As it should be.

The three oldest girls share a room.

It's 4am. All is quiet throughout the house. as it should be.

Except for a creaking of a bedroom door. I look up and see Charis standing out in the hallway. watching us. waiting to be invited in.

I tap Jet's back. No response.

I tap again. Nothing.

I tap harder. The man is in a coma.

I sigh and then...jab. Kung-fu style. And finally, I see movement.

"Oh good, you're awake. Charis... hallway."

Jet sits up and says something semi-intelligent. though obviously coherent enough for Charis to understand she'd been summoned to come closer.

I totally expected her to come in crying. telling us that she had had a bad dream. wanting Jet to hold her close, comfort her, and tuck her back into bed.

It seemed the only logical explanation. After all, it's happened at least three times in the past few weeks. Jet can handle it. He's done it often enough, he could do it in his sleep.

And probably has.

But Charis didn't sound upset. In fact, she didn't sound the slightest bit groggy...as she and Jet whispered a conversation too soft for me to distinguish.

Then she walks back to her room.

Well, that was easy, I thought. No tears. No emotional outburst. In fact, very little distinguishable noise.

Until

I hear Selah loudly saying something to Charis as she re-entered their bedroom. followed by a muffled Raegan.

"Are you kidding me? Are they all talking, Jet?! "

Throwing back the covers, Jet marches into their room and sets things right. Suddenly all is quiet. As it should be. Daddy has restored order once more.

Apparently, they were reading. in bed. with their flashlights. when Charis's battery went out.

And like anyone who wants to continue reading at FOUR A.M., she comes to our room. totally expecting us to get her a new battery.

Think again, Missy!

"They are so not having flashlights from now on!!" I mutter, throwing my face back into my pillow.

And the rest of the discussion was left unsaid. As it should be...since 4-am-brain isn't begging for deep conversations.

I fell back asleep... completely prepared to lay down the law in the morning. confiscating their flashlights. and books. and nerve brazen enough to wake us up at dark 0'thirty.

Only

The next morning dawned. and my children were no where to be seen.

Now grant it, they normally wake up around 8:00. (Yes, I've been blessed by their sleeping in late) But 8:00 came and went.

As well as 8:30. and 9:00. and 9:15...

Finally at NINE-THIRTY, they emerged from their bedrooms. foraging for food to eat.

And in that moment... that late late moment in the morning... I rethought my parental stance.

If you, my dear children, want to wake up at 4am and read the books we've so graciously provided for your educational enrichment...then by all means, knock yourself out.

Especially if that means you'll be knocked out until late morning. giving me the chance to *ahhhh* breathe before the mad rush of the morning ensues.

Making my morning nice and laid back. As it should be.

Mastering the concept.

Not too long back, I was fairly certain that Raegan didn't quite grasp the whole idea behind the potty.

Take note of its doubling as a toy box. housing all of her Fridge Phonics letters.

I mean, yeah...she knew to sit on it. and make the "pssss" sound.

But that's where the understanding seemed to end.

And I was good with that.

I figured Hey, I'm not really ready to go all Potty Commando. not with Lani still waking up in the middle of the night. and me homeschooling two girls. and trying to practice good hygiene. ALL while making sure my girls don't starve.

A mom has got to prioritize, right?

I figured by her Kindergarten year, I'd be all over it.

Except that Raegan has become quite the dangerous little toddler.... Being completely adept at removing all types of clothes, she has become our resident Houdini.

Couple that with the fact that she loves to be naked and you have nothing short of a toddler strip club.

AND when you take into account that she is also trying to potty train herself...and is now if full bootcamp mode... you have a disaster in the making.

For those of you that have not parented toddlers yet, I'd advise you look away. This may cause involuntary retching. Never a good thing.

For the rest of Club Parenthood, I'd imagine you'd just casually say "Uh-huh. Junior did that one too. 'Cept his was worse."

WELL...while the oldest girls of my small brood have been swooning over the Office of Marriage and all it entails, my third daughter has had her sights on other goals.


Unfortunately her aim ain't so good.

Yes. I did just post a picture of poop-gone-astray. I have resorted to becoming one of those parents. The kind of parent that naively thinks other people actually care about the intestinal products of their offspring.

But I'm not posting the picture of Naked Child, if that's any consolation. Does that redeem me?

Yeah, didn't think so.

So there you have it. The start of my day. Right there on the bathroom floor. All before 9AM.

Monkey Business. continued.

Update on the previous post (due to questions I've received).

Yes, that's exactly what was meant in the Little House episode. Charles was away on business. Another man was at their house building on an addition. Mrs. Olson was referring to that scenerio ... Thus, "Monkey Business" introduced to my little ones grid of "understanding".

Believe me, it took me off guard. I tried to distract them. talk loud over the TV conversation playing out on the screen before me. fast forward it a bit. anything to take their attention from the 5 seconds I would have rathered they not see.

But nope. the damage had been done. the seeds of curiousity planted. courtesy of Harriet and Nellie Olson.

AND

Since that last post, I've had a few readers email me. telling me about "God's design for Sex" series.

Bam. Bam. One email right after the other. Thanks guys! I will definitely be looking into that one!

For now, I must go get ready. For a playdate that I think I'd rather avoid if it wasn't for the mom. I LOVE her.

Oh Okay, so her children are amazing as well. Too amazing! For her oldest boy is the one that awakened all this "lovey dovey" stuff in the heart of my daughter.

She even made an "I love you" card. Pop Up style. I kid you not.

I tried to tell her as gently as possible that you don't just go around giving people those kinds of cards. because she doesn't even know him yet.

To which she promptly replied. "Well, I'll ask him all about himself today. and tell him all about myself. And then, I'll give him the card."

Well then. What's left to say? Let the playdate begin...

Stu.t.t.t.errr.ing my way through

Yep. Here we are again. Reporting to you from The Family Dinner Table. where all the action happens these days.

Charis: Mommy? What's "Monkey Business"?

Mommy: *Complete and Shocked Silence*

(Pull it together, girl. You can do this. Don't look too shocked. Kids can smell fear. ...Quick say something. Only don't make a big deal out of it. Breathe. In. Out. Good. Now open your mouth. Speak. Anything!)

I start to say something. I steady my voice. I feign confident and in-charge. and fail.

I stumble. I stuttered. I stop mid-sentence.

Jet, from across the table, put me out of my misery and finally speaks up: Well... you know Curious George?

Charis and Selah switch their gaze from me to him. and smile. Now Curious George, they get.

Jet: He's a monkey, right?

Charis and Selah: Yeah!!

Jet: And he's always getting into trouble. Right?

More emphatic nodding of the heads.

Jet: Well...that's what "monkey business" is. When people do things that get them into trouble.

Yeah. Right. Why didn't I think of that? When in doubt...revert to cartoon characters.

And for the record? Worked like a charm.

Now to rack my brain for any and all cartoon characters that could help me in the inevitable S*ex talk that is bound to happen any. day. now.

For those of you that are following this, can you even believe how fast this is snowballing?! Thank you, Jolanthe, for dropping off the inhaler. I just had my lung spasms under control. When this hit.

Got any Percocet?

*And no, we have not been hanging around the local bar. Cross my heart. That lovely little statement was heard on Little house on the Prairie. And yes, it was referring to 'messing around'. Is nothing safe to watch these days?!* :)

Uh, why do you ask?

*picture of Charis when she was around 2 years old.

I'm becoming more and more acutely aware of how fast my little girls are growing up. There are days where I'm positive that they've matured more than their allotted daily amount.

Take, for instance, the other day. Selah wanted to play "stories". This is a game that they've played for a while now. a game where they make up a story and play-act it out.

But Charis made sure to make one thing clear: "I don't play stories anymore."

Me: How come?
Charis: Because I don't. People change when they get older. And I. have. changed.

Well La Ti.

Of course, this new-found rule is null and void if the story has anything to do with marriage...

Charis: I don't know who the Lord has for me as a husband. but I told him that I want him to be handsome and kind. Like Daddy. ...and strong.

So precious. Though I have to wonder...does the little "strong" addendum mean that she thinks being strong is UNlike Daddy?

Time to hit the gym, Jet. *laughing*

But even though she talks of marriage often, I have to wonder how she interprets it, you know? What exactly does she think it means?

Though she's starting to give me small glimpses as to her thoughts on the subject...

Charis: "Do you hug Daddy?"
Me: Yes
Charis: Every night?
Me: Uh-huh.

Selah (interjecting from her side of the room): They do! I know...I've seen them!

Charis (after pausing and staring off into the distance asks): Well, do you kiss him?
Me (wondering where this was actually headed): Yes.
Charis: Every night?
Me: Uh...yeah.
Charis: Well, will you do it tonight?!
Me (smiling the biggest smile, trying not to laugh outright): "Um. Probably?"

I'm not sure how the conversation ended. though I think it pretty much stopped there. ThanktheLord.

She's 6! She seems so little to me. But then again, I think back to my 6 year old status, and I remember feeling So big.

I remember feeling like I knew "so much" about things I'm not ready to discuss with her yet.

Is it just me or has Charis grown up on me?!! All in the span of a week and a half.

Be forewarned. One of my next post may very well include The Big Question Exchange. the one where she asks "Exactly how babies get in a mommy's belly".

Starting. to. hyperventilate. Must. go. lay. down.

Preparing to... downsize?

Picture it.

The dinner table....peacefully eating a casserole when all of the sudden Mommy asks the kids a question.

"So guys, what would you think if we adopted someone one day?"

Blank stares. No reply. In fact, no response of any kind. though an eye might have twitched, but I can't be too sure.

Okay. let's try a different approach, shall we?.... "Do you remember what adoption is?"

Selah, with her elbow on the table, hand cupping her chin, didn't hesitate, as she nonchalantly answered.

"That's where you and Daddy give one of us away to another family."

Uh. *mind reeling for something intelligent to say* NO!!

This leaves Charis in tears, as she declares she doesn't want to be the one we give away. She doesn't want have another mommy. She wants to stay...*sob*....right....*sob*....here.

*insert her running to my lap and throwing herself in my arms*

Yup. We have dinner conversations like that. Openly asking our children how they'd feel if we suddenly up and gave them away.

Bless their sweet little hearts.

And for the record, we did, in fact, clarify the heart of our adoption question. Though I'm quite sure we'd done that before.

Note to self: Proceed carefully when use the "A" word.

Protecting the Innocent

Driving the 20 minutes home from my parent's house on Christmas Eve, my mind wandered to a place that's become all too familiar. At least recently.

The thought that somewhere, most likely within arm's reach of me right now, there are children who are not having a Merry Christmas. Nor the hope of one...

And I don't mean because of the lack of presents. Though yes, I'm sure that's their reality as well. But whose holidays, as well as the normal days, are filled with abuse...

A few weeks ago, as my girls danced around the living room, I was immediately struck with how peaceful our home is. and how some children never experience the atmosphere that our girls have come to expect as the norm.

The knowledge that there are children's lives who mirror something akin to a horror movie, on a daily basis... well, it haunts me.

And it is there that my mind locks. My brain becomes almost paralyzed to move past the thought of child abuse. and the accompanying images.

Truly, there are times that I get so overwhelmed with the thoughts that I literally have to make myself think on something else; those images being so uncomfortable to face.

But seriously? the irony in that statement disgusts me...

Facing the thought of a child being abused is uncomfortable to me?! Yet...what about a little girl facing the fist/temper/sexual advances of an enraged adult? What about her comfort level?

I've always had a soft heart for children. Even as a child, I was never one of the mean-spirited kids. I hated injustice and took up for the underdog.

And being a parent has only cemented that in me. For I think "What if my Selah had been born to someone else? What if she had been born into a family that molested her?"

And something in me rises up and says "Oh no you didn't!" I am literally gripped with an overwhelming desire to gather those children into my home. protect them. embrace them. and show that real love doesn't hurt.

Of course, only after stringing up those abusers by...whatever body part I can get a hold of.

Look, I'm just being honest here. I have very little tolerance for people who prey and/or hurt children. Innocent children. Children I may never meet, but who's silent cries literally pierce my heart.

And I'm left to wonder...where do I go from here?

Yes, I realize there are many "obvious" answers. Go adopt. Do foster care. Save one life at a time.

And while Jet and I commend those things and have discussed pursuing them... I honestly don't know what the Lord is asking of us at this moment. I don't want to start in the direction of something "good"...when there may be something "greater" in a little bit of a different direction.

Something that maybe only could originate in the heart of God. not in the mind of social services.

Please don't read me wrong. Don't send me emails saying how you think I'm dissing adoption. I'm not. My sister was adopted. For all intents and purposes, so was my dad. A lot of my childhood friends were....as well as the friends of my own children. I'm surrounded by the beauty of adoption...and love everything about the heart behind it.

But because my very being has suddenly become so violently plagued by these images, thoughts, and feelings, I want to know God specific purpose behind it. What is he asking of me? What exactly is he trying to stir up in me? What vision is he planting?

Do we become political advocates? use the connections we have around the world and stir up ...something?

Do we uproot our family and move to help start some care center on the other side of the globe?

Do we...? I have no clue. But I know something it stirring....

**While I was going to post some images to accompany my thoughts, for whatever reason I couldn't get the photos to cooperate. But...if you want something to grip your heart, go to this site. In fact, go to this site even if you don't feel like it. Their pictures say it all. And I think it's about time we all take notice of what's happening to the little ones. behind closed doors.

www.dreamcatchersforabusedchildren.com/

Learning about life. Disney style.

Mesmerized. There's no other way to describe it.

And while I'm sure you're thinking that my compelling homeschool lecture was what held her unfaltering attention...sadly, it was not.

Disney Princesses. That is what caused the glazed-over look of love.

The girls had asked me what Ariel's voice sounded like. Uh? Picture me trying to decide if I actually try and sing a Little Mermaid ditty.

I did. ...picture Charis with a blank expression of "For real?!"

So I did what any mother struggling to keep her sanity would do. I Youtubed "The Little Mermaid".

As you can see, she was completely captivated.

But I was not. I was getting increasingly nervous. You see, I had never really listened to the lyrics of the song we happened to be listening to at the time...

"Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. Possible she wants you too. There is one way to ask her. It don't take a word...Not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl"

Did you realize he was saying that?!! It goes on to say what a shame it is that he may miss out on kissing the girl. figuring out if he likes her or not.

Dear. Lord. Jesus.

Watching my starry-eyed SIX year old listening to these lyrics while not even batting an eye, it took everything in me to not yell:

"Alright. Enough TV for now. In fact, we're officially banning all things princess from our home. until your older. Married, preferably."


But as you can see from her choice of outfit, I'd have to ban everything she's currently into. And really, who wasn't starry eyed over princesses when they were little?

In fact, even her artwork has recently changed. She's gone from drawing pictures of animals and family members to this:

Catch that penmanship?

"Let your dreams sing. Princess dreams come true."

Oh Jesus...help. How do I adequately explain that nothing about those stories comes close to reality?? Well... there may be seven short little men who are hiding away in the woods. But you know...except for that. *shrug*

That little exchanged happened a few days ago. Then yesterday...our family room looked like this:

Young women lined up. like cattle. awaiting to see who would be lucky enough to get picked as a wife.

By none other than Brother Bear. Who knew he was the Mac Daddy?

You should have heard the conversations those Ladies in Waiting were having with each other. I didn't know whether to laugh or intervene.

"She'll never get picked. because she's naked!!" was, in fact, one of the statements made...

I consoled myself by acknowledging they weren't saying she would get picked because she was naked. I'm so not ready for that conversation yet.

For the record, my dear husband thought the whole thing was hilarious. ;)

Of course, he was sitting safely behind his desk while this M*ail O*rder B*ride theme was taking place in the middle of our homeschooling day.

Um. What do you think, Experienced Homeschooling Mommas? This counts towards HomeEc credits. Right? ;)

More of that heavenly Favor

Last month I posted how God was challenging us to trust him financially...and then we were hit with a $613 electric bill. (plus a bunch of other financial things all at once)

That number still sends me reeling.

We called the town and said that it couldn't possibly be right because it was more than double the highest bill we've ever had. So they sent two men out to re-check it. And their response?

"It's not only correct, but you are well on our way to having to pay another bill like it next month."

Are you kidding me?!! because seriously, I'm like the Amish when it comes to using electricity. at least during the day.

We have over a dozen 5-ft windows in our downstairs alone. So natural light it is. Until 5:30. THEN, lights can be turned on.

I don't even use my dryer on a normal basis. instead opting to hang up the clothes on a rack that I set over the heating grate.

See? my cloth diapers hanging "out" to dry.


So ALLLL that to say, we just got our electric bill last week. Drum roll pa-lease.....

$34.12

Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' 'bout! Obviously the town conceded and fixed their mistake. You know, the one they refused to admit in the first place.

Why or how they came to the decision to first, acknowledge the mistake and second, to fix it is beyond me. Because we all know they didn't have to!! They could have easily just swept their error under the rug and moved on.

But they didn't.

and though I will never know the ins and outs of the behind-the-scenes, I'm just chalking it up as favor of God. The Only One who can move on the hearts of men to do what's right.

Ready or not...

I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Afterall, it appears to be par for the course of growing up. Heck, sometimes it seems to be the unfortunate fate of interacting with certain adults.

But oh, how I wasn't prepared for it to happen to one of my daughters. Not yet anyhow.

A few nights ago, one of my girls came up and asked me simple question. A question I didn't realize came loaded with a Self-Confidence hanging in the balance.

For what I thought was a random question about herself ended up being the source of a deep hurt that she had experienced a week prior.

A week!

For at least seven days she had been processing a comment made by friends about herself. processing. questioning. hurting. All silently. Until she asked me The Question.

and then a flood of little girl sobs came rushing out... not understanding why someone would say what they did. not knowing how to process this new found introduction to the Enemy's most favorite tool: Ridicule.

For the next 30 minutes, Daddy and Mommy tried to give her a speed-readers course for How to Survive the World and Still Have Self Esteem. for elementary school kids.

But I'm thinking we may have failed. at least I know I feel like I did.

I'm finding as a parent that I want my children to be likable. (I think most any parent would own up to that one.) to somehow equip them to bypass all the hurt feelings that we went through as children. to supernaturally give them a 30 year old's confidence so that when faced with a situation like this, they can respond maturely.

...as in knowing that in the greater scheme of life, being called "four eyes" doesn't really matter. Afterall, you'll get contacts in highschool.

Only they aren't mature. They're four. and six.

and are completely incapable of pretending that words don't hurt. because suddenly they set you face to face with the harsh truth: not everyone will like you.

And even when they do, they still may point out things about you that stand out as odd. annoying. or less than.

Like the size of your feet or booty. The color of your hair or skin. The shape of your nose or your smile. The sound of your singing voice or name...

In the world of Kid, everything and anything is game for pointed jokes. And no one is outside the realm of "Target Practice" when there are words to be thrown.

I survived middle school. (personally, I think this should be a bumper sticker) I prevailed over the teen years. And though hurt by many careless words, I exited Adolescence with a relatively strong self-esteem.

But then I had kids.

and I'm finding that I am feeling the same feelings all over again. as I watch them enter the years where name-calling and body bashing is the norm. I want to take them and hold them in my arms, protecting them from words that may hurt.

But I know I can't. ...what a sad sad revelation. because everything in me fights to make sure they go unharmed, you know?

Yet. I realize all I can do is build up their confidence while I still hold the fleeting title of "Smartest Person in the World". to diligently instill in them the Truth that the Hand of God took special care to design their little person.

Whoever said "Sticks and Stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you" needs to be horse-whipped. Because it's just. not. true.

God give me grace as my girls enter into this stage of life. I just don't feel ready.

One more round

You know that Barlow Girl's song? Even though I know they didn't intend it to be a song about sickness, I'm feeling like it's become my theme song of late as we continue to battle all sorts of variations illness.

"Round one wasn't what I thought it'd be
Round two I'm struggling to breathe..."


And that's exactly what my little Lani is experiencing this week: The struggle to breathe.

I know a lot of people go the snot sucker bulb thingy route. But I've found something that works a lot better.  Use salt nasal spray. or breastmilk, if you are someone who has excess enough to *squirt* it in their nose.

Yes. totally serious. Just think Water Gun. with a slightly more personal, um... tool.

I've found that after I spray the stuff up the snot-clogged nostrils, my little ones will sneeze within minutes. effectively shooting all the "stuff" out.  Which, for me, is SO much better than trying to tackle my children to the ground so I can extract gunk from their nose.

Only thing to be careful of... when using the salt spray, make sure to NOT stop squeezing the bottle until AFTER you're away from their face. that way you're not actually sucking up the mucus into the bottle.

Diaper Woes fixed

Picture taken when Charis was about 21 months old. and I was 13 months pregnant with Selah. In Texas. in the summer. in 100 degree temperatures. Good times.

Tis the season to be jolly sickly. Fa la la la la la la lala laaaaaa


I was going to try and change all of the songs lyrics to fit the current state of my household. but have since changed my mind. due to lack of sleep. and therefore, the inability to do more than speak Preschool.

You know, the language that revolves around the words No-No and Poopy. And so it's from that platform, that I write today:

"Just say No to Poopy Pain."

Try not to be overly impressed by the obvious level of my higher intelligence. Envy is a bad bad thing. *wink*


My house has been battling sickness for weekS. and we haven't been to church in a MONTH.  I know, I know. Alert the Board of Elders.

Instead we've been making our rounds of the "punies". Compliments of virus that keeps mutating just enough to bypass our newly formed immunity. Graciously giving us, yet again, another bout of the Nasties.

Well, this week Raegan has diarrhea.  I know. More information that you wanted to know. Trust me, I feel the same way. But I figured if my little one is experiencing this, chances are someone else's kiddos are battling with it as well.  And so I share my bit of wisdom. (since there's so little of it these days, I get all excited when I feel I got me a chunk of usable knowledge)

When my girls (the ones in diapers) have diarrhea, their little bottoms gets raw. Red raw. to the point of bloody blisters... Until, that is, I learned two little tricks:

1. Give them a bath loaded with baking soda. It helps to balance out the Ph factor. (since diarrhea is really acidic).

but take it from me....DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT put baking soda directly on their dry skin. like I cluelessly did around the time the above picture was taken.   I, in all my newly acquired maternal intelligence, figured that if a little Baking Soda in a bathtub was good, then a LOT of baking soda dumped into a diaper was even better.

Not so much.  She screamed and screamed. and screamed some more. Apparently the water helps "dilute" the healing process.  And so into the bathtub Charis went. She was sobbing. I was sobbing. It was a mess of snot and tears from emotional women. Thank God Jet comes with the ability to bring peace to most any situation.

Soooo Only use baking soda in. a. bath. (though I have to admit, I try and put a few handfuls directly on the skin while they're IN the water playing.)


2. USE Liquid Maalox.

It takes the sting out of the acidic poop. since that's what eating away at their skin as it sits in the diaper.

On top of that, apply some sort of moisture barrier. Like Aquafor. Or some diaper rash meds. or even Vaseline. It helps keep the skin safe, sealing in the Maalox. giving the raw skin a fighting chance.

And there you have it. The only piece of wisdom I currently own.

I totally realize that 90% of you may have known this since kindergarten. but I'm totally okay with it.
I will not be jealous of your superior mothering skills. I will not. I will not.

You know, going back to the whole envy thing being bad and all. ;)

Before and After

Take Note. There are only TWO people in these pictures. Count them. One. Two.

Ahhh... And at the beach no less. There's no need for swimmy diapers. 50 proof, purple SPF. Sippy cups. Or plastic shovels.  Nope. Just two in love sweethearts, glaring into the hot sun.

And here...eating dinner. We have no plastic, unbreakable plates. No bibs. No baby wipes. Just two people, able to eat in peace. Without wiping mouths, noses, or rear-ends.

Before babies came into the picture, intimacy with your spouse was leisurely. Dates were plentiful. Pictures of the two of you were strewn throughout your spotless home. Conversations could go for 2 hours without ever breaking eye-contact.  If you had a thought, you could express it and know that it would be heard, talked through, and brought to closure.

After babies, all of those things become somewhat of a memory. Though, for the sake of habit, you do try to regain footing of once familiar ground:

You greet your spouse at the door. But conversation with said spouse includes quick bursts of needed information over the yells of knee-high competitors each vying for daddy's attention.

And the eye contact? Gone. For you must keep a constant eye on Little People at all times. As competition for attention sometimes turns dangerous. And you need to know who is telling the truth about who poked out whose eye first.

You no longer have leisure. You have jury duty. 24 hours a day.

Pictures of the younger you and your betrothed are now replaced with pictures of the kids. Kids in bath. Kids with dog. Kids with food on their faces. Kids with one sole parent.   ...Because the other parent is needed to take the picture.

So, you not only have lost your cherished picture wall... you now have become permanent Photographer-in-Training.  Sole purpose in life: to document all the wonderful things that your children do. All while in the same room as you. just without you.

Thank you, God, for Photoshop. Later on in life, I will come to depend on this little method of cut-and-paste-Mommy to let my children know that they did, indeed, have a mother during their growing up years.

And spotless home?  Well...I'll just suffice it to say that I'm yet to clean up the spit up from last week. There it sits on the rug. hardened. molded into the floral design. Most likely for the rest of All Time.  I'm doing good to make sure that the spit up running down my arm is cleaned up. Though the spit up on my shirt...well, that's negotiable. As long as I know no one is coming to visit.

Have I mentioned that being sexy at all times becomes a far less attainable goal? Uh yeah. I look at pictures of my younger self and think "Dang. Who is that girl?!"

Dates become almost non-existent because the price of childcare is equivalent to dinner out. Not to mention your energy level. *poof* Gone.

You now resort to take-out and a rental movie after the kids are in bed. All the while keeping an eye on the staircase for roaming escapees. Again, nixing the whole uninterrupted-eye-contact thing.

Remember those deep thoughts you once had the time to share? Oh, well there's time. Once you're in bed. But no matter. You've forgotten them somewhere between reading Dr. Seuss, kissing boo-boos, and refereeing sibling rivalries.

And intimacy with your spouse (if said spouse can remain awake)? It takes on the form of avoiding the "enemy." And in my house the enemy is under 4 feet tall and fully equipped with bat-like radar. tuned in to when Mom and Dad's faces touch.

You kiss and suddenly out of nowhere comes a cry from the dark.

Someone needs water. Or the potty. Or the reassurance that they will, in fact, remain the youngest child for for-e-ver and you will not do anything remotely close to creating another one.

Yep. When children come along, you do sacrifice. Any parent will tell you as much. Your relationship with your beloved does change...sometimes in ways that challenge the very core of what brought you together in the first place. AND that requires a huge amount of humor on your part.

But man! to watch Jet interact with our daughters... to have their pudgy little arms engulf you in a tight, albeit it sticky, bear hug... It. Is. Priceless. And I wouldn't change my life for the world.

Yeah, Jury's in...and I think I'll keep them. But. I may loan them out every now and then. Any takers?

Eh, didn't think so. Today being Valentines Day and all...you're probably trying to dole your kids out for the evening too. Right? :)

Happy Valentines Day!! Go snuggle up with the one you love. Just make sure to keep one eye on the stairs tonight.

With as much candy as we all know the Littles will be having, I doubt an early bedtime is going to happen.

HUGS to you.

Project Laundry Room

This May we will have owned our current house for five (or is it four?) years.

But we didn't move in until July. being that we spent every waking hour of those two months readying the house to become a home.

one not filled with the nauseating scent of cat pee...the overwhelming look of furnace breath (black smoke had covered everything)...and the overall feel of Gross.

very technical term in the world of interior design: "gross"

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Now anyway. :) because I know this is the reason this house was on the market for 6 months without a buyer. And the reason why we got the amazing price we did.

But still...it was a huge task. One that we're still in process of overcoming.


But this room was, by far, the absolute worst.

Now I realize that these pictures don't, by anyyyyy stretch of the imagination, do justice to the grimy, nasty nature of this room. So I'll just say two words to try and wrap up the overall condition...

Cat. Poop.

Yup. In the windowsill. A big ol' pile.

Apparently one of their TWELVE cats had a thing against the litter box. Of course, I would too if I had to share a bathroom with eleven others.

Then again, the two large dogs or small caged hor'dourves birds might have had something to do with its obvious distracted nature as it let loose on the windowsill. right above the washing machine.

But eh, that's only speculation... I'm sure he was an uncharacteristically obedient cat. The fact that there was also cat poop in the attic says little about his agreeable nature.

Jet so hates me telling that little tidbit of info. But I figure...I didn't poop in the window. So why the fuss? ;)

See that little hole in the wall? Filled with more cat grime...hair, dirt, cat food. Generally just a nasty mess.

So we covered the hole section with beadboard. Scrubbed and painted the walls and shelves. and voila! A whole new room...after literally a non-stop two weeks of work.

Yes, I realize it's a bad picture. it looked fine in the camera screen. Only after I downloaded it, could I see the picture quality actually stinks.

This was the first room we finished in our house. When we'd get discouraged by the daunting task of our fixer upper we'd just go stand in that tiny space and dream of the day that the rest of the house was as clean...and freshly painted.

Only I've NEVER liked it. Sure, I made do because that's what you do when you're staring a rather large fixer-upper in the face. You learn to live with your eyes half closed.

but I always hated the fact that the room was a bathroom (sans the sink), laundry room, pantry all rolled into one itty bitty room.

One of my friends joked me that she could sit on the toilet, dry a load of clothes, AND plan dinner all at the same time. What a lovely little thought. Thanks, Kathryn. *wink*

Well last night, as I was walking past a pile of stuff my aunt just gave us, I had a rare moment of genius. And being that those moments are undeniably fleeting these days, I set straight to work.

In the pile of hand-me-downs was a rather expensive top sheet...with a gazillion thread count. And while I'm sure it would have been comfy-cozy to sleep under, I had a better idea.

Cut it.

To make a lovely little "curtain" of sorts. covering our rather filled-to-the-brim shelves. and adding a touch of ambiance all at the same time.

We had ugly curtain rods laying on the floor of our attic... along with the wall plant hanger thingy... (Have I mentioned my attic breeds Stuff?? Great place to shop.)

Add a cross-stitch I just inherited from my Nana...and a little something pretty from my mom to decorate the window...

And you have my new "everything" room. All for the low price of ...elbow grease.

Add in the fact that it was Jet's elbow... and you have one very easy room makeover.

Thomas A. Edison

Yesterday was his birthday. And today I find myself thinking about him.

"As a young boy, he was curious and outspoken. After only three months in school, the headmaster decided he was a problem child....

So his mother, a former teacher, decided to teach him at home. where she encouraged him to explore and enjoy learning.

Edison was persistent. He rarely gave up on an invention until it turned out the way he wanted it. ...Over his lifetime, he filled more than 3,400 notebooks with his scientific investigations. receiving 1,093 patents. Most of which are still in use.

Some of his inventions include improvements of the telegraph, the telephone, the stock ticker, the alkaline storage battery, the electric light, and the motion picture projector and camera. He experimented with talking motion pictures, but was unable to come up with a workable machine. His most original invention was the phonograph."

text taken from Every Day's a Holiday by Abraham Resnick

Amazing. I only hope that my children have the same outspoken curiousity that Edison possessed.

The same qualities that dubbed him, in the eyes of a school official, A Problem Child.

Six more weeks of...WINTER?

I'm truly torn.

I love the four seasons. I love how Spring has lots of rain and budding flowers. I love how Summer brings heat and trips to the beach. I so anticipate Fall when there's just a hint of chill in the air. And I love Winter...where everything is covered in white.

Only it's not.

This is what our Winter days have looked like recently...

And if a picture is worth a thousand words, I'm thinking the above picture can be adequately summed up with only one: Spring.

The girls are loving it. Because they're finally being released from their prison term of Housebound. let loose to play in these Spring-like temperatures.


"Make sure to get a picture of me coming down the slide!"

They both wanted to document this new-found freedom into the Wild Outdoors. playing on their backyard playground.

Even Lani was enjoying it. *chubby cheeks and all*

Raegan, who is battling a sinus sickness, was running around like a crazy lady. Of course, she's not so sick as to lose her ability to own the word "Coy"...as can be seen in the way she wouldn't let me take a picture of her on the swing. ;)

But I have to admit, even though I really really really want to have The Blizzard of '09, I am torn.

Because when I see the three biggest girls playing together like they're the best of friends, it warms my heart.

Not that my heart (or body for that matter) need to be warmed. as this 65+ degree Winter weather has already taken care of that.

Boxed in?

Last night was one of those moments where I could feel conflicting emotions churn within me.

Hurt. Annoyance. Frustration. Trying to tell myself that other people's issues are so much bigger than the one I was currently stewing over, so I just needed to get over it.

As I layed in bed, unsure of what the "right" emotion was, I silently prayed:

"So what am I allowed to feel, Lord?!"

He didn't skip a beat... and dropped this little tidbit of wisdom directly into my heart:


"I don't think feelings are something that you can box into 'Allowed to Feel' or 'Not Allowed to feel'. They are what they are. You just need to make sure to not allow your feelings to box YOU in."


Being a woman of passion, I feel things deeply. and this spoke volumes to me about how the Lord views that part of me.

and I felt I should share.

Chart Crazy

If there's one thing that I hate about homeschooling while having 4 children under 6yrs, it's my sense of control.

Wait. Scratch that. Didn't sound right. Allow me to reword.

It's my lack of control.

On any given day, this conversation can be heard: "We'll start home schooling after Raegan goes down for a nap in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes comes and goes... with nary a school book in sight. Because even though Raegan did go down for a nap, Alana suddenly awakes with a thirst for the hard stuff.

Breastmilk. Straight up.

And then by the time Alana's done eating, the older girls have gotten a hankerin' for food. And studies do show that children learn better when their stomachs are full. Or so says the National Society of Something-or-another.

So I feed them. then Raegan wakes up. and then....

It's a fun little game we play everyday. How long can we postpone doing any work?

This recovering perfectionist finds it rather fun. in a self-deprecating sort of way. *wry grin*

But because my girls thrive with one-on-one, I've had to find other means to motivate them. and for my girls that means charts. Reward Sticker Charts.

When they were younger...and potty training...I'd make a sticker chart. Worked like a charm until Selah decided she wanted to go for gold and hold out for Skittles.

Who wants stickers when there's candy to be had?! Hence the missing Week 4. By then she was happily downing the sweet stuff. One. skittle. at. a. time.

And then came learning the art of manuscript. Charis had one of the below charts as well. Every time she wrote a page or two of a certain letter, out came the sticker book and pudgy little hands that couldn't wait to stick it on.

She went through each letter three times...

And if you notice the charts below the Alphabet chart...those are reading charts. created by my best friend, Jolanthe.

The concept is for every predetermined amount of reading, you get to color in a line on the chart. When all the lines are filled in, Dollar Store here we come!

I know. When I splurge, I do it big.

But the girls don't care. For they are motivated by two words. Sticker and Prize.

I came around the corner to find them squeezed together, silently reading.

My ballerinas taking a break from dancing... so the older can read to the younger. Love it.

Charts! Glorious charts!

...making this season of homeschooling with "Two Under Two" in the house so much easier. being that the older girls are motivated to work without me hovering.

But who needs Mom when there are stickers to be earned. and prizes to be had.

Decorating. On a shoestring budget.

Back in July, when my Pregnancy Nesting was at its highest, I would roam my house. moping senselessly over all the things I hated. moaning about all the perfect decor sitting on a store shelf. lonely. unable to come live with me due to lack of funding.

Silly storeclerks. How dare they not give it to me for free? The nerve.

I mentioned how my front living room was driving me crazy. how I sat around one day and just stared at the walls. wondering how on earth I could make it any different without succumbing to shopping with money I did not have.

Then the Lord told me that I needed to add some life to the room... that I was happiest when I was around color. Smart guy!

So I brought the coffee table in from another room. added stuffed animals and a basket full of toys.

but I still didn't like it.

I mean, don't get me wrong. It was better. just not...good. Especially being that I wasn't utilizing the 9ft. ceilings...and the resulting empty wall space.

Thankfully my practical side didn't allow me to splurge. because God provided...

Last month, my Nana gave me the matching loveseat to the above couch. enabling us to put the matching set in the second living room. (She had given us the couch as well...but had given the loveseat to her sister, who no longer needs it).

...moving the other couch (a yard sale buy) into the front living room. And the result?

Love.

For any of you who, like us, have no extra money to decorate with...try what we did.

Rearrange your furniture. Find a new room for it go in. Or a new corner in the same room. Put your board games on your bookshelf instead of books... so people can see you're a house that knows how to have fun.

Put a map of the world on the wall so your children can learn geography, all the while getting an extra splash of color.

Get away from the "perfect" look. You may just surprise yourself and fall in love with the cozy feel. I know I have!!

And as for the "wall art" above my couch. It's extremely pricey. and very rare art. Try not covet.

But if you should happen to ignore my warning and still find yourself wanting to know where I got such exquisite art...you, too, can find some.

Just go to Michael's. Yeah. You read that right. That pretty little square "wall art" ensemble is actually...not.

They're 12x12 scrapbook sheets.

One day I'll mount them to something to make them *pop* out. But for now, with a house decorating budget of a buck o' five, my taped up version will have to do.

But eh, who cares? I love it. and that, my friends, is all that matters.

Next on my list to fix...the other living room. Pictures of the mess-of-a-room can be seen on the above July/August link at the beginning of the blog. Hopefully the "After" pictures will be an amazing transformation.

Sound the Alarm

The girls and I have been watching Little House on the Prairie. My niece has the entire series on DVD. And we've been slowly (sometimes not-so-slowly) going through the each Season's Episodes.

"Willy go sound the alarm! Tell every man you can get to meet us at the old well."

Mr. Olson yelled this as he began to run around his storeroom gathering supplies.

Camera pans to little Willy, sprinting to the little church/school house to ring the bell. A bell's toll that would bring men from all over their county.

Farmers would drop their hoe, leaving their crops unfinished. Woodcrafters would stop building the very house whose completion will bring money to feed their family. Mr. Olson would give equipment off his own store's shelves, essentially taking whatever profit he would have made and giving it away.

All because there was a need. All because someone sounded the alarm.

They were a community. A group of stranger brought together by two things: a love for the wilderness and a spirit of adventure that brought them to unclaimed land.

Yet they allowed this commonality to bind them. to make them family.

To the extent that, when a need arose, they worked together. Even into the middle of the night. giving up food, time spent with their own family, profit, and sleep.

Simply because someone needed them.

My mind seems completely incapable of seeing something like this...of being emotionally moved by something like this...without asking myself how I would react if I were a part of their community.

...without stepping back and taking a good look at how I do react as a part of my present-day community.

Do my friends know they can count on me like this? that I would drop everything to come to their aid in the face of tragedy? Have I gone out of my way to make this clear? to show, not by words, but by actions that I willl their need as my own?

Does my church family know this? People who may not hang in the same circle I do, but who worship with me on a weekly basis. who sit beside me while we listen to pastors speak of mirroring Jesus.

But more so...do people not close to me know this? people who are only bound to me because we're neighbors. or because we go to the same library. or because I happen to the be the person nearest in proximity to them at the moment need arises.

If someone were to Sound the Alarm, making it known, on whatever level, that they were in need of help... what would my reaction be? Would I be more caught up in the fact that my work will go unfinished? that I may lose some precious sleep? that my bank account may suffer their lack.

Or would I arm myself with Christ's compassion and step out? regardless of the cost to myself?

I ask. but I'm not sure I want to answer. I know my heart's hope. but I'm not sure I want to confess my action's proof. or lack thereof.

"They will know you by your love."

Oh Jesus, may I make You known, Lord, in my every deed. in my positioning myself to serve. even when it may cost me.

Tune my ear to the Alarm...that I might be your feet. the feet that run to comfort those in need.

Motherhood...

Who knew it could turn you into a wanna-be cannibal??

Because I just want to Eat. Her. Up.

Alana @ 4 1/2 months. Always smiling. Usually laughing. Sometimes sleeping. Rarely grouchy.

Three Weeks comes to a close

Last week, my "three weeks" came to a close. And though I noticed it, life with four little ones rarely gives me time to sit and reflect.

Yet this week, I've been feeling the Lord gently turn my attentions to a few things....

When God spoke three weeks to my heart, I held it in the context of our finances. After all, that was the pressing need at the time. And while I do still believe that a breakthrough in finances is included, this past week or so I've been noticing something different.

something that I, in no way, connected to the "three weeks". Until He did.

I know no other way to explain it than saying that I have a complete and total change in my mindset concerning a few things. things that I've been trying to change for quite sometime now, but felt powerless to do anything about.

Have you ever experienced something like that? A way of thinking that has so ingrained itself into your being that you can't seem to separate yourself from it? like the way you've become accustomed to speaking to your spouse or children or boss. Or the way you eat compulsively when upset. Or...a hundred other things I can think of right now.

Regardless of how often you tell yourself that you should just clap your hands and *bam* have instant Undoing, nothing changes. at least not for long.

Am I making any sense here? Or am I the only person that has fought against mental bondage in certain arenas?

If I were speaking to a room full of women, I'd have no problem just laying it all out there. None whatsoever. But knowing that's not the case, I just can't bring myself to have a verbal vomit session about the whole of what I speak.

But I can share on one arena. Homeschooling.

Though homeschooling with JOY is one of my main goals, it has taken work for me to even come close to achieving it.

I've had to make the conscious decision to watch my facial expressions, watch my tone of voice, make sure not to just rush through the material so I can check it off my mental to-do list. meanwhile missing out on the whole point of *enjoying* my children.

And though it may sound like nothing much to you, to me this is HUGE stuff. Because that whole struggle ...well, it's like whatever opposition I've been facing in that area has instantaneously lifted. GONE. NON EXISTENT. NO LONGER an issue.

Suddenly it's been so easy for me to be truly and deeply joyful over the fact that I get to experience my girls like I do. on a daily basis. on an hourly basis. We're laughing as we work on school. Honestly enjoying the company of one another.

To me, this is monumental.

If you don't homeschool and need some sort of reference point to understand... It's sort of like a relationship that you have with someone that really gets under your skin. You don't want them to annoy you. You try and convince yourself that you will be the best of friends with them. that they way they do XYZ will no longer have any impact on you. none what.so.ever.

But man oh man, it's like they come equipped to get you flustered just looking at them. Until one day. You wake up and not only have no negative anything against them...you now actually want to be around them.

This is that kind of big for me. I've been finding myself tearing up, just looking at my girls and knowing that I get to teach them and spend time with them like I am. in this short season.

I'm experiencing this type of Instant healing in at least one other arena of thought. maybe a second...though I'm not really sure yet. I'm still feeling that one out. :)

It's like all opposition to my having victory in the battle of the mind has been supernaturally removed. I'm beyond grateful. and having trouble even finding the words to share it.

But it does make me all the more anxious to see what other victories are going to present themselves now that those "three weeks" are up. Now that the Lord is obviously setting new bounds around my mind. my finances. my life.

Informing the enemy: "Thou shall not pass!"

The Court Date

I had mentioned the impending court date a few weeks ago. The one that was demanding our remaining hospital balance in full. The whole whopping $550.00 of it.

Maybe the hospital wanted to buy a new coke machine...and, like the rest of us, needed some extra cash? *grin* Don't worry. I kid.

Yet even though it does sound like pocket change, to us it seemed like the impossible. on top of all the other bills and what-nots you have as a homeowner and parent.

Back in December, after my husband received a paycut, we started to look into the hospital's financial aid again (being a state university hospital they have their own aid to offer).

And this is where we started to get the professional run-around. In all honesty, there have been many times that I felt they were intentionally trying to stall the progress of our case until Feb.6, where we'd be forced to go to court.

Because those were our only two options: Go to court. or pay the payment in full to them before the court date.

From the four corners, we had to gather information on nearly everything we owned to prove that we might qualify for financial aid. And trust me, they were dead set on making us earn every penny that they may or may not knock off the bottom line.

Things we bought wayyyyy back when, we were suddenly needing to produce their receipts. having to prove the real worth of the asset in question. Since God knows they tripled every thing's value. Literally.

Convenient how the government will slap a hefty value on a used item that will bring you, maybe, $100 at a yardsale. But I digress...

Day after day my husband would call their financial department, making sure they got our newest fax sheets. filled with all the latest information they were suddenly needing.

He called them so often that it got to the point where all he would have to do was say "Hello. I'm calling to check on my case" and they'd say "Alright. Hold on."

He was not only known by name. He was known by voice. No kidding.

I had thought all was lost during this last wild goose chase they sent him on. Because he had to track down a receipt from Texas. on a trailer we bought 5 years ago.

Obviously we didn't have that on hand. So Jet finally tracked down the company's number. called them. and was told they didn't have that information.

*insert husband feeling very exhausted and near the end of his rope*

But thank God for the little lady who was on the other side of the phone line. She was one of those sweet Texans, who lives by the rule "Southern Hospitality has no bounds". She gave Jet the direct line of one of her friends. who just happened to work in the Dept.of Transportation.

"She'll have the information you need. Honey, you just tell her Marge told you to call."

He called. That lady said she could send him the information. but it would take a couple of weeks. I can just imagine him hearing that. After ALLLL the work he'd put into this over the last couple of months, it would all come down to a letter of information that would arrive a few days too late.

Yet Favor came to the rescue again.

She paused...and then said, "Well I think I could fax that to you.... In fact, I'll go ahead and copy the information now while I'm on the phone with you. Is that alright?"

IS IT EVER!!!

But our lovely little hospital majors in loop holes. So we weren't homefree yet.

One of the things that they said they needed was Jet's life insurance policy. the cash value. No big deal, right? Jet sent that to them. And then, following his usual practice, called them two days later to talk with them about it.

The man on the other side of the phone said it wasn't sufficient. The paper he sent them said "policy value". Not cash value.

Are you kidding me?! So off Jet ran, yet again, chasing the wind...just trying to save us whatever money he could.

Have I mentioned I'm so proud of him? Because I am. I would have given up a long time ago, frustrated by the hoops they were having us jump through. But my Jet rarely gives up.

And it paid off.

We approved for a 65% cut. Jet payed the amount with them on the phone. The girl who has talked to Jet countless times said she'd process it immediately. I bet she was inwardly cheering for us as well. :)

And...drum roll please....I now have the "Payment accepted" letter in my hand to prove the whole saga is over. finished. and stamped by the Favor of God on our lives.

Ground Hogs day

A day around here typically looks like this.
Each girl clad in something other than the "normal" school attire. This day it happened to be leotards. Other days it's ballerinas, princesses, clowns...

Maybe being incognito helps them to learn?

Well, today we talked about Ground Hogs Day. And though there wasn't much to say, I did think I nailed the "Six Weeks of More Winter" concept.

Until dinnertime.

Charis was explaining it to Daddy, when he asked her what it meant that Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow. to which she, without skipping a beat, shouted

"Six more weeks of Christmas!"

Yeah. maybe not so "nailed" as I thought.

SuperBowl Sunday

They best things in life sometimes comes in fours...friendship shared between two groups of sisters. The little girls L-O-V-E each other. And it shows all over their faces, doesn't it?

As most of the Unites States gathered to watch grown men roughhouse over a pig-skinned ball, these little people played downstairs in the basement. watching Cars.

playing dollhouse...

and wishing that they were the one rough-housing over the pig-skinned ball.

Three cheers for Team Z and C!

Studly men in the making.