Not How

As a mom of six, the last two who are twins, I am constantly getting comments about my brood when I'm out. From older women it's usually of the "better you than me" variety. Or the ever popular "My your hands are full."

But I've noticed a trend in the comments from my young momma friends and even the ones I meet while I'm out (twins cause quite the stir and we rarely get through a store without a few stops to chat with random strangers). These are the mommas who are living in the motherhood trenches of sleepless nights, diaper changes, cold meals that were supposed to be eaten hot, training and consistency, school work and home work, etc. These are the mommas who have less than five or six children and they all say the same thing. "I just don't know how you do it."

I honestly get totally awkward when I get this comment. I feel like I should respond with a list of my five secrets. But I have none. Not even one. Or maybe I should give my parenting book recommendations. But I only really use bits and pieces of any parenting book I've read.

Or I could show you my daily planner filled with tips on organizing your life. But most days I can't even remember where I put my planner much less tell you what I've written in it. I always leave those conversations wishing I would have had the words to encourage the mommas where they are in their journey.

I've thought about what I do that may be different or helpful because I want to be an encouragement. But really I just do what I need to do (or as much as I can).

The reality is that it's not the "how" in what I do. It's the "why." And I bet you know why I do all of this.

Because it's why you do all that you do. Because you love your babies fiercely and want the best for them just like I do for mine.

All that how business doesn't matter. Not when you put your mind to the why. When we remember why we do this motherhood thing we just do what needs to be done because we love our kids.

 I have to remind myself of this when I'm overwhelmed with the "how am I going to do this" feelings. Which, in full disclosure, happens often.

We are Super Mommas because we super love our kids. Not because we are always super at everything we do. We still yell at our kids, forget about the smelly laundry, and burn the dinner. We don't always get the how part right. But I bet you always get the why part right.

And we need to remember these two things.

1. Children are so quick to forgive. (Remember Jesus wants us to be like them for a reason)

2. 1 Peter 4:8 "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins."

And it does. And we love our children deeply. And they love us deeply. And that's our why.

I pray that this makes sense (because I'm writing from a very sleep deprived state) and that it encourages you in your journey. Because it is just that. Yours. And it won't necessarily look like anyone else's. You've got this.

Be blessed, friends.

Letting Them Love Me

A while back I posted on Facebook something along the lines of "I could really use a break , but I can't think of anyone one I'd rather go with than my kids." It was one of those "strong feelings + Facebook = post that's not exactly what I wanted to get across" situations.

There were quite a few comments of the "Oh! You're so sweet, but mommies need breaks" variety which I totally appreciated, but they left me feeling like I didn't really say what I wanted to. Like I wasn't able to fully put my feelings into words and so I was giving the wrong impression. So people misunderstood.

I don't know. What ever it was, it left me feeling like I needed to hash those feeling out.

I'm with my kids almost 24/7. We do pretty much everything together. And I love it. We are all human and far from perfect, but I love my little family and I love that I get to be with them all the time. But I find myself surprised that they want to be with me.

Though HH knows me better than anyone else, it's my kids who see the nastiest parts of me because they are with me the most. They also challenge me the most. Nothing else in my life has left me feeling so bare and raw like motherhood has. Daily I am faced with my weakness and imperfections. And my kids have a front row seat!

Recently, after almost a solid two weeks at home due to sickness, I was getting ready to leave for a few hours for my niece's birthday party. I was going alone and was looking forward to a little break and a time to revive and refresh. Conversations with adults! Right before I left the younger three kids started crying because I was going to be leaving. "You get to spend the whole evening with your daddy and you don't get to spend very much time with him. This is a treat!"

"But Mom," Amelia said, "We don't get to spend very much time with you either!"

Seriously?!?! While it made me giggle, it brought up the same question in my heart again. They want to be with me? Still?

I know I want to be with them. I adore them. But in the back of my mind I always think they're tired of me or don't want to be around me because I make so many mistakes. I yell too much and don't play games enough. I'm selfish and distracted. I have a hard time letting them help in the kitchen and I am the main rule enforcer. The list is truly endless.

But when I thought about it, most times when I desperately need/want to get away, it's because I'm feeling inadequate and frustrated with myself. But they aren't.And this catches me off guard.

What I'm surprised by is their ability to love me despite my weakness and failings. They love me so unconditionally. And they challenge me to love them back unconditionally. Sometimes it's hard not to take their tantrums and sassing personally, and I assume they would feel the same about my imperfections.

Just so you know, I'm not saying mommas and daddies don't need breaks. I'm just realizing in my own heart, for me, there are many times where the break that I think I need is really me running from my imperfections and my frustrations with myself. But because parenting is what is bringing those personal weaknesses to the forefront, I turn and blame my children.

What I think I meant to say in that original Facebook post is that I want to run towards my kids in my raw and bare moments. I want to accept their unconditional love and I want to return it. I want to embrace my weakness and trust that God will be my strength in those moments. I want my kids to see that. I don't want to be afraid of their love.

Parenting is so very hard and there is nothing that will truly "make you ready" for it. But maybe if we open ourselves to the love and grace our little's have for us it would be just a bit easier?

Dickens said, "It is not a slight thing when those so fresh from God love us." I think he is right. And I think they can teach us how to love better if we let them.

A Krooked Kastle Nursery Rhyme - ish

There once was a young-ish mother who lived in a Krooked Kastle.
When with her handful of children people would stop to say, "I bet that's a hassle."

She'd look at her babies, smile wide, and offer:

"Oh there's laundry, and dishes, and meal times galore,
And Legos and hair barrettes litter my floor.

My clothes are rarely clean, my hair is in a permanent bun,
And most days reading the same book fifty times over is what we call fun.

There are tantrums and attitudes from both me and the kids,
At night they rarely stay tucked in their beds.

But let me tell you,these moments are few
Compared to this next list I have for you.

Kisses, snuggles, sweet smiles to greet me,
Presents of drawings completed so neatly.

Laughter and games, singing and books,
Inquisitive minds,and long loving looks.

Hearts that are tender, minds that are open,
All that they need is my love and devotion.

So, yes, my hands they are full, of the very best things.
When I'm with my children, this heart of mine sings.

Counting my blessings helps me to see
The beauty in them staring right up at me.

I love what I do, I hope that's easy to see.
Thank you, Dear Stranger, for chatting with me."


Counting my blessings today. May we all see them more clearly every day.

The Absentminded Tooth Fairy Strikes Again

Last week Abiah started complaining about a loose tooth that was bothering him. I promptly directed him to the floss and a door to slam and left him to his own devises. I don't do teeth pulling. It's a job I gladly leave to anyone else.

Though Abiah was unsuccessful that time, he did find relief late Saturday night. It was after we had told him to go to bed and I'm half convinced he sat in his bed and wriggled his darn tooth loose just to stay up longer. When he came out to let us know "it was close" HH escorted him to the bathroom where the tooth finally came out.

Abiah came out proudly displaying his hole-y mouth and a tooth held between his fingers. Having become accustomed to our Tooth Fairy's preferences, he put his tooth in a ziplock bag and asked me if he should place it under his pillow. I answer yes and whispered to HH that we had to remember this time. And we went back to our episode of Once.

But we didn't remember.

I went in to Abiah's room Sunday morning to wake him and the first thing he said, "The Tooth Fairy didn't come." Thankfully his back was to me so he missed the look of dread that passed over my face. I mumbled something about it being the weekend so maybe she was off and hoped he'd let it go.

The thing is, the kid is almost ten. He knows who the Tooth Fairy is, but he still likes to play the game.

In the car on Sunday we hear Abiah telling his sisters about his lost tooth along with his theory that "the Tooth Fairy was just up too late the night before watching too many movies." Busted.

Fast forward to Sunday night. It's late. I'm getting ready for bed. I go into the bathroom and this is on the door:

So, he's still willing to play along, but he doesn't want to wait half the week for his dollar in quarters to magically appear under his pillow. I was thankful for his note, though, because I had, of course, forgotten.

Monday morning he asked, "So did the note help you?"

For the fun of the game I pretended not to know what he was talking about.

He's My Valentine

Sometimes I yell at HH. Sometimes I don't really like him for awhile. Sometimes I say too much. Sometimes I'm mad at him. And sometimes he deserves it.

Sometimes, as in almost never, HH yells at me. Sometimes I'm sure he doesn't like me all that much for awhile. Sometimes he says too little. I know there are times when he's mad at me. And I know that most of the time I deserve it.

HH and I, we have this marriage. And the thing is, neither of us has been here before. Neither of us know how to do this thing called life together. We've had examples. Some really good, and some really bad. But sometimes marriage is like trying to follow a recipe with only a picture of the finished product as your guide.

Sometimes, as in often, we are floundering. Fish thrown on dry land, gasping for air and struggling to find our way home. And sometimes we are floating. A steady, gentle current is carrying us along, easing us around the bends.

I read recently that some are questioning the value that Christians place on virginity in marriage. Reading through the long list of comments I kept wanting to add my own. But there didn't seem like a safe place.

When HH and I said "I do" to each other almost eight years ago, there were many firsts for us. For us both. First "I love you." First kisses. First...other things. First Valentines. Lots of firsts. And, yes, I did have romantic ideas of fairy tale living, but I also knew that what we were really saying yes to was all those amazing firsts and many more amazing moments...and a lot of life. Hopefully lots and lots and lots of life.

I found a safety in that. I found safety in knowing that we were walking into our life together, with the knowledge that we would learn how to figure out life together. I found safety in knowing that he is the only one who knows all of me. There is a venerability in knowing only one person so well.

There have been times when I find fear creeping in. What if he hurts me? What if he lets me down? In those moments I'm taken back to the wise words of a woman who encouraged me to "Put my trust in God who is in my husband" instead of placing that on HH shoulders.

There was a time, around ten years ago, when a man asked me and my friends what we were looking for in a spouse. My 22ish year old self was taken over by my 5 year old self, and I boldly stated, "I wanna marry my dad." My five year old self had no idea how prophetic she was being in that moment.

The man chuckled and warned, "Remember, it has taken your dad 40-something years to become who he is today."

There are times when my thirty-something self has lamented the fact that I wasn't more specific. My five year old self was spot on.

But the beauty isn't that I married a perfect man. It's that I married a man who is perfect for me and we get to grow in perfection together.

A wise man I know once said "relationships are messy." But I disagree...or maybe I've been taught the value of clarifying the definition of what one wishes to convey. I believe that people are messy. And messy people can cause messy relationships. But we're all messy. And this messy person loves her life with her messy HH.

Speaking of my quirks...

We've talked before about my special quirks or pet peeves. It was a lovely conversation. Today I want to share the latest one that Hot Hubby has been introduced to. It's called Candy Organizing. To help you fully understand I've included some visual aids.

First off, this only happens when I have multi-colored or multi-flavored candy. Secondly, this is not what I would label a pet peeve so much as a quirk.

Okay, so first you have a hand full of candy:

Then you separate them by color, but the groups have to be even so you will have a pile of left-overs:

Now you separate the left-overs into even groups by color:

Now it's time to enjoy them beginning with the smallest groups and ending, of course, with the larger groups:

You can separate these groups into mixtures of flavors:

But only if you leave an even amount:

I also prefer my "boy" flavors to stay with "boy" flavors and the "girl" flavors to stay with the "girls flavors:

 I usually leave the "girl" flavors for last since I like them the best:

Remember that as you go you want to eat the smaller ones first:

 

For some reason candy is just so much better that way.

Now it's your turn. Fess up! What are some of your food quirks or pet peeves?

Dear Blogary and A List

When I was younger I tried for many years to keep a journal. I would list my daily activities in my journal consistently for about a week and then get distracted. Which doesn't take much for me.

But we aren't here to discuss my attention span.

Oh! I just painted my finger nails last night and they look so pretty.

Anyways, when I would get back into journaling, say a month or six later, I always felt the need to apologize to my diary for my lack of communication. "Dear Diary, I'm sorry I haven't written much lately. I've been so busy..."

I always went back later and got rid of the evidence of my insanity. Just like I would do when I had worked up the nerve to confess to my diary who my current crush was but then would get struck with the reality that my sisters were sure to find my diary and would most definitely use its contents against me. Most of my diaries are missing many pages.

Please humor me and tell me I'm not the only crazy person who actually talked to their diary like it was  a human whose feeling were hurt from a lack of communication!

No? Well, I guess I'll just chalk it up as another one for the books. For whoever is keeping record.

So, all of that babble is to say that I've been feeling like I needed to get on here and apologize to my blog for my absence. It's odd really that one of the things I count on for helping me sort the crazy in my head is one of the things I have the least time for. Which may explain a lot about my recent mental state (let' just say Hot Hubby is a true prince!).

In order to catch you up on the last few months I thought I'd write a quick list. My last post was on November 16th (yikes!) and since then:

1. We had a fantastic Thanksgiving at my in-laws. This year it was just Hot Hubby, Me, and our kids, my SIL, and Hot Hubby's sweet maternal Grandpa. It was a quiet event and my favorite part was watching Great Grandpa get down on the floor with Hazel and Amelia to play with them and chat with them. SO adorable!

2. This was my first year of Black Friday shopping. After many years of insisting that I would hate it I decided to go along with my MIL and SIL "just for the ride." They've asked me every year since Hot Hubby and I have been married. This year I decided it was worth getting up at 4:30 to hang out with my MIL (and get a few hours off from children) and go browse the shops. I'm officially addicted! We are already saving up for this year. Although there will have to be a better budget set up. FOR SURE!

3. Every weekend in December was BOOKED! Hot Hubby, Abiah and my FIL took one weekend to head up to the Cabela's near Seattle while Jackson, the girls, and I stayed behind with my MIL and did some shopping of our own. I think that my MIL and I shopped three weekends in a row. We may or may not be good for each other in that way.

4. My oldest niece, the one who made me an Auntie, turned 12! She celebrated with a shopping day at the mall and dinner afterwards. I was so excited and honored to be invited to celebrate with her. She has grown into such a delightful little lady. I enjoy her so much and that day was so much FUN!

5. The weekend before Christmas we celebrated the holiday with a weekend bash at my parents. All four of us girls, three of the four spouses, and all FIFTEEN grandchildren. It was crazy and fantastic all wrapped up in one. Great memories were made. And Hot Hubby had a birthday! I'm so glad he was born!

6. Christmas weekend we spent one night with Hot Hubby's family and were home in time for the kids to unwrap their Christmas jammies and set out some cookies and Coke for Santa. It was probably my favorite Christmas since we've been married. Because our extended family celebrations were a week apart we didn't have to rush and we got to have two days just being home with our kiddos. Of course I kept forgetting to take pictures, but here's one of the kids in their new jammies:















7. The New Year brought us back to reality of school and busy life. The major thing on our calendar was Amelia's eye surgery. She needed a strabismus recession (moving the inner eye muscle back) because her eyes were crossing. Though I never would want my almost three year old to have to go through any kind of surgery, I am glad that she had this done. She has been a trooper through the whole experience. Glasses, patching, and surgery all since September. Since she is only three she didn't fully grasp what surgery meant but she let me know she was going to let Dr. Bock "fix her eyes." Thankfully, due to some medications, she was a bit loopy by the time she was taken in for the procedure. When she came out about an hour later she was fussy but easily consoled by sitting with me and rocking. She was tired and slept a lot the first day, but recovered quickly and is back to her normal state of sassy, busy Amelia. We are encouraged by the progress we see in her eyes. And I am so proud of her for being brave and strong through all of this.

Amelia with glasses before surgery.

Amelia without glasses before surgery.

Heading down for surgery.

Watching cartoons!

With glasses post-op. Sorry for the glare. She was being a turd.

Without glasses post-op. Still being a turd.

I do hope to spend a little more time in this corner of my world. I've missed it.

Confessions. Brought to you by the letter D.

Confession #1: Last night Hot Hubby had to convince me to have salad for Dinner. How backwards is that?! The reason? Juanita's. Juanita's are the best tortilla chips ever!

I had plans to make taco salad for dinner. The whole reason I made that decision was because of the Juanita's. And fresh guacamole. So, while I stood at the counter facing the two heads of lettuce and a can of olives that needed to be chopped on one side of me and the bag of chips and bowl of guacamole on the other, I decided that it would be easier to throw some cheese on the chips and call it Nacho Night.

I was pretty shocked when Hot Hubby protested. So I ate salad. Because I had to.

Confession #2: I just realized this last weekend that it is my job to make sure my family gets into the Dentist for their routine cleanings. I don't know the source of that brain fart, especially since I make sure to get my kids in for their routine Pediatric visits.

The revelation came after I heard about a mom taking all of her kids in for their teeth cleaning and I caught myself wishing that my kids could do that. Duh! They can! And now some of them have.

Hazel and Amelia went in yesterday morning. Since I had all four in tow I was skeptical about how the morning would turn out. Especially since the girls starting protesting the visit the moment I told them about it Monday afternoon.Hazel did get excited for a minute when she thought she would get glasses like Amelia. But she was back to protesting after I explained the difference between a dentist and an eye doctor.

When the nurse called Hazel's name in the waiting room there was a moment of clear hesitation where she hid behind my leg. And then in a split second she was marching toward the nurse, her teddy bear, Pinkie, in tow. Before we all got back to the exam chairs Hazel had given the nurse her full name and the history of Pinkie the teddy bear. Then she walked right up to the chair and climbed on.

She was so brave and confident. And I think she rather liked the experience. Amelia was just as brave, but not as talkative. The only disappointment for them was that they didn't get new toothbrushes. Thankfully I had a princess one and a lady bug one stashed away here at home.

Abiah is already looking forward to his appointment at the end of the month. Thankfully I remembered to take him in before so he's a pro already. Hot Hubby on the other hand may be more difficult to convince than the girls were. Maybe it will be easier if I promise him a new pretty princess toothbrush afterward...

When Failing is Passing

Usually I get a little disappointed when the schedule I've worked at perfecting gets messed up. There's nothing like thinking you have total control only to be slammed in the face with the reality that you really aren't. But sometimes it's nice to be out of control.

Like when you have been told you need surgery to remove a cyst and possibly an ovary so you plan and prepare both heart and home only to then find out you don't need surgery.

Or when they say, "But we want to do a blood test to see if there is any other cause for malformation" and you ask for specifics and they cautiously use the "C" word so you, being equally cautious, tell your loved ones. But then you receive a phone call letting you know you've failed. You've failed the test which means you really passed.

And you breathe a sigh of relief. Thankful also that this time you also passed the test of fear because you didn't let your mind go there. There being the land of "What will my family do without me?"

This is one time that I am thankful to pull out the eraser and rub the plans away from the pages. This is the first week in a month that there are no doctor appointments for our family. So, I plan to stay home as much as possible and get into the fall routine I was looking forward to starting in September.

What are your plans for the week?

My Greatest Fear

...continued...

Fourteen years back, before the term "in-law" was used to define our relationship, we were driving down the familiar road in the little blue "Smurf." As we followed the curves that we'd traveled so many times before I asked him the question, "What is your greatest fear?"

Being a young man of wisdom, he gently answered, "Well, I don't think God wants us to focus on our fears."

Being a young woman who likes to be contrary, I agreed and then argued my point, "While I do believe that focusing on our fears isn't how God wants us to live, I do think it is actually healthy to know what our fears are. How are we supposed to work through our fears if we don't know what they are?"

After understanding where I was coming from he shared his greatest fear. Which I'm not going to tell you about. I will, however, tell you that he has conquered that fear and continues to do so everyday. I am so proud to call him my brother-in-law.

And I will also tell you what I told him my greatest fear was. "I'm afraid I'll never be a wife and a mom, " my single heart confessed. I was afraid of ending up alone.

During the next eight years I watched as he became my brother-in-law and he and my sister had four beautiful children. I watched other friends and relatives get married and start their families.

Finally in 2005 it was my turn. When Hot Hubby and I got married I was relieved. And, although there were times when we were starting a family that I wondered if I would be a mother, that fear was put to rest as well.

So, naturally I expected that I would no longer wonder, "Will I ever be a wife? Will I ever be a mom?" But I've found that I still do. Those questions still haunt me. That familiar fear will keep me awake at night. But it's different. And, in my opinion, it seems healthy. And maybe normal?

You know, I may have gotten married which has given me the title of "wife." And I may have children which gives me the title of "mom." But I wonder, am I really living as a wife and mom or am I just fulfilling my "duties"?

There are days, weeks and even years that I have spent more concerned with the appearance of my dreams than the day to day fulfillment of my dreams. I've spent countless hours striving to have an organized house and perfectly budgeted menu. I've worked hard at being consistent in training my children and being a supportive wife. But I find myself at place where I wonder whether or not I am truly being a wife and mom as opposed to just filling a role.

Instead of waking up and making a list of the tasks I need to accomplish during the day, I want to wake up and think of ways to enjoy and bless my family. Am I ministering to their hearts or am I just meeting their daily needs? Feed, clothe, clean, repeat?

You know, this is what I've always wanted. This is what I love to do. So why do I so often feel like throwing the towel in?

I think, I think I may have a glimpse of the answer. I think...

To be continued...

On Becoming Bare

...continued...

"It is one of the perversities of my interior makeup that I so often become depressed just as
winter makes its turn into spring, and the longed-for moment arrives; the weather turns
pleasant, and one can walk out of doors without bundling up. But unbundling means exposure, a kind of vulnerability, and I seldom feel ready for it when that first balmy day arrives. Instead, I resist the good news of spring, lurking inside my house as if its still winter. My spirit suffers , my garden languishes, and my perennial flowers and herbs must struggle on their own with encroaching weeds."

Kathleen Norris in The Quotidian Mysteries

"Look at this." I point to the screen.

"What is it?" he asks as he sits down beside me on the worn couch.

"It was built this year. No one has ever lived in it. And look at the pretty kitchen!"

"It's small."

"But it's new." I plead.

"Wow. It is nice. Not a very big lot."

"I know. I just feel stuck. I know that anything we look at is going to mean a smaller lot...and most likely a smaller house. But I just want something new. Something without all the work. I just feel stuck."

The discontentment stuck with me throughout the night. When I woke the next morning it was still there. Hanging from my shoulders weighing my heart down.

I kept finding myself at the computer. Searching the screen for the perfect house. A new dwelling where everything would be easy. Shiny and new. More bedrooms. More bathrooms. A place where stairs don't creak and doors close properly. Something that won't fit the title of "Krooked Kastle".

But it's not about the house. It's not really. Is it ever?

The next day I apologize to him, "I don't mean to put that kind of pressure on you. It's not about the house. I know I'm just frustrated with myself."

I blame my other physical dwelling for my irritation. This body I've been graced with.

But that's not it either.

People say, "It's not about the destination. It's about the journey." But the journey can be so hard. The act of unbundling one's heart from the layers meant to keep it safe and protected. Becoming vulnerable. Getting messy. Allowing...imperfection.

To be continued...

Flat on My Back

...continued...

I escape to the front porch hoping for a moment of silence and attempt to make an important phone call. The phone call I had asked him to make.

I was hiding from the noise. The noise of 4 kids. Dishes. A budget to be made and the spoiled dinner sitting on the dirty stove. A creative attempt gone to waste.

As I waited for someone to answer from the other end, I find myself pulling away from the phone now blaring orchestra music in my ear.

I'm on hold. Again.

More noise. More waiting. A day of waiting. A life of waiting. A life of noise. My chest feels a little heavier.

It was then that I spot the bug. On the rail in front of me he lays flat on his back, legs squirming and struggling. Struggling to stand.

That's how I feel, Lord. Flat on my back, legs flailing. Struggling. Today was a bad day to try not to stress eat.

I sense someone behind me. Turning, I find Hot Hubby standing there watching me through the window. Sympathy in his eyes.

I quickly turn back afraid he'll see what's truly in my mind. In my heart.

Finishing the phone call, I enter the house and he's still standing there tenderly rocking the babe so fresh from my womb.

"You'd die without me you know!" I snap as I walk past him.

"I know! I tell you that all the time." He laughs. "That's why you can never die! You are amazing!"

There it is. That word. Amazing. That word and I have a love/hate relationship. Love, because that's what I strive to be. Hate, because it's what I never feel. And he uses it so much when describing me.

"He needs a new adjective," I grumble inwardly.

He whose river runs deep. He who uses words only when he needs to.

It's not him. It's me. The one who uses words and then has to find a way to take them back. Like trying to put the toothpaste back in the tube.

He looks at me with compassionate eyes. As tenderly as he is lulling the baby to sleep, he begins massaging my heart. Drawing me out.

I am making dinner for the second time in one night. Every few minutes I come back into the living room to look into his eyes, that place a solace all my own. I have words that need to come out. I focus on chewing them carefully so they are easy to digest.

"I just...I feel..."

He waits.

"Today wasn't a good day to try not to stress eat."

Confession over... but there is more to be said. I go tend and come back again.

"I would like for it to be an easy fix. I wish it was as easy as giving a few things up and then everything would be fixed..."

The conversation pauses to acknowledge the Lego creation of the children coming to share. I see their sweet faces and my heart breaks a little more. And my mind is flooded with one more thought that brings guilt and pressure.

"I am coming to realize how I find my identity in what I feed you guys. When I make meals packed with veggies and healthy ingredients I feel a sense of accomplishment. Of doing it right. And yet all I want to do right now is grab some cash and go to the market for some crap food. And what kind of example am I being to our kids?!"

I leave to stop the bickering children and fail to find the words I'm so desperate for. I want them to understand the real issue. The real issue is the heart. It's not the fighting. It's the selfish heart that causes the fighting.

I return.

"How can I help them understand it's their hearts that need to change if I don't even know how to change my own? It's my heart... I know it is... I am like any other addict."

And it's true. When my heart is hurting, depressed, stressed my 'fix' comes in a circular form with the raised letters O-R-E-O across the front. Or sometimes in the form of a potato deeply fried. Or anything else that I feel will satisfy that deep place inside.

He nods his head letting me know he hears and offers another tender look. I feel my shoulders begin to relax as the communion between us acts as a healing salve to my wounds.

There is a freedom here. A freedom to be imperfect. A freedom to be human. There is an understanding. And there is love.

Like a cheap paper towel attempting to sop up spilled milk, my heart begins to understand his definition of amazing. He knows my weaknesses. He knows my failures. He sees when the laundry doesn't get done and the dishes are left crusty on the counter. He sees the days gone by without showers and the children who have need of more training.

But he also sees my heart. My attempts to keep up with the laundry and dishes. My desire to be healthy for and with my family. My days filled with children and school and a nursing baby. And he still thinks I'm amazing.

The conversation, though never completely over, finds a resting point and the night goes on. My heart, though not completely peaceful, has found some relief. My mind, as if tormented by a thousand grains of rice all eager to be sorted and handled one by one, takes one more step towards the freedom it so desperately desires.

And that word is still floating in and out of the waves of thought. Amazing.

Amazing. Amazing what? Amazing wife? Amazing mom? Amazing cook? Amazing me?

As I wash the day's grime from my face, I catch my reflection in the mirror and my heart whispers, "Lord, I need your grace...Your AMAZING grace!"

And I picture myself, flat on my back, resting in his amazing grace. And the day's grime rinses away from my heart.

To be continued...

I Had the Perfect Day!

I woke early. Since all the kids were still asleep I slipped downstairs for some quiet time and coffee followed by a quick 20 minute exercise video. Abiah woke up shortly after my video finished and I asked him to sit quietly in the living room and read while I took a shower, knowing that if the girls were to wake they could join him and be supervised.

Sure enough a few minutes later when I got out of the shower I heard their little voices coming from the other room. Getting dressed I went out and brought them each a cup of milk and put a video on for them to enjoy while I finished getting myself ready for the day and prepared breakfast.

With breakfast out of the way I took the girls back upstairs to get them dressed and instructed Abiah to do the same himself. After they were all dressed I woke Jackson for his morning feeding and had the kids start their chores, or as we call them responsibilities.

When Jackson was finished eating and was changed and dressed I helped the girls finish their tasks as Abiah got started on his school work. He only has a few things to do as the school year is almost over.

The day went by smoothly by comparison to the days preceding it.

Play time. Lunch. Clean up. Nap. Snack time with another video. More play time. Time with Daddy while Mommy does a few tasks and starts dinner.

Dinner was delicious. The kids ate fairly well and then Abiah and I cleaned the kitchen while Nathan held Jackson and helped the girls clean up their toys.

After a book, brushing teeth and putting on pajamas I sang to the kids and we had kisses and hugs. As I turned out the light, shut the door and passed a few more wishes for a good night along to my kids I thought, "Yes. This was a good day. Perfect in fact."

A perfect day...in my dreams!



To be continued...

Letters

In February Abiah made a Valentine's Day ornament and wanted to give it to his cousin, Hayden. I thought this would be a great teaching opportunity and decided we would mail it and learn about writing letters and addressing envelopes.

It also turned out to be a great lesson in procrastination since we didn't get to it until the beginning of March. Even though it was on my counter the whole time.

I decided that for the letter I would focus on format and let the spelling and grammar take the backseat for the day. Abiah doesn't have many opportunities to write outside of copy work for school so this gives me a better idea of how he is coming along in other areas.

Plus you never know what funny things kids will say when they just write on their own.

I recently saw a letter I wrote to my grandparents when I was around six. In it I made sure to explain to them that I was a grown up and did NOT like being treated like a kid. Nathan says that letter explains a lot. I have NO idea what he's talking about.

So, I took a picture of Abiah's letter to post here. I have his permission. He's actually really excited that I'm posting it on my blog. I hope he remembers that when he gets older!



A few days after this letter was sent Abiah lost another tooth. He eagerly anticipated a night time visit from the Tooth Fairy. Sadly he had to wait a few days before her arrival. She had a good reason though. She explained the details in the note she left with his dollar. It seems she may have also had a peek at the letter Abiah sent Hayden because there were some eerie similarities.



Since our family is used to Hot Hubby's sometimes random schedule Abiah was very gracious and understanding. Which made the Tooth Fairy relax a little. For now. Abiah's got another loose tooth and the Tooth Fairy is hoping she'll remember to show up on time!

How A Night Or Two Became A Week And A Half

The weekend before last was supposed to be a laid back weekend. Aside from the mile long nesting list I'd compiled we had nothing planned. However, since Hot Hubby has developed an allergic reaction to my to-do lists, we spent the day hanging out at home basking in the laziness of the day.

In the evening I did manage to get one item marked off my list: haircuts for the men folk! Abiah was starting to look too Beiber-ish and Hot Hubby's do that I had convinced him into was failing. It isn't my fault that the back of his hair does exactly what I want it to and the front doesn't cooperate AT ALL!

Abiah was more than pleased to get his hair cut. Hot Hubby put up a bit of a fuss but that may have been because of the momentary mullet I gave him when I first started cutting! (pics to come later!)

Little did we know that while we were innocently going about our normal lives an evil plan was unfolding right under our feet. Well, right outside the front window actually.

After the whacking of hair was completed and everyone had bathed we discovered that the fit had hit the shan. Or rather, the mit had hit the shud. Well, let's face it. Poo by any other name is still poo. In short the Crooked Castle had some septic problems.

Without getting into the nitty-gritty details (eww! sorry!) of that mess here's an overview of what our week-and-a-half ended up looking like:

We decided to abandon the Crooked Castle and headed to the in-laws after church on Sunday to stay the night, maybe two. The in-laws are more than happy to have us. My MIL loves to have us stay with her and my FIL loves that we brought the Xbox. Oh. And he was happy to have us stay, too.

Monday we had the line unplugged but they discovered a crack in the line. Apparently 50 year old pluming pipes made of material older than dinosaurs don't last forever!

The MIL and I spend our days looking after the kid's, nursing a dog recovering from surgery, keeping said kids away from said dog, and trying to carry on with life as normally as possible.

Hot Hubby decides the best course of action is to find the break himself. (ew!) A break in a septic line means you're not just digging in dirt! (EW!)

Wednesday Hot Hubby heads home to find the break. I head to the chiropractor to get a massage and adjustment since I can barely walk. Though my MIL is hospitality all wrapped up in a pretty package, I've turned all "The Queen and the Pea" and have a severe disagreement with the mattresses on her guest beds. I know because I tried them both! My hips thank me.

Friday the kids and I make a date with my mom to go shopping and register for Jackson at Target! We find the perfect homecoming outfit and blanket for him and have a great time with my mom.

Hot Hubby and the FIL come out to the Crooked Castle and dig some more to completely uncover the line. (ew! double ew!)

At this point I've resigned myself to the fact that I probably won't be home again until Monday.

Saturday a call is made to the plumbers. We are told they'll be out Monday. I decide I'll plan to stay until Tuesday.

I enjoy watching my kids dance to Mary, Mary with their Poppi. I wish I had a video camera with me!

Hot Hubby and I have some significant time together to talk about our marriage and work through a few issues. We receive great council and support from both of our parents.

Sunday we receive a call that the line is fixed.

We decide to head home Monday.

We wake up Monday and Amelia has come down with the flu.

I spend Monday and Tuesday on the floor and the couch holding her. My prego hips withstand more torture.

Abiah takes advantage of me being distracted with Amelia and enjoys a few days of too much tv and Xbox.

Hazel takes advantage of me being distracted with Amelia and gets into EVERYTHING!

My MIL chases Hazel throughout the house for me, makes meals and keeps us all in clean clothes. Seriously. The woman is a machine! She does laundry ALL day! My laundry room is IN my living room and I can't keep up with it.

Wednesday morning Amelia was finally able to keep some food down and seemed relatively normal.

Hot Hubby heads back to the Crooked Castle before me and the kids and cleans the house for me. Unexpectedly leaving your house for a week and a half has consequences no pregnant woman wants to deal with. I tried to prepare the house but there's only so much you can do without running water! And I only expected to be gone a night or two!

We all were home by Wednesday afternoon and my comfy bed and I were reacquainted just in time for naps! My hips haven't stopped thanking me.

We are so thankful to be back home but we know we couldn't have gotten through this last week without our families.

It feels insufficient to just say "Thank You" so I promise that if I ever win the lottery I will split my earnings with both of our parents. I think that's the only way I'll ever have enough money to repay you. In the meantime, please accept me bragging on you as a substitution?

Oh, and I apologize to those Oregonians who don't want anymore rain. I'm praying for it right now because a portion of my front yard is covered in dirt mixed with...well, you know.

Beware of the Grooooove!

What is the groove? It is the rhythm in which I live my life!

If you ever have the opportunity to watch my mom, my sisters and me in the kitchen you might notice an odd habit we have. Since we are women and there is hardly a quiet moment when we are together we use signals to communicate with each other when we work together.

Our most common signal is the butt pat. It's more like a hip pat, really. In order not to interrupt the person talking we just pat each other on the butt/hip when we need someone to move.

It's a system that works well for us. The only time we have an awkward moment is when someone outside of the five of us works with us in the kitchen. Unless they've been inducted into the butt/hip patting ritual already. And so far everyone has seemed to understand this form of communication.

Everyone except my dad and my Hot Hubby.

For some reason unbeknown to God, man, and beast those two can't seem to get this down. Hot Hubby has only been exposed to this for a short time so he has a little excuse. My dad on the other hand has been dealing with this for almost 30 years! Well, really, my mom has been dealing with him on this issue for almost 30 years.

We have home videos from days long gone filled with bad hair, leggings under over-sized t-shirts, and multiple parties where my mom is trying to prepare something in the kitchen. As you watch my mom move my dad out of her way you can hear him ask, "Why are you pushing me?!?"

That's the question he stills asks. "Why are you pushing me?!?"

This is actually how I knew I was going to marry Nathan.

Let's go back to 2002-ish.

Nathan and I had known each other for a few years but had just recently started spending time together with a few other friends. I kind of had my eye on him but wasn't sure. I had no idea where he stood on our friendship/relationship.

I was at work. Hot Hubby, then Nathan, had stopped by to visit before heading to work himself. Since he used to go to the "homeschooling school" I worked for he felt he had alumni privileges and could hang out there whenever he wanted. Apparently. Not that I minded. (He's HOT!)

Anyways, I was making a ga-gillion copies of something in the copy room and he was in there talking with me. But he was forever in my way! Everywhere I needed to go, he was there. Though the woman in me appreciated the close quarters, the employee in me needed to get to work.

Since he didn't understand the arm tap (As much as I would have loved to, I decided that tapping his butt/hip would be slightly inappropriate. So I adjusted accordingly.) I kept having to move him out of my way. Finally he asked, "Why are you pushing me?!?"

My heart stopped for a brief second and I stood there staring at him, hoping my jaw wasn't really as close to the floor as it felt. I always knew I wanted to marry someone like my dad, but this was freaky! Once I regained control of my senses I explained the situation. (Not the marriage one. The "you're in my WAY!" one.)

It never stuck.

I am still asked by him multiple times a week, "Why are you pushing me?!?"

All this to say, as I've adjusted my daily schedule to his work schedule over the years and even more recently tried to be more purposeful of my day, there is always one uncertainty that I am certain will mess with my groove.

Hot Hubby standing in my way. Not in the sense that he won't allow me to do something.

He's physically IN.MY.WAY!

Take yesterday morning. I got up with the kids and was trying to get through our morning routine: get dressed, breakfast, help kids with chores, school...blah, blah, blah. As I'm trying to get breakfast on the table to feed the children who are about to burst the sound barrier asking for food I kept turning around right into Hot Hubby.

I need a bowl to mix eggs in. He's in front of that cupboard.

I need my frying pan. He's in front of that drawer.

I need the milk. He's in front of the fridge.

And he's happy as a lark and completely unaware that HE'S. IN. MY.WAY!

And he wants me to stop every time I run into him and give him a hug. He's so stinkin' cute that it's hard to be completely irritated with him. And he smells good.



Moving on!

Though I've talked to him about this many, many, many, MANY times, this morning I found the words that I think helped him: "Dude! You're messing with my groove!"



We'll see if that one takes!

A Year of Purpose

I hate writing New Years resolutions. Every January I feel pressure to write something down but I know Myself. And Myself will forget about the long list of to-do's within a week.

By the next December Myself will remember that there was a list of things that she was supposed to do but forgot about. Then the guilt and sack cloth and ashes will have to come out of the Goodwill pile that Myself had been meaning to donate all year long.

I don't want to do that to Myself. She has enough to deal with.

But, Myself has also been heard complaining this last year about life just seeming to take over. The words purpose and intentional have slipped from her mouth many a time through-out 2010.

There have been tears of frustration. Days of depression. Weeks of trying to catch-up and "find a more efficient way." Myself likes efficiency. A lot! She wishes her home resembled that of the one in Cheaper By The Dozen. The book. Not the crappy movie.

So Myself has decided to make a list of things she wants to be more purposeful about. Which is kind of the same as resolutions, but because it's a different word she has tricked herself into thinking it's something completely different.

So I plan to share that list with you in the next few weeks. I say weeks because Myself is so tired from all the being purposeful that at the end of the day blogging is the thing that has to wait on the shelf. But the laundry is being done and food is being put on the table. And the children are more calm and obedient because they have a mommy who is spending more time with them than with Lola, the pink computer.



That's not me, by the way. Just making sure you're awake. And wanting to show off my Hot Hubby...using a pink computer.

I love this picture!

I did let Myself make one resolution for this year. And she's not afraid to call it that!

I resolve to lose 20 pounds by mid May.

How do I plan to do this? By having a baby! Remember, Jackson is due at the end of April. I figure that gives me a few weeks to shed the normal 20 lb baby weight. I'll FINALLY meet a New Years resolution and I'll have a cute baby to boot!

I know. You think I'm a genius. I'm not. Well, not certified. I did go to college for two terms though!

The Gift Dilemma

Last year for Christmas Hot Hubby gave me a gift card to Barnes & Noble (B&N) and one for Starbucks and sent me on a day out by myself to browse the books while sipping on my favorite latte. To me it's one of the best gifts he could give me. To him it's one of the gifts that I ask for that he understands the least.

You see, while I love to read and write, Hot Hubby despises it. It takes him a sweet forever to get through the first few chapters of a book and then he puts it down for a year or so and never picks it up again. I, on the other hand, can read a novel in one day if I'm allowed (meaning no one demanding my presence for their every whim and desire).

What Hot Hubby didn't plan for was me coming home armed with a book for both of us to read! I had heard about The Five Love Languages for years and after boycotting it for awhile I decided to give it a try.

I sat in B&N and flipped through the book, trying not to read too much so that I could read it with Hot Hubby and not feel the need to speed ahead. When I brought it home I could tell that he was beyond elated.

Or maybe he was the complete opposite. His response wasn't a surprise though. I knew it would take time to convince him to read through the book.

At first all I asked was that he take the test at the end of the book. Simple. Not too demanding. He agreed and we had a lot of fun giving each other the test.

We weren't shocked by the answers. Now we just had words for the differences in each other that we'd been trying to get used to.

His primary Love Language (LL) is physical touch. He scored 10 out of 12. No surprise. You don't get pregnant 5 times in 5 years being married to a man who doesn't like to touch you.

However, physical touch is my lowest LL. I scored 1 out of 12. That explains soooooo much!

Though my primary LL is the same as Hot Hubby's 2nd LL (Quality Time) it means something very different to both of us. He likes quality time with intense snuggling (I won't expound. I promise!). To me quality time involves eye contact and maybe a little hand holding. Talking, visiting, and just being together. Also my 2nd and 3rd LL's just happen to be Hot Hubby's two lowest. Words of Affirmation and Receiving Gifts.

Knowing this you'd think that we have a hard time getting along. Really we don't. We are the best of friends. We just tend to have the same disagreement over and over about what we need from each other.

Anyways, after taking the test and finding this out about each other, Hot Hubby had the idea that the best way to work through this was to convince me that his primary LL is the best of the five. He's spent the better part of the last year trying to convert me. He didn't want to read the book. He had it figured out.

It didn't work. Shocking!

Finally about mid October I decided I would just read through the book by myself and put to practice what I learned and see how it worked.

I also decided that I would take all of Hot Hubby's hunting magazines out of the bathroom and leave this book as the only reading option. Well, minus the Highlights magazine. It didn't take long for him to find out what I had done and he knew right away why I did it.

Every time I would notice him "loving me MY way", as I call it, I would ask if he'd been reading the book. Each time he would laugh at me and then then then tell me that he hadn't. I think he began to see that it was really important to me though.

About two weeks ago he thanked me for making lunch and breakfast. This may not seem like such a big deal except that Hot Hubby is NOT a words person. It's not unusual for someone to ask him a question and for him to just stand there and stare at them. He doesn't mean to be rude and he's not upset. He just doesn't have an answer so he doesn't. Believe me. I have tried so many times to help him understand that it is okay to just respond with an "I don't know" or a "Let me think about that."

He's working on it. Sloooowly, because that's how we roll. Apparently.

So when he thanked me for making breakfast and lunch it caught my attention. When I asked him about it a few days later he told me he had been reading THE BOOK. And he was on CHAPTER 4 already! The last few weeks I've been amazed by his gestures at loving me "my way."

So, for Christmas, knowing that gift buying is NOT on of his strong points, I gave him the list of gift ideas he had asked me for. In the last few years it has bugged me that he waits until the last few days before Christmas to go shopping for me. This year I knew to give him the space. At least he's trying, right?

He did a great job. He even tried to think outside of the list I gave him. I'd give the details but it's a little too TMI for my blog. :) I made me giggle though. He's so cute.

One of the things I asked for was a Fiestaware salt and pepper set. IN SUNFLOWER! I made it easier for him by emailing him a link to their website and showing him the exact set (in the exact color) when we were in Kohl's one day.

Chirstmas Eve morning when we opened our gifts with our kids I unwrapped a new light yellow Fiestaware salt and pepper set. I filled them up and have enjoyed using them every day since.

The other day when I was throwing boxes and paper into the fire place I happened to look at the box from the salt and pepper set and saw that the set is actually Ivory. Not sunflower! I went ahead and burned the box thinking that since I've already been using them I couldn't return them for the right color.

Also, I didn't want to tell Hot Hubby. He's trying so hard and I don't want to discourage him!

But now I'm wondering if I could have and still could take them back. I'm sure that Hot Hubby will understand.

What do I do?!? Have you ever been in this place before? What would/did you do?

(The Amazon link is for convenience. I make no money if you purchase the book.)

Lack of Something

Christmas Eve morning I let Nathan know that we only had enough coffee for that day and then we would be out (A Christmas Miracle!). Neither of us weere too sad since we were leaving for the weekend and would be able to "get a fix" at the houses we would be at.

However, when Monday rolled around we were both jonesing for a cup of strong coffee. I managed to semi-satisfy my craving with tea (what?) but Nathan had to go without since he won't come within 20ft of tea of any variety.

(I should keep that in mind the next time he suggests we add another member to our family six months after I've just added one...)

Anyways, back to the coffee!

When I asked him to stop for milk on his way home this morning I reminded him we were out of coffee. Apparently he thought I meant doughnuts too because he came home armed with both. He's such a good hubby!

When he went to grind the coffee he grabbed the container we use to put our beans in only to find that it had about 4 cups of beans in it already!

I have no idea why I didn't think to look in the coffee bean canister for coffee beans. It's not like we've not had the same canister for almost six years! Now I know where to look though. Also, we have plenty of coffee!

Thanksgiving Recipes: Desi's Homemade Rolls & A Story from 7th Grade

During my 4th-7th grade school years we attended our church's private school. My mom, being the amazing cook that she is, became the lunch lady. Every week she would put out batches and batches of fresh bread dough that she and her friend, Desi, would use to create the most amazing dinner rolls, cinnamon rolls, and homemade hot dog wraps EVER!

The food that was served in that cafeteria could never be considered cafeteria food. We were such spoiled private school kids.

During my 7th grade year I got recruited to sift flour EVERY morning. I started the moment we arrived until the bell rang for assembly. It was kitchen boot camp. And I needed it.

Unknown to my mom, I had just found out that one of the boys in my class "loved" me. I caught a glimpse of his spiral notebook that said "I LOVE SH...." And that's all I saw before he ripped it away so I couldn't read the rest. I assumed he meant one of my two friends who's names also started with SH, but, after swearing I wouldn't tell anyone what it said, he sheepishly revealed the contents of that page to me and I was shocked to find my own name written in his scrawling 7th grade boy handwriting. That "love" lasted about two weeks when he traded me in for one of my other class mates. 7th grade love can be so fickle.

Since both my new crush and I arrived at school early I had "plans" for what that hour before school would hold. I'm sure it was God saving me from getting in trouble with a capital T, because it wasn't long after my discovery of "love" that my mom had me spending ALL my free time in the morning standing in the kitchen sifting mountain after mountain of fluffy white flour. At the time I was sure she knew my secret. Now I'm really not sure if she did or not.

And even though that crush didn't last long, there were others. Many others. And there were only 7 boys in my 7th grade class. Like I said, 7th grade love is fickle.

All of that to say, this is the bread that I spent hours sifting flour for. And it's an amazing recipe.




Desi's Bread

2 Tbl. yeast
1/2 c. sugar
1tsp salt
2 c. warm water

Mix and let yeast soften.

Mix in:

1 egg, beaten (Or you can use this egg replacer if you are allergic to eggs like me!)
1/4 c. oil

Slowly add:

6&1/2 c. sifted flour (If you use the egg replacer I used you might need a little more flour to keep it from being too sticky.)

Knead bread until dough is soft and satiny. Should be a little sticky. Let it double. Punch it down. Make into two braids or loaves, or 24 dinner rolls. Place on a greased cookie sheet. Let double. Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.

When they come out of the oven immediately covered one in butter and eat it! It's just the right thing to do.



Or, if you have more self-control than I do, you can also let them cool and freeze them. Enjoy!