Enough

Around the end of summer last year we began to really feel the financial pinch we were in. We had moved into our first home, had a baby (the fourth) and bought a van we had to have in order for our entire family to go anywhere together…all in a span of 1 month. We don’t do credit cards. We had felt the conviction to let go of the governmental ball and chain of food assistance and had lost my pregnant woman’s medicaid due to, well, not being pregnant anymore. The kiddos were still on our state sponsored health care. We had finally found a church, albeit 40 minutes away, and were tithing weekly. We were not quite making $30,000.00 a year and I had not figured out how to save nearly as much money as I’m working on saving right now, particularly in the area of making my own food.

So…the snowball was building. Miss one payment: accrue fees. Miss a payment somewhere else: more fees. Use that overdraft protection: more fees. We were no longer able to dig out. It was not about buckling down, there was nothing to buckle down. It was more like war, send out what little ammo we had at whatever bill collector was attacking the fiercest at the time and then hunker down for the next round from someone else until the next paycheck’s meager reinforcements came through. And we began to fight each other in the delirium of the trenches.We were losing the war.

So, in an attempt to keep our home, water, electricity, and van – we cut out church. We could no longer drive that far. Plus, it was right around this time of year they were taking up food collections for the “needy.” Since we go to a very large church, they had no idea we were one of their “needy.” It really stinks when you fall into a category that you really don’t want to be in.

And you fight your hardest each Sunday to just blend. To not be found out.

And then they sent home with each of our 4 kids a letter that they were not only collecting a canned good, but a box of food. You heard me right. A BOX. That’s more than my family of 6 was eating in a week. Now, let me go a little off-subject for a second – the church does amazing things. Which is one of the main reasons we love being there. And if they had any idea that we were struggling they would’ve bent over backwards to offer help. But one of the down-sides of a huge church combined with living in the boondocks is that we couldn’t be a part of a home-group and we slipped into anonymity. So, we stayed home. And paid bills (and only the most important at the time, mind you) before we made that necessary grocery trip each pay day.

We went hungry. For the first time in my life, I went days hungry. We ate what we had in the cabinets and rationed the food for the kiddos first and then us. And sometimes, my unsuspecting mother-in-law would invite us over for dinner and I would pray that she would buy something bland instead of the pizza dinner that we normally love, because I knew that my stomach and my Middlest’s (who had plenty to eat, but held out not eating because he “didn’t like it” – a side note, kids WILL eat when they get hungry, but sometimes their will-power can rival that of a POW) couldn’t handle the sheer heaviness of a pizza after days of crackers, plain white rice, and some bread.

Our stomachs couldn’t handle the sheer heaviness of a pizza after days of crackers, plain white rice, and some bread.

Unreal, the emotions you have in a time like that. The strain on a marriage. On all relationships. The struggle to stay focused on Him and not on what everybody else has. Hunger, at least what we knew of hunger in American terms, is tricky. It seeps into all areas of your life. You get angry. About everything. You get a sense of entitlement. Ifthey have such a life, then why don’t we have that life too? And it seemed that everything was tied to money. Then there was the guilt. Compared to most nations in the world and even the majority of our own nation we weren’t that bad off. Knowing that was so, why did I feel so low? Oh, the battles that raged within over my desire for more and my guilt for whining when we had so much more already when compared to others.

Even our desire for more children was not even entertained because how could we, if we couldn’t feed the sweet mouths we already had. My honey said, as we donated all our baby stuff we had saved for future babies, “we’d have ten more tomorrow if we had a million dollars.” And my heart was broken anew and more anger. Not at my husband, at all. But at the unfairness of it all.

In the releasing of those “we won’t accept handouts” convictions, dreams, baby clothes, entitlements, the desire for more food, more money, more everything, and not the least- my anger, I prayed that God would give us enough. It became the cry of my heart.

Enough, Lord. That’s all I ask now. That you would just give us enough. And let me recognize what is enough. And be thankful for that. To not want more. To just be provided for with enough. Whatever that is. That we would have daily bread. And be thankful.

The lifting up out of the hole didn’t end with that prayer. In fact, we didn’t get a job that we really thought would happen. We relied on miracles to provide Christmas gifts for the kiddos. But we held on through January as we got our tax return and paid everyone current, stocked our pantry and fridge, and then in February my husband got a new job, and the beginning of March saw drastic changes. We went back to church regularly and even began teaching in one of our children’s small group class. A $10,000 dollar raise with the new job, health insurance, and food. Glorious food! Boy, did we overbuy those first few paychecks. Too much food of every kind. We indulged ourselves. I saw my weight jump 11 pounds in those few short months of excited eating.

Looking back to those gray days, I realize there were so many blessings. Awareness of others. Wisdom. Tolerance. The growing of my character. The desire to learn how to be frugal. I can see that just as my heart was broken for my kids at the time who couldn’t have all the goodies they wanted, my Father’s heart was broken for us.

And just as I rejoiced in the growth of my Oldest in that time: his taste for all foods expanded, he became less whiny, a little more understanding, and obedient – when Mama says eat this now because his body needs it and it may not be here later, he better eat it. now. My Father was rejoicing in the changes that adversity brought about in me.And He was always there, blessing, even when I couldn’t see it. While going through those baby clothes last summer to give away I cried out, “Please God, if you want us to have more babies, then please provide a job with more money.” I prayed that he would make mine and my honey’s hearts one on the subject. Take my desire or give him one. I prayed for contentment whatever decision He made for our family. I prayed that I would not get the baby fever, or if I did that I could contain it. But most of all, I continued to pray for enough. And thankfulness when that was given, whether it felt like enough to me or not.

He provided the job. The money. He held off all chance of and baby-feverness by giving me a baby that is so determined to nurse constantly that I have yet to have the physical ability to become pregnant again. Simultaneously giving my husband the interest in having another. He allowed us a way out from the food stamps imprisonment by giving us just enough money in the new job to disqualify us from them. A mixed blessing it would seem, but definitely a blessing. He placed a desire in my heart to become more self-sufficient in my kitchen – buying less boxed foods and making more of my own. And through all of this His Spirit has softened my heart, not hardened it. Amazing, because left on my own, I was turning into an angry, sad little woman.

Last Sunday at church the worship leader asked us to finish the sentence, “Lord, My Lord, I praise you because You are ____________.” And as I bowed my head and thought of all He was to me the simple word that I hadn’t thought of in months, came to mind. Clearly, quietly I thanked Him for enough.

Not Our Plans

November 25th, 2008

But His.  And how thankful I am!

Heart of the Matter is so awesome.  Yes, I know, I’m blushing over them again.  Please don’t leave, if you normally get fuzzy-eyed when I start talking about them.  This is a different, non-look-at-what-I wrote kinda post.

They are so polished and on top of things.  But it’s not like a corporation that is distant and business-minded.  We are a group of women (and one man now!) that are real people.  Just like you.  Who love our kids and are doing the best we can.  Even when our best is more than a little lacking.  We’re sharing what we’ve already learned, are learning along the way, a bunch of printables, ideas, and so much encouragement on those days that you’re thinking, “What am I doing?”

It’s been an honor to write for them.  Wow.  A year ago, they were a little site with a readership of, like, oh, 5, or something.  ;)  And then they had a post that asked if anyone wanted to contribute to this great idea of a site that they had been praying over.  I jumped up and down and begged them.  Really.  And they said sure.  They started recruiting writers and redesigning and it blew up!  I loved everything about them.  The Amies, all the sweet ladies that I get to write with, how everything was free and readily available for those who wanted it.

Then they decided to go to print and keep the blog going.  Wow.  Again.  And I was so excited.  Several of you have asked me how I got involved.  I begged, they let me.  That’s it.  I write for free.  I don’t get paid.  When I link to them or link to an article and beg you to go read – there’s really nothing in it for me – except your sweet words of affirmation.  Several of you more go-get-’em minded folks are gettin’ your hackles all raised.  Sure I would like to make money, but I believe in these people and their hearts.  I’m honored to be a part of them.  I want as many people as I can to know that if you are contemplating homeschooling – that you can do it!  There is no one less together or incapable of doing this than me, and yet I’m doing it.  So when HOTM (Heart of the Matter) was planning to take their free digital magazine to print and the possibility of getting reimbursed for my random goofy dribblings, well, I was giddy.

The thought, ever-so-briefly, crossed my mind that it was kinda sad that such an amazing and free resource would be made private, unavailable to people who don’t have the money to order such a frivolty as a magazine, but my excitement bubbled up again and I pushed the thought away and didn’t mention it to the Amies.

And then I got an email one night.  Saying almost verbatim: this.  (Go ahead, go read it, I’ll be right here waiting on you.)

And I cried.

With absolute joy and pride in these people and their hearts.  My heart was broken for them.  I knew they wanted to see this happen.  I knew it must be incredibly hard to write such a letter to all of their writers who were so excited to go to print.  And we all know what happens when a dream is deferred.

But instead of focusing on that sagging dream, they chose to listen to His voice that was calling them away from this.  And they felt freedom.  Even in the face of sadness.  How can you not rejoice with hearts so full of gladness?!

And as I sat in front of my computer screen reading these words, my apprehensions of those left out by the price tag came back to me and His whispering settled and stirred me at the same time.  I love knowing I’m in His will (and let’s face it, folks, alot of times, that’s just not as easy as it sounds).  And their support for our perceived competition?  Unreal.  People, these girls have hearts of gold and are listening to the call of The Spirit on their lives.  They make me all the more proud to be part of such an amazing team.

Come over and love them with me.  Go over to The Old Schoolhouse and take part in their “Black Friday” sales.  I, who don’t have much to blow on “unneeded” items have subscribed to this magazine – and I don’t get any cool deals on it, like I do at HOTM ;).  If you want to submit articles, pictures, ideas, tutorials, printables, or just plain encouragement to Heart of the Matter, go here.  They’d love to hear from you.

And my dreams?  Undeferred, people.  I don’t feel shriveled.  I feel so full of pride for these girls, that I’m as full as a tick!

Holidays, Holidays, Holidays!

November 12th, 2008

Welcome to the holidays around the Parker house!  It has begun!

I’m baking this year.  At least I’m trying to bake this year.  So far, I’ve tried my hand at cinnamon raisin bread:

pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, apple butter muffins, oh, and I might’ve had this shade of burnt at least a couple times too:

But we’re not talkin’ ’bout that.

I’m workin’ on gifts for my kiddos.

I’m workin’ on gifts for some of y’all’s kiddos!

We’re makin’ “Countdown to Christmas” chains.

We’re still fittin’ in Stars Wars lapbooks (yes, Maury, I have plans already to share as soon as I get it together!) unit studies on Thanksgiving, pre-school alphabet lapbooks, and all the normal excitement that comes with this time of year.

I’m also learning how to homestead.  Yes, I am!  My compost bin needs to be stirred around.  We’ve dried pumpkin seeds and appleseeds.  I have beans in the crockpot almost constantly.

I’m trying to start a shop.

We’ve had a bonfire with those boxes, a camp out in the front yard that ended with us sleeping inside (it’s cold out there, people!)

So, I tell you this to say, I may not be here as much as I’d like.  But don’t be discouraged.  I’ve finally figured out how to offer you a bold subscription to my site.  I still don’t really know how it all works (y’all just thinkI’m smart at this technology stuff) – but I do know if you click on the little picture of me at the very top of the site – the one that talks about “learnin’ young’ns” or the rotating pictures of everybody over there on the sidebar it will offer you a thingy (or, heck, that link right up there!) that will let you know when I post.  I think. Those of you who know more than me please leave me a comment explainin’ this a little better.  And those of you who don’t have a clue what I’m talkin’ about just keep doin’ what your doin’ and disreguard this whole paragraph.  Mom and Nana, just call me – I’ll talk y’all through it – I think you would love it!

And I’m cleaning my house one day at a time, shining my sink, and learning to FLY.  While you’re waiting on me to post (you know, because you have nothing better to do, right?!) you should try it too.  Flylady’s so cool!

I hope your holidays are as fun and filled as ours are!

Who Is This Kid?

October 22nd, 2008

That came and stole the baby I once knew?

I knew he was growing up.  Really, I did.  I mean, he started kindergarten this year, for goodness’ sakes.  And he can read Dr. Seuss to me.  I saw it coming.  Really, I didn’t blink.  Not once.  And when he told me he had two wiggly teeth I rejoiced and begged him to let me “mess” with ‘em.  He was so determined to bask in the glory of being “the one” to be doing something that got everyone’s attention for once.  Oh, my Middlest, he wouldn’t “just pull them.”  He was determined to ride it out in all it’s loose-tooth-ed glory.  And now that he’s lost 2 teeth in 24 hours he looks like the different child that he was already becoming.  It’s just visible now.  More evident.  Such a reminder.

This was to be a funny follow-up post to the last.  I was going to post the cute pictures and tell Brenda that was the greatest idea I’ve heard yet.  And post his sweet hand-written letter that he asked me to spell each and every word on.

I was gonna dog on the tooth fairy again and let y’all know she came through.  Just before she started those dirty dishes and sat down at my computer.  But as I sat here looking at his picture and contemplating a title, I realized I was struck solemn.

My sweet Middlest.  My athletic, arms swinging, “watch this”, treaty-bird, cute talker, late walker, snaggle-toothed, surfer-dude, blue-eyed baby.

May the song of your heart for this short season be wonderfully “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.”

The Things I Don't Do A "How I Do What I Do" Post On

October 4th, 2008

I should probably clean a little more when in one week I hear both these things..

While my husband was mopping the floor (yes, he did) my children stuck their heads in the house and my girl asked,”What’s that smell Daddy?”  That would be PineSol.  That she didn’t recognise, because, really, how often has she actually smelled it in her three and a half years?

And last night, I did the dishes after dinner, as opposed to before, novel concept, eh?  And instead of leaving some pans “to soak” (my code for “I don’t handwash dishes anymore.  ever.”)  I washed every. single. dish. And wiped out the sink.  Another novel idea.  And my Middlest, who’s accustomed to the sink always looking like this:

said,”Wow, Mama, there’s nothing in the sink!”

And to think, I didn’t take a picture of the clean version.  Should have.  Won’t happen again for a very long time.

Esophageal Foreign Body Removal

September 17th, 2008

If that doesn’t scare you, this should:

These two pictures are before and after pictures of the penny lodged.  And then dislodged.

This is a souvenir of our 7 hour adventure at Arkansas Children’s Hospital Sunday evening.

I told you my baby-est was gonna be the end of me.  Then end of me.  And what was I saying about lettin’ ‘em be and then just scoopin’ ‘em up and takin’ ‘em to the E.R.?  Yeah, well, I only meant that when I fully expect to go to the E.R., right?  Not when I think my 18 month old maybe had something in his mouth.  And then he didn’t.  I swept his mouth as I’ve been trained.  Nothing.  And then he gagged, threw up, cried.  And repeat.  About 8 times.  In about 10 minutes.  And when he started drooling along with it, life sped up.  And slowed down.  We began making split-second decisions.  Who was going?  In what vehicle?  What about the other children?  If I go alone, I’m holdin’ the baby in my lap as I drive, in order to handle whatever comes next – immediately.  Not acceptable to my honey.  We load everyone in the van.  As is.  My girl had dressed herself after church in pink tights (showing her flower undies) and a not matching shirt – no shoes, no pants.  The baby – in a diaper and throw up.  Me – shorts, tank top, no bra, and the dress shoes I wore to church – slipped on as I ran out the door.  And the throw up.  Don’t forget my throw up covered shirt.

It was the longest 90 mph ride of my life.

My other babies were alternately saying,”Go faster Daddy” and “Is he gonna live, Mama?”

I ran in the door of the hospital with a sleepy, lethargic, drooling baby.  But his color and breathing were normal.  I clung to that.

They streamlined me like I’ve never seen.  “Come on through.”  “Come on back here.”  “Tell us what’s going on.”  “Let’s have a listen.”  “We’ll take you straight back to a holding room and get the doctor right here.”

Many professional listeners and they all agreed.  His breathing sounded great.  But something’s going on.  Scheduled for an X-Ray.  They explain this contraption.  It won’t hurt him.  It just holds him still.  It’s kind of cold and a tad uncomfortable.  He’ll just be scared.

“Do whatever you need.  Just fix my baby.”

My sweetie in a raspy voice calling for me, facing away from me, more skinny-looking than before (is he always this small?) “Mommmmy.  Mommmy.”  I stood as close as they’d let me and from the next doorway spoke so he could hear my voice.  My comforts that didn’t comfort.  And the nurses that gasped and said,”Oh, there it is!  Mom, we’ll have to do a second X-ray.”  I looked.  I shouldn’t have.  Seeing his tiny little grainy image on the screen and this bold bright white circle right in the middle of it.  It was just too much.

I was relieved to know what it was.  And that it was fixable.  I was devasted that my baby was enduring all this.  I was scared – what comes next?  I was pressured to get it together for my other three children that were waiting for my reassuring stability in the holding room.  I was overwhelmed with guilt.  Why did I keep such a messy house?

More doctors.  More questions.  “When was the last time he ate?”  “I’ve consulted with the surgeon and I’m not comfortable with the risks of anesthetizing him within 6 hours of eating.  The ENT surgeon is certain that he’s stable enough to wait.  We’ll schedule your general anesthesia and removal procedure for 8:30pm.  Try to relax and make him comfortable.”

My honey leaves with the others and finds Nana to rescue some very stressed, very little people.  Daddy made it back to us by 8:24pm.  We are catered to while he was away.  Warm blankets.  Toys, trucks, music makers, books, Toy Story on video in our dimly lit holding area.  “A coke for you, Mom?”  A baby that is tired, worn-out, hurting, hooked to machines, with bracelets on his wrist and ankle.  And a Mama that won’t nurse him in his hour of need.

A procedure that’s delayed until 10pm.  A baby taken from me crying.  Both of us.  I have no one to hold up anymore and my honey catches me.

I feel crushed.  By my ineptness.  By the hour.  By my hunger (when did I eat last?  did I really go to church today?).  By my guilt.  By my doubts (if I just cleaned better, watched better, parented better.  if I didn’t have four children..) By the hospital at night.  By the mom that I talked to in holding.  Her fear.  Hertiredness.  The other baby in holding that kept pulling his IV out.  By the weight of a beautiful facility that would be the dreams of any child, the sweetest night nurses, the most competent doctors, and the inevitable pain and fear behind each door we passed.  The realization of how common our predicament is.  How mundane.  How run of the mill.  How simple the procedure for our child.  How inconsequential.

And yet.  Not.

“He came through it great.”  “Here’s your culprit.”  “They’ll call you when he wakes up.”

More waiting.  More praying.  More pacing.  My arms are empty.

“Come this way, Mama, and just listen for him.  He’s calling you.”

“mama.  mommy.” Such sweet words.  Such sweet relieving words.

Holding.  Cuddling.  Nursing.  Relief.

The baby-est diapered, dressed and cooed over by strangers right there in my lap.  Funny “We’ve been there too” stories.  Ice-breakers.  A “puh-ple” popsicle.  A warm blanket wrapped around not only my baby but me as well.  Burritoed together against the newly cool weather and buckled into our safe familiar van.

We spend the next day “licking our wounds” as my honey says.

The thoughts still swirling.  I can’t help but think of Christian “Dozer” Drews.  I can’t help but ask “Why?” onMarsha’s behalf.  I marvel at her faith.  I struggle with the desire to clean my house like it’s never been cleaned and the pull to just sit with my children and love them more.  I’m so torn.  Which one is right?  I can’t do it all.  I can’t do enough.  I can’t be enough.  And all the circles of thoughts come to rest each time at the same place of comfort.  I can’t.  I’m not asked to.  He does.  He holds our days.  He has them numbered before there is even one.  And nothing I ultimately do or don’t do changes that.  He has us.  He has my baby-est.  And I’m so glad the pressure’s off me.

TheBaby-est woke the next morning dancing.  Laughing.  Squealing with all his siblings hovering over him.  Checking out his unusual markings from the night before.  So much giggling and tickling and loving.  So much relief. So many new mercies.

Chili Bites

One of our favorite snacks around here are Chili Bites.

They were intended as appetizers, but we eat ‘em for dinner sometimes.

I usually use the Scoops type chips, they’ll hold more, there’s less chance of spillage (yes, it is a word – at least in my vocabulary), and they’re cuter. But today I had these regular kind of tortilla chips left over.

The original recipe called for vegetarian chili. Which I’m sure is absolutely marvelous, but I live in Arkansas, where most people don’t even know that exists or much care. So, we go in the opposite direction with No Beans chili – perfect reasoning, right? Calls for meatless, use veggieless.

I plop the chili right onto the chip, top with grated cheddar cheese (or whatever you fancy) and pop it in the oven – 350, just until the cheese is melty.

I mix taco seasoning – either from those handy packets or your own mix if you prefer, into sour cream. Now, how much sour cream and how much seasoning is up to you. I mix it to taste, start with 1 tablespoon seasoning to a cup sour cream and go from there. The leftover sour cream mix is pretty good plain as a dip too.

I leave a little more than half of the chili bites to top with plain sour cream for the kiddos, because they tell me it’s too spicy with the seasoning.

And to top it all off we usually put a sliced jalapeno on the top of ours (we were fresh out this time).

MMMM!

Today I've Found

August 12th, 2008

• the garbage torn up outside
• an ant invasion on the front porch
• that Raid made my bathroom smell better
• a boy in a crib, with pee and poop as his companions
• myself contemplating putting my baby, that’s dropping his second nap, in his carseat in front of the tv
• that the above carseat is buckled into the van that my husband has at work with him
• a Build-A-Bear bunny that had been completely washed in Germ-X
• my patience are not as enduring as my children’s inventive abilities
• the unflushed potty accompanied by my toddler with wet hands
• i really need my toddler to take that second nap
• that i’m too tired to tackle laundry day
• that i really need it to be quitting time for one of the 6 somebodies around here
• that a close cuddle in a cool dark room brings about the nap my screaming 3 year old thought she didn’t need

• that i’m jealous of the above picture

Welcome!

Hi!! Please come visit me at my new site: JoyfulChaos

I'll see ya there!

It All Comes Together

July 27th, 2008

about every other month week, i have a homeschooling freak out.  what am i doing?!  i need all the newest-coolest-most-expensive curriculum.  and then i talk to seasoned friends, i pray for peace and wisdom, and He hits me with inspiration.  i’m so thankful for those times.  yesterday was one of them.

years ago i taught a homeschooling art class.  i did crafts with the little ones; art history and intro to “real” media with the older ones.  in prepping for the class, i went online and looked up art history.  made a list of the “greats” and found google images to print off of their most famous works.  i then glued them to card stock and contact papered them.  in my folder i made a timeline and divided the artists accordingly.

so, yesterday i decided my kiddos needed exposure to the real stuff.  i pulled out my van gogh card, let them hold it and look at it, talked about where he painted some of his most famous paintings, looked at the brush strokes, talked about oil paintings, and then i went to my trusty map and drew out an eiffel tower, secretly stuck it to paris, and then looked up the eiffel tower site online (awesome kid games, by the way).   we read madeline and looked for the eiffel tower in the pictures.  discussed their names and talked with terrible awesome french accents.  madeline led to a discussion of what scars were and what an appendix was.  we talked about surgery and all things medical.  we talked about why the other little girls were sad and wanted to have their own surgeries.  we talked about being thankful and not wanting what others have or appear to have.

and we had a great school day.  and i felt good about what i’m doing again.

You Know It's Going To Be A Bad Day...

(The background story:  All these random items will fall neatly into place, just hang in there.  We got paid last Friday.  I haven’t cooked a dinner since I can remember.  We keep a wooden bar in the back sliding door to prevent criminals from lifting the door off it’s track.  We already have a window that was cracked [by the monkeys around here - how else?])

When…

It’s Monday.

The baby smears chocolate poptart on Daddy’s work shirt.

Your day starts out with a fight with your honey.

You scream at your kids.  And I don’t mean a little yellin’, I mean all out screamin’ like an idiot.

It’s Monday and your honey got paid on Friday.  Your honey comes in from work saying that he had gone to the gas station and the debit card is declined.

…and you determine at this point to try to make the evening better…

So you tell the kids that just as soon as you get dinner started (actually cooking dinner for the first time since you can remember) you’ll go swimming (again) with them, your honey says he’ll come join you.

You turn the spaghetti sauce on low, leave the potatoes in the oven to bake, and go out to turn the day around.

While swimming, your middlest says he can’t get in the house.

You realize the bar you keep in the sliding door has slid back down.  Locking you out.

The front and side doors - dead bolted.

All the windows – carefully locked.

The extra key kept for such times?  Sitting on the back counter inside the house to be put back outside after the last time we locked ourselves out.

That cool waterproof phone to call the locksmith (which would’ve been useless since the debit card was declined)?  On the base inside the house.

The keys to the van to go to the in-laws for suggestions?  Inside the house.

So after wandering around the house barefoot, wet, and clueless for approximately 45 minutes with the children saying things like, “My baked potatoes are gonna burn!”  “What happens if the spaghetti catches on fire?”  “Are we gonna get to spend the night outside?”  “Can we camp out tonight?”  “Are we gonna die out here?”

We decide that the best solution, the best now, is to go on and fully break that already cracked window in the bedroom.  With a heavy heart I slammed it with a gardening tool, reached inside, unlocked the window, and became the hero to excited exclamations such as, “You did it!!”

Realizing then that the window was directly above our bed.  The bed that I would be drifting off to sleep in approximately 3 hours was covered in shards of glass. 

Dinner was salvaged.  The children were fed, bathed, and put to bed.  Our bed was vacuumed out, sheets changed, and the window blocked with a sheet of wood and ironically, the wooden bar that started the whole thing.

And with the daylight of the next day came a new perspective.  The wood in the window makes it nice and dark for snoozing.  Our elderly neighbors bought a new computer and wanted my honey to help them with it – and insisted on giving us $50 cash.  The window was already gonna have to be replaced.  The sheets were in desperate need of washing.  At least the non-secured window is in our room now – just makes me feel better that it’s no longer the kids’ room. 

And we know that our feeble attempts at keeping the house secure are effective.  At least for non-criminal types like ourselves.

15 Months...

24 JUNE 2008 

is just about to wear me out.  good grief. 

ever since he learned to do this…

and this…

it’s been ridiculous around here.  we have to keep all the chairs pushed away from the table.  i’m constantly running to get him down before he falls. 

and he’s currently crying it out in the night.  for good this time.  the other night after i had brought him to my bed in the middle of the night i awoke to him crying.  and not in the same room as me.  i was instantly awake and scared to death.  there he was in his favorite place on the top of the kitchen table, stuck and scared.  so to his own bed he goes.  at least until he figures out how to climb out of there. 

and he’s a waterbug.  flips and flops around in the pools like it’s nothin’.  and now he tries constantly to climb into the bigger pool. 

wearin’ me out.

and in addition, at his one year well-child visit we confirmed what i already suspected: his 10th percentile weight had dropped.  to the 3rd percentile.  argh.  but he’s already a small boy.  and then add early walker which equals an early runner/climber.  and 3 siblings that he must keep up with, and many people at meal times to entertain instead of actually eating, well, whatcha gonna do?  he hates pediasure.  hates carnation instant breakfast.  hates milk of any kind, other than mine.  so i just rearranged when i nurse him and when i give him “real” food.  which led to a quick (and rather unexpected) drop in demand.  but supply was in abundance.  therefore, i had to deal with mastitis.  again.  first for this child, just not the first time for me.  can you say “flu”?  ugh.  but the z-pac is the hook-up and we’re all feeling much better.  still nursing.  just pain-free now.

that boy is makin’ me tired, i’m tellin’ ya.  good thing he’s so darn sweet.  not to mention kinda cute.

Southern Summer Food

May 22nd, 2008

for all our humidity we do have some things that just can’t be beat.

last night’s dinner that brought back my childhood days is definitely one of ‘em.  

homemade cornbread made with bacon drippin’s in a cast iron skillet.  real cornbread should not be sweet.  unless you’re eating it with strawberry preserves on top for dessert.  i just forgot to pick up some buttermilk to crumble my warm fresh cornbread into.  oh, how i missed out.

fresh homegrown tomatoes (wish they were from my own garden – but, alas, i’ll settle for someone else’s, for now.)  straight from the icebox and sliced – still not fond of salt on mine, but i will take a little ranch dressing.

purple hull peas (mine, unfortunately were from the freezer this time, i neglected to buy some from the farmer’s market) – sliced onions, salt, and pepper with a little bacon drippin’s for flavor.

green tomatoes – sliced, dunked in milk and dredged through cornmeal, paprika, garlic, salt, and pepper.  fried to a golden brown in, what else?, but bacon drippin’s.

and a side of salisbury steaks just for a little added protein.

served up with a tall glass of freshly brewed sweet tea.

and dessert?  why, watermelon, of course.

i’d've made my mama and daddy proud last night.

Maize

May 21st, 2008

while reading some more about native americans we learned about corn.  and then we went to the farmer’s market and bought some fresh local corn (still in the husks).  we talked about how they grow, then we cleaned them together and boiled them.  we saved the husks and went here to learn about how to make corn husk dolls.  and we ate our corn.  oh, my!  we’re never going back to frozen!!

Oiled Paper

May 21st, 2008

we read about how very few colonists had glass windows in their houses and instead put animal skins or oiled paper over the windows.  why oiled paper?  we had to find out.  we taped regular paper to the window.  then put vegetable oil on another piece of paper and rubbed it all over.  we let it dry and then a few days later hung up the oiled paper next to the regular paper. 

can you tell which is plain and which is oiled?

Rain Sticks

May 21st, 2008

yep, more crafts and more hands on learning!

we watched this native american rain dance video and then made our own by following this tutorial.  and then i dealt with rice being poured all over the house as my 3 year old and my 1 year old joined forces and destroyed them.  oh well.

Native Americans

May 15th, 2008

we’ve been studying american history and yesterday we learned about indians and their homes.  we watched traditional dances (on youtube, of course!) and we looked at their traditional clothes.  the kiddos loved this part of our history.

my 3 little indian warriors – notice their war paint (aka my lipstick)

these are our different native american dwellings we made.  along with some totem poles, just for fun.  we also taped down a (very rough) outline of the U.S. and learned where each type of dwelling was indigenous to.  we made longhouses, teepees, a wigwam, a chickees, and a pueblo. 

Flower Experiment

May 8th, 2008

 we used food coloring in water with some marked down walmart carnations.  and on bill nye the science guy we saw them split the stems and put each side of the split stem into two different colors of dye.  we were going for half and half, but my stem-cutting skills need some work.  but that was pretty cool to see anyway, how the amount of color on the petals is directly related to the amount of stem that is stuck in the dye.

and from one experiment to another, our oldest boy wanted to see if they would grow.  with no roots.  he thinks yes.  i think not.  we’ll see.

We Survived

April 11th, 2008

it passed us by.

but before it did, we spent more than enough time in the bathroom trying to not kill each other.  and the storm presented itself just prior to everyone’s naptime. oh.my.goodness.  good thing my honey wasn’t there to record us this time.  i finally gave up in the middle of the second round of storms and came out of the bathroom.  come hail or high water.  quite literally.  i was through.  i said a prayer, asked God to take care of us, and emerged into the rest of the house.  i could take no more children or dog crying, whining, flipping around, and fussing.  i resolved to watch the weather closely and grab kids if i needed.  and then promptly put the boys on the gamecube, put my daughter in her bed, turned loose my toddler (who’d been sleeping in the ergo) and sat down at the computer to decompress. 

one of the things i was not prepared for was not having daddy to help us.  hello.  normally these storms have come through in the evenings and he watches the storm and listens to the location and lets us know when to come out and what’s going on.  i just sit in the bathroom attempting to entertain the masses and calm their fears.  but, as i mentioned yesterday i had to be the johnny on the spot, and that meant i had to monitor the storm and be the entertainer.  i discovered i’m not good at reading The Stinky Cheese Man, listening to see if the storm is really touching down 2 miles away, corralling a dog, handing out snacks, soothing an over-tired toddler attached to my chest, looking at everything my second child is showing me, dealing with my too-concerned oldest and keeping my cool.  not good at it, is an understatement.  there might’ve been some yelling. 

so, all the preparing and best laid plans of well-meaning mamas are still subject to real life.  welcome to reality.

Getting Ready For A Storm

April 10th, 2008

otherwise known as “batton down the hatches.”

disclaimer:  there will be some joking, because, well, i’m an idiot.  but in all seriousness, this is a pretty serious storm.  and it’s hitting places that have already been hit pretty hard.  please, please, please pray for us and all the people in the path of this storm.

• first of all, go to NOAA, enter your zip code and see what your warnings are.  this is cutting out the middle man.  your local stations get some of their info here.
• we’ve known this storm is coming for a couple of days now, so i started prepping then.  i have lots of ready to eat foods (we’re in an area notorious for losing electricity and we’re not in an area that’s high priority to get back on quickly.)  lunch meats, i baked some crescent rolls this morning to keep for later, we have pb&j at the ready, some snacky foods, fruit, and tuna fish – nothing that will need microwaving or the stove.  we used to have gas heating and i took for granted hot showers and cooking abilities in an outage.
• we’re on high ground, so flooding is not really a concern for us.  i did ask my huz last night if there was any concern of the dam breaking here and he said, if it did, he thinks we’re on the other side of it.  so we will not have a scene like the one in “o, brother where are thou!”
• i will dress the children, including shoes, in just a little bit.
• the dog leash will be with us.
• i’ve located the matches, candles, flashlights.
• we have an emergency radio that tells warnings.  that is out and on.
• in just a little while we’ll make the bathroom look like this.
• we have several read-alouds ready and some ideas for playing games in the dark.
• we’re all clean, we showered last night so that we wouldn’t have filthy kids and then wonder what to do about hot water if the electricity goes out.
• and, obviously, it’s of utmost importance to get in any blogging while i do all this.  i’m fully aware i’m a fool.

it sounds as if i’m a panicky person in storms.  and really i’m not.  i love a storm.  i used to stand on the porch with my honey and watch ‘em roll in.  i loved it.  but now i have a bunch of kiddos.  and that changed the game just a bit.  i’m still not scared, but i have to be prepared.  especially when my honey’s at work and i’m the johnny on the spot.

so, i thought i’d share what we do around here.  y’all that have already been through the storm – how are ya?

(as i type – the warning radio is going off.  i better fix that bathroom and grab some books and snacks.  argh.)

and those that have yet to go through it – we’re prayin’ for ya.