I just don't know how you do it!

DISCLAIMER--if you can't take a joke or if you are easily offended by people whose life choices are different than yours, you may want to find another blog to read. I'm a conservative (but not legalistic), Christian, homeschooling mother of seven children who would have gladly have had more if my body had not gone into full mutiny. It is obvious that I am different. I don't care. And guess what? It doesn't offend me that YOU may be different, or that you might find my decisions insane, ridiculous, whatever. I just don't care; I'm too busy living my life to tell you how you've got to live yours. You're entitled to your opinion, as am I. If you're okay with that, and you're okay with hearing the "other" side of the story, then by all means, read on! If not, well, don't say I didn't warn you.

"I just don't know how you do it."

I honestly do not know how many times a year/month/week I hear this statement. The minute people start counting all these little blonde heads (even though right now there are--don't laugh-- *only* five), the questions about how I "do it all" come up. Inevitably, the question of school will come up once or twice a week, with a variety of responses. About half the time, I get a wonderfully supportive, "I think that's great!", but just as often, I am befuddled with how to respond when someone starts rattling off their own reasons for why they *can't* homeschool. I don't ever recall asking why ANYONE doesn't homeschool. Ever. People just feel the need to justify their reasons, I suppose. I'm not so sure I understand that response, but considering I'm in a particularly snarky mood today, I'm going to join in on the argument and tell some of "you people" (remember what I said about getting offended? Keep that in mind.) who send your kids to public or private schools  why it is I just don't understand "how you do it".

1. I'm a major control freak. This is probably THE biggest reason I had issues with having our oldest two in a public school setting. I wasn't in control--of the curriculum, of their time, of their influences, their clothing, their school supplies, not even of their lunches. It was ridiculous, and I felt like I was handing the job of parenting my children over to a total stranger for six hours a day. When that kindergarten teacher told me that I had to tell my 5-year-old to stop reading because it was making the other kids [who couldn't read yet] feel bad about themselves, I lost it. The control monster in me took over. When we put them back in a public high school for just one semester, I felt like I'd had all of my maternal control ripped away. I do not do well with that. I am the one who will answer for how my children have been influenced, and because of that, I'm going to run with this control-freak nature God made me with and BE in control of those things I have every right to control.
2. Public schools start too early in the morning for me. Petty, I know, but ask my mom--I have been a night owl ALL of my life. I came by it honestly--she is the same way. My brain clicks into full gear at about 10pm, and doesn't settle in for the night until about 1 or 2am. This does not make for an easy transition into early mornings. I hear all the time about how to make the morning rush easier, how to get the kids up and out of the house without a struggle; my kids aren't the problem. I'm the one who would not hear the alarm at 6am, and by 7:30 we'd all be scrambling probably three or four days a week, just to get UP and out the door. Thankfully, homeschooling allows me the freedom to "do school" on my brain's schedule, not the one determined by the local administration. This is yet another one where I have to say, "I do NOT know how you do it."
3. I'm selfish, and I want to be the one seeing all their 'light bulb" moments. I love watching my children learn. I love seeing the fascination in their eyes as they soak up information and I simply cannot fathom sharing that look of accomplishment that they get upon mastering a new skill. I just can't. I'm their mother. I want to be the one with them as they learn to read. I want to be the one cheering them on to apply that new division skill. 
4. I ENJOY being with my children. It perplexes me to be confronted by parents who seemingly cannot stand being around their own offspring. Goodness, folks--if YOU don't like 'em, do you really think a complete stranger is going to be thrilled to have to spend all day with them!? No, I'm not the type of person who makes an idol of my progeny; I rather enjoy having that elusive quiet time to myself and a date every so often with the man I married, but I have to tell you--I find it rather strange to hear a mother say she cannot wait to get away from her children. It seems very counter-intuitive to me. I happen to like mine. Even the little tornado whose damage path leaves me pulling my hair out several times a week. My life would be completely different if they weren't an all-day, every-day fixture in my life, and I dare say I wouldn't enjoy it as much.
5. I don't like summer vacation. It's hot, and I don't like hot. Everywhere you can go is crowded, and I don't like crowds. I would much rather spend my summer inside, in the comfort of my air conditioned house, sipping sweet tea with reckless abandon. I like to take our time "off" when everyone else is in school--during the cool days of fall and spring, when being outside is gloriously refreshing and the crowds are sparse. I'm weird that way. Of course, I also detest Black Friday, which has on more than one occasion been used to support the idea that I'm more than a little bit goofy in this respect. Point is, I don't like being told when to take my vacations. If my husband is off work, ALL of us are off. When it's less crowded and cooler, we take our vacations and enjoy being somewhat removed from the craziness.
6. There is no way I have the patience for institutionalized education. This one goes WAY back. I do not like being told I have to stop what I'm doing and wait for the rest of the class to catch up. I spent many a day in elementary school bored out of my skull, and I don't want that for my children. If they want to work ahead, I let them. Oh--and the other thing about waiting--I do NOT do well in lines. Waiting for the first bell, waiting around in the bus lane, I just get very restless. I don't like waiting 9 weeks for a progress report or report card to know if one of my children is having trouble in any particular subject. I don't like waiting. If there's a problem, I want to know now so I can work on it. Maybe y'all had better luck, but the only time during our three years of experience in the public school system, I had virtually zero communication with my children's teachers unless it was time for a progress report or report card.
7. Excused absences. I loathe them. The idea that a child who has not seen his or her father for six months would have to miss a day's assignments and potentially risk their grades because Dad is being welcomed home from a deployment is not just unfathomable, it's INEXCUSABLE. Oh, and in case you are wondering, this actually happened to several of our friends the days their dads came home from a deployment to Saudi Arabia/Kuwait. In fact, my children were two of the very few school-age children who were present when those buses pulled up because it was during school hours, and the school didn't allow them an excused absence. I find it ridiculous that a parent has to justify an absence with a doctor's note. Who do these children belong to, anyway? Shoot, if we need a mental health day, we're taking one!
8. Textbooks give me the creeps. It's like Bac-O's. I don't serve my kids fake bacon, and I'm not keen on the idea of them getting watered-down, purified, politicized, and politically-corrected lessons. 
9. Buses. I've ridden them. My older  two children have had experience with them. They're horrible. Everything about them is horrible. Again, petty? Maybe. But these are MY complaints, remember? My turn.
10. I do not EVER want my children to be targeted by bullies just because they love to learn. I want to be by their sides as they mature, showing them how to handle situations and circumstances they do not understand or that make them uncomfortable. I do not want them to ever feel as if they are alone in this big world. Go ahead, tell me I'm sheltering them. I assure you, I'm doing little more for them than I would my baby cucumber plants, which I lovingly "train" up a trellis so they can spread their leaves and have something to grab onto for support when wind or harsh rain threatens.
11. This may be the most maddening of all of my reasons, but I guarantee you, it is behind every single excuse I hear listed by those who "can't" homeschool for any of a hundred reasons. The reason? I DON'T WANT TO. There. I said it. Is there something "wrong" with not wanting to send my kids to public school? Only if there's something "wrong" with not wanting to homeschool.

Home education is not for everyone. Having children is not for everyone. Marriage is not for everyone. College is not for everyone. Owning a home isn't for everyone. Cats aren't for everyone. Gardening isn't for everyone. And that's okay, because NONE of these things is an issue that will threaten our salvation in and of itself. I have convictions that some others of you do not have. Some of you have convictions that I do not share. That's okay too, as long as those convictions aren't formed on opinions that violate the Word of God. But ya know what, public/private school parents? I just don't know how you do it! :)

Why has it come to this?

I have had a battle going on inside my head for several months now over whether or not I would broach this subject at all, but you know what? It needs to be broached, plowed through, ironed out, and buried in the compost pile where it belongs. I know someone is going to get their panties in a wad about it, but we need to talk about these things ... so let's put on our big-girl panties and deal with the wads as they come, shall we?

Sometime late last year, I mentioned on one of my random "this is my crazy life" status updates on Facebook that I'd essentially run myself through the wringer on what was one of my "Crazy Thursdays", and in a mental response to a flippant comment from another grocery store patron, I added that "no one had better say I'm not a working mother". Wouldn't you know it, someone I know in real life took MAJOR offense to this. Not just eye-rolling offense, but responding with a "You've GOT to be kidding me!!!" offense. She then proceeded to detail her own day, spent in the office and then doing various and sundry around-the-house "wifely and motherly" tasks when she returned home, as opposed to what she perceived as the simplistic day of a stay-at-home mom (who had not been home from 8am till 6pm). In the rather confusing dialogue that ensued (because I knew it was my statement that had her so upset, I attempted to explain that I in no way, shape, or form was attempting to take anything away from what she does), it became glaringly obvious that there is something very serious going on under the surface. Had I not just been told by that grocery store guy that "You'd better be glad you don't work!", I might have taken it a little better, but alas, I did not. And I was exhausted. From what, though, if I hadn't WORKED all day??

What defines a "working mother"? Better yet, what defines "work"? Desk work? Standing and teaching a class of twenty-five? Construction? Making sure all of the diners in a restaurant have full iced tea glasses? In the dead-end dialogue I had with the offended party, I learned that anything I said about what I had done during that day was taken as a direct insult on the sacrifice she and her family had made to have a career and a successful life. I couldn't win that battle, nor was I even trying, because I wasn't trying to take any of the respect or prestige away from her job-for-pay, and I was simply trying to gain the same respect for my chosen career-not-for-pay. My question is this: WHY, ladies ... WHY are we beating each other up over whether or not someone is "working", and why on earth would we EVER assume to say that what one of us does is work while the other one does not work, based solely on the single matter of a paycheck? Why do we DO that????

I, as a stay-at-home mother, do not envy those who work outside the home. Period. I wouldn't want it. It's not for me, I know that, and I'm perfectly okay with being "just a wife and mom". Yes, it requires certain sacrifices, and yes, I understand unequivocally that my choice is a PERSONAL one, based on not just personal beliefs, but personal convictions and personal preferences. I don't do "team player" well, and that doesn't lend itself well to a job that requires working with people. I know this, and to some extent, this played a big part of my CHOICE to occupy myself in the work I find in my own home and family. I do have convictions that cemented this decision, but they are MINE. I don't dare assert my convictions on others, because we are individuals! I do value the career (albeit unpaid in any form of income that is monetary) that I have chosen above any other I could have chosen, because I see the value in it to my own family. Does it mean I look down on other wives or mothers who have chosen other paths? Heavens, no! I know the vast majority of people in this world would not choose to be a stay-at-home mother of seven who homeschools while her husband frequently travels the globe for weeks on end. I know that! But ladies, just because I have opted out of spending six years in college to get a Master's degree in fill-in-the-blank (other than music and the challenge of being a combat pilot, nothing else ever interested me) and I don't spend my days at an office, in a classroom, or whatever else I may find to do, does NOT mean what I do all day is not "work". I absolutely guarantee you that I work--sometimes from sunup to long past midnight, and not just at "normal" tasks like laundry and dishes and getting a heater fixed while dealing with a belligerent home warranty company. I do some things--some for myself, some for my family, some for others--that I would never have the time or energy to do, were I putting in 40+ hours working somewhere else. I enjoy that 'luxury'.

Ladies, we have GOT to get past this idea that a paycheck defines work. We have got to stop thinking that because a woman has CHOSEN to stay at home taking care of her home and family full time, that she is somehow less successful or "busy" than a woman who works outside the home for a paycheck. It's ludicrous, and it's demeaning to the many girls and women who desire a simple domestic life. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurt to have my oldest daughter be lectured over and over again when she graduated from high school about going to college and finding a "worthwhile career" and to be told she was "wasting her life" and "taking the lazy way out" simply because she desired to be "just" a wife and mom.

I'm not a feminist by any stretch of the imagination, but isn't it a bit self-defeating and completely hypocritical to say that a woman can be "anything she wants" as long as she "works", but yet we define work as something that brings in pay, instead of being honest work that can benefit a family in other ways? Why are we doing this to each other?

"Just let him go"

It has been twenty-two and a half years since that phone call, but I don't think I will ever forget it. It is very true that hardship brings out a person's true character, and that "friend" I had kept in my life for two years suddenly revealed something to me that I had never even dreamed I'd hear. In fact, I learned a LOT about people and society and priorities and values in a very short amount of time. All because of something someone called a "mistake".

Ironically, I don't remember the date, and what's even more ironic--I don't even remember my own reaction to seeing the second pink line show up on that pregnancy test. I don't even remember Pete's reaction. I do remember that neither of us ever gave a second thought to what WE would do. I don't even think there was an "if" conversation. But for a couple of weeks, we hid a secret we knew we couldn't hide for long while we tried to get up the nerve to face it. What followed was a dizzying flurry of emotions, threats, insults, and guilt that broke our hearts far beyond what the immediate consequences could. The two lines on that little stick had more impact on the two of us than on anyone else, but both of us spent the first four months eaten up with regret over what our actions had done to everyone ELSE. What I realize now, all these years later, is that the reason *we* have a good life now has everything to do with us not listening to people who really had no vested interest whatsoever in our lives.

It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years in high school. I had just turned 16. Pete had graduated, enlisted in the Army, and was ready to leave home, move on, and get his own life started. I'm not even sure my parents knew how "ready" I was to begin my own life, because I had kept to myself the fact that I had already begun the process of applying for appointment to the Air Force Academy. Pete and I really had no "plan" other than to go our separate ways. Yes, we cared for each other. Yes, we were teenagers and more than just a little reckless, but we were not stupid, as is often thought the case. Morality never really entered the thought process, but we were "careful". We'd been through all of the oh-so-informative sex ed classes at school. We knew the "risks", so we took "precautions".

We became statistics.

What I do remember of our reactions was that we somehow flipped a switch, going from planning out independent lives to having a life together immediately. There was never any other question. Both of us had enough of that traditional, moral training to know that there really only was one option. I think what shocked us was that there were so many around us who tried to convince us otherwise! Surprisingly (but maybe not so?), one was a Catholic priest. Pete was raised in the Catholic church, so when we started discussing plans of marriage, well, that became a MAJOR issue. To say the least, the Catholic church doesn't "play" well with other religious groups, and Pete was told by this priest that since the Catholic church would neither recognize a marriage with a non-Catholic or a child who was not raised according to the tenets of that faith, he should just "cut his losses" and leave us behind, that he had "no obligation" to me or the child God had blessed us with. He left the Catholic church instead.

The priest's comments probably bothered Pete much more than they did me, mostly because he lost all respect for the faith he'd been raised with in one fell swoop, but I won't say it didn't really hurt me to hear it. However, one comment has stuck in my mind and still hurts as much to this day as it did the day it crossed my ears. I remember I had been out of my regular classes at school for about two weeks (Our high school put pregnant students in a vo-tech program for teen moms at a different campus so we could "finish" our school year presumably without a hiccup. Yeah ... not so much. But that's another post entirely.) and Pete was preparing to leave for basic training, all while we were going through wedding planning and prenatal care. I'd had little contact with many of the friends I had become so close to in school, when out of the blue a fellow trumpet player (and someone I considered one of my "good" friends) called. He told me first that it was really bad that I wasn't there, since I was going to have been the section leader that year (yeah, thanks for that little zinger there), and that he missed goofing around in Algebra class with me. But then he said something that left me almost speechless, and all I remember doing was hanging up the phone. He said, "You know, Pete has a life, and you're better than this. Why don't you just have an abortion, let him go, and get on with your life?"

That really was, in all reality, the FIRST time that word had ever crossed my brain. An ABORTION??? Are you SERIOUS?? Kill someone, just because I want my "life" back?

Yeah, I know what pro-choicers think. They want to believe it's a "potential" person, not a real, live human being, just a blob of cells. Whatever. That's garbage. It's a made-up justification for people like this JERK who believe it is our right to decide who lives and dies based on whatever kind of life we want for ourselves so we can fix that "ooops!!!!" See, here's where I lose my political correctness. And my patience with "choice". Pete and I **DID** make a choice. We decided, at 16 and 18 years of age, that we had the right to do whatever we wanted to do, regardless of whether we were ready for that and regardless of whether it was even RIGHT. That was the CHOICE.

We dealt with consequences. Yes, we spent several years in near-poverty because it is VERY difficult to live on military pay--especially 22 years ago. Yes, things could have been much "easier" for us had we chosen a different route. I might be an Air Force officer like I'd planned. Pete might have been able to play for the high-falootin' military honor bands like he'd wanted to. We might be together, or we might not have ever seen each other again. Who's to know?

WHO CARES??

What I do know is that Pete and I have had a pretty good life, these last 23 years. We are proud of every single one of the children God blessed our family with, and we wouldn't trade a single one of them for an "easier" life. I also know that my jerk friend grew up to be a very bitter, cynical, mean-spirited man. He has no children--only cats. He's a professor of political history now. He has had what most would consider to be a pretty good life too. But I like mine better. I'm glad I didn't "just let him go live his life". I'm glad that God saved me from myself with the blessing of life Pete and I received through our choice to take liberties we should never have taken. Our son isn't a mistake. No child is ever a mistake. And the life I have now? It's better than any I could ever have dreamed up for myself as a 16-year-old.

Just the passing of another season ...

As I type this, I have three little people around me begging to dig out the winter clothing box, because they're cold. I received a teeny, sarcastic little reprimand from my physical therapist yesterday for being inappropriately dressed for the weather--I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, which I guess is just all wrong?! People are funny about the changing of seasons, especially when the season is changing from a sweltering summer to the cool days and nights of fall. True, the temperatures dropped quite literally 40 degrees in a matter of four days, and some of us are in a wee bit of climate shock, but we'll get used to it in a few days. Isn't that the way it always is with the changing of seasons?

This month brings a lot of changes for our family--but we're no strangers to change! In a few weeks' time BOTH of our adult children will have finally moved on to begin their lives with their new spouses. Jon and Meagan are working on getting their residence established up at Fort Campbell, while Kelsey will finally be able to move down to Pensacola with Derrick as he begins another (longer, this time) Army school. This means we will no longer have either of our oldest two children "available" to us anymore. Having all of our children present for a worship service in the same building is now going to be a once-a-year (at most) occurrence, and we will only be sitting around the same dinner table "regularly" at holidays.

I'm not sad. A little melancholy, because I'd sort of hoped that our children would settle close to "home" so we could enjoy their company, but I'm not sad. This is exactly what is supposed to happen. They grow up, marry, and move on to begin their own lives! Soon, Lord willing, we'll have announcements of grandchildren on the way as another generation begins. It's a bit shocking to consider what is ahead in the next couple of years, but it is really no different than any other season of life. The sudden changes do bring stun us a little, but as with the change of the summer to fall, it's something we'll get used to.

We always do.

Reality set in today.

I had one of those "lightning bulb" moments today. No brilliant ideas, no major epiphanies warranting major life-altering risks, but I was involved in a series of conversations today that made me realize that Pete and I are at that really odd point in our life together where we are reaping the consequences of our decision to reverse his vasectomy. In two hours' time, I helped my daughter-in-law to be finalize some frazzling and stressful plans for her wedding to my son this coming Saturday, and then learned that my oldest daughter has less than a month left here with us in Alabama before she "officially" leaves to join her husband following his graduation from Army advanced training.

By our 22nd wedding anniversary, Pete and I will have two married children, living in two different states, with our home somewhere in between. Our original little-family will cease to exist. No longer will we be able to expect to spend holidays with our son and oldest daughter. We now have to share. Don't get me wrong; I'm not sad about this in the slightest; this is exactly what we wanted for both of our children. We knew that we only get to hold on to them until they reach adulthood. We knew that all the mistakes we made as *really* young parents would be mistakes they would likely struggle with during their adolescence ... and they did. They rebelled; they tested limits; they looked to the world for things that the world ultimately could never give them. But now, today as we had real, adult conversations with our real-adult children, we realized we have reached the end of an era.

And it hit me like a brick ...

If we hadn't had that vasectomy reversal done, if we hadn't chosen to put our family size into God's hands, our hands-on parenting job would be over. Our nest would be empty! We would be "free" to do whatever we wanted to do. In all honesty, THAT was what made me sad. Not that I am tied down to these young girls for sixteen more years, but that our lives would be so much less interesting had we never been blessed with them! It may be odd to consider, but I couldn't help thinking that living "for me" would be so boring that I would drive myself batty! Sure, things would be calmer now; I could sleep in, garden to my heart's content, spend HOURS on the internet, keep a clean house ...

No thanks. I like where we are now. I like knowing that while Pete is away for his three-week business trips, I have five little someones keeping my mind and body busy all day, every day. I like the noise; I like the activity.

I am only 38 years old; I'm too young to live the life of a "retired" stay-at-home mom. Maybe after Kasey has graduated and all of the little girls have moved on to whatever God has planned for each of them, maybe THEN I'll be ready to sit back and quilt, follow Pete around the globe and sit in a hotel room for days on end while he works. Not now.

A twist on an annoying "tag"!

You know those horrid games that once a year some random person will play on you either via your email or Facebook, where you are "tagged" along with 25-or-so other people to list 25ish random things about yourself or answer a bunch of off-the-wall questions, then (of course) pass it on so you can torture tag 25 MORE people with the same "game"?

Yeah, well apparently it's that time of year again.  Normally if I'm tagged by someone who knows me pretty well, I'll either totally ignore the request or I'll (in a feeble attempt at consideration for THEIR time spent on such a monumental time-waster) list things that I know will make the other person laugh.  This time, though, well, the person who tagged me really doesn't know me all *that* well, and shoot ... I'm bored.  But this time, I'm switching things up a bit!  I'm taking the random out of it, and in a real, true effort to make the "real" me a little bit more obvious, I'm gonna do this MY way.  Hmm ... I guess that's Fact #1--I'm apparently a bit of a control freak?

Here's my take on it--I'm going to list not 25, not 30, but 37 things that make me happy.  Why 37?  Because that's how old I am this year.  Why things that make me happy?  Because THAT is how you understand what makes someone tick.  I'm not going to "tag" anyone else; I'm going to leave any participation in this little game completely voluntary--but you know what?  I'm actually, really, and truly interested in how people would answer this very same question!  If you want to, I'd love to have you play too!  So, if you make it through my list, feel free to comment with a link to your OWN list!  Okay?  Alrighty then--now here goes.

37 Things That Make Kris Happy ...
1. Devil's food cookies.  They're those little chocolate-covered circles of devil's food cake that have a thin layer of marshmallow under the chocolate coating.  I inherited my love for these little yummies from my Papaw (who I don't think ever told another soul that he had such an affinity for them) and I'm just so sad that I can't seem to find them anywhere anymore except in the low fat version (which we all know is NOT the real thing).
2. Big, fat, red roses.  Those big, deep-crimson blooms that fill up your entire hand.  Awesome.
3. Gardenia bushes.  My nose is tuned in to that scent every time I'm anywhere near them, and my memory immediately goes straight back to my Mamaw.
4. Waking up late on a Saturday morning with two or three little ones asleep between me and hubby--instant silent smiles shared across little blonde heads ... ahhh.
5. Having a cat curl up on my lap.
6. Freshly finished scrapbook pages.
7. Thin crust NY-style cheese pizza.  I have still yet to have a slice as yummy as the one we last had the night before our wedding, at New York Style Pizza in the shopping center at the corner of Jog and Lake Worth Roads.  One day ...
8. My hubby's homemade buttered popcorn.  He makes the BEST buttered popcorn.  Better than any movie theater!  I've watched him; I've done exactly the same things he does when I attempt to make it, but I can't recreate it.  I guess the secret ingredient really is love--and he's never hesitant or even huffy when I ask him to make up a batch.  Seriously--it can even make an Adam Sandler movie worth watching!
9. The beach.  Not sunbathing; not the skin-fest, but the actual sand-meets-ocean *beach*.  The sounds of the surf, the smells, the beauty in the horizon, the solitude even among the crowd, the sheer magnificence of God's creation.  Wow.
10. Snow-capped mountains.  More specifically, the Bavarian Alps.  I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to camp at their feet three times in my life.  Yet another grandiose display of the power found in the Master Artist's brush.
11. A baby's laughter.  Communication that needs no translation!
12. The smell of fresh-cut-grass.
13. Hershey's Special Dark chocolate bars dipped in Jif creamy peanut butter.
14. Seeing my grandmother's, my great-grandmother's, and my great-grandfather's Bibles on my shelf.  It is a heritage of faith that I hope and pray continues through my children.
15. Cinnamon Spice tea from Barnes & Noble's Starbucks.
16. The sight and sounds of my children playing together peacefully.
17. Philly cheesesteaks.
18. A phone call from an old friend that lasts altogether too long but is altogether too short.
19. Newly-opened Crayola crayons.
20. Being at home with my children--few sacrifices in this life are as rewarding!
21. Mamaw's carrot cake.
22. Freshly washed cloth diapers drying on the clothesline. 
23. York Peppermint Patties!!!
24. Seeing soldiers in formation. 
25. The scent of Jergen's lotion--the "original" sweet cherry almond fragrance.
26. Carvel ice cream cake. Maybe one of these years, my family will take the hints I've been dropping?
27. Homeschooling.  Everything about it makes me happy.  This could be a list completely by itself--the box of books arriving at the door, the stacks of papers, supplies, and folders........the whole experience of being the one teaching my children how to learn and love learning; it's such an amazing blessing that I thank God for every day!
28. Having a crying toddler bring me a boo-boo to kiss.
29. Five-year-old enthusiasm because she's just figured out how to curl her tongue!
30. Bubble baths in those long, deep German bathtubs!  OH how I miss those tubs!!!
31. Seeing God "show off" by providing for our needs--usually with a major flourish!
32. Gibson's BBQ
33. Time spent in fellowship with other Christians.  There truly is no finer company!
34. Comfy jeans.
35. Clean, crisp sheets.
36. Homecomings.
37. This--having our whole family, including its new "extension", all together.  We're not a perfect family, we can't get everyone smiling at the camera at the same time, the camera makes at least one (in this case, two) of us look thirty pounds heavier, and one of us is inevitably wearing something as offbeat as Shelby's Elmo slippers, but I wouldn't trade this family for anything this side of heaven!

Complicated Woman's Daybook

It's not Monday and there is NOTHING simple about my life right now. 

Not.  A.  Thing.

I have felt for the last few days as if my brain is playing a solo game of Rock, Paper, Scissors just to figure out what to do next.  Yes, having a set of grand plans does help time pass faster--especially when you have a deadline set for yourself to get all of it done in.  There is no way on this earth that I am going to be able to accomplish everything I have set before myself.  In fact, I don't think I could even do it with God's help.  Well, okay, maybe if the Lord Himself came down and moved a few boxes, sure.  But ME?  There just isn't enough of me.

That's a lesson I've not learned adequately, I fear.  Perhaps that is why I find myself gasping for breath under the weight of a to-do list that I've burdened my own self with?  I can't even organize a blog post, for crying out loud!  How about if I borrow the format from one of my standard Simple Woman's Daybooks?

What have I been wearing?  Anything that I can dig out of the pile that is clean.
What's it like outside?  The grass is taking over; it's beginning to resemble the African savannahs out there; in fact, I think I heard Simba roar at sunset!
From the kitchen?  Oh my...do NOT go in there.  You may fall into the dishes that don't fit into the dishwasher.
From the learning rooms?  Well, they're learning.  Working daily on math, working daily on reading; Morgan can even sound out a few street signs and Jamie was sorting 87 silly bands that she picked up from the schoolroom floor into groups of ten.  We're reading (thank you, Sonlight, for your "here, read THIS" schedule), but the structured, "this looks like school" lessons just aren't happening.  Thankfully, my kids thrive in the midst of chaos and I think they're learning *more*.  How is that possible?
On my mind?  Way too much.  My hubby's on my mind; my son in Afghanistan is on my mind (did I mention that he told me in a chat the other day that he wasn't sure he wanted to come home on R&R????); my oldest daughter's future is on my mind; STRESS is on my mind.
What am I reading?  I don't even remember.  That's probably not a good thing.

Life has gotten far too complicated lately.  Funny how getting TO the simple requires going through some seriously complex purging processes.  They are not particularly enjoyable processes, I'll say that.  And they are not processes that one should undertake lightly.  These purging processes require ALL of you.

All of me is very tired.  And lonely.  And mentally beaten-down.
I know where I need to go.

"Safe in the arms of Jesus, safe on His gentle breast; there by His love o'ertaken, sweetly my soul shall rest."

Picture thought?  How about this one?  No explanation neccessary--it is what it is.



Yikes.

I suppose I am a "hater".

I have often been on the receiving end of fiery criticism for my opinions about popular fiction, among other things.  Quite frequently, the argument the person I'm talking to will use is that it's "just" a story, and therefore harmless...or that since the reader isn't "participating" in it, somehow it's okay.

I'm sorry, but I just couldn't disagree more with this assumption.  Christians are called OUT of the world, to keep our garments "spotless".  If we are to be meditating on things that are holy, good, righteous, pure....I just can't see how one can justify filling the mind with such an obvious glorification of that which is evil.  And before anyone goes comparing Twilight or Harry Potter to the Narnia or Lord of the Rings series, PLEASE do your homework and read up on the allegorical intent in the fictional writings of C.S. Lewis and J.R. Tolkien! 

For the record, I used to be an avid Stephen King fan.  That was, until I realized exactly how seared my conscience was becoming with regard to evil.  It didn't bother me anymore; I started "accepting" foul language, and I found my mind searching for a more shocking, more frightening, more evil story.  I became numb to unrighteousness.  I tossed out my last King novel about 20 years ago and haven't missed any of the "excitement".  I look now for literature that challenges my mind to expand, and I find myself without a tatse for the filth I once filled myself with.  I have also become acutely aware of and disgusted with the books that are nothing short of toxic lining the shelves of the adolescent reading section of bookstores; wholesome literature has been replaced with horrendous pop fiction that fills the young mind with things that are abhorrent to God.  Just as I wouldn't allow my children to play with toxic chemicals (who cares if they get it on their hands, as long as they don't eat it?), I wouldn't want them "playing" with evil so intimately.  To be quite honest with you, I would rather have my children illiterate than to allow their minds to be filled with that junk with the justification that "Hey, at least they're reading"!  I believe the Bible has something to say (as always) about it....

“If your right eye makes you stumble, tear it out and throw it from you; for it is better for you to lose one of the parts of your body, than for your whole body to be thrown into hell."         Matthew 5:29

I came across this video on a friend's Facebook page, and while it's LONG, it's worth the time. 

One day...

One day I will be able to eat a bagel without sharing more than half of it with a little one who never wants to eat her OWN...just wants bite after bite of mine.

One day I will be able to take more than a minute and a half for a bathroom break without wondering what chaos is ensuing on the other side of the door.

One day I will be able to go to the grocery store and actually get everything on my entire list before having to leave because someone has had a meltdown.

One day I will be able to sit at a restaurant on Sunday afternoon without having ten people stop to ask me "all yours?" or comment on what they think my patience level is.

One day I will take a vacation with just my husband and not have to include something to occupy impatient and bored little people.

One day I will have "my life" back.  One day I will have an empty nest.  One day I will have the opportunity to live for *ME*.

I'm not in any hurry.

Is it really so shocking?

Not too many weeks ago I was shocked speechless by a completely unsolicited comment by a random walker-by in the post exchange food court, and this time...well, this comment is just really bothering me. Understand that I've heard "are they all yours?" probably two or three times a DAY when I've got all five of the little girls out in public, and I always answer that with a smile and "well they are all mine, but they're not ALL of mine, I've got two more!"; for the most part, I've only been met with a handful of quasi-negative comments. My girls (well, all of my kids, really, but the girls are the only ones left at home) are pretty well-behaved, and fairly polite in public, and as a result people's comments about the size of our brood are usually encouraging. So when I get a person who will literally stop in her tracks to be ugly toward us, it does catch me offguard.

The girls and I were just sitting there, minding our own business, waiting for Kelsey to get off of work, when an older-ish lady walked up to us and said to me, "Surely you're babysitting for someone, these CAN'T be all of your children!" I replied to her that no, I wasn't babysitting, and no, they weren't all of mine, that I had two more who weren't there, and as her jaw dropped, she just seemed to lose all of her decorum.

"YOU HAVE SEVEN KIDS????"
Yes, I have seven children.
"ARE YOU CRAZY????"
Yes, as a matter of fact, I am crazy. But crazy works for me.
"THAT'S THE CRAZIEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN...AND THEY'RE ALL GIRLS?????"
No, our oldest is a boy.
"I'D SHOOT MYSELF IF I HAD THAT MANY KIDS!!!!"

Silence.

I couldn't speak. Well, maybe I could have, but it probably would not have been pretty. Or Christian. Something (thank you, Mamaw, for that training...) told me that this was not a woman who wanted to engage in a conversation, she simply wanted to cause a scene--hence the yelling, catching the attention of everyone in the food court. Besides, my girls were there, and I really did NOT want to give them the impression that shock-and-awe displays warranted further attention, so I simply turned my head and went back to tending to my daughters. The lady rambled on for a few more minutes to herself and to Kelsey, who had just walked up, about how she was the oldest of nine and that having that many siblings made her determined not to have ANY children, that she got her tubes tied before she even got married. Kelsey's reply, however....both shocked and thrilled me. The only thing my eldest daughter said in response to this woman's verbal assualt on her family was:

"Well, every one of these girls is a blessing to our family, so it's a wonderful thing we have seven kids in our home."

Is it any wonder I couldn't speak? Shock from every side.

You know what? With kids like mine, I consider myself VERY blessed. I don't regret for one moment having more than the standard two children. Our life with our chaotic little seven-ring-circus is WONDERFUL.

I was browsing through the pictures I just uploaded onto my computer, and it hit me....all these goofy pictures reflect a life that few people are blessed to have. The zaniness my girls bring to our life is like a brilliant orange and pink sunset...God could cause the sun to set without any flair at all, without any color and without bringing any attention to it...but He chose every so often to give us a reminder that He is a master artist. I'm ever so thankful that my life is colored with so many crazy children.

You don't like it? Tough. Who asked you, anyway?

To those of you who look on larger families with disdain, you have my pity. It's a shame your life isn't as brilliantly colored. You might be a tad happier and less likely to try to make everyone else feel miserable!

"Just" the ten of us...

This picture was taken the day before Jon left for Afghanistan, at a park not too far from Fort Campbell. We'd gone up there early that Sunday to meet him and Chelsey at church, go out for lunch, and then spend the day together. It's one of those memories all of us will hold onto till we get to see him again in November.

Funny thing about this picture...I'm sure to the other folks around us that day, our entourage looked huge! Consider that we also had two others with us--Pete's father and his wife--so there were a total of twelve of us both at Golden Corral for lunch and then wandering around the park that afternoon. To us, though, it doesn't feel so "huge"; ten just feels like family. When I look back at pictures of our family when it was just four of us, I'm reminded just how positively tiny it looked...and incomplete.

Do we feel like our family is "complete" now, with seven children and the prospect of having more naturally not a possibility anymore? No, we don't. To be perfectly honest, both Pete and myself ache for an even larger family; we just knew that adding to our family naturally was not just dangerous for my health, it was a risk neither one of us wanted to take. Call that a lack of faith if you want, but it's a decision that was definitely made with much prayer and self-seeking. We know our motivations were right this time, and while we're "okay" with it, the prospect of not bearing anymore natural children does bother both of us. You know what? If God were to want to grow our family further via adoption, we'd both be thrilled! I'm sure we'd have to pick all of the grandparents up off of the floor...but children ARE a blessing, no matter how shocking their addition is to any family!

Our family is really nowhere near complete, I hope! By the end of next month, we will have two children who have graduated from high school and we know it is the natural course of things for them to strike out on their own and begin families of their own. It's not a sad thing for our "nest" to begin emptying--it's what is supposed to happen! However...as our nest empties, the nests of each of our children will, hopefully, begin filling up. I hope one day to need to "move" our dining room into the bonus room that is now the girls' bedroom! I hope one day we'll NEED a Duggar-sized table to seat all of our family members. It is my dream to have holidays that are just busting at the seams with sons-in-law, a daughter-in-law, and a ton of grandchildren! Oh...and it has been our hope and prayer for years to be able to have a church family that functions almost as a biological family--and we have that here finally!

So yes, we're actually making plans to extend our family to FAR more than "just the ten of us"! I hope that's God's plan for our family too!

Lessons Learned

I was thinking the other day that Pete's vasectomy reversal and the five children we've been blessed with following that reversal have given us a very unique set of circumstances--we really DO get to "do it over". I've often heard parents of teens or young adults talk about what they'd do differently if they had the chance to, and what's ironic is that MOST of them would have been stricter. I guess that's a sad fact of my generation--still trying to eek out from under the iron fists of the baby boomers, we went a direction that led us and our children down a path we'd have avoided had we known the outcome.

Well....I know that outcome, and I'm blessed with the awesome task of somehow correcting mistakes with the second "set" of children. Don't get me wrong; I don't think my older two children are hopelessly broken or that they're awful people. Quite the contrary. Both Jon and Kelsey are pretty good kids, now that we're past the "worst" of their rebellion (I hope). Problem is...somehow we missed the mark in training them how to be holy--and by "holy" I don't mean self-righteous Pharisees, but in the truest sense of the word--set apart for God's purposes. Unfortunately, giving in to many of the things that even our Christian parent-peers were doing with their own children has left our children blind to the fine line between black and white. I want to be sure that our younger children learn to detest the "gray area" just as much as the darkness. THAT is where we went "wrong".

I know I'm not going to earn the Mother of the Year award for any of this; I really couldn't care less about that. I just want to see my children grow up to love the things of God more than the things of this world. And it is not going to come easy to any of us. I can't sacrifice too much more than I already have with the first two--except my comfort. This is going to be hard work for me, and most of it is new territory, because I know of very few people who hold their children to higher standards than their worldly neighbors; most Christians, it's sad to say, are just like "everybody else" except they may not participate in the "truly" sinful stuff. Is it any wonder that a whole generation of children raised in the church are spiritual midgets without true conviction not only regarding doctrine but also conduct, thoughts, and what they worship?

What would God say about the quasi-idolatry of putting things, friends, "fitting in", and entertainment (yes, entertainment....look at what most youth groups around the country DO and you'll see what I'm talking about) before the true task of living God's purposes in our life? What would God say about how floppy most Christians' definition of idolatry is?

Pete and I have a growing list (based on the results we've seen with our older children and their peers) of things that we're doing differently with the younger girls. Listed by themselves, each thing would be considered a tyrannical abomination to most kids/teens.

I.

Don't.

Care.

From here on out, if it doesn't fulfill God's purpose for my children, it won't be happening. Sorry. My girls' lives will be far from "bland", I can assure you. They will have friends, as do their parents; they will have enjoyable activities; they will have everything they need. But as far as the "rest" goes.....

As for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.

An interesting life lesson? YAY!

When **I** was asked to watch the kiddos that we kept several months ago when they first arrived here till their dad got settled in (mom was in basic training) a couple of weeks ago, I was less than thrilled. First, it kind of rubbed me funny that they'd hired a live-in nanny so they could have child care round the clock...and yet they really just hired the first gullible person without truly knowing her character. It also rubbed me sideways that the mom felt the need to tell me (who she'd met minutes before) her life story and how horrible the whole situation was....all while standing in my kitchen tossing out ridiculous comments about how many kids we have and how they "figured out what caused that and fixed it". However, I'm a sucker for desperate situations, so I did something I thought would benefit several people--I volunteered Kelsey for the job of full-time babysitting for two weeks, at THEIR house (because Lord knows I'd have gone nuts with her wild trio in my house--I can handle chaos, but not children who scream bloody murder at the mere mention of the word "no" and who have no concept of boundaries or authority at all). Kelsey is saving up for a mission trip to Panama this summer, and the job would cover most of her expenses, plus the kids would have a well-trained babysitter!

I didn't anticipate the reward of having Kelsey learn some seriously valuable lessons in what real dysfunctional families look like! She made a little mention the night they hired her about how "cool" the mom was and how she was really easy to be around.....but that was a 17-year-old's front-page perspective. Lo and behold, when Kelsey saw that "cool" mom who could hang with the young gals in place as a wife and mother, the immaturity came pouring out like sweat in a sauna! Kelsey has never witnessed a wife verbally bashing her husband like she's seen the last week and a half, and she's absolutely floored at some of the comments that this "cool" mom makes. She also laments the fact that her babysitting job is made twice as difficult because the kids' bedrooms are off-limits to them (I don't really understand why, other than not wanting to clean them up) and they have only one room to play in--the living room--and all of their toys are in the garage, which right now is too chilly to play in!

Oh, the IRONY.....all of a sudden, Kelsey is coming home wanting her little sisters to hang all over her, because she MISSED them! And folks, she comes into our house of four little squealy girls just singing the praises of how QUIET it is here and how she is so glad Pete and I don't treat each other the way "cool" mom and her husband do!

HILARIOUS!!! (In a sad, sad, way, of course)

Ah, one more to chalk up to the lessons Mom never had to give her--yesterday, when Kelsey mentioned the new-to-us van upgrade (from my awesome Sienna to a postitively ginormous land-yacht 15-passenger Ford maxi-van) in conversation, "cool" mom did something a bit out of "cool" character--she "went off" about how crazy it is that a dual-income family like theirs can be struggling like they are with just three kids but a "HUGE" family with only one income can somehow manage to not just do fine, but thrive. Kelsey actually picked up on the fact that "cool" mom was bringing in a huge bag from their night-before shopping trip, feeding the kids a ton of prepackaged convenience foods, ordering take-out, and plunking the 5-year-old down in front of the X-Box and his new game so she could have a moment's peace while she was ranting about how bad off they were financially. Good catch, Kelsey!

Really, folks, big families are not all that awful. Sometimes, the peace of closeness is obvious to anyone who dares to look past the "noise" of kids playing together; putting things and material gain second to what makes life worthwhile exemplifies that contentment that Paul referred to as "great gain". I am SO GLAD that my kids are finally picking up on that!

Answering "THE" question

I've actually been asked about this topic (in person) several times in the last few months, so I decided I'd go ahead and blog about it. I'm not doing this to step on any toes, really. Just to get the 'splanation out there so the folks asking about it can read my "put together" thoughts. As I've stated before, I think much better when I'm writing than when I'm speaking.

Not too long ago, while perusing one of the discussion boards I piddle around at now and then, I came across a mom who was wondering how to explain to her children just why people were SO cruel with their comments about the size of their family. Her story wasn't the typical "Are they all yours?", no....this one took the cake. She'd gone to run errands with her five children, who were being well-behaved (not the standard post-office brats who can't seem to understand that public offices aren't playgrounds), and just the mere size of her brood aroused the ire of a man in the office. He resorted to shouting insults and suggesting very loudly that she should just "slit her throat and get it over with", that she must be psychotic and needed to be on medication. She calmly assured him that she did indeed LOVE the wonderful children that God had blessed their family with, but his tirade continued, to the amusement of several others in the office. Her children were terrified, but that didn't seem to deter the nastiness, and when she got home, she had to attempt to alleviate her 9-year-old's fears that their mother was one step away from insanity.

I've had some off-the-wall comments since our family size expanded past the 2.1-child "average", but that one...I'm not sure I'd have handled it as calmly as she did. What is WRONG with people? Nevermind that mothers don't seem to be enforcing the "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" rule anymore, this type of attitude goes straight to the core. Has our society truly rejected what God calls a blessing, and decided across-the-board that children are burdens to be avoided, insulted, and considered a "curse" when their arrival is unplanned by the parents?

By society's standards, what is the criteria for determining how many children each family should have? National averages? Seating arrangements in a vehicle (don't laugh, I've actually heard that one--"Don't have more children than your sportscar can hold")? How many bedrooms a house has and whether or not you'll still have space for that media room and an office? Social status? Are only the Brangelinas of the world allowed to have large families (nevermind they're not even MARRIED--he says they'll marry when "everyone" can)? Maybe it's your tax bracket or the size of your bank account. Is it the number of designer wardrobes you can afford and how many college degrees you are willing to finance?

It was actually that question that prompted us to reverse what we now consider to be a horrible mistake, although it took almost eight years of mental agony to get to that point. We'd not really even considered the attitude we'd taken toward children until the vasectomy had already been done. But almost immediately, a comment I'd only half paid attention to started echoing in my mind. A year before the vasectomy, when we announced our third despite-birth-control pregnancy, the only thing we could say was "Obviously God meant for us to have three children." The reply was "Well, I certainly hope He doesn't intend for you to have FOUR!" We lost that baby, and very quickly made the decision to end the possibility of having more "accidents". We weren't even really thinking about what we'd said regarding that third pregnancy being "obvious". It didn't really hit home until we realized we were feeling a twinge of heartache every time one of our friends announced a pregnancy by using the words "blessing from God". With each birth around us, the fact that maybe God had something in mind that we'd not even considered for our family smacked us firmly across both cheeks. Did we even believe they were a blessing? Or was the 'blessing' thing just a fluffy little euphemism that we attached to baby shower cards just as flippantly as people say "bundle of joy"? Is it true that they really are a BLESSING? A gift? Something that God WANTS us to have?

What if?

We have both known for a long time that we are the type of couple who does things differently. Neither of us has ever been "mainstream" people, but yet there we were, letting mainstream ideas form us and plan our life so we looked like, talked like, and lived like everyone else in the world. What if God wanted something different? Looking to God's Word, neither one of us could find anything in Scripture that spoke favorably of man (or woman, for that matter) plotting his own path--there is plenty speaking negatively of man's "plans", though. We also couldn't find anything that agreed with the world's anti-child view of family planning. It perplexed us to learn that until right around the beginning of the 20th century, the vast majority of the world's Bible-preaching churches (of just about all 'flavors') condemned the use of birth control, and people truly believed that God was the Author of ALL life--that each and every child born into every family was a blessing to be treasured. More horrifying was the knowledge that Planned Parenthood's founder is one of the most outspoken humanists of our time, and that "modern" birth control was used by feminists to promote the idea that a woman should have "more" than the life of a wife and mom. As if all of that wasn't enough, we then found out that the now widely-accepted birth control pill and IUD (as well as several other forms of hormonal contraception) use aborifacient--abortion-inducing--methods of "avoiding" pregnancy (that is, unless you believe that life begins at conception and not only when implantation occurs).

All of these things really began to eat at our hearts, and we were convicted to hand that portion of our lives back over to God. In November of 2001, we did just that--Pete's vasectomy was reversed. We didn't have the reversal in an effort to have as many babies as we could possibly fill our home with. We're not competing with the Duggars, I assure you--although Morgan and Jamie are fascinated by such a large, loving family when we watch them on TV. We had the reversal to surrender to the Lord a portion of our lives that we'd kept Him out of and told Him that we "knew better". It has meant adding four new faces to our family portrait, and in all honesty, we'd welcome ten more if that's what the Lord has in mind for our family before my body loses the ability to bear children safely. Why? Because we believe God when He says He opens and closes the womb. We don't have children because they're just some natural function of a biological event, we have children because God chooses to place each and every one of them in our family.

Do we judge people who don't do things the way we do? Heavens, no. Quite frankly, I'm a little too busy with my own bunch to worry about somebody else's convictions! Am I overwhelmed? Sometimes, but you know....I find myself far less overwhelmed than I was with just the first two, because my heart and my mind are in a different place now. I don't see my kids as burdens. I don't see them as financial liabilities or injustices against my own personal dreams. I see them as individual souls, to be raised up for God's service and aimed into the world to bring glory to Him.

Am I psychotic? Maybe...I'm sure I have my moments! I'm human, I'm not perfect, and I struggle with my own issues just like every one else in this world. Am I on medication? Well, that depends--does chocolate count?

A little perspective

This has been a week of changed plans! Yesterday morning, Pete called to tell me he needed me to do some emergency babysitting for a soldier who just arrived here on Tuesday. This poor guy did an entire move with his three young kids, while his wife is in basic training. As Kelsey helped me out with the 5, 2, and 8-month-old little ones, she got a good look at just why God intended for kids to have both a mother AND a father and why mamas are so important. I feel for this daddy--he's CLUELESS. Totally lost, and you can see the overwhelmed look in his face as he attempts to get himself signed in here at Redstone, get a house set up, get the oldest into school, look for daycare for the younger two, PLUS take care of all three of them when he's not working.

He was shocked that adding three more little ones to the mix didn't cause total chaos in our household. Poor guy!

I guess one of the most head-scratching realizations, however, came when he told us how much daycare will cost them--$1300 a month. Since I know military pay charts pretty well, I know that the amount they are going to be paying for daycare will be his wife's ENTIRE paycheck. The whole thing.

She is working, essentially, to put her kids in daycare. And it's not just any job, she is now a soldier in the most oft-deployed military in the world. I understand the desire to serve one's country but at what price? I just cannot fathom being away from an 8-month-old baby for SIX MONTHS. I can't imagine it. Kelsey and I have been eating this little baby girl up, and the boys--they are precious too, and of course they're all well cared-for by their dad, but goodness, they just NEED their mom!

It breaks my heart. I wish we could find a way to take care of them full-time. Hmm....it's just two more, right?

Does this mean I'm a grown-up now?

I just had my first official planning session with my grown son about the holidays. Not the usual "what are you going to be heartbroken if you don't get for Christmas", no...this was the real thing. Talking about what he wants to get his sisters for Christmas, what we're getting them, who's going where for Thanksgiving and Christmas, when he and his dad need to put in for leave, how many days they're taking off, who's driving which car....and how many more places we'll need to set for Thanksgiving because there are guys who aren't going home and who don't have anywhere else to go.

Next year, OUR house will be "home" and he'll be somewhere far away.

We're about to add a whole new dynamic to life. I suddenly feel very old.

"Mama said there'll be days like this..."

Every mother knows what I'm talking about. You wake up with a stiff and sore neck because you spent the entire night with the pillow wrapped around your head just trying to squelch the ear-piercing snores coming from your beloved, the kids all wake up "in a mood", fighting about every little thing that could potentially be fought about all day long, the coffee is too weak, you forget to take anything out for dinner, the two-year-old gets into literally everything that you have ever proclaimed "off limits" (spilling powdered baby formula all over the bathroom floor, "digging" in the coffee creamer, unrolling an entire roll of toilet paper, emptying the whole soap dispenser to wash her hands), your attempts at occupying the kids with art projects goes awry when you take one two-minute trip to the bathroom and the two-year-old paints herself, the kitchen table, and her now-screaming three-year-old sister's hair with finger paint (and then drips finger paint all the way down the carpeted hallway to come tell you "Mess, mama"), the four-year-old spills every single drink poured, no matter who the owner of the cup is, and the three-year-old spends the entire day picking up the cat (which, of course, you've told her umpteen bazillion times in the last three months NOT to do) and taking away every toy the two-year-old tries to play with.

Yesterday was one of those "Calgon, TAKE ME AWAY!!!" days for me. By 7pm, I was ready to run away. Thankfully, though, the little balls of mess and energy do go to bed. And thankfully, only ONE woke up coughing and crying in the middle of the night. It was just "one of those days".

Thing is, though, for some odd reason, once you have the third child, people become far less sympathetic. One of the weirdest things I've noticed is that mothers of "many" (whatever that means) are expected to NEVER have "days like that", and when we do, it's inevitably blamed on the number of children. "Bless your heart, you've just got your hands too full," or "Well, of course you're overwhelmed, there's SO MANY of them," is the typical response. Why is that? You know, I've really noticed that my inevitable awful days aren't really a reflection on the number of kids in the house, because I'd have "those days" even with just one child. Kids are kids. They need training...and the days when I completely lose control over everything that is going on around me is more of a reflection of ME--I lose control because I've failed in some aspect of training. I see that with my teenagers so much more as the days progress--their rebellion doesn't have to be considered "the norm", because that "norm" as society knows it is a relatively new development. It's a result of a very child-centered way of life; give the little guys everything their little hearts desire when they're teeny, and what on earth else could you expect but teens who expect to have that same treatment?

Maybe I'm just ranting and raving because I'm reaping the "rewards" of the new way of thinking with regard to child-rearing. It's days like yesterday when I really do wonder how moms like Michelle Duggar, Marilyn Boyer, and Teri Maxwell do it. But then, they did things MUCH differently when their children were younger.

Praise God, "those days" don't come in direct succession. I get to take a long, hot shower after the girls are in bed, spend some time in prayer and studying life's "owner's manual", and I can hope in a new day...one that looks more like this:

What weekend?

Weekend? We just had a weekend? I'm not so sure. I played the stereotypical Supermom (yeah, AS IF!) role on Saturday, changing diapers, making meals, doing the grocery shopping, clipping coupons, washing and folding four loads of laundry, doing dishes, and making not one but TWO dishes to take to potluck....all while caring for two preschoolers, a toddler, and a newborn and dodging the gloom and giggle fest that two teenage girls (only one is mine, of course) were having all day, while my hubby and son were at a football game. Where's my medal?

In all seriousness, it's really not as difficult as it looks typed out. Thankfully, the crises usually come one at a time. Except, of course, for times like this morning, when I had Shelby screaming bloody murder because while I was changing her diaper, Dani comes in saying "eww, mama, EWW!" and pointing to the poo stream dripping down her leg and trailing behind her on the carpet. Lesson number 1 for Shelby--sometimes a bottle has to wait!

This was a weekend to truly focus on the blessings in life, even through the trials. I could have spent the entire day Saturday moping about being left at home AGAIN for the fourth weekend in a row and stewing about how all of the weekend work really does fall on me while Pete goes out and has fun. I could have wallowed in self-pity about the fact that moving back to the US meant we lost $1000 from Pete's pay every month and it took the physical act of deferring a car payment (ugh, just the very thought of it makes me queasy...) to the first of October so we can get our payments evened out and not have to pay all the bills in one pay period. I could have whined and chosen to spend the weekend sitting on my couch because I seriously do NOT feel good--and it really hurts like the dickens for me to even talk. I could have burst into tears when the mail arrived on Saturday...containing two bills--a $250 vet bill for the day Cleo died, and a $850 hospital bill that we never saw coming because we've never once in 19 years had to pay a cost share for any of our medical care.

I could have. But I didn't. THAT, my friends, is what keeps me sane. Not some superhuman amount of patience or militant organization, but a conscious choice to dwell on the blessings. It was a long, hard road, learning to refocus. It took years of tears, marital discord, and even a short bout with antidepressants, but I finally got my thoughts straight.

This weekend, through the trials, I chose to see that even though I spent most of the day 'alone' (with all these people in the house, I'm never truly alone) bearing the brunt of the household maintenance and the extraneous tasks that I really needed Pete's help with, I have a roof over my head, a wonderful house to care for, WAY too many clothes for all of our backs, food in the fridge, and six healthy children. The finances--well, even though we STILL have to be careful with our money for the next few weeks, we'll more than "make it", even if the idea of a deferred payment (it's just being deferred for two weeks, I keep reminding myself of that!) does make my knees go all wobbly. We were blessed with enough food during the week after Shelby's birth that I was able to make those two dishes for potluck with frozen leftovers, and when we added $10 of groceries to it, we ended up taking a pot of blackeye peas, a mexican casserole, a seven-layer salad, a big jug of tea, and two cakes! Not bad. Through all of the mess, I had to grin that I don't have to run out and replace a dwindling diaper stock while Dani battles this "teething diaper" thing, because I have a closet full of cloth diapers that wash up nice and clean to be used no matter how long this lasts (and it's going on two weeks already). My throat may be screaming in pain (even though I don't want to make a sound), but the seven hours spent at the church building yesterday for a revival, potluck, and area-wide youth devo were pain well spent! Those two bills in the mail....well, they're painful. But it's not going to bankrupt us to make payments and pay them off. And I'm STILL thankful that we didn't have to pay the full $16,000 hospital bill!

Oh, and through it all, I did get to see that my little $100 digital camera takes pretty good pictures, even from the nosebleed seats of Bryant Denny Stadium! I am thrilled (albeit a wee bit jealous) that Pete finally got to attend a Bama game. It's something he's wanted to do for a loooooooong time, and it was FREE! He and Jon had a blast, and of course, Alabama wiped the field with Western Kentucky! ROLL TIDE!!!!


Check it out, a picture that has me in it! No, this isn't the greatest picture of me OR Shelby, but it's the only one I've got of us since she was born! She's getting pretty good at holding that wobbly head up, but that flash....it makes a girl's eyes run for cover!

The circle of life!

I can almost hear Elton John singing in the background, can't you? Visions of Simba and Mufassa watching the sunset on the savannah...combined with the new sight of my hubby sitting on the couch patting our newborn while our son dons a uniform to go to work....wow.

What an odd weekend that was! Last weekend, we had four children at home, but this past Saturday, we finally had all SIX, and it really was a bit surreal. Pete and I had never imagined in our wildest dreams that we'd have a family this size, but we are just so thankful that we've been blessed with each and every one of them. Even with all their "issues". Sleepless nights (up with the newborns AND worrying about the teens), potty training, temper tantrums, colic, picky eaters, nitro-powered ADHD flurries of motion and endless activity, more temper tantrums, sibling squabbles, snotty noses, lost hairbows and stepped-on Lego blocks; I'll take all of it a hundred times over. I wouldn't trade this life for anything.

As "easy" as it was to transition into life with a newborn again, we never really saw this new phase of life coming as quickly as it did. We fully expected to have Jon still at home when this baby came into the world, but he (and the recruiter) had other plans. The "kid" we picked up from the airport on Saturday was no child. Our oldest is now a man, and that is, to say the least, a bit WEIRD. He stands taller, walks with a purpose, and has no time for laziness anymore. He can hold his own in real, adult conversations. He spent several hours discussing online banking, cell phone plans, and car insurance with his dad. Gone is the talk of doing something reckless for the sake of adrenaline rushes. This is a young man who understands how to savor life--not to mention a really good Reuben sandwich! Much different from the boy we saw walk away from us at the airport in Frankfurt two and a half months ago.

Pete had one of "those" moments yesterday too, so it wasn't just me ruminating the oddities of our new life with an adult child. After taking Jon to the barracks to sign in and get set up here, on his own and apart from the "home" he's known for the last eighteen years, Pete walked back in the front door noting how life had finally come full circle for us. You see, eighteen years and one month ago, a gangly Private First Class arrived in Huntsville to begin training here on Redstone Arsenal. A month later, his wife and four-month-old son moved up from Florida to be with him. Now Pete is an instructor at that same school, and the four-month-old baby? Well...take a look:

What day is it?

It's been a while since I've had a calendar on my wall. Shoot, it's been a while since I've had ANYTHING on my wall! But anyway....I cannot believe I actually had to pick up my DayRunner today and purposely count out what day it was just to know what on earth I'm supposed to be doing this week! Moving makes your brain turn to mush, and late pregnancy tends to exacerbate the problem, that's for sure. But for heaven's sake, don't try to PLAN anything during weeks like this!

Jon is more than halfway through basic training, and from the sound of his letters, he's got this military thing down to a "t" already...upset that the doofuses are put in charge when the hard-chargers and uber-motivated soldiers have to stand back and just take orders like good little boys. Welcome to real life, my boy! I must hear things like that at least once a month from his dad, and I've heard it for YEARS from all the enlisted guys we've ever known. At any rate, though, Jon is doing well, he's just homesick and in need of a shower, air conditioning (he wasn't quite prepared for an Oklahoma summer in full "battle rattle"!), and some home cooking. All the typical stuff. We got the graduation announcement newsletter from his Commander today, and while it would be wonderful to be able to plan a trip out West to see him graduate, the whole works hinges on someone who isn't but a hair over five pounds right now. Amazing how someone so SMALL who hasn't even taken a single breath can control so much of the immediate universe!

Stefani is due on the 31st of August, but we will meet her MUCH sooner than that. I finally got in to see an OB on Monday after being hem-hawed around with at the base clinic (they didn't quite grasp the, um, pressing NEED I had to see a doctor as soon as we got here, so I got "the first appointment we have"), and as I suspected, my blood pressure is elevated. A week ahead of what is normal for me. Usually, I start seeing elevated BP's around 34 weeks, but this time it reared its ugly head at 33 weeks; no doubt thanks to some of the added stress and strain of moving. After almost two hours of trying to decipher my German OB records (THAT was a laugh...thankfully the doctor and nurses found humor in it too) and redoing most of the paperwork and "intake" stuff that is done in the first trimester, my new OB decided a very thorough ultrasound was in order.

All's well with the wee one. Not so with me, but I already saw that coming. Thankfully, now there aren't any of the classic pre-eclampsia symptoms like swelling, frequent headaches, spotted vision, and protein in the urine, but I know it's all on its way in short order. Especially considering that I can't truly "slow down" and do full bedrest like I would normally be able to do at this stage of the game. But the doctor knows that, he is understanding, and is taking into account all that is going on in life right now. Thank GOD for good doctors, they don't realize how much they can de-fuse a stressful situation!

Interestingly, the baby is measuring a full week ahead of what she *should* be in development, so the doctor is reassured that an early delivery won't be as problematic a few weeks (if we make it that far) early as it would if she were right on track gestationally or even a bit behind. She's actually measured a full week ahead for almost four full months now, but *my* measurements are still on track with my due date, so none of the dates are going to change. HOWEVER....I know pre-eclampsia doesn't reverse itself, and there is no "cure" other than delivery, so already at my first doctor's appointment, we were discussing delivery. This time around, thankfully, I have a doctor who doesn't want to toy with the idea of "trying" to have a normal delivery. He is taking my past experiences into account, paying attention to my concerns, and he's agreeing with me that this time around, a planned c-section is the safer choice. No dates yet, we're going to try to wait as long as possible, but he mentioned being surprised if we get another four weeks out of this pregnancy. Me too.

So yes, Jon, you will be beaten "home" by your newborn baby sister. By how much? We shall see. Maybe a week, maybe two, maybe just a couple of days!