intensity of their emotional attachment to it.

"Uh, no I cannot, in good conscience, pay you $30 for that broken-down scooter. I don't care if you call it an 'antique'...it really doesn't make it more valuable. It just means you wore it out when you were a child."

No biggie though. I've dealt with that before. I just smile, say thank-you, and move on.

But I have to say, I was not experienced in dealing with the thing that happened after we left the broken-down-scooter yardsale and drove to another one.

I'm innocently shopping for girls' clothes and am literally surrounded by women talking about a beauty pagent one of them had just put their little girl into. They gasped and gabbed over the ridiculous extent that some obsessive parents will go to in helping their daughter win. The fake hair...the excessive make up...blah blah blah.

They were talking so fast, my head was spinning as I tried to block them out.

THEN the ring leader mom goes onto say...all in the same breath that criticized those obsessive parents, "I spent over $800 on her dress." She pauses for effect. "And she still didn't win!"

I think I stopped breathing, as I waited half-expecting the other women to yell, "You did WHAT?"

But it never came. Instead, they all expressed their astonishment at her loss and offered their condolences.

"And the girl who did win wasn't even..." her voice lowers her voice. I'm pretty sure she mouths the next few words. Since I was literally a couple of inches from her mouth and didn't hear it. But I can tell by the tone of the "crowd" response that it wasn't complimentary.

"Well, where did you take her!?" a woman (who is the person giving the yardsale) asks in a lets-get-to-the-bottom-of-this-outrage type tone.

The irate woman names MY TOWN. Everyone responds with a collective gagging sound.

I try hard not to smile. And I'm so wishing I could walk away. But as luck would have it, I'm waiting to pay the woman. You know, the one who is apparently disgusted by my friendly little town and obviously dead-set on ignoring me to hear this juicy story.

So I wait. And the conversation continues.

The person to my direct right says, "Yeah. Probably some person from (*insert name of my town*) won."

"Uh-huh!"...another disgruntled shopper on my left speaks up ... "probably some *Smith!" (*not the real last name they used). They all agree, letting out angry huffs and continue talking over each other.

I am sooo tempted to say something. Not only am I FROM the offending town, I am related to the last name in question.

Now at this point, being that I'm an acquaintance of the woman giving the yardsale, I am SURE she's going to turn to me...since I'm just awkwardly standing there... and ask where I'm living these days. You know, since I haven't seen her for ...oh, 15 years.

I brace myself for it. My mind races trying to silently prepare what I'd say. and trying to guess the women's reactions upon the uncomfortable conversational revelation. heh heh

I am really trying not to laugh. Really, I am. but one itty bitty laugh escapes my lips. They look at me. I keep my head down, scrutinizing the McDonald's kidmeal toys for the 10th time.

I'm guessing they probably thought that I was as disgusted as they were. I mean, why wouldn't I be?! The nerve of those small-town hypothetical Smiths having a daughter win out over their daughter clothed in gold.

And all for the grand Miss Po-dunk Powder Princess title. Really, how could they.

But thankfully, no one asks me anything. I pay my money and leave, finally able to truly laugh over the irony of it all.

And though, quite frankly, I was glad that this woman who spent close to $1000 on a dress for an 8 year old to wear for 45 minutes didn't win...I did get a glimpse of reality when I looked up. into the eyes of the little girl. the one it was all supposedly about. Standing there. Forced to quietly listen to the entirety of the conversation.

Just like I had been.

She smiled at them from a few feet away. They casually discussed her beauty for a moment. And she was pretty. completely adorable. But I had to wonder how all this talk of comparison and judgement and haughtiness of who's better than whom had effected her.

Will she grow up thinking that she's only good enough is she beats out someone else in beauty? That in order to "win" she has to spend an outrageous amount of money on clothes?

Not that I'm ragging on beauty pagents. Because I'm not. Alright? I'm not particularly for them. But I'm not against them either.

But ANYWAY...at first, the whole thing struck me as funny. Because it was MY town and MY family's last name that they were verbally bashing. But then...looking up, seeing her, and trying to view it through her little girl eyes... the whole thing was just sad.

And then I had to wonder...as I walked to my car full of little girls waiting for me...how can I guard my heart to not put my little girls in a position where I am fulfilling my dreams of *whatever* through them?

I'm sure as a parent of older, active children, it's really an easy thing to do. I mean, I always wanted to do gymnastics. But I never did. And now, I'm beyond thrilled that my girls show potential in that area. *Uh, Warning Warning*

I want to make sure that my precious little girls will never feel like they have to perform "just so" in order to hear my praises. I want to guard my heart against trying to get a second chance at MY unmet childhood dreams through their childhood.

Just something that made me laugh...and then caused me to think.

Rain rain, go away

This is what the last "few" daysssss (weeks) have looked like...

Wet.

Effectively cooping us up. all while nursing our bumper crop of weeds.

During the few hours of sunshine, Selah made sure to go out and enjoy the rain's produce.

Even though I am anxiously awaiting a dry spell long enough to spread weed poison, I have to admit...she was adorable sitting among her "flowers".

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe...

I've made it no secret that my emotions have been at war within me concerning the size of our family. More specifically whether to have more children or not.

Admittedly, everything in me has been battling over the practicalities of where I am in life: A busy homeschooling mom of four. Who loves my children more than life itself, but who really wants to move on from this stage.

A stage that revolves around planned nap times and secured baby gates.

finding flattering maternity clothes and ridding myself of post pregnancy weight.

sleepless nights due to the family flu and juggling which parents will taxi which child to which appointment....

Yet.

The unavoidably truth of the matter is that I am completely fascinated by large families. Everything about them intrigues me.

In fact, I don't read many blogs, but the ones I do regularly read are ones who's family sizes start at 9 and go up from there. I just enjoy watching their dynamics from a far. marveling over all the different aspects of *joy* that each child brings to that particular family.

And then I try and imagine what my home will be like 25 years from now when my daughters (and sons?) have families of their own. Families who loudly crowd my kitchen at Christmastime as they each try to steal tastes of what's being baked.

A crowd of rowdy, crazy people who love to be together. who stay up late into the night playing games, talking, and laughing. A group of friends who happen to have known each other their entire lives and get the privilege of calling each other family.

I've said it before and I'll say it again... I know that when I lay on my deathbed, I won't look at the adult children who surround me and say "Dang it, I knew I shouldn't have had those last two children."

I am sure of this.

Yet, truth be told, my mind continually plays out certain arguments on a near daily basis:

• 
  While I would love to survive on air, the hard truth is that I must frequent the local grocery store. And going with four Littles in tow doesn't appeal to me. So why would I prolong the craziness of outings by adding to our troop's numbers?
  


• 
  I am currently beating my head against a wall trying to lose the last 12 pounds of all remaining baby weight. Why would I want to prolong that agony by stretching out my body once again with yet another pregnancy?

• 
  Contrary to what my daughters believe, money does not grow on trees (or in Granddaddy's pockets). And though Jet and I are in a season where things are starting to come together financially (or at least the promise of finances), why would I want to stretch our money any thinner by adding yet another mouth to feed?

• 
  Our heart is to do missions as a family. And while I know families that do short-term missions trips with little ones, let's get real...I don't like to take a trip to the local Food Lion with all my children. I'm not so naive as to think it'd be fun to take four little ones (and their gear!) to another nation! Meaning this dream will have to wait until we're not lugging diapers along with us.
  
  But prolonging any family missions trip (to have additional children out of said diapers) is sad because it means that my oldest daughters will only be older. And I so want to expose them to other cultures and people's universal need for Jesus at a young age.

The list goes on and on. each one logically mapping out why it's the "smart" choice for us to put a lid on the having babies department.

But have no fear! because even if my own inner arguments weren't persuasive enough to convince me to be happy with the four I have, then there's always the average Joe on the street (or even at the extended family dinner table) to remind me of my stupidity.

You know, those people who find it necessary to assume... and loudly declare... that for me to have any more would somehow be a drain on their personal sanity. wallet. and time.

I admit it, but far too often I let their comments effect the way I view MY life.

For I find myself doubting that we should have another child simply to avoid the inevitable comments from people who have deemed themselves President of all things Family Planning.

But thankfully, Sanity has revisited me once again.

because I am more than positive that if God were to offer us another baby, I'd be the first to shout "Over here! Empty womb over here!"

Yeah, all those arguments do hold some weight in the immediateness of my life, but they are nothing in comparison to the vision of my heart.

Because I can always get my pre-baby body back. I mean, it may take a stint on The Bi*ggest Los*er to get me there. But it can be done.

There are countless things I could put into action that would make having more children not a financial issue. I can always plant a garden and learn to can. buy a sewing machine and learn to sew.

And technically, I could always hire a babysitter for two hours a week so I can grocery shop alone.

But there's one thing I cannot do.

I cannot turn back time and have the babies that I would have had if I had thrown caution to the wind (or so society tells me) and had more children. I have one chance...and one chance only...to have a family.

I don't want to look back years from now and think, as I survey our family dinner table, "Man, someone's missing. someone I never got to meet because I heeded the voice of man instead of the call of my heart."

Yes, those arguments still find their way into my thinking from time to time. But I know our family is yet to be "complete".

And I'm learning to press through the immediate discomfort that may bring (even if only in my mind) so that Jet and I can reach the place our heart longs to possess. Home life with at least one more child. A future filled with lots of love.

though if I do have more children, I'm thinking I'll know what to do. You know, as opposed to that old woman in the shoe.

Daddy's girl

I'm in the kitchen getting the last minute things ready for dinner when I hear Selah (4.5 years) say:

"I wish I were 23. Then I could marry you, Daddy."

Quote of the century

One of my friends posted this quote on her blog...after seeing it on someone else's blog. I couldn't help but to post it as well.

It's that powerful and thought-provoking.



"The Bible calls debt a curse and children a blessing; but in our culture, we apply for a curse and reject blessings. Something is wrong with this picture." -- Doug Phillips