What Matters.

I have had a few thoughts going around in my mind lately, but they have been put aside by the vice of fear and frustration that has circulated through the media. There is so much sadness and hatred and misunderstanding, a convoluted hodgepodge. Social media, especially, has been such that I kind of just have to stay away from it. Someone told me lately, "But you must stay informed!" Informed, yes. Staying informed from different sources is one thing. But joining the masses on Facebook does not make me more informed. One cannot possibly be expected to even begin to process the outpouring of articles, posts, and comments that come from every direction on his or her news feed. You very simply cannot. So many words, so many opinions, coming from hundreds, or even thousands of different people ... it leaves us emotionally exhausted and bleak, incapable of remaining fully present in our real lives.

Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only one who just can't balance it all.

I don't think it is entirely out of coincidence that the dejected feeling I experience through social media has led me to pick up my camera again. It's as if my soul longs to see beauty. Cliche as it may sound, it's just the dang truth. Because amidst this sadness and confusion, there's still joy. And it's typically right in front of us, when our eyes shift from our screens to the small worlds around us. It is possible to grieve for others, to think upon their sadness and pray for a pain we cannot comprehend, while moving through our own everyday. I look into the faces of my kids, and my heart feels both joy and fear. An unparalleled love, and a looking to the horizon of their futures laid out beyond what I may ever see. In our parenting, we are shaping them for the unknown.

And I think upon my own huge responsibility to pass on to the next generation: 

To love thy neighbor.

As thyself. 

Our words carry weight. Our actions speak even louder. And in this small existence, in my little corner of a huge world, there are three perspectives, three worldviews developing under my roof. How I pray for compassion, for a fierce insistence of truth and justice, for hearts that flood with grace. 

But they first have to see it in me. 

Have a lovely day.  

Unfortunate Hash.

Have you ever had one of those days where nothing seems to go right? From the moment your eyes pop open, you and your loved ones are doomed for a day of unfortunate mishaps and frustration? That was today. There were some good bits here and there, but by and large, one little thing after another seemed to go wrong. A back door window breaks. Forgotten paperwork at an appointment. Shoes lost, old milk found in the car (heaven help me), miscommunication all around. This inevitably leads to grumpiness, and nothing spreads faster in a family than a bad mood. So, when dinner time rolled around, we had had it ABOUT UP TO HERE and I had no clue what to make. While throwing in the towel and pouring five bowls of cereal seemed like the safest option, our busy schedule has made our at-home meals few and far between and I was determined to make something. Anything. As I rummaged through our fridge, I found an onion and some turkey sausage. Olive oil from the pantry. Okay, then. I knew I could at least start there.

As I started sautéing, little unfortunate events continued to roll forward and I realized that with every setback, a new ingredient fell into the pan.

The girls left the back door open and an army of flies swarmed in. Defeated the army in a frenzied fly-swatting annihilation and sent the girls retreating to their room.

Diced potatoes, garlic, in the pan.

My son dropped a water bottle all over the kitchen floor. Before he dropped a dish of chicken food all over the kitchen floor.

Rosemary would be a nice touch. In the pan.

Husband is trying to use the vacuum, the vacuum isn't working. We all know what that's like.

Oregano, grumbling/whining, in the pan.

Blood-curdling screams from a back bedroom, rushing back there (oregano still in hand) to find my son rolling around on the floor in agony. No worries, just a foot cramp for him. And a heart attack for me.

Diced dried apricots. Makes no sense. THROW THEM IN THE PAN.

Soon, there was this really amazing aroma rising from the kitchen. And that cluster of (small, could-be-so-much-worse) incidents in that short span of cooking time seemed to dissipate with the steam.

A sigh of relief.

Blueberries as the side dish.

We gather in the kitchen.

The close of the day is sometimes rushed and stressful. We have had our fair share of those evenings. But sometimes, it's a reclamation of unity. A redemptive and collective "amen" at the end of the day, especially a day like today where we were just short of tripping over our own feet. Sometimes a family dinner is a miracle itself, or maybe a family dinner is always a miracle, and only some days we actually realize it. Especially a hash, where our five plates are filled from one single pan. Reclamation.

Or maybe the miracle is that my kids liked my Unfortunate Hash. Whichever.

Either way, I'll take it.

Have a lovely day.

Our Year of Homeschooling.

A friend of mine recently asked if I would blog about our year of homeschooling. Cramming it all into one blog post would be akin to drinking from a firehose, but I will do my best! I do have two previous posts that talk a little bit about our experience, and you can check those out if you'd like. 

So! Homeschooling! I'll start with the basic info. For my oldest kiddo, we used Horizons curriculum for math and phonics, and for my middle, we used Bob Jones math and Explode the Code phonics (we did a blended preschool and kindergarten with her, and she will be going to kindergarten this fall). My youngest was basically along for the ride, and did a preschool workbook we found at Sam's, plus Handwriting Without Tears. Oh, and she also learned how to count to ten in Spanish...? Maybe from our oldest? Not sure how that happened. I'm fairly certain the youngest child learns strictly through osmosis.

I loved our school mornings together. We would do our read-aloud book during breakfast, then work on our memory verse, and then hit the books. If it was a nice day, we'd spread a blanket on the back patio and alternate worksheets with jumping on the trampoline or exploring around our property. The rest of the time, school happened at our breakfast nook table. All in all, it took about two hours for us to finish from beginning to end. 

One aspect of homeschooling that I loved, LOVED, was making our own schedule. We took a lot of field trips to local museums, restaurants, parks, etc. It was fun to create a haphazard curriculum based on specific art exhibits (we did a fun day of "Wyeth and Warhol" when both artists were on display at a local museum). My favorites in life include art, music, and food, and it was fun to expose the kids to different experiences involving all three. 

My Mom came along with us for most of our field trips, which was so fun. My second favorite thing about homeschooling is the copious amounts of family time that is involved, and we got a lot of it. We made a lot of sweet memories. 

We homeschooled with a local Classical Conversations community. The kids basically went to "school" once a week (as a parent, I had to stay, too) and they learned memory work and gave weekly presentations. I loved the public speaking that was emphasized with CC, and saw my kids really grow in their ability to express themselves.

I know this begs the question, "Then why did you choose to stop homeschooling?" It's a fair one. Our kids had previously attended a school that we loved, so when it came time to choose to re-enroll with CC or go back to their old school, we felt that we needed to establish a baseline for their education (rather than change every year, which I could totally see myself doing), and we wanted that baseline to be their old school. We know that things can always change and we now know that we could homeschool again if the need arises. We feel incredibly blessed with the options we have. I am excited for them to return to a school they love, and I am also dreading the moment when I will walk into my empty house after dropping them off. Don't get me wrong, I love my quiet time as much as the next Mom, but I know the house will feel lonely. As with anything, their success at school and my experience at home will depend squarely on the attitude with which we choose to face it. I'm already praying for a good attitude for all of us as we prepare to start back up in August! And this will be a new chapter for me--being home alone, three days a week--and I am praying for clarity as to my next step in this new chapter as well.

This past year I learned the importance of catching the hearts of our children, to truly invest in their learning, to be intentional in seeing things through their eyes. I learned that success is not dependent on how you measure up to anyone else, it's measured in tenacity, in diligence, in suddenly recognizing the letter "r" as "r" instead of "f", after weeks of seeing it otherwise. God created their little minds to function as they do for a reason and I felt that this year I was able to really see that clearly. I know that it doesn't necessarily take homeschooling in order to see that, but it did take homeschooling for me to see it. As they enter back into the classroom with checks and marks and prizes and honor rolls this next year, I want them to know that their highest achievement will be to remain tenacious and imaginative, to love learning, and to finish each day knowing that they gave their best. To know that assessments simply measure selective knowledge, not intelligence, and that God is preparing the way to greater things for them regardless of their class ranking. As for me, I learned that the home remains our children's greatest influence, the words we speak here and the perspective from which we see the world are always under the observation of little eyes and ears. Whether they are here or in a classroom, their scope of compassion and worldview are cultivated within our walls. It is both a heavy responsibility and an inspiring privilege.

Onward, forward.

Have a lovely day!

Hello, Again.

I spent this past weekend with some dear friends and one of them asked me why I don't blog anymore. She kindly said she missed my blog. I used to be a much more consistent blogger. Prolific, if you will. And now my page is stale, unrefreshed, my thoughts are stuck inside my brain, a discombobulated assortment of musings and observations, with no outlet. What's odd is that another friend recently commented on my need to have a creative outlet. Music, writing, what have you. And that she can tell when I focus inward and get bottled up, when those thoughts and observations swim around in my mind with no way to be interpreted or understood. And she's right. My lack of creative outlet makes me ... confused, really.

This blog began several years ago as a manifestation of my foray into motherhood, as I waded through the murky waters of sleep schedules and diaper changes, and I had a lot to say about all of it. Then, as I added another baby, and then another, my opinions quieted and I swung the other way, having very little to say, as more experience made me more humble and, therefore, quieter. I don't know it all. And every day I realize I know less and less! But the thoughts in my mind are growing restless once again, and I can now write from the realization that life is a cycle of sin and grace, and we find ourselves tending towards one or the other all of the time. And that just as we swing fervently one way, we can easily be jerked to the other, and so the goal remains to understand both and live a life that is being transformed, one wobbly step at a time. And that in that transformation we find the aching beauty of freedom, and the raw desire to know Him more, to never stop learning about who He is and who He has created us to be. Those occurrences of sin and grace permeate our responses, our words, the way we see that mess in the kitchen made by little hands or the way we respond to our spouse, whether the view outside our front door inspires gratitude or complaint. Every day we are given opportunities to respond, and every day we both succeed and fail at achieving, or, receiving, grace. And through the rise and fall of our emotional and doubting hearts, He remains constant, unchanged by our inconsistencies. And so we keep moving forward, learning, lining our steps to match His own, pushing ourselves to overcome. Attempting to quiet the noise and focus on what and who is right in front of us, being present. Silencing the doubt and refusing to simply give in to our fears. It's awkward. It's a daily giving over of our hearts. Waking up and choosing grace. Seeing past our sin that ensnares and allowing grace to give wings to hope, to know that He is for us, working for our good, loving us unconditionally, a concept we can't hope to understand in this life.

So. Those are my thoughts today.

(Some of them).

As for updates on our lives, my husband started a business three years ago and it's going well--we've been able to have a lot of family time, yay!--and the kids are doing well. Our year of homeschooling was so fun and now they are going back to school in the fall. We are moving forward, step by step. And as for me, I feel like every day I am learning, navigating motherhood and marriage, sin and grace, gratitude and complaint. And hoping to come out on the positive end of all of those things.

Hello, again.

Have a lovely day, friends.

I Should Be Vacuuming.

So! I said I would keep the updates coming in regards to our decision to homeschool this year and look at me! No updates! It's like I'm busy or something, HA. Or I'm jockeying for a turn on the computer amidst my avid Starfall-loving children.

I'll go ahead and categorize these into "Good, Bad, and Ugly". Here it goes!

The Good:

The perks of homeschooling are what I thought they would be: Lots of family time, no more hectic mornings trying to shoo everyone out the door, and a relaxed home environment all-around. I love our routine (I would go absolutely nuts without a routine, which is why, I think, summer break can get REALLY OLD after only a few weeks ... no routine!) of waking up, taking our time with breakfast, doing morning chores, and then starting our school work. I've loved the flexibility of doing what we want to do, when we want to do it. Beautiful weather means we're outside. Hot hot hot weather means we're getting more sit-down work done inside. I've loved our Classical Conversations community and the once-a-week classroom setting my kids get to experience with different kids and their tutors. I love their memory work and the content of Classical Conversations, even if the memorization songs get a little mind-numbing at times (next time you see me, I will give you my operatic rendition of skip-counting the two's, if you would like). I love tailoring our week's learning to whatever interests my kids at the moment. For example, when last month's flash floods (followed by hot, muggy weather) hit our area, mushrooms popped up all over our yard. So, we picked them and spent a week studying the exciting world of FUNGI, woo-hoo. And I found a rotted mushroom in one of my tupperware containers last week. Awesome. Gah. My oldest is in first grade, so school doesn't take more than a couple of hours, if that. I'm taking advantage of their young ages by having lots of fun. We have an activity every day, whether it's CC, gymnastics, BMX, church, or piano lessons. We go to the kids' museum, we go bowling, we have fun. Homeschooling looks differently in that way than I thought it would. I like it.

The Bad:

I don't know if anything has been BAD about our experience thus far with homeschooling, but I have encountered challenges when it comes to knowing how to translate a classroom curriculum into a one-on-one tutoring-ish situation. Does that make sense? I'm getting better at understanding the different learning styles of each of my kids. Caleb reads it, gets it, moves on. Naomi needs to touch it, shake it, taste it, and manipulate it to believe its true (she is my child, for sure). Just like she had to touch the stove as a toddler before she believed it was hot. And Lydia is kind of along for the ride, so I'm still figuring her out. I put a crazy amount of pressure on myself since I am now their "teacher", so my tendency is to nit-pick things. Like, say, this blog post. Many of you may read it and point out my typos. How can someone who uses so many commas be capable of educating children?! The struggle is real. So, I would say that I am learning to step back and see the bigger picture. Pretty much once a day I have to zoom out, refocus, and approach our day with a broadened perspective. What are we really trying to accomplish here? Do we beat a certain concept to death or do we take a break and revisit it? Exasperated kids don't learn, and I'm learning to maneuver my way through being tough and focused and giving grace. On myself and on my children. I want my kids to love to learn. We have math curriculum and a phonics curriculum that we follow and I am figuring out how to make it work for my kiddos. We read a lot, read aloud a lot, and are acquiring quite a library of books ranging from Beverly Cleary's Henry Huggins to old-school encyclopedias to books about George Muller. I read to them while they eat lunch. Awesome tip I learned from a friend. They can't talk when their mouths are full of food!

One thing I struggled with was comparing the experience my kids are getting at home to the experience they would have if they were at school all day, every day. People have very strong opinions about education and I felt that if they disagreed with homeschooling, they disagreed with me personally and that's kind of hard for me to take. But wow, I had to get over that. People disagree all the time. What matters is that we are doing what we feel is best for our little family at this time, until God tells us to do something differently, no matter what that looks like--public school, private school, or homeschool--we trust Him. It's not complicated.

Oh, and I have to try to stay organized whilst also trying to cook and keep the house somewhat clean-ish. It's an ongoing process.

The Ugly:

Vowel digraphs.

No, really, I hate them.

So, in summation, homeschooling is going well. Not every day is great--I have definitely had my share of "Mommy Time-Outs" over the past few months. But this process is refining and while it is hard at times, the rewards have been worth it.

Also, I've learned how to take care of myself amidst all of this. I'm training for a marathon (I'm a psycho, I know), so at least three times a week, I'm up early, running with a friend before the sun comes up. I have a quiet drive into town on those mornings, and I use that time to pray and focus for the day. It's the only time that I'm alone in the car. :) Running is something that I do for myself and having that time is super-important. We have "rest time" every afternoon, where the girls nap and Caleb has to read in his room for one hour. I use that time to do whatever I want--watch Cutthroat Kitchen, browse Pinterest, crash and nap from my early running wake-up time--that time is mine, and necessary for my sanity. I make time in our schedule to see friends, and for me to see friends alone, too. All of these things matter!

So, there you have it. An update. Have a lovely day!

The Voices In My Head.

In case you haven't noticed, our area of the country is getting a nice pelting of record rainfall, and has been for the past month or so. Summer shone brightly for about ten days, before the clouds moved in, the yard flooded, and the little birds began to get STIR CRAZY.

Maybe I shouldn't have taken them to a friend's house to swim every single day during the Ten Days of Summer. Or to the splash pad. Or the playground. Or that water park. We went to ALL THE PLACES because SUMMER, only to experience a cloudburst deluge and a subsequent end to the fun.

I've done my best. Well, mostly my best--I think I could probably always do better--at keeping everyone entertained. Our middle birdie turned five, a day that included a fun play-date birthday party and a dinner with family and lots of donuts and sugar in between. And then .... they sit. They ask what to do. The summer oh-wait-it's-raining-outside boredom. And, while I would love to consult my Pinterest boards and create indoor ninja obstacle courses and foam made from Borax, the busy week before left the house a complete disaster that requires a good dosage of laundry, amongst other things, that require my attention instead.

Don't get me wrong--we have our days of "No, they're young! Just play all day!", but sometimes things  ACTUALLY NEED TO GET DONE and the kids ACTUALLY NEED TO ENTERTAIN THEMSELVES. And sometimes, they're great at it! And sometimes ... they're not.

And in the deep recesses of my mind comes that little tiny pesky voice that taps me on the shoulder and asks, "And you want to HOMESCHOOL?" Have the kids home ... all the time? Deal with this ... all the time?

And I cringe a little because that little voice has a point. Days like this leave me worn out. I've been tugged on all day, strained my voice after urging everyone to "Go play, please, go play, please", and my third cup of coffee has been sitting in the microwave waiting to be re-heated. Again. And the moment when I feel the most frustrated and wimpy and pathetic and clueless as to how to handle my own children ... they're suddenly playing outside. With worms and mud. The rain has stopped and they're outside. Together. And just as quickly as that doubting voice came into my mind, it scurried away.

I think that's how this entire journey will be. Some days will be really hard. Good grief, we haven't even officially started yet! That little voice will tap me on the shoulder. And some days it might grasp me on both arms and shake me because SURELY I AM CRAZY. And, other days, everything will be great. Doubting voice will be gone, replaced with the encouraging voice that tells me to keep it up, yo. And I will do my best. Or, at least, mostly my best.

I know I can always do better.

I am realizing that this journey has more to do with parenthood, really, than schooling. I mean, the schooling bit is huge, but a lot of this feels like a reflection on this stage of parenting for me, from always having a baby/toddler in the house, which up until this point has been my only experience as a Mom, to now having three kids. Like, real life kids. And as we navigate this stage, we can only guess at its trajectory and try, making decisions that give us peace while praying that they were the right ones. Like how educate our kids. And when to do laundry, and when to play. And how to play. And whether or not worms should be brought inside.

And those are my thoughts today.

Have a lovely day.

Step One.

Today I attended my first Parent Practicum for Classical Conversations, which is, essentially ... well, it's kind of a lot of things. Part lecture in the classical educational model, part pep rally (you can do it! you can do it!), part Bible Study. I went into it with questions and left with answers to those questions, so I call it a success (does this have lasting power? are there days you want to quit? do the terms completely confuse you, too?). The Practicum continues for two more days, but I'm opting to stay home instead. Not that I didn't have an amazing time, but because, as I mentioned, a lot of my questions were answered and I'm excited to get on board.

Oh and I currently look like this.

You see, it was quite a bit of information to take in. If you don't already know, the classical model of education is centered around a trivium. A what? A trivium (Google it, I dare you).  You know, three stages. Like foundational something and diarrhetic? No, wait, diabetic. DIALECTIC. Yes. And the last one is high school. I mean, "rhetoric". And this morning's brief lecture on Science (the highlighted subject during the practicum) touched on the Fibonacci Sequence, Copernicus, and something about stars. How do I remember that? Because I checked my Google history, THAT'S HOW. My notebook is full of notes scrawled in hurried inaccuracy as the slides switched and my brain swelled with KNOWLEDGE, ALL OF THE KNOWLEDDDDDGE and the poor, tiny recesses of my mind that have not been exercised since college were dusted off and thrown onto the front lines as we learned about, well, science. My least favorite subject.

Well, second behind math, I guess.

But, you know what? I loved it. And I loved it because it was centered around the why of science. We stand in awe and wonder of God and we yearn to know more about Him, and we can learn so much simply by studying the world He has created and the heavens beyond it. His handprint is everywhere and we have the luxury to search it out, to study it, to ask questions. The patterns, the rhythms, they all speak of a God who created the universe with precision and purpose. And suddenly Fibonacci, Copernicus, and the vastness of the stars moved into a concept that I could kind of grasp and, more importantly, appreciate.

Talk about a pep rally.

The idea of educating my children is somedays exciting and somedays terrifying. But I realize that it's all an extension of parenting anyway. Even if we cease homeschooling after this year, I am always educating them. What I say, how I say it, why I say it. It was convicting, to say the least. Challenging. All good things. And my right hand is SORE because NOTES. LOTS OF NOTES.

Today was my first real step into the unknown world of homeschooling and it was a good one. I sat with a group of Moms who were honest, sassy, and self-deprecating, all qualities I appreciate. It was a good day.

And now, rest. And chocolate.

Have a lovely day.

The Things That Matter.

We were on our second flight home after a long two days of cancelled flights and hanging out in empty terminals. Our group of ten (six adults and four children) was tired, exhausted with the happy-but-crazy feels that accompany a trip to Disneyworld with small children, and we were ready to get home. The plane hummed along as I tapped my husband on the shoulder and handed him my copy of "Love Does" by Bob Goff. "Read this chapter," I whispered, gesturing towards the open page. He read it, nodded in agreement, and handed the book back to me. I smoothed out the page that had the most markings on it, done by my own pen, and re-read the phrase I had circled. And underlined. And drew little stars around:

"And for me, I've realized that I used to be afraid of failing at the things that really mattered to me, but now I'm more afraid of succeeding at things that don't matter."

I looked down at Lydia, my great, big, three year old, fast asleep, and tucked her hair behind her ear. My heart was settled.

Surrounded by friends who homeschool, I have always had the thought of it tucked in the recesses of my mind, wedged somewhere between "Things I Should Try" and "Things That Terrify Me Greatly".  I assumed I would at least attempt to homeschool Cub through his preschool years, but the opportunity arose for us to send him to a Christian school for preschool, two days a week, and we chose that.

Then Kindergarten came. At his school, Cub goes all day, five days a week. The first few months were a little awkward for me, adjusting to a school schedule while I still had littles at home, and I assumed the unsettledness was attributed to this adjustment. I also assumed that it would pass with time.

It didn't.

It was difficult to process. I loved his school. Naomi was in the preschool and we loved that, too. We loved their teachers. We loved what they experienced there. So, why, why was there this restless feeling in my heart? We enrolled the kids for the next year and of course, after doing so, that's when it happened. That thought, tucked back in my mind, started to surface periodically, peeking to the forefront of my brain no matter how much I tried to shove it back:

Should we homeschool?

The thought of it was intimidating. My degree is in Family Studies, not Early Childhood Education. Why in the world would I ever think I could teach my kids? Where do you even buy curriculum??

And, most importantly, I DON'T OWN CULOTTES.

EVEN IF GAP SELLS THEM NOW.

(I kid.)

My mind reeled with endless fears.

What if I fail?

But the thought of it also would not go away, so after making extensive pros and cons lists and talking my husband's ear off and falling asleep at night with homeschool blogs open on my phone, I finally started to pray about it. I pushed the lists and blogs and (slightly irrational) fears aside and brought it before God in prayer, leaving it at that. Confession: I had not been the best pray-er for a while before this. My conversations with God more resembled shop talk than anything raw and honest. Praying about homeschooling opened up that conversation once again and I remember the day, distinctly, that He answered my prayer. After putting the girls down for naps, I laid down for a cat nap. Only a few moments later, my eyes popped open, I sat straight up, and I felt this overwhelming peace. In His fascinating and beautiful way, God had gently turned His desires into my desires and I knew that this was what He wanted for us. And that was that. As usual, God did not show up with lightning bolts on my front door or anvils falling on my roof--instead, He quietly nudged my heart until I released it. I had been so preoccupied with figuring out the logistics and the worst possible homeschool scenarios (if you check my Google history, you will find searches like "terrified of homeschooling" and "why in the world should I ever homeschool"), that I hadn't stopped to listen for His voice. Once I did, He spoke.

Amazing how that happens, right? Why, oh why, do I ever push pause on my prayer life?

He listens, and He speaks.

From there, things started moving forward. I had discussions with the kids' teachers about our plans for the following year and they were kind and supportive and everything I knew they would be. With tears in my eyes, I finally clicked "Send" on the e-mail to formally withdraw my kids from school next year. I truly believe God went before us by opening up slots for my kids at a local Classical Conversations campus in our town. Explaining our decision has been, for the most part, well-received. Some are completely confused--why give up an education at a great Christian school to homeschool? That's a good question. I'm not entirely sure why. I have my reasons why I am looking forward to homeschooling, but, as far as the reasoning behind it, I really feel like we're just taking a step of obedience and we'll maybe find out the "why" later. Or maybe we won't. Maybe God knows I need to experience this for a year before I can finally put it to rest. Or, maybe not. I don't know.

What I do know is that He has given us peace to homeschool next year. Beyond that, it's up to Him and where (or how) He leads us next. If God has shown me anything thus far in my life, it is this: My plans rarely turn out as I expect them to. From working to getting pregnant to staying home to now homeschooling for this next year, He continually shakes up the way I think things should look, and through the struggle of relinquishing control, my eyes are opened to the greatness of His plan every time. He is faithful. Oh, He is faithful.

So. Here comes a list of disclaimers to get out of the way:

-I do not hate public school.

-I do not hate traditional education.

-I do not think I could ever be a teacher commanding a class, so if you are a certified teacher and are utterly confused as to why anyone without a teaching degree would think that they could take your place, know that I COULD NOT TAKE YOUR PLACE. I can (hopefully) teach my own three kids to read and write and maybe learn some history or how to maybe grow tomatoes. I could not command a classroom or deal with someone else's children on a regular basis. Bless it, you are awesome.

-I still do not own culottes. But we do still have the chickens.

My kids will finish up this school year and then we will begin homeschooling sometime this summer. My hope is that I will utilize this (poor, neglected) blog to record my experience. This is an adventure, folks. I know, to some, homeschooling sounds as exciting as dry toast, but, for me, following God's leading almost always results in some kind of adventure. I will be honest here, logging the good, the bad, the ugly. And the beautiful.

As I sort through the kids' curriculum and begin to create a framework for the summer, I still, at times, feel the familiar fear creep into my mind: What if I fail? 

You know what? I might. I just might fail at this. We might get to the end of this and have a good laugh, recalling that one time that Katie decided to homeschool and everyone ended up ripping out their hair and Katie had to be committed and the chickens ran away. But ... I don't think we will fail. There will be challenging days and great days and all kinds of days in between. I know that God has gone before us in this and regardless of what happens by the end of next year, it will be a success simply for the fact that we trusted, and we obeyed. And what joy there is in acquiescing to His plan. 

Praise be to God, Who continually draws us back to Him.

Have a lovely day.

It's 5:30 And I Can't Sleep. Here's a Post!

A few weeks ago, I made the decision to deactivate my Facebook account.

This isn't anything earth-shattering or monumental, but for a stay-at-home Mom like me who referred to Facebook at one time as her "lifeline", it was a bit of a big deal.

After I gave birth to our son and found myself removed from the working world to being sequestered to my home with an infant, all in a matter of days, Facebook provided a link to the outside, a tool in which I could connect. It served that purpose for years. In fact, it continued to serve that purpose until the day I closed my account. But I realized that that initial purpose had waned significantly. Facebook was becoming a bit of a time waster, an absent-minded scrolling of my News Feed, reading things that did not necessarily have anything to do with my reality. Some things did, but not most.

And my circumstances changed. I'm no longer snuggled in my bed with a sleeping newborn, checking my phone in the peace and quiet. My life is a whirlwind of activity with three little birds who are old enough to not only request my attention, but to see where I place it. I realized that I was spending most of any down time I had on my phone, mostly to check Facebook. Thusly, I was teaching my kids that when you have a moment of peace? Get on a device and zone out!

Eek.

Naturally, it did not require a deactivation of my account to spend less time on my phone. I could have just spent less time on my phone. Right? But for whatever reason, after making that a goal and giving it a good honest try to keep it, I would find myself slowly falling back into the habit of checking it. No matter how many times I deleted the app from my phone.

There I would be again, going down the rabbit trails that Facebook provides--reading articles I wouldn't necessarily care about, reading the answers to some arbitrary test that someone found online, or commenting on a thread to a conversation that really didn't matter. And sometimes my attempts at sarcasm or wit would be misconstrued, and that's never fun. And those things would get to me. They would bother me.

They would bother me. And they aren't a part of my reality!

I mean, they are real. On the other end of those articles and tests and posts is a real person, yes. But the circumstance in which we were communicating was not one we would encounter face-to-face. And those I do encounter face-to-face were missing out on attention from me.

Now that I'm a few weeks into my Facebook absence, I can tell you, it's been great and it's been tough. It's been great because it's been what I hoped it would be: QUIET. My brain is much less noisy (and I have a brain that never stops). I'm not on my phone nearly as much. I'm focusing more on the real, live relationships in my life and investing in them. It's funny how it almost felt awkward to send a text rather than post on someone's FB wall, or to send them a message. As though I'm being intrusive.

And being of off Facebook has, in some ways, been inconvenient. I am an extrovert, and I find myself missing some of the conversation. There are precious people in my life who I miss keeping up with. And I know I am missing out on things because I'm not there.

I haven't given up Facebook forever. I have a plan formulating in my mind, that perhaps I will do a major clean-out of my "friends" list--I mean, MAJOR--and pare it down to only a few family and actual friends, and to make Facebook what it used to be to me: A place to share information and pictures with people I love. Not a place to debate, waste time, etc. But who knows if that will happen.

In the mean time, I'm enjoying the quiet.

I want to get back into this thing, too. I love blogging, but it has taken a backseat in my life, and I hope to revive it a bit.

And Thanksgiving is coming up! For us, that will mean time with family from near and far, and lots of food. Amen.

Have a lovely day, friends.

Closing Thoughts.

It has been a full day.

The kind of day where you have a billion things to do and have just enough time to do them--never late, never absent--but always rushed, fitting everything into the tiny span of time in which you have to do it. My day started at 3:45 this morning with a certain little boy whispering of a stomachache, and, while he went back to sleep, I did not, and the day sort of spun forward.

It was a good spinning. This is the humorous part of stay-at-home Motherhood in my opinion: Some days are quiet and still, where no one outside your small gaggle of little ones is in need of your attention, while other days are packed with commitments and traffic and running around.

And so today was that day. Helping at church, helping at school, helping friends, running last-minute errands, all really great things. Followed by prepping dinner and rushing to dance class and eating dinner and finding time to debrief with my husband before spending time alone with each child, the homework and the reading and the snuggling and the flossing of teeth and singing of songs. The list was constant today and I loved it.

I have energy to do it all...but none to spare. As I tuck the last little body in bed and kiss a head of tousled hair, I close the door and walk into the kitchen to see the pile of dishes waiting patiently for me by the sink. That last bit of energy I used to bid goodnight to the kids now seems like a distant memory and I feel the Grumblings begin to rise up from deep down inside. The urge to complain, to fret, to maybe wash the dishes a little more loudly than is necessary, or to ignore them altogether and let Katie of Tomorrow deal with them (which, by the way, is usually a BAD IDEA).

I swallow hard, take a deep breath, and drag myself to the sink. As I turn on Pandora and start the water, a low, somber cello begins to play the opening stanza to what turned out to be the perfect soundtrack to my slow and sleepy cleaning of the kitchen: Come Thou Fount.

It was a beautiful cello solo and it echoed through my dark kitchen, while the words began to surface in my mind, thinking through every verse.

How His kindness yet pursues me,
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well. 

I felt the Grumblings begin to settle as my frustration began to wane.

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I'll sing Thy sovereign grace.

I am reminded that God gives us just enough grace for today...with new mercies awaiting in the morning.

And He sings over us as that energy wanes, as our eyes close, as the day draws to an end. And His song never ends.

Even late at night, in the kitchen.

Have a lovely evening, friends.

Frustrating and Endearing.

Naptime. Reprieve! As I sat down at the computer and flicked my finger on the magic mouse to scroll mindlessly through Facebook for a mental break (like Facebook is ever a mental break),  I discovered a puffy star sticker planted right in the middle of the mouse, no doubt placed there by a creative (and, for that matter, sneaky) little toddler. Rather than remove it, I'm just kind of awkwardly navigating around it. For whatever reason.

It's like the flower picture I accidentally stepped on in my bathroom and the toy plane I rolled into when I crawled in bed (ow). All around me are constant reminders of our home's littlest inhabitants and the discovery of these reminders is both frustrating and endearing (and painful...case in point, the airplane).

Frustrating and endearing. Yes.

For as frustrating as one day can be (like my last post, for example), the next day can suddenly take a sharp upward swing that leaves you soaring with all of the wonderful feels, embracing the beautiful view that surrounds you: The snuggling of little heads against your shoulder and a home filled with the giggles of happy kids. Joy. The endearing things. The previous day that left you wounded and weepy and smelling lightly of countertop spray and onions fades into a muffled blur.

Motherhood is nothing if not redemptive.

It takes us to the end of our rope and as we cling to it, swaying in the proverbial storm of crazy children and sticky minivans and endless laundry, the winds can suddenly turn and the sun breaks through. It isn't the crazy goings-on that change, but rather the light that illuminates them. With that comes refreshing relief, and, a much-needed change in perspective.

How often I experience the beauty of grace and forgiveness in this role of "Mother".

"I do not understand the mystery of grace--only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us." -Anne Lamott

Grace finds me every day.

(Lydia just emerged from her room, holding a small balloon. After beckoning her back to bed, she remarked, "But I found a BALLOON!" Clearly, this trumps the need for sleep, right? A balloon?)

Grace finds me every day.

Grace for myself, grace for my kids. Grace for the dirty dishes.

After a rough day, the coming together and hugging and snuggling and forgetting the unkind words and forgiving what we forgot. Redemption. Experiencing God's endless love and grace for me in a humbling and tangible way.

Redemption.

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.

Oh, the power of living the life of One Who Is Redeemed. How would I act differently if I truly lived this way?

Oh yes ... grace. For myself. For my kids.

For the dirty dishes.

May grace find you today.

Have a lovely day, friends.

Dear Mom, Here's Your Dish Towel.

As I sat down to write this post, I heard a shriek from the kitchen, followed by, "I SPILLED IT!" Come to the rescue, mop up the mess, pat the blonde head, fill up the cup, sit back down, start typing.

------------------------

Dear Mom,

Hang in there.

It's Wednesday. Wednesdays can be hard. Wednesdays here are crazy.

But you've got this.

You made it halfway through the week. The kids are alive, the house hasn't burned down, and even though you've been interrupted seven--no wait, Hey buddy, I'm typing here!--eight times, your brain is still functioning on a somewhat acceptable level.

Pat yourself on the back. Brew that cup of coffee and sneak that piece of chocolate.

Better yet, text your best friend and send her an ugly pic of you crying.

This may or may not have actually happened.

She'll tell you it's okay. Even though you yelled at your kids in the car, then apologized, and then cried. It's okay.

And when your husband calls and you try to talk through muffled sniffs and sobs, he'll let you in on a secret. Remember last night, when you were at that meeting at school? He told your toddler she was only allowed to speak in a whisper for the rest of the night BECAUSE SHE WAS TALKING IN SUCH A LOUD SHOUTING VOICE AND HIS EARS WERE ABOUT TO BLEED.

And you'll laugh. The tears will stop.

This may or may not have actually happened.

And maybe you'll make a call and randomly get a receptionist who, through sheer intuition, makes you privy to a little nickname she and her friends used to call the 4-5 o'clock hour at their houses when they had little ones at home: Arsenic Hour.

Because they're either going to give it, or they're going to take it.

And you'll laugh again. Because nobody actually wants to poison anyone. But you ugly-cried into a dish towel and now your face smells like a mix of onion and countertop spray and it's good to know that today?

Today is hard, and you're not alone.

You have purpose, Mom. God gave you your kids for a reason and He chose no one else to be their Mom but you. And even though they are circling around you as you type as sharks circle around their prey, take a deep breath and smile and know that today is fleeting. Maybe you didn't craft today. Or bake cookies. Or teach your kid anything new.

Or shower. Whatever.

Hang in there.

There were good moments intermixed with the bad. Like when your four year old with tousled blonde hair cried because the apple she was drawing looked more like a "shirt" (I have no idea). Remember those little moments as you're popping a frozen pizza in the oven because that new healthy roasted vegetable dish you made for dinner burned to a crisp.

Tomorrow is a new day. Keep your chin up.

I am toasting you with my second (third?) cup of coffee. Here's to the good things.

And bedtime.

Have a lovely day.

Love,
Me

Coloring the Barf Bag.

We just returned home from a family trip to Aruba, where my extremely gracious in-laws allowed us to come along with them, with our children, and enjoy a little island time. My friend Steffany at the Sassy Times blog asked me to blog some tips for flying internationally with little kids, so, here you go! While I have zero tips on how to survive super-long flights with kiddos (I have yet to join the ranks of Mom Heros who take their kids to Europe), I can offer a little advice on what it looks like to prepare for a trip that takes you, with your small children, out of the country. We've made the journey four times and every time, we've had our kids with us (depending on who was born, ha). Our trip includes a two-hour stateside flight, followed by a four-hour international flight. Give or take a few minutes, depending on the wind, of course. And the amount of time it takes circling the airport when there's no space to land. Stuff like that.

(I am going to go ahead and bullet-point these tips, since I am nerdy like that and bullet-points make me feel organized. So, here you go! Oh, and I'm including a few pictures that I took with my phone.)

1) Plan For The Day You Return. Yes, this is a biggie for me. Before we leave, I'm already thinking of what is waiting for us when we get back--dance class, school, bible study, etc. It's important to realize you will have traveled with kids and life is going to be ready for you to hit the ground running when you get home, no matter how tired you might be. Make it a little easier on yourself by freezing some lunches, laying out clothes to wear the day after you get back, picking up the house a bit, and stocking the freezer with some frozen pizzas. Even if your kids do great on the trip, you will be tired! Kids who are great while traveling means the parents did their part, too. (And kids who freak out on trips give their parents a run for their money, and thusly the parents will be extra tired. If you think your kids might freak out on your trip, freeze a cake. And don't share.)

2) Make A Packing List. I type out a list and after the items are packed, I highlight them. I'm painfully thorough with the listing. In our case, we have to pack swim stuff, too, like, say, puddle jumpers. Have you ever tried to pack a puddle jumper? IT TAKES UP THE ENTIRE SUITCASE. But our girls love to swim with them, so, they come with us. Think through what a day will look like on your trip, morning to night, and make a list of everything you think you will use. If you know there will be a washer/dryer available, go easy on the clothes. I always overpack clothes and I always regret it. Oh, and to pack our clothing, we lay our shirts flat and pile them in one stack, and then roll them up, jelly-roll style. We do the same with our pants/shorts, too. It's a space-saver. Even for those of us who overpack, ahem. Also, think of any medicine that you might want to bring with you, that may not be readily available at your destination. For example, we have unexpired prescription ear drops and eye drops that our kids have needed at various times, so we throw those in our bags. There's nothing worse than waking up to a kid with a goopy eye. Especially when you are a few thousand miles away from home. And your doctor.

3) Utilize the Carry-Ons. Okay. So, this depends on the ages of your kids, but if your littles are big enough to bring their own pack, like a Skip-Hop pack or a small backpack, let them. I tried to stuff all of our airplane activities into my carry-on purse/bag/tote ... and the straps broke. Sweet. After I did a little separating and dispersing of items in each of the kids' packs, it lightened my load and gave them something to be responsible for. Each of their packs had a blanket, a few activities, a small surprise toy, and a change of clothes in a Ziploc bag. Our littlest had a little accident on the plane that required a change of clothes, and it was handy to have not only the change of clothes, but the Ziploc for the dirty clothes. You never know what the day will bring, so a change of clothes is a must! Also, pack an empty sippy cup/water bottle/cup-with-a-lid to fill up after you go through security. Drinks in the flimsy cups they serve on airplanes will spill easily. Especially when it's fruit punch.

On that note, don't forget the wipes.

4) Get Creative. First, repeat after me: It's okay if your kid zones out on the iPad while on the plane. It's okay. You aren't a bad parent. Even my most die-hard we-don't-own-a-TV friends will say that on a plane? Anything goes. It's for a short amount of time (all things considered). Their brains will not melt, they will be okay. BUT, if you don't want screen time, or if you want to have a little variety, or at least postpone inevitable screen time, some crafts and activities are good to have on hand. For us, this includes small puzzles (make sure the finished product is small enough to fit on the tray-table on the plane), coloring pages and crayons (I printed tropical fish/coral reef/colossal squid pages for the kids, to fit the theme of our vacation...or they can color the barf bag), a necklace craft using dental floss and Cheerios (BIG hit with Lydia), building blocks from the Target dollar aisle, and lots of stickers. I packed Scotch tape to tape the coloring paper on the kids' trays and included a small stack of their favorite books, too. Also, packaged snacks are fine to take with you in and out of the country, so keep that in mind. They will frown upon unpackaged fruit. And illegal parrots. When you're packing fun things to do, remember that there could always be a flight delay that requires more time in the airport than you anticipated--activities and snacks aren't just for the plane ride!

5) Make It An Event. My kids have all flown a few times, but we still build it up and make it a really big deal. We lay out "nice" (but comfortable) clothes for day we fly. For the girls, this means cute sundresses, and for Cub, it means a cotton polo shirt and comfortable shorts. For us, we're trying to send the message to our kids that flying on a plane is something that grown-ups do, and it's a privilege for them to experience it, too. "Nicer" clothing helps to communicate that, and also helps to define our behavior expectations for them on the trip. International trips require lots of lines--security, customs, security again, customs again ... so we try to prepare them. While we were going through customs, we explained to the kids what was going on--Aruba needed to let us out of their country so the United States could let us in, for example--so they could kind of get a grasp as to what was going on. Also, the past few times we've flown, our kids haven't had to take off their shoes while going through security, but, just in case, slip-on shoes or sandals might be a good idea!

1) Passports! You will need them, ha. A child's passport expires after five years, so be sure to keep your passports updated. If your kiddos don't have a passport yet, you can fill out the paperwork here, and print it out. You can get a pic taken cheaply at Walgreens, too, and they can have it ready in a matter of minutes. Both parents must be present when applying for the passport of a minor, so it's helpful to have all of your ducks in a row before you actually turn in your paperwork!  We've found that storing them in our carry-on in a Ziploc bag WITH A PEN works best for us. Note that I typed WITH A PEN in all-caps. This was on purpose. At some point on your journey, you will need to fill out immigration documentation, and it's nice to have a pen handy, so you're not waiting on someone to get one for you while your three year-old is asking for a snack and your toddler is writing on his or her forehead with a marker and the four year-old has to go potty. Anticipate that the time to fill out documentation may be an inconvenient one, and this is an easy way to prevent digging through your purse when the time comes, whether you're on a plane or standing in line at customs. Keeping a pen with your passports will help it go more smoothly.

2) Expect the Unexpected. Here's the deal. No matter what, there are going to be variables that are out of your control when you travel. No matter how much you prepare, no matter how many hours you spend creating the perfect in-air craft or how neatly you've organized your travel-size games, ultimately, there are bigger variables out there that you cannot control. Flight delays that leave you sitting in the airport, flight delays that result in short layovers that result in running through an airport, flight delays that leave you on the runway with barely any A/C while your captain optimistically tells you that your plane is only the eighth in line, a stubborn seatbelt that snaps your well-dressed toddler's finger and makes them hysterically scream...while you're stuck on the runway...no amount of edible crafts or cardboard books can prevent those things from happening. Go into the trip with low expectations, and try to relax. Give yourself, and your kids, grace.

Traveling with kids is doable. It isn't always easy, but it isn't always hard, either. And the older they get, the easier it gets. And the vacation is always worth it. Keep it in perspective--two days of flying, with however many days in-between of making memories, enjoying a different culture, and spending lots of time together. If you plan ahead and take care of the things you can control, it will be a lot easier to handle the things that you can't control. And it's always okay to arm yourself with Starbucks for the journey.

Have a lovely day, friends!

Scaredy Cat.

I think I've lost my bravery.

I think somewhere between the child-rearing and the barrage of Facebook articles, posts, and comments, I've grown a little timid. I thought that I was stronger than that, but, right now, I'm really not. I mean, as of late, I haven't been. I've grown afraid of the risk of putting myself out there. If I zoom out and look into my world, I can understand why--my life has existed within the walls of my home for several years now since quitting my job, where I am the boss of my day, the planner of my moments. And I've jumped in with both feet into this "job", this really awesome and sometimes very hard and altogether life-changing role. But, with that, I fear I've lost my social footing. As an extrovert, this is terribly disturbing.

As I eluded in my previous post, this next phase of parenting intimidates me. And I think a big part of it is that the schooling every day, the dance, the sports ... they are luring me out of my safe place. Into the big world. And I am terribly afraid that I have lost all sense of social skill and conversational finesse (if I ever had any), and that, when challenged, I will find myself tongue-tied and blubbering. I can see it in my relationships, in my frequency online (I've shirked away from FB, which isn't altogether bad, I guess), in my daily activity--I choose "safe" rather than "unknown". I want to say things, but I don't, because I fear what others might think. I've kind of become a pansy.

I didn't mean to. I think the change just sort of slowly happened as the other things in my life took over. Play dates and trips to the grocery store are about as "out there" as I get these days, and while I'm really good at being nice to the lady at the check-out as she scans my box of Luna bars, I find myself feeling nervous about the other stuff. Talking to other parents at school. Making new friends. Sounds lame, but I kind of feel like I'm starting over as this next phase takes shape. "Hi, my name is ... COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT."

So, with the start of this new school year, I'm resolving to put myself out there. To chat with other parents, help out in the classroom, jump in with both feet. With some liquid courage (in the form of coffee, of course), surely I can try. And if I get shut down, say the wrong thing, or completely mess up, then, okay. Because I will be clumsy. It's how I roll.

But, I will try.

Can anyone relate to this?

(See? I'm putting myself out there and asking. And if the response is 'no', then, that's okay, too. Look at me go.)

Have a lovely day, friends!

Identity Crisis: Part Two.

I've spent the past few weeks trying to wrap my mind around the reality that my oldest will be entering kindergarten this year. And all of my mulling over and thinking and pining have brought me to the conclusion that with this next phase? I have no idea what I'm doing. Because the two year-old is potty-trained and the four year-old starts preschool this year. And my oldest starts For Reals Big School.

And just like that, the baby phase is over.

(Okay, okay, lightning could strike twice and we could get pregnant while pigs fly over a blue moon. But anyway.)

The baby phase. Almost six years ago, I became a Mom for the first time and it completely changed my life. Just like that, in one final push, I was thrown into the arena of Motherhood, rocking and nursing and crying (baby and I) and changing diapers. And, for me, it also meant the transition from working to becoming a stay-at-home Mom, which involved a bit of an identity crisis. And after much scrambling and struggling for air, I resurfaced and actually kind of got the hang of it. And then it happened again. Twice. Three kids in three years. And what ensued was the chaos of being pulled in three different directions while cooking and crafting and wiping bottoms. I got used to vacuuming with an infant in one arm and a toddler asking for a snack at my feet while the other toddler was already dumping snacks all over the floor. The spinning, the swirling. It became my norm--I existed in the realm of the babies and toddlers. And, craziness aside, I was really empowered by it. Motherhood itself is empowering. It's awesome to see the way you push through and overcome the challenges that come along with the territory...some moments more gracefully than others, of course.

But, now we're entering new territory. Even though Cub has been in a two-day preschool program, I still had all of my kids home with me for most of the week. Hair appointments required a babysitter and trips to the grocery store always happened with littles in tow. And now it's beginning to change.

I thought that maybe it had more to do with the fact that I was sending Cub to kindergarten rather than homeschooling, but I don't think that's it. The time away will be different, but, regardless of that, the diapers are gone. The crafts require a little more finesse (and, typically, a scientific purpose). My commands that were once simply either followed (or ignored) now require explanation and, sometimes, strategy. I feel like I'm being uprooted from the comforts of the only phase I've ever known and I'm being thrown into another new arena: The Arena of Kids That Aren't Just Toddlers. Or something like that. It's just that they're close in age and they've all been little together. And now they're all growing older...together. And it's exciting--taking trips and experiencing life together has given our family new form and it's so much fun. It's great as they get older and become independent, and their roles in the family start to take shape.

But ... the baby phase. It's gone.

Gone are the days of rocking my infant in the stillness of the night. Of fretting and worrying and sleeping on the floor of the nursery when they have RSV. Or when I'm just sure something is wrong, even if nothing is.

And the baby that started it all is now starting kindergarten in less than a month.

And that sentence makes me teary.

I'm on the brink of a new identity crisis. Just like Motherhood itself created a drastic shift in my life, this next phase is causing a little shifting, too. It's intimidating because I've never been there.

And so this summer, I've been holding on. Relishing my moments with my littles. Because I made the mistake of blinking, and time flew by, just like everyone said it would. And I know this next phase of school and sports and dance and being the minivan taxi will fly by even more quickly.

I'm excited. Truly, I am. I have a feeling that this phase of life, with its new challenges, will be fun.

But I am still allowing myself a little space to mourn the end of the era that defined me as a Mom. Call me a sap. Because I am.

The End.

Have a lovely day.

Atmosphere.

My absolute favorite place to be in our home is the kitchen, with classical guitar echoing from my Contemporary Folk station on Pandora. It's soothing and happy, as I look through our breakfast nook windows to the expanse of land behind our house, loving the peace and solitude that come with living in the country. I work to make our home cozy. There are candid pictures on the walls, pieces of furniture that come from our family two generations ago, and the kids' artwork haphazardly arranged in their hallway, next to the outfits in which they were dedicated at church. You wouldn't walk into our home and see anything that would replicate the cover of a magazine, but, chances are, you'd want to pour a cup of coffee and relax on the couch.

Last night, Lydia was up six times. SIX. She's two. Having a two year old who gets up six times and interrupts your sleep is the kind of thing that might bring you to the edge of insanity, peering over the edge and wondering if it wouldn't be better to simply jump off into the swirling oblivion below, than to take the effort it takes to maintain your wits. I am two years past the newborn stage and y'all, I like my sleep. But, here's the deal: We transitioned Lydia to a "big-girl" bed last year, and then somehow she ended up in her pack 'n play. I think maybe we had used it for naps? And then it just turned into her bed? I wish I knew, alas, this is part of having three small children ... I only remember what happened ten minutes ago and even then, it's iffy. Regardless, Lydia has been in a pack 'n play, so we decided that last night we would put her BACK into her big-girl bed. Clearly, she had an issue with this idea, not in the let-me-throw-a-fit sort of way; rather, she simply got out of her room six times to wake us up and tell us something about G-Ma's driveway and pink ponies, neither of which required immediate attention, and thusly resulted in the repetitive action of moving her back into her bed. Over. And over. And over and over.

Needless, to say, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And I mean, literally, I was shoved over uncomfortably to the very edge of my bed, thanks to a certain toddler who at some point, decided the best option was to sleep in our bed and her exhausted mother must have thrown her in there without dispute. She doesn't remember. Ask her later. Also, please do not feel the need to give this exhausted Mother advice on how to transition kids to big beds. This ain't our first rodeo.

I'll do better tonight.

Anyway.

So, I have been extraordinarily cranky today. Yes, extraordinarily. I am unable to put sentences together without determined effort and it's safe to say I've been ... short? with the kids. Snappy, even. And I'm sure my husband was just as thrilled to wake up next to Godzilla this morning, too.

As I look around my house at the pictures, and the furniture, and the couch that welcomes coffee and conversation, I realize that all of those things are but empty pieces of wood and leather and glass and plastic. They can create the look of simultaneous joy and tranquility; however, it is not within their power to create it.

It's me. The wife. The mom.

I set the tone for our home. Whether I like it or not, especially on days like today, where me hiding under the covers seemed like the safest option for everyone, the family looks to me to determine the feel of our home. I set the pace. My smile radiates joy and my scowls send a message of unsettled frustration, and I know my family can feel it. I know that in one swift move I can make a moment awesome, or I can make it miserable. And I really want my kids to feel awesome. Or, at least to have moments of awesomeness amidst a frustrating day.

This all came to me as I stood in the kitchen, making my lunch, with classical guitar coming from my Contemporary Folk station on Pandora, as I looked through the breakfast nook windows at the expanse of land behind our house. But I did not feel peaceful. And as I looked around the house at those smiling faces in the frames, I knew that my exhaustion, though justified, was but a very, very small and unimportant thing that was making the mood of our home feel unsettled. I don't think it's worth it.

The reality is, I'm tired today. But I'm not promised tomorrow. So, I will either suck it up and try my best the rest of the day (which will undoubtedly vacillate between winning and failing), or I will continue in this pattern of grumpy self-pity, causing the loved ones around me to walk on eggshells. And that's just no fun.

My second cup of coffee is brewing and I am going to really try to choose joy today. Because I want those smiling faces in the frames to tell the truth. That joy does live here.

Even with a a two year old in a big-girl bed who wakes us up to talk about pink ponies.

Have a lovely day.

Hey There!

Wow, two months since my last post! I think that's a record.

Does anyone even read this anymore?

I'm keeping it open as a means to process the things that I think may need processing, but the trick has been carving out the time that it takes to write out such things, and when given the option to take a nap or read a book or watch a Parenthood marathon on Netflix, blogging gets shuffled to the back seat.

(I just had to scoot my chair in as a little toddler said, "'Scuse me!" as she walked behind me pushing a shopping cart with a baby inside while holding a magic wand. And wearing heels. This is life.)

So! Let's see. What's new.

Caleb finishes preschool this week, which means he starts kindergarten in the fall, which means I'm in complete denial and coping with massive amounts of salted caramel dark chocolate.

Which means Naomi starts preschool in the fall, a fact of which I am also in complete denial and therefore also coping with a high dosage of salty antioxidants.

Which means Lydia ... well, it feels like Lydia might be home forever based on her birthday and I AM FINE WITH THAT.

Y'all, I birthed Caleb and time flew by. I just can't believe it. They're growing. I'm old.

I participated in the Oklahoma City Memorial Half Marathon in April and finished my first 50k ultra-marathon trail run this past Saturday and today I slept in until the sun came through the window and woke me up, as Naomi crawled in bed next to us and we all fell back to sleep. All things filled with goodness and joy and the occasional leg cramp.

Cub is finishing t-ball this month, Naomi is finishing dance, and we are looking forward to a wide-open summer. Time to make a summer list! Or not. We might chill on the list for a little bit. I'm looking forward to nothingness for a while.

Who are we kidding. I'll have one by the end of next week.

I hosted Easter, rearranged furniture, had a garage sale, shooed a chicken out of my house (several times), burnt this really amazing teriyaki stir-fry, savored time with friends, cried over a standoff with my three-year-old, mourned and celebrated the lives of loved ones, and am on the brink of nine years of marriage to my really great husband, with whom I've laughed and cried and all of those things.

So. This blog has been empty, but life has been full. I hope yours has been full, too. And I will try to be better about typing out the thoughts that push into my head, because I promise, they are still there.

And here's the chicken. Bernadette.

Have a lovely day. 

Monday, oh, Monday.

Monday was a rough day.

Maybe it was the homemade chicken broth that tasted like dirt (dirt for dinner! yum!), or the red paint smeared on my table by a sneaky toddler, or the mountain of laundry, oh, the MOUNTAIN of laundry that wouldn't go away no matter how many times I closed my eyes and willed it to happen, or the fact that Daylight Saving Time just about kicked my rear and I medicated my drowsiness with several cups of too-strong coffee that left me jittery and, well, still tired.

I waited for my second wind. It didn't come.

During nap time, I prayed. I prayed for nothing supernatural, just enough strength to push through to the end of the day with my littles. Without using unkind words or putting myself in Mommy Time Out.

It was one of those days where the saying, "The days are long, but the years are short," replayed over and over in my head and I tried to savor the day. I tried. I did savor some parts. We made pretzels and that was fun. But I didn't savor all the parts. I was ready for bedtime at 4:00pm.

That's never a good sign.

At long last, the end of the day did come. I have a nightly ritual of singing over my kids after they are tucked in and Daddy has said goodnight. Right now, they each prefer a different song, and as I tucked Lydia into her little bed, I rubbed her little blonde head and sang her song.

I love you Lydia,
Oh yes I do!
I love you Lydia,
And I'll be true!

When you're not with me,
I'm ... (I pause and she jumps in and yells "PINK!" instead of "blue", every time)
Oh Lydia, I love you!

She gave me a little tired smile, and my heart started to soften. I took a deep breath and smiled back, feeling the day's tension beginning to fade. I went to Cub's room and rubbed his back and sang his song, one of my favorite old hymns that he calls his "sleepy song".

Far away in the depths of my spirit tonight,
Lies a melody, sweeter than song!
In celestial strains, it unceasingly falls,
O'er my soul, like an infinite calm.

Peace, peace, wonderful peace,
Coming down, from the Father above,
Sweep over my spirit, forever, I pray,
In fathomless billows of love. 

I leaned my head against his loft bed and sighed. My heart was content. The words from Cub's "sleepy song" echoed in my heart as I made my way to the guest room, where Naomi had decided she wanted to sleep that night.

I smiled and sat down to sing, happy with the fact that the day was ending so nicely, and she smiled back, her little hands reaching for her soft pink blankie, that was partially hidden under her little pillow. I rubbed her hair and started to sing Doxology, which has become her song.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him all creatures, here below! 
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!
Praise--BAM!

Naomi yanked her blanket out from under her pillow and her pointy little elbow made direct contact with my mouth. And OH. IT HURT.

I sprang up and rushed to the bathroom, and saw a bleeding lip in the mirror's reflection. I unrolled way too much toilet paper, wadded it up, and pressed it against the wound, then turned heel to see Naomi, happily snuggling with her blanket, asking me if I would please finish my song.

Yep. One of those days.

I took a deep breath and walked back to her bedside, the toilet paper adhered to my swollen lip thanks to the blood, and finished her song ... now with a bit of a lisp.

Praith Him above, ye heavenly hotht,
Praith Father, Thon, and Holy Gohth.

Amen.

So, if, perhaps, you are having or have had or are going to have a day like this, I say to you, Hang in there. Some days, success means you did crafts and learned new things and went on walks.

And some days, success means everyone survived and Mommy didn't have to go to time out.

And look! I made it to Thursday. You can do it, too.

Amen.

Have a lovely day!

Menifee and Jellyfish.

One of the more entertaining aspects of parenthood is the opportunity to create completely unbelievable answers to ongoing and superfluous questions that come forth from little mouths all day long.

"Why is the road shaped like that?" "Where do pickles come from?" "What makes grass?"

At the beginning of the day, I'm on my game. At breakfast, the sky is blue because of reflected light particles and atmosphere and all of those things. We might even get all research-y and YouTube it. By lunch, I'm waning slightly and the sky is blue because there's air and God made the sun and oh look, a pony, and by dinner, the sky of which I have spoken all day is clearly falling on my head and I have no idea why it is green, wait, is it green? What is blue and is Dad home yet?

It is not the question itself that leaves me drooling in a cup, but, rather, it is the repetition of it, despite the fact that it has been asked and answered. And with factual knowledge being replaced by an exhausted yet over-active imagination, I mumble and explain the answer to end all questions: The sky is blue because one time a long time ago this HUGE WAVE WAS CRASHING OVER THE WHOLE EARTH and then suddenly it just FROZE. TOTALLY FROZE.

AND IT'S BLUE BECAUSE WATER IS OBVIOUSLY BLUE.

Hence, the sky is blue. One big frozen wave.

(Okay, so that one is a bit extreme. And terrifying.)

But, you get my point. Some call it lying. I call it survival of the mentally exhausted. I'm happy to report, I come by it naturally. Apparently, my parents were also guilty of tall tales when I was a kid, and, now that I am also a parent, I totally understand and they are completely forgiven. I was a jabbermouth of a kid and I can only imagine the deluge of questions with which I blessed them every day.

Here are a few of the good ones with which I grew up:

1) Short palm trees are really just tall palm trees buried in a very deep hole.

2) My pet cat, Princess, died when I was in the second grade, after attempting to run under the garage door (back before garage doors had censors) and failing to succeed. Of course, I was the one who discovered her the next day before school and my poor parents felt awful for me. Dad said he would "take care of it". In my innocent childhood mind, that clearly meant that he was going to somehow resurrect my cat (who now had a very pronounced dent in her rigor-mortified midsection) and I went to school with rather high expectations of what would be waiting for me when I came home. When I did come home, there was no Princess, and when I asked my father what had happened to her, he put his hand on my shoulder, sighed, and whispered, "She went to Menifee." I nodded solemnly and concluded that Menifee must mean Cat Heaven. For years, I mean YEARS, y'all, I thought that Menifee was Cat Heaven. And throughout those years, Menifee welcomed much more than just my cat--two rats, a hamster, and three parakeets also stepped through the pearly gates of Menifee. It wasn't until I was a teenager (and clearly over the notion of a pet heaven) that my Dad explained, on that fateful day, after our minivan had driven out of sight, he had simply shoved Princess in a trash bag, driven to city of Menifee (yeah, it's right next to the town where we used to live ... how did I not put THAT together) where he was working for the day, and threw her body in a dumpster. Nice. Where did Princess go? She died and went to Menifee.

3) When it's raining, with a little magic, windshield wipers will wipe when you point at them. We totally do this to our kids, too. Point (wipe!) point (wipe!) point (wipe!). HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT, MOMMY? "Magic, kids!" Point (wipe!) point (wipe!) point (wipe!).

4) Street lights know when to change because of the cameras on top of them. If you smile and wave, THEY CAN SEE YOU.

I believed all of them for a somewhat extended period of time, sadly. And hilariously.

Here's the deal. Before I had kids, I swore I would always be a truth-teller. But that was before I realized that you can tell them the truth until you are blue in the face AND THEY WILL KEEP ON ASKING. And then ... well, then it gets fun. Yes, jellyfish are made of jelly. I love you and here is a snack.

Did any of your parents do this, that you can remember? If so, do tell.

Have a lovely day.

Snow and Lent.

It's been a long winter.

I understand, this goes without saying; however, after yesterday's episodes of "thundersleet" and powerful wind gusts carrying a negative wind chill along with them, I found myself moaning at yet another day that is too cold to go outside. Another day cooped up.

I pressed my forehead against the cold windowpanes and sighed. A lot.

Our church services were cancelled yesterday. I brewed my morning cup of coffee and turned down the hallway where our calendar hangs on the wall. My eyes searched the days, stopping over Wednesday.

Lent begins this week.

I've said it before: I am always ready for Lent. After winter's footprint has left its deep impression on my corner of the world, my heart aches for growth, for hope. And, as mentioned above, this year is no exception.

I did not come by Lent until I was a college student, so I'm careful about how I present it in our home, as it is not a part of the tradition in our place of worship--I want my kids to decide later in life if it's something for them. For me, it is a fast. No meat, with the exception of seafood. A practice that points my heart towards Christ and the cross throughout the day for forty days, through prayer and memorization (this year I am memorizing 2 Corinthians 4, a passage I memorized as a child but have mostly forgotten--I would love for you to join me!).

For my kids, Lent is about anticipation. Our paper chain countdown to Resurrection Sunday is hung on our mantle. I have recipes for Shrove Tuesday's pancakes (thanks to Jerusalem Greer's "A Homemade Year", given to me by a dear friend...and maybe we'll do a King Cake, too) and small activities of service we can do throughout the 40-day period.

As winter stretches forward, pushing itself into March, I realize that I set the tone for our home. My sinful heart is grumbly and angsty, but, when I allow myself to be settled and still, God's quiet voice nudges me towards gratitude. A warm home. Food to eat. And the conviction quiets my heart.

It is only appropriate that this last (maybe?) burst of winter arrived right before Lent. It is a tangible example of the barrenness of a world in need of Christ, a representation of the soul longing for the hope that can only come from Him.

Do you celebrate Lent in you family? If so, how?

Have a lovely day, friends.

Also...hang in there. :)