a cure

I probably won't have time to come to this space again until Monday, but I wanted to report some progress on dealing with my "rushing around" disease.

Yesterday and today, I have taken one of my children aside every few hours for a cuddle and an ear nuzzling.  I've also whispered my forever love into their waiting ears.  A few tickles and giggles were shared too.

And you know what?  A calm and lightness has descended upon us.

Thank you, Lord, for the diagnosis, and for the cure.  My heart swells with gratitude.

to have and to hold

My heart swells as I look at these.  I couldn't be any more grateful that these precious ones call me Mommy.  They are little rascals, yes.  Active, restless, sometimes overtired, sometimes argumentative.  But brilliant too, each in their own ways.  Emily Rose loves to call her favorite foods "delectible".  Daniel wants me to read out of non-fiction animal science books endlessly.  Timothy spent half of his short birthday party last night having Uncle David quiz him on square roots and multiplication.  Square roots at six years old?

But when I look at them on the screen right this minute (it's 10:00 p.m.), do you know what I'm mostly feeling?  Regret. Regret that I didn't slow down enough to take each of them in my arms today, and love on them and whisper softly to them about how much they mean to me.  I did this only with Anna, my nursling.  She gets the best of me these days.  Our nursing relationship keeps us bonded.  Thank the Lord for that!

When you've looked at your sweet children in photos at the end of a long day, isn't that what you most wish you had done?  I know a yearning to slow down is universal among moms.  And I think most moms feel they fail at slowing down, on most days.  For truly, when we slow down, we get behind on something.  And being behind raises everyone's stress level.  No one wants to dig through large laundry baskets for socks and underwear.  Or have lunch without bread.  Or take a bath without a fresh towel.  Everyone appreciates our diligence, but not our hastiness, or our lack of patience.  Even in our haste, we rarely get even halfway through our to-do lists.

It was a busy day--a homeschooling playdate, for which I made cupcakes this morning.  Followed by a trip to the bank, to the dollar store, and then home to make more cupcakes for AWANA.  I was running all day to meet deadlines.  The homeschooling and AWANA events themselves, I didn't attend, due to Anna's naps and some late afternoon fussiness.  Daddy gladly stepped in, rather than being left with the job of soothing Anna.

Mostly, today's busyness was brought on by myself, by offering last week to bring birthday cupcakes to the playdate and to AWANA.  My children were very excited, and so happy that I did it, but it cost me.

I was not the gentle, quiet-spirited mom I wanted to be.  I was not patient with diaper after diaper, changed at the most inconvenient times.  Or with Timothy, who wanted me to play his new Pay Day board game, even though it was an hour before AWANA and I still had more baking to do.  Or with Daniel, my non-medicated ADHD child, who climbs the walls and buzzes around in his frenzied, highly-strung, me-first way.  He is the most helpful, which seems a contradiction, I know.  He loves to help in the kitchen and with special projects--a quality which on less busy days I find endearing.  But not today.  Today, I let it annoy.

I guess I'm most patient with Anna, even though she's into every cupboard and drawer, distributing the contents for me to pick up, in my spare time.  She needs to explore so she can learn; I try not to confine her unless absolutely necessary.  At eleven months, her exploring hands and her curiosity are her best teachers. Yes, that is an electrical device in her hands.  The mixer, to be exact.  She was really happy to find that baby in my cupboard.

I have no answers for this conundrum of slowing down, while still meeting everyone's physical needs.  I only know that when I look at these photos, I want to hold my babies forever, just as they are right now.  Every day with them is perfect...blessed.

Oh, Lord, how I want to convey that to them!  For them to know the depths of my love for them.  For them to know how much I dearly love having them in my midst.

I fear I'm too imperfect to change.  I'm counting on you, Father, to convey it supernaturally.  Cover this conundrum with your grace, and help each mother to end her days satisfied.  Not only with her kids, but with herself.

Perspective on Parenting

I just quickly browsed an article detailing that authorities found the baby who was recently reported missing.  She was hidden under a bed in the couple's home--doing well, despite having been there for five days.  A miracle.  Officers and their wives were so relieved that they all cried, upon hearing the good news.

It appears the perpetrators probably murdered another child ten years earlier, and also severely abused a daughter, who was subsequently taken away from them.  The child missing for 10 years was never found, and no one was indicted.

Suddenly, allowing my kids too much Trick R Treat candy doesn't seem like bad parenting.  Either does having "game day" instead of regular school.  And it really wasn't so awful that I skipped their baths last night, having reached my maximum stress level before bath time.

I'm not patting myself on the back or anything.  Just thanking God, and realizing that my kids are well loved.

diversity in one family

Personalities.  It's amazing how varied they can be in the same family.

Timothy:  Vomited for over 24 hours with nary a complaint.  He suffered in silence--his mood unaffected.

Rosey:  Started with a fever in the middle of the night.  Smiled at me as I soothed her.  This morning, in her big-girl, helpful way, she made a point of telling me, goodnaturedly "I've got my bowl, Mommy."  (Mommy requires that everyone walk around with a bowl when vomit is on the horizon.)

Daniel:  Started with a fever and one vomiting incident in the middle of the night.  I went in to help him, and he offered in a loud voice, "I'm going to die!  I can barely move!"  After several other demands and grouchy utterances, he came up with, "Will I be able to watch TV like Timmy did?  But the couch isn't big enough for both of us!  Can I pick the movie?"

I stand in awe of their uniqueness, and sometimes feel overwhelmed while trying to meet their diverse needs.  Diversity is beautiful, however.  God's design is flawless.

doggy daycare

Late this afternoon Daniel and Timothy decided to take two stuffed dogs and put leashes around them (white string).  I guess they're desperate for "real" pets?  The salamander (as big as my index finger), toad, frog, water snail, and caterpillars don't count, I suppose?

Timothy:  "Daniel, if we're going to take care of dogs, then we'll have to have a schedule."

Timothy:  (A few minutes later) "Mommy, I need you to make me a chart on this piece of paper.  I need to write a schedule that goes from 6 to 9:30.  I just want the o'clocks and the thirties."

So Momma, much amused, took a ruler and wrote out one-inch lines for all the :00 (o'clocks) and the :30 (thirties), spanning from 6:00 a.m. to 9:30 p.m., using both sides of a piece of construction paper.

I then dressed the girls for outdoor play and headed to the backyard.  Timothy, wanting help with spelling for his schedule, accompanied us and sat at a picnic table, sounding out his words and slaving away on this schedule.  I could tell he got this idea from the schedule I have posted in the hallway, which goes from 6 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.

The whole time he worked (about 35 minutes), I marveled at his attention span! He's not six until next month!

Here is his masterpiece.  I have half a mind to frame it.  Yes, I find it that adorable.  You have to imagine his work, painstakingly written in mixed lower and upper-case letters, with some letters backwards.  Just adorable.   During the afternoon part of the schedule he ran out of ideas, I suspect.  He told me that dogs need a lot of playtime and naptime.  :)

make bed
dressed
breakfast
walk
play
trick
spin
jump
lunch
nap
snack
tv
play
play
play
nap
play
nap
nap
nap
play
snack
play
play
nap
play
eta (eat)
but (bath)
slep(sleep)

glitches

Oh, how I loved my new sleep schedule!  Life was seeming so much like a breeze.  Okay, well...not really a breeze--just a relative breeze.  But, alas, it's been thwarted by my problematic sleeper, Anna Grace.  She is apparently getting a third tooth, although I don't feel anything actually coming through.  She's been waking every thirty minutes or so in the early morning, which means I can't leave the bed to get my shower, do devotions, or complete any chores.  I am fearful of her crawling off the edge of the bed, looking for Mommy.  Transferring her to the crib that time of the morning just wakes her up.

Another glitch is that Daddy either studies late into the night, or works late into the night.  Having Anna wake him up frequently after he's just gotten into a deep sleep isn't kind.

I'm very disappointed with these glitches. Now that I've tasted the peace and order that flow from actually completing necessary tasks, uninterrupted, I feel off balance and cranky.  I miss that smooth-sailing start.

 Anna and I still get up before the older kids by an hour, and that helps some.  I can start laundry, feed Anna cereal, straighten up the living room and playroom, or look at a lesson plan or two.  But I can't get my shower until Daniel comes out at 7 and can keep Anna company.   Moreover, all the children are up by the time my shower is complete, and they all want a piece of me--making it frustrating to try to get dressed to shoes, put on lipstick and mascara, blowdry my bangs, and put scrunching product on my wet permed hair--to be combed out later.  I do all this hygiene business while trying to keep the troops quiet so Daddy can stay asleep.  Believe me, this scene is anything but relaxing.

There is peace in knowing that I'm getting healthier sleep, that I've kicked my computer-screen addiction, and that I'm getting some special time with Anna, who is pretty independent (as babies go).  She loves to walk around and play with her toys in the living room, which gets blocked off to become her own special, large playroom--devoid of choking hazards.  She can see me in the dining room doing laundry, so she is content while I work for a bit.  I recite nursery rhymes to her while I start the laundry and fix her cereal.

I love nursing babies--including night nursing--and I hate cry-it-out techniques.  So for now, I'll settle for some continued, somewhat-controlled chaos.  Having a cuddly baby in my bed gives me a unique peace and joy--an irreplaceable gift.

By this time next year, she should be sleeping through the night.  And 4 a.m. hot chocolate--enjoyed, not gulped--will be mine.

Harvest Photos

Here is my sweet Emily Rose, in her "buteful" dress--found at a thrift store.

Timothy is giving sister a congratulatory hug.  She gave up her binky the day before this was taken.

We tried to capture the children's excitement about their successful gardening venture!  This year, the Lord must have spoken to the bees about doing their part.  LOL  We had a better yield.  I love that gardening--something really so simple--can put such delight into their little souls.  It was a holiday-like feel, as we gathered the harvest together and took these photos.  

g

As I look at these, I am filled to the brim with joy at having the privilege of parenting with my honey.  He's not always patient.  His face contorts in aggravation frequently, but his involvement is steadfast--his commitment unwavering.  He puts his time and energy into these precious children, like no man I've ever met.  Thank you, God, for all of them.  And thank you for the blessing of a yard.

May you abundantly bless, compensating richly, the children who must be raised with no yard to call their own.

Emily's mountain

Emily Rose has been busy of late. She is climbing a steep, rugged mountain, of sorts. You see, since the age of 6 months old, she has fallen asleep with the help of her security blanket, AND her binky. Confined to her crib only, the pacifier was never a cause for worry. Middle-of-the-night wakings never resulted in us having to get up and find the binky, which would inevitably end up on the floor. I surmised that she used it on average a total of thirty minutes per day, between her nap and bedtime.

Lately, I noticed she was asking for it when she got hurt, and when we had to speak to her with a firm tone. Experts recommend that pacifiers only be used for sleeping, and that they be given up by three-years-old. I decided she needed to give it up now; for the first time the addiction was getting out of control.

A few hours before a recent nap, I mentioned that her binky was lost. Further, I informed her that because binkies were actually for babies, it was time for her to say goodbye to her binky. She was, after all, a big girl now. My sweet Emily Rose always agrees that, yes, she is a big girl. I ended with, "So is that okay with you, Rose? Can you say goodbye to your binky now?"

"No, Mommy. I need my binky." She then went on with her play. I reminded her again, about thirty-minutes later, that she was going to take her nap without her binky. She didn't respond, but just kept on playing.

Fast forward to naptime. I went through the naptime routine, then stuck around to aid in the transition a bit. She tossed and turned, crying over and over, "My binky, my binky!" Eventually, she even tossed a soft doll at me, in frustration.

But the whole affair lasted only forty minutes. We prayed together for help from Jesus, many times. I stayed for the first twenty, and she toughed out another twenty minutes, before falling asleep on her own. Everyone in the family did happy dances for her, after this hard-fought nap. Except Daddy. He is too cool for happy dances, you know.

I was thrilled, I tell you. My fear was that giving up the binky would mean no more naps. But God knows my needs right now.

Four consecutive times she has successfully fallen asleep without her binky. After two times, we made her a goodbye-binky cake. After the fourth time, we celebrated with ice cream cones. And each time, there were more happy dances, in which the boys and Anna were eager to participate. During these happy dances, Emily would jump up, with her hands in the air, and proclaim, "Imma BIG girl now!" This is a familiar little dance. My sweet girl does it after every successful potty trip, and after she dresses herself or puts on her shoes. It will surely be one of my most powerful memories, as I look back on my early years with this blessing of a daughter. I still have to pinch myself over the fact that I actually HAVE daughters.

I am very proud of my sweet Emily Rose. That steep, jagged mountain has been met with strength and grace. The difficulty of her task was never lost on me.

Bittersweet it is, for Momma. Her security blanket--Emily's, not mine :)--no longer holds the same place in her heart, in the absence of her binky. They worked together these many months to comfort her little soul; rubbing on the satin tag of her blanket somehow isn't the same now. And when I check on her, I no longer see that precious blanket tucked near her face. Oh, how that hurts!

Daniel's special bunny was not given up until last year, at age six. And here my Emily Rose is going to give up her blanket, I fear, at age 2.5. Timothy's security was always just the breast, which he enjoyed as a sleep aid before bed and nap, for 2.5 years. He used it as a sleep aid in the middle of the night for a full two years. I don't know quite how I survived that, but it is a very distant memory now. The cruelty my Momma heart must endure! I don't care for distant memories, thank you very much. As much as a clean, orderly house and garden are alluring, my impending empty nest is not.

My rugged mountain is taking steps like these, to let my children go--coaxing them toward adulthood. I think Momma is having the harder time. She's asking for strength and grace too.

It's all good

That lull in the action I spoke of a few days ago? Short-lived. Anna Grace had a day and a half off from teething. My beloved baby is back to biting her crib rail, her knuckles, her toys, and the breast that nourishes her. Still, playtime is unaffected; she continues to practice her standing-up balancing act. She even took one step forward, before falling. I watched her face for frustration. None; there was only excitement displayed on her beautiful, porcelain face. She simply got back up and tried again, and again, and again. I stand amazed at her physical capabilities! Now if she would only babble more! My children all favored physical feats over language development. Is it that hyper-active gene pool?

Sleep is once again hard for Anna to come by. Momma's day is taken up with getting her to sleep, or helping her go back to sleep. In between, there is a load of laundry done, a sandwich made, a drink poured, a hug given, a dance danced, or a spilled drink wiped up. It's all good..all rich. Yes, I have resorted to Tylenol for the teething--for her not me. LOL It helps some.

And the homeschool planning? Exactly two hours have been painstakingly carved out for this endeavor. Anna's teething situation has prevented me from having additional blocks of time, thus far. And yet, I am relaxed. When called by God to do something, failure isn't possible, so long as we follow His lead.

My task later today is to use the computer to design a homeschooling prayer journal. That must be first priority, lest my teaching load start to overwhelm. For not only must I formally teach the boys, but Emily Rose needs extra storytime, more singing, and color, number, shape, and phonics work. Anna Grace needs vocabulary, singing and rhyme time. Homeschooling literally starts at the birth of each child, and continues until they pack up their clunkers for college.

Incidentally, I never drank in college, nor did I run with anyone who drank. And yet these binge-drinking news stories have me petrified about sending my kids to college! How does one send them off, with such danger lurking? Daniel is careful...even timid and anxious; about him, I need not be concerned. It's Timothy and Rose I'll worry about.

Anyhow, the future is already being prayed about. It pays sometimes to be a worrier. Every friendship, every courtship, every spouse, every marriage...even the purity and fertility of each child--I've got it all covered. My nervousness is good for something after all.

Now back to that journal I'll design tonight; it will guide me through daily prayer for the learning needs of each child. With such a tool, their minds will definitely get filled this year--not from me, but from Him, through me.

Anna Grace had another toe prick for her iron level yesterday. After 3.5 weeks of iron-food treatment, her level went from 8.9 to 9.5--despite her six-day virus. It is common for illnesses to temporarily lower hemoglobin levels. A chart I consulted indicated that for a nine-month-old baby, a hemoglobin level of less than 10 is considered anemic. Anna will be nine months in two weeks. She is gaining ground anyway, and will be tested again in October.

out of my own heart

I really loved this post on parenting. Every bit is straight out of my own heart.

My Anna Grace and her bout of teething is kicking my behind good. She's running a temperature and struggling to nurse and waking us up every hour or so. Zombie city around here. I really needed this post this morning. What a great blog!

farther-reaching

Anna Grace slept a little longer this morning. Sleeping alongside me, she woke at 5:20 a.m. I nursed her, hoping she would drift off again, as in days of old. But no. Instead, she used my head to pull up on. Getting the message, I put her in her crib, thinking she would try some cruising steps. But guess what? She laid down and fell asleep! My heart sang! I laid my exhausted head down and actually SMILED myself to sleep.

She woke again at 6:45 a.m., after which I nursed her again, hoping for the same magic. But no, she wanted to play. 6:45 is respectable for a baby, so we went out to the living room.

Come naptime, it was more of the same hyperactive business--pulling up in the crib, cruising--anything but lying down. I gave it twenty minutes, then held her down gently in my bed, waiting for her will to weaken. Lying next to me, in the spoon position I forced her into, she finally relaxed and drifted off. I watched the clock, thinking after twenty minutes I would try transferring her to her crib. The house, as you can imagine after three days of fighting Anna for naps, was beyond disheveled. The list of has-to-be-dones was long.

But instead of attending to the list, I allowed myself to be charmed by her smell, her oh-so-soft skin, her even breathing. I came to my senses, and counted myself blessed to have such a babe in my arms for an hour, while Daddy read his computer textbook outside, and the other children enjoyed water play.

The house is still disheveled, but God answered yesterday's prayer. Today I made the most of my time with these precious children. Even if I had successfully transferred Anna to her crib and used the time to tidy up a bit, the tidiness wouldn't have lasted till evening.

But the memory of my sweet sleeping babe--my last babe--spooned against me on a pleasant summer day? THAT is a keeper. The prayers uttered about her future, spoken in my mind whilst she lay in my protective arms, will impact her far more than a slightly tidier house ever will.

Lord, help me utilize more of these farther-reaching parenting opportunities. And.....a house fairy would be nice too. Just sayin'.

My Dear Emily Rose,

Today you did the sweetest thing. If there were a meter measuring my love for you moment by moment, it would have shot through the roof at this. You were on the floor with the baby and Mommy, playing. Anna Grace started fussing, so you went over to her, tried to get her on your lap, and proceeded to lift up your dress and "nurse her". You smiled up at me, as though to say, "It's okay, Mommy. I'm taking care of her."

Then, a little later, when Mommy was on the couch nursing Anna, Anna kept getting on and off the breast repeatedly. She was interested in the swaying trees outside the window; it was a windy day. You wanted to help Mommy so you kept turning Anna's head back to the breast. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to mind the interference.

Two-year-olds don't come more active than you, My Love! And they also don't come any sweeter.

All My Love,
Mommy

An Exchange

You know your math-loving five-year-old is under the influence of the Holy Spirit when you have this exchange:

Mommy: "Timmy, we're going to a church event. Time to get changed."

Timothy: "What time do we have to be there?"

Mommy: "Four o'clock."

Timothy: "But we can't!" That's what time Cyberchase is on!"

Timothy: Ten seconds later - "Oh, but Jesus is more important than the TV. I know that."

We make parenting mistakes frequently--especially in the area of saying too much around the kids about our stressers. Learning to control the tongue is the hardest thing most of us have to deal with, at least in the area of self-control. It's so nice to be reminded that God's grace is always there--making the best of our imperfect parenting efforts.

I guess these guys will turn out fine after all.

When You're Two

Friends, I am going insane trying to figure out my two-year-old these days! Last night I went to bed at 11:30 p.m. I promptly fell asleep nursing Anna. Don was at work, and the other three children were asleep in their beds. Or so I thought.

Around 12:45 a.m., Emily Rose wakes me while crawling into my bed. Doesn't say a word--just climbs in and starts fiddling with her security blanket. She was looking for the blanket's satin tag, which she likes to stroke to help her fall asleep.

I decided it was best to say nothing for the time being, so that I could get the baby into her crib without Emily waking her.

Don arrived home soon after this, and he carried Emily back to bed. I then put the baby into her crib and went in to see what was up with Emily. She hadn't previously been a night waker...or at least when she had a crib, we saw no evidence that she was waking to this extent at night. I hadn't locked her door before I went to bed; I planned to be up before her the next morning. Little did I know that her house wandering would include middle-of-the-night escapades.

Don and I discovered--after giving her a lecture and tucking her in--that she had been to the playroom, and had gotten herself a sucker, which she had taken a couple of licks from and then left on the queen bed in her room...sticking to the comforter.

While in the kitchen, she'd tried to put a straw into a juice box, but failed...spilled juice was a clue. Part of me wanted to smile, as I looked at the evidence of her grown-up escapade. I walked all around the house, wandering what surprises I would find. Nothing else looked suspect..this time. Too bad she hadn't thought to put in a load of laundry for me. LOL

I still don't like the thought of locking her door. What if she might have to vomit in the middle of the night (no, she isn't sick, but these things often come on at night), or have some other need for which she would want me? It just seems so risky to lock a child in a room while Mommy and Daddy sleep. We have air filters running in all the bedrooms, so the house isn't silent. The filters drown out some noise, making it hard to hear subtle sounds. But the filters sure help when there is a family history of hay fever, indoor allergy, and eczema.

I've learned that when young children wake in the middle of the night, they often assume it's morning--hence, the getting up and walking around. What's strange to me is that this very independent young lady is the same young lady who has developed a second-stage fear of the church nursery. She wants her Momma. She doesn't want to be left behind when I go to the store, or to the bank, or anywhere--unless there is outdoor water play on the agenda and Daddy is willing to supervise. Otherwise, she likes Momma around. And when I come home from these short errands, she runs into my arms, all smiles, and says, "Mommy! Mommy's home!" Her face displays sheer joy! Oh, how it melts every inch of me!

Is this how growing up is? They have powerful urges to sample a bit of the big leagues, and then they want to run back to Momma's arms?

There's a LOT going on in that little girl's head right now. I'm recording it all here for her benefit. Maybe she'll have a little girl someday who is just like her. My heart wants to cheer her ingenuity--her independence, but my head wants to do everything possible to keep her safe. I just don't think that includes a locked door.

I recently had the pleasure of....

I recently had the pleasure of.....

...a tenth anniversary date with my Honey. It was our first date in about a year. A 95-minute lunch date, including travel time, to Olive Garden (via my birthday gift card from Dad). Too short, but very sweet. And hot food! Yeah!

...lots of snuggles with my Emily. Her interest in this ebbs and flows. I live for these snuggles.

...putting mild cortisone on Timothy's myriad of mosquito bites (from a night of camping). Playing nursemaid is one of my favorite Mommy blessings. Soothing my children makes me feel like a million bucks.

...witnessing Emily's growing independence. This morning, without waking us, she went to the kitchen and used a preschool chair to turn on the light, and then moved the chair over to the counter where her face cream was located. Her lip/mouth rash hurt and she knew exactly what to do, thank you very much. And then she helped herself to a cheese stick, because she can now open the fridge. Yikes!

...going to a campfire on the vast church grounds, where the boys and Daddy camped for a night to culminate their King David Outdoor Bible Camp experience. A young intern led music and we had the time of our lives. He had us wiggling our boodies and singing and clapping our hearts out. My children were totally uninhibited and wild with joy. I. will. remember. it. always. Priceless.

...holding Anna while she took a nap. This doesn't happen often anymore, but she is teething and falling asleep is very hard right now. She doesn't complain when it's playtime; her delight in her growing physical skills takes her mind off the pain, but sleep is just not happening much past 3 a.m., and the naps are harder to achieve. While she relaxed before this recent nap, she touched my face and hair for a long time, as if studying every inch of it. I am so in love!!!!

...snuggling with Daniel and showering him with praise. He drinks in every syllable, and I can see how desperately he needs these times with me. He's not one to snuggle, but Friday's night of camping left him seriously exhausted and willing to submit to some affection the next day.

A slice of childhood

The kids are outside with Daddy--in the rain. Emily Rose is trying out her new raincoat. I couldn't find a girl's style at the thrift store, but this one is plain bus-yellow and seems rather unisex. She totally feels like a million bucks in it, so that's all that matters. :)

Big brother Daniel has a similar-looking style. Those two are attached at the hip in some ways. Timothy is Daniel's main playmate, but Timmy only likes small segments of time outdoors, whereas Daniel could easily spend all day out there. Emily is SO outdoorsy that she's like Daniel's soul mate in this respect. Thank God!

Yesterday, while watching them from the window, I saw Daniel showing Emily how to catch insects off of plants. He takes a plastic lunch-meat container and uses its lid to gently coax the insect into the container. She was such a dutiful student--copying his every move. Precious sight indeed, seeing these two bond in this way.

This morning brought another reminder of how closely in tune with logic my Timothy is. He was getting dressed while talking to me, and accidentally started putting on his shorts before his underwear. He talks to himself a lot, so I wasn't surprised that he stopped and giggled and said, "I'm supposed to put the underwear on first." Then he paused a bit more and said, " I know why we put underwear on first. It's because pants have zippers and snaps and we could get cut and have to go to the hospital." Then he paused again, and said, "But these shorts don't have any snaps or anything, so I could wear them without the underwear."

Mommy: "No, Timothy, we wear underwear everyday. It's just what we do." I knew his logical side was going to lead to an underwear-less day, if I let it.

Timothy: "But let me try them without it."

So he tries them on and walks around in circles.

Timothy: "They feel great. So comfy."

Mommy: "But Timothy. We were underwear everyday."

Timothy: "Okay. But we really only NEED underwear because of snaps and zippers."

I sensed that he needed to have the last word on this. So I said nothing, and only laughed and gave him a good squeeze. He's my only child who lives for a cuddle! And he's also the most stubborn of the bunch.

Grandpa says he takes after me that way.

Hey! Who gave you permission to grow up?

They're growing up. It's happening before my eyes. Bittersweet it is. Time slips by so fast and we have to force ourselves to slow down and enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! So precious children are.

Last week I was preparing to change Anna Grace's diaper and Rosey said, "No, I do it." She proceeded to wipe Anna and remove the old diaper. She let me put the new diaper under Anna, but then she wanted to fasten the tapes herself.

Another time she wanted to dress Anna. She gave it her best shot, but Anna was too wiggly so Rosey asked me for help.

All this was just so precious to watch. The boys have never wanted to help with the personal care of anyone. That was just never on their radar--although they've shown sweetness in other ways. But Rosey just jumped right in. I was nearly in tears watching her carry out a natural desire to nurture--to love.

Timothy has shown new maturity lately also. A couple of days ago he said he was going to get lunch ready. He then proceeded to get out cheese, bread, turkey, and mustard and take it all to the table. Then he got an apple, a grapefruit and an orange and set them on the table with a plate and a butter knife--presumably to cut the fruit. He got into the dishwasher for enough cups for everyone, and he set out napkins. Don and I watched in amazement really. Timothy was always happy to be completely served in the past--like a hotel guest, no less--ordering things not even on the menu. lol And then suddenly there is this burst of maturity. He was pretty hungry, perhaps? Mommy and Daddy were distracted by diapers and spills and didn't get to lunch in time for his tummy rumblings? I don't know--but he was certainly good-natured about it, and so proud of himself!

When I see things like this, there is always a mixture of pride and sadness. The pride is easy to understand--the sadness, not so much. Don is not domestically inclined and can't wait for the kids to grow up and be more independent. I, on the other hand, feel like the months and years are slipping away too fast.

Thank God we had a fourth baby! What a blessing!

Sideways

Anna Grace is behind me trying to drift off to sleep--with some encouragement from me--so I have a few minutes to organize some thoughts on joy.

Earlier I identified a struggle with always having to go sideways with my day--or with my plans-- rather than forward. I'm forced to do so many sideway moves, that at the end of the day there's no measurable forward motion.

Now what, exactly, is forward motion, as it applies to my situation? Everyday the children are a day older and a day wiser. Isn't that going forward? What more do I want as a stay-at-home mom? Isn't my goal to raise Godly children who are ready for college, God-inspired courtship, a Godly marriage, and then parenting?

When I have self-serving goals, that's when the sideways moves become frustrating. If I have a servant's heart, and my focus is merely the teaching and training of my children--and the teaching and training of my own heart--then my daily accomplishments, as measured by a to-do list, matter little.

So what are my self-serving ideas/goals? It still goes back to this: The borrowed idea that successful moms have orderly homes and lives. Having that order--that brand of Martha-type vs. Mary-type success--is what makes me feel like I need to be moving measurably forward.

Now what are my fears in regards to not achieving that brand of success? Sadly--when I break it down--my fear is that I'll be branded unsuccessful in the world's eyes. And THAT definitely has selfishness and insecurity at its root.

My joy songs will flow faster, and they'll be more heart-felt, when I get rid of the self-serving baggage and grow a servant's heart. Organizational skills are necessary and valuable. But again, not as an end in themselves.

So, God, there it is. You wanted me to identify it, and I did. Now help me get rid of it! Please!

Joy, Tomatos, Trellises

I talk to God a whole lot during the day. I have to nowadays. It's a blessing that things are hard right now. It really is. I'm not just regurgitating the "consider it all joy when you face trials of many kinds" verse when I say that. We learn and make leaps when things are hard. Leaps are good. Ease and stagnation are not.

I sit here--sometimes at night, sometimes during naps or when Daddy has the kids outside--and I regurgitate what the Lord brings to my mind during the day. It comes out piecemeal here, but that's okay. When the children are old enough to be interested in reading about their early days (when they are parents themselves probably), maybe the piecemeal fashion will ILLUSTRATE the story of a flawed mother who loved Jesus and her family, rather than just TELL it. Maybe they'll see their own human condition, and their own desperate need for Jesus, through my flaws.

A short time ago, Katie, from the 9ndHouse blog, told me to "Hang in there! It's all good if it's coated in joy". I loved that comment, and I needed it. But at that time, it didn't penetrate my heart deeply enough. I didn't start "coating everything in joy" after that.

That comment has come back to mind to reinforce what God is teaching me this week. He wants me to have the tools of organization and planning, but not as an end in themselves. Joy, over at the Memoria Arts blog, described it in today's post as the "trellis and the tomato". The tomato is our goal and the organization and planning are just the trellis--a tool to help us get there. Joy has been doing a series on the simple, one-piece life she arrived at, via her own personal journey. She is many years my junior, and it's humbling to learn from someone so young, yet so wise. As I wrote before, she has had a hard year. Now God has her teaching others. Her words are carefully chosen, carefully laid out, and I can see God right through them. What a blessing!

Easier times are not on the horizon right now. The list of things that are broken around here keeps growing; today, the lawnmower stopped working. It's springtime and that's just not good, anyway you slice it. It was purchased four years ago, used. The unemployment check and part-time work just aren't going to pay for a new one. The second car is grounded due to an exhaust problem, which we can't afford to fix properly. We paid for a jury-rig fix a year ago, and were told then that it probably wouldn't last. The computer still has an ugly, green-colored screen. The kiddy pool now has a hole in it, necessitating the purchasing of another one, to help the kiddos deal with the heat and humidity this summer. That isn't all, but I'll stop there.

How bad do things have to get before I finally grasp the ONE THING God wants from me--from us? As I listened to God this week, and remembered Katie's comment, and read Joy's one-piece posts, I grasped it! It's joy! That's the one thing. Joy! It has finally gone from my head, down into my heart. "Coat everything in joy" Katie told me.

My obsession with housekeeping skills is me mistaking the trellis for the tomato. My goal is joy in all things, and while organization and planning might help me get there, they aren't the end. God doesn't much care how neat my house is! He was on Mary's side, remember? Not on Martha's side. My hands are tied with vomit, pee, mud, crumbs, sticky floors, silent e's and other first-grade skills, dirty diapers, and stray toys. Room rescues and hot-spot checks? Yeah, they are a valuable tool to have, for those five minutes of peace I sometimes get between messes.

My children will not remember what my house looked like on this 1st day of June, 2009. But they will remember how often I smiled, laughed, hugged and twirled around with them. And how often I turned up the radio and raised my hands to praise my Savior. They will remember joy! Thank you, Katie! I can love Jesus with all my heart, soul, and mind, but without a coating of joy, my feelings for my Savior won't translate to my children, to my family, to the world.

I have been measuring myself by a standard set by others, rather than by God himself. For some reason, I felt I would never be any good at what I do, unless I could manage a clean house in the midst of caring for a baby, a toddler, a preschooler, and a first grader. Cleanliness and orderliness seemed like Godliness to me.

I'll still at least STRIVE for a neat house, but hereafter I'll remember that the tomato is what I'm after, not the trellis.

Dear Timothy--Like Father, Like Son?

Dear Timothy,

You did a funny thing yesterday, my Timmy Tyme. Being an absent-minded professor type, you always take forever to eat and get dressed. It's just your way--annoying though it is. Those activities are a waste of time to you, I guess. Mommy has a habit of forgetting to eat...but my dressing? I seem to do fine attending to that.

Your mind just seems to wander, taking you to great places, no doubt. Maybe it's the large map of Ohio that is just above your bed, made by Daddy and Daniel during a social studies lesson? Does it set your mind to wondering about something? I often see you standing up on your bed, studying that map, naked as a jay bird. Your clothes I find still laid out--untouched--on your bed. "Timothy! I said to get dressed!" Five minutes later, I come back, finding you tinkering with a puzzle. "TIMOTHY! Get dressed! Focus!" And so it goes, my Timmy Tyme. Sometimes I swear you have ADD, but there are no OTHER signs. Just this dressing and eating and cleaning-up thing. You focus well at all other times. I've considered whether you might be the passive-aggressive type--but no, there are no other signs of that. There's nothing intentional about your mind wanderings.

You were never one to want to do any personal care for yourself. Unlike your sister, Emily Rose, who is constantly insisting, "No! My do! I big girl! Me do it!" You've never uttered anything like that, my love. Come to think of it--your brother never has either. Must have to do with the differences between boys and girls? Girls want to hurry and grow up, so they can take care of others? Boys don't see the need to take care of anybody--themselves included? lol

Come to think of it--Daddy does ask me if his clothes match before we head off to church. Or he just asks me what I want him to wear. lol Maybe so he won't have to change? Your Daddy's hopeless-bachelor roommate said to me, about the time we got engaged, "That man needs a wife worse than any man I've ever met!" Not really knowing what he meant, I just laughed nervously. And when your Daddy, at age 38, told his PA friends that he was moving to California, they chuckled and said, "Don, I'm telling ya. Your clothes will never make it in California!"

When our family grew and we had to get four children ready for church, I no longer cared what Daddy wore to church. I think he was a little disappointed, to tell you the truth. Any other day he doesn't care what matches, and tends to pick out the oldest, most-worn clothes, as a rule. Mommy, being the personally-neat and tidy one, sometimes tries to throw away your Daddy's old T-shirts. You know--the ones that are frayed at the neck? Half the time, I'm found out. "Oh..how did that make it into the trash?", I say, upon him holding up the shirt. Then I turn away, trying not to smile.

Anyhow, you and your brother enjoyed some water play yesterday--followed by a snack inside and getting into dry clothes--before venturing out again to make a race track out of the boards we took off the garden beds. After serving your snack, I reminded you of where you left your dry clothes, and then I went about my indoor business.

Checking on the two of you a bit later, I saw you outside with just your dry T-shirt on--nothing else.

Momma: "Timothy! You're naked! What are you DOING? For heaven's sake!"

Timothy: (Looking at me like..what's the big deal?) "Oh, I didn't know that." You then hot-tail it inside (afraid you might get disciplined), looking everywhere for your dry shorts--the location of which I'd already reminded you about.

That's my Timmy! I'll be sure and give a heads-up to your future wife.

Mommy to fiance: "I tried! I promise--I tried! All my efforts were a waste of time. He's a hopeless personal-care case! What can I say? He knew all his letters and sounds by his second birthday (without direct teaching), was reading at four, and knew what a negative number was at five. But remembering to put on his clothes before going outside? Hopeless!"

So, Timothy. Remember this when your own son is five and you find yourself throwing up your hands in frustration. Something tells me Daddy was just like you---all those years ago.

I love you, Sweet Timmy Tyme! Keep on wondering..dreaming..discovering. I'll try not to get in your way too much. Except to keep you from accidentally mooning the neighbors. lol

All My Love,

Momma