The Heart of a Mom

The......Corner

2012-01-30T23:54:00.025-06:00

This weekend, I was reassured by somebody (who is *much* older and wiser) to just "relax" and not to worry so much about my son. It was their opinion that my son's unlimited affection....coupled with his very early noticing of girls, so much so that he has recently stated that he has a crush on some of them, would eventually translate to a man who would know how to make his wife happy. Period.

So I will just relax. Maybe.

As well, recently I was speaking to someone whose mother is on the list of "Women I Most Admire", and they told me that as a child, at times they reduced their mother to tears. I was stunned to hear this because I could not see this Woman-That-I-Admire ever losing her composure with her child.

But it gave me hope.

It gave me hope that, after all, this boy-o-mine - whom I love to infinity - and has reduced me to tears many times in the last little while, will turn out as wonderful as this individual whom I was talking to.

In truth, I never expected it to become more difficult to homeschool him. I thought (stupidly) it would get easier the older he got. This has been the hardest year yet, and I have no idea if this is only the beginning of the "hard years". He is WAY more inattentive. He is WAY more silly. He is WAY more smart-mouthed. And honestly, if I was independently wealthy, I would hire a tutor to school him in my home. Seriously. (I say that because public school will NEVER be an option for me.)

But, since that is not an option, I continue to pluck away, holding on to the tidbits of hope given to me by others. He is not a bad boy. He is just a mischievous, lovable boy with a glint in his eye that I have always loved seeing in other children. Now it's come home to roost.

Today while at grandmas, I warned him if he didn't listen that he was going to become acquainted with one of grandmas awesome corners. She has way awesomer corners than me, so that has become the correction of choice while at her house. Did my boy tremble at this threat? Not at all. And eventually he found himself sniffing the walls.

While he was visiting this place, my sense of humour kicked in. I was trying to think of appropriate names for this corner. At first I thought of just calling it "Seth's Corner", since it is reserved just for him. Then I remembered the name of the place at the public library where kids gather for story time:

And I thought.....with a little play on words, we could make this a most "fitting" place for my son. Thus, I named his corner:

Now, his dad already told me tonight that I have to take the sign down at grandma's. He doesn't want his son to pick up this word and use it too commonly. That is understandable......I know the sign must go - really, it was just for comic relief anyway - but I do find his words of warning rather ironic. After all, it was he.....NOT ME......who used that very same word that I spoke about in my previous post.......((smile)).

But I sure enjoyed it while it lasted.

I Love You More Than........

2012-01-22T21:50:00.024-06:00

Years ago, my daughter and I started a game we played sometimes as part of her bedtime ritual. I called it "I Love You More Than...." and in the game, one of us would begin by saying "I Love You More Than"........and finish it by saying something like "the flowers and the trees", and the other would finish it with a rhyme with something like, "I Love You More Than......the birds and the bees...." With Hannah and I, we usually got very mushy and sentimental, occasionally becoming very silly with a lot of giggling. Mushy was more the norm, however. We are females, after all.

Today I discovered this game is FAR different when played with my son. AND my husband.

With a little time to kill before getting ready to go to church tonight, Seth was bored. And Restless. Bored + Restless = PEST. So, before he got to this stage, I decided to teach him this little game. My son loves rhyming.....it's one of his favourite things in school. But loving to rhyme and being poetic, I discovered, are TWO ENTIRELY DIFFERENT THINGS.

I started it off simple: "I love you more than apples and pie"........ (you know, because pie is an easy rhyming word), to which he excitedly stated, "I love you more than the AIR IN THE TIRES AND THE FLY"......or some such very silly thing.

To which he laughed uproariously, hugely proud of himself.

This went on for a bit, with each of us trading off who went first. The silliness increased. Finally I said: "I love you more than chicken soup......" and, before Seth could reply, my husband......WHO HAD BEEN AT THE COMPUTER AND SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINDING HIS BUSINESS.....((ahem.....)).....said:

"I love you more than TURTLE POOP!"

Well, can you imagine the reaction of our son? He giggled until I thought he would wet himself. So, imagine his delight when shortly thereafter, dad scored another hit when I said:

"I love you more than my two pink chairs....."

And he said:

"I love you more than the Berenstain Bears...."

Well, Seth got up excitedly and ran to his sister's room to repeat his dad's genius.

A few minutes later as the kids were having a quick before-church snack, Seth was recalling to Hannah his dad's awesome poetic talent. Again. Dad was still ACTING like he was busy at the computer. Hannah and Seth were playing the game between themselves and giggling.

Then, Seth stumped Hannah with:

"I love you more than potatoes and chicken....."

Hannah thought and thought. Seth jumped up from the table, stating that he would "ask his dad on this one". So, he repeated it to his dad:

"I love you more than potatoes and chicken....."

To which his quick-witted (truly poetic) dad said........much to the delight of us all.......

"I love you more than the nose you're pickin...."

Seth declared dad the champ. "Turtle poop and Berenstain Bears. Yup. Dad's the best", were Seth's words. And rightfully so. We had a lot of fun filling in 20 minutes. So.....if you are ever in need of a fun family game......just try "I Love You More Than...."

See if you don't end up in stitches.

Large Families

2011-12-03T23:36:00.017-06:00

Children are a blessing. The fruit of the womb is HIS reward.

I had an interesting discussion with someone yesterday. This young woman brought up the infamous Duggar family, who is apparently expecting their 20th child. Now I realize that we live in a time when 20 children is unheard of. Fifteen children is rare. Ten children is considered a huge family. Five or six children is slightly more common. BUT 20!!

She said: "You cannot tell me that those children get much one-on-one time with their parents!!".....harrumph!

I said: "You cannot tell me that 2.5 children in a two-working-parent home where the children are either in daycare or left at home alone after school (if they're old enough) until a parent gets home from work (and is away at school all day.....but I didn't say that.....) gets ANY MORE one-on-one time with mommy or daddy!".......harrumph #2!

She said: "Touche....."

But, she still doesn't really agree. (And we really didn't argue......we were just vehement in our opinion....).

I've been thinking a lot about large families, particularly large families with good, responsible parents. Just because OUR SOCIETY says it's stupid, wrong, too hard on the children, blah, blah, blah, blah, doesn't mean that is the way GOD views children. Society just doesn't "get" God. Our society is way too narcissistic. We think unless we can give our children designer clothes, a car when they're 16, and pay for their college WE HAVE FAILED.

Let me tell you what I think. I think that unless my child earns their own money, they will NEVER get designer clothing. Even then, it would be closely monitored and ON SALE. I think that it is good for a child to work, earn money, save from a young age and BUY THEIR OWN CAR. I think that if a parent invests in their child's education (which we do), it is better given AFTER - AND ONLY - IF THEY GRADUATE. But, I think it's okay for a child to work hard and put themselves through school too, and a parent need not be ashamed if they just cannot afford it.

I highly respect the Duggars. Not only do they live debt-free in a gorgeous house, their children are responsible, well mannered, well trained, well spoken, home educated children. I do not believe they are deprived. The Duggars have understood from the beginning that it was their job to teach, train and prepare their children to be responsible adults.

If you can't properly train your children - don't have them. But give me a well trained child from a large family ANY DAY over a snotty child in the "perfect" two child family.

Yes, this is a stereotype, but I believe by-in-large, it is an accurate one.

By the way, this is from the mother of two *perfect* children........((smile)).

Impulsive

2011-11-21T16:06:00.015-06:00

I am convinced my son will cause me severe embarrassment the older he gets. He is the kind of boy who does most things on a whim. If a thought enters his brain, the action most certainly will follow.

Today we visited my Granny while at her day program. The kids wanted to see their Great Granny "in action", and the program invites drop-in visits. While there, I witnessed this thought-entering-the-brain-thingy in action. He thought it would be funny to hide. So he picks a poor, unsuspecting senior - who is NOT his Great Granny - to play hide-and-seek with, hiding behind her chair while she was eating. He waits for her to turn one way to see what is behind her, then he scoots the other way, out of sight. He plays this game as long as he doesn't get caught. Fortunately, it wasn't long, because I caught him and put a stop to it. I didn't want him to scare the wits out of this poor lady.

I have little hope of ending this problem. Seriously. I don't even have to be more than a hand's reach away for him to carry out some scheme of his. In this case I was right there, speaking to my Granny. Yes, I can punish him, but I have yet to find a punishment that will curb his impulsive behaviour.

That little episode was nothing, though, compared to this next event.

We were outside the hospital (where her day program is) when a woman rushed past us. This woman unintentionally scared Seth because he didn't hear or see her coming. He moved out of the way when he realized it, and, as she rushed past, he hollered out:

"HEY! IS YOUR NAME TOOTIE BENNETT!!!"

Don't ask me where he comes up with his on-the-spot names, but I do suspect it is part of his DNA, which comes from his.....~~mother~~ Great Aunt Bertha on his father's side.

It cannot possibly be my fault, after all.

Once Upon A Time

2011-11-02T00:05:00.004-06:00

Once upon a time, I blogged.

Once upon a time, I could put words together to make a decent sentence.

Once upon a time, I had more confidence in what I wrote.

I don't know if it's because of facebook......I've gotten lazy writing a whole story and just post *little clips*....;

Or, because I really believe my stories are mostly........recycled;

Or, because I am gone from my home almost half the time now, and thus away from my computer; (I don't have a computer at my Granny's, and I'm one of the last standing who have a cell phone with NO internet....)

Or, ALL OF THE ABOVE.

Whatever the case, maybe......one day, I will get back to blogging. I don't know. Time will tell.

Because, once upon a time, I REALLY enjoyed it.

Serious Girl

2011-09-26T22:07:00.022-06:00

My daughter got 63% on a spelling test today. She has never received a mark that low or done so poorly on any assignment before. She is struggling to concentrate.

She is more impatient than she has ever been.

Despite doing so well in piano, she has two songs she has not been able to pass that she has been working on for several weeks. She seems to get a portion of it perfect, and then falls apart in another part of the song (I mean that literally.....tears AND tantrums). The next time she plays it, the parts she does perfect are reverse. She cannot seem to play the whole song(s) through in its entirety.

She is a perfectionist. Her piano teacher pointed that out to me today.

She has been frustrated for several weeks about many things. She cries at the drop of a hat. She is extremely serious about EVERYTHING.

She is very intense.

Although she has laughed with and at other people, she cannot laugh at herself.

She is nine.

Besides the obvious....growing-up-getting-close-to-teenager-moodiness.....she needs the Holy Ghost.

I seriously do covet your prayers.

12 Years......

2011-09-12T15:36:00.025-06:00

Yesterday I was married for 12 years.

Dave has long excelled at trying to surprise me and/or the kids. In fact, every tradition we have on birthdays and other special events is because of him. He started waking up in the wee morning hours to surprise the *special* individual. This is now a family tradition for everything.

This year, the kids and I spent the evening before (Saturday) at my granny's house. My granny is needing a lot of supervision and so until a long term solution is found, my sisters and I share this responsibility. Because I wasn't home on the morning of my anniversary, I *assumed* Dave would not be able to keep his early morning tradition. I should have known he had something up his sleeve.

Apparently on Saturday, while I was still at my own house, he tried to reach my mom. Not getting her at her number, he phoned my granny (who lives upstairs) to see if my mom was there. Granny said that she wasn't. This began a wild goose chase because.......my Granny was very confused. When I arrived there Saturday later, she told me that Elgan (her youngest son) was trying to reach my mom. On questioning my mom, she told me she did not receive a phone call from Elgan. My Granny also called my dad to say that Elgan tried to reach Marlene and couldn't get her, which concerned my dad because his other brother is currently in the hospital in Regina recovering from a very serious illness. He was wondering if this is why Elgan was trying to reach my mom. He then told Laura. Laura called me to ask why Elgan would be trying to reach mom. As a result, I ended up texting Elgan, asking if he was trying to reach my mom, to which he replied that he had not been. This left my Granny.....and myself....confused and without answers.

The mystery was solved early Sunday morning. My mom.....along with my kids.....woke me up early to give me an anniversary gift....FROM MY HUSBAND....who was in bed at home! Apparently he plotted to get me up very early despite being separated from him for the night, by calling my mom, sneaking to her house without my Granny's knowledge, to drop off a gift so that I could have it first thing in the morning. This was who called Granny, and who Granny mistakenly thought was her youngest son. My mom knew all along and eventually filled in my dad and sister.

My Granny was comforted, and I was much impressed with my crafty husband. I thought the day couldn't get much better. I was wrong.

On the way to church Sunday night, he pulls out ANOTHER CARD. Dave is very, very, VERY good at picking out awesome cards. In fact, he's very good at WRITING awesome poems and really should just open his own Hallmark shop and write his own material (although he IS getting rather rusty at the poem writing business....**hint, hint.....**). Totally surprising me, I read the card all misty-eyed, and then found he also got me a gift card to my very favorite store. TWO GIFTS. BOTH SURPRISES. BOTH VERY THOUGHT OUT AND WELL PLANNED. What a guy......

And now the topper.......because our anniversary was on a Sunday; because we go to church in the morning and evening; AND because we had a corn boil planned after the morning service, we decided not to go out for dinner until tonight.

Therefore......we are continuing our TWO DAY celebration this evening by going out for dinner to a very nice restaurant. Our once-a-year tradition to a classy place. On our anniversary.

After all, it HAS been 12 years. And that's worth celebrating.

Life's Lessons

2011-08-18T10:51:00.018-06:00

Perhaps it's because our life is very hectic right now; perhaps it's because we (the kids and I) are staying three nights/days a week with my Granny; perhaps it's because we have been in a Laura Ingalls Wilder phase; OR perhaps it's all of the combined reasons......but once again I have come full circle to realize that I have let too many things slip....AGAIN....as a parent.

So why would this have anything to do with the above? Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, my Granny had an incident that has made us concerned about leaving her alone. As a result, my sisters and I have been taking turns staying overnight during the week, as well as having someone with Granny at least most of the time during the day. We have no idea how long this will be for. Truthfully, we are considering it to be indefinite, since Granny's deepest desire is NOT to be placed in a nursing home. We are trying our very best to grant her her wish.

Because of this, we are sleeping four nights a week at home. The days at home are packed with getting stuff done around the house, doing our paper route, and such things. It will only get busier once we begin school again.

On top of this, my dad has just recently been diagnosed with multiple myeloma, which is cancer of his bone marrow. Fortunately, it's in the early stages and he should respond quite well to chemotherapy. I have been running with my dad to appointments, and between my sisters and I we will be taking him to his weekly, 3-4 hours at-one-time, appointments.

That is why my life is hectic.

I am finding myself *tuning out* my kids' behaviour too much. And, when they are in a different house almost half of their week, and when their behaviour affects my Granny, then I begin to realize how much I must *buckle up* and improve.

I could make excuses for them. They sleep on a blow up mattress on the floor and don't sleep well. They don't have any "down" time in their own room. I don't have any "down" time and am more impatient than ever. I don't have the freedom to take them as much to the park as I used to.....only when Granny is feeling well enough. When I am home it's not much fun because I'm busy catching up.

However, as tired as I am.....I know this is really no excuse. It shows a lack of training on my part more than anything. And, in the long run, I am very GLAD that their lives are so different right now. I want them to understand that life is not all about them. I want them to understand the importance of family, and teach them to serve. I.....as in ME...... just needs to improve.

As I mentioned above, we have been on a Laura Ingalls Wilder kick. I have never before listened (or read) intently to the entire stories. However, during The Long Winter, my interested piqued and I have been reading the rest of the stories since.

I realize that during the time they lived in, generally kids were more obedient and parents were more consistent disciplinarians. However, Charles and Caroline Ingalls were, from all accounts, VERY even-tempered, NEVER raised their voice, RARELY spanked their children.....and yet their children were very well behaved and obedient. They had a heart to please their parents.

One particular incident in the book really *yanked* my chain. Laura, 14 at the time, was picked on wrongfully by her teacher. The teacher really took a dislike to Laura and Carrie and let it show. One time Laura was sent home from school because she stood up to how the teacher treated her little sister. Charles and Caroline NEVER once sided with Laura......they told Laura that she must ALWAYS respect the teacher. Another time, Charles and two other school board members walked into the school for an inspection (after hearing that the teacher had no control over the class), and the teacher accused Laura of being the main problem in her class. Charles took it in stride, would not let Laura defend herself, and informed the teacher that the school board supported her and admonished the children to obey their teacher. Afterward at home, Charles let Laura know that he knew she didn't intend to cause trouble but there must have been something she had said at some time to let the teacher behave as she did toward her. They discovered what it was....a statement blown entirely out of context......and used it to teach her a lesson to keep her mouth shut.

How many parents these days would react this way? Would I? Yet I believe with all of my heart their parenting was 100 percent correct.

Bro. Steve Pixler preached at camp meeting this year, and his last message in particular was a revelation. I don't ever want to forget it. He said that the true suffering of the cross was not bearing our own scars from past failures and mistakes. It was suffering WRONGFULLY. And IN SILENCE. Until we could do that, we really could not be like Jesus. We could not be resurrected into a NEW MAN. He even told a story very similar to the one of Laura, where his daughter was wrongfully accused by someone, but he kept his mouth shut, had his daughter apologize to this person......all so he could teach his daughter a valuable lesson.

My point is this: Although the times I live in is different, I KNOW I want to be that kind of parent. Staying at home with them AND even homeschooling them....simply is not enough. I must be engaged. I don't believe my convictions are wrong of what their behaviour should be like (and trust me, I question myself all the time), but what is wrong is my REACTION. Or lack thereof.

So, all of this is weighing on my mind. Life is bringing out inadequacies. And that's okay. That's as it should be. I really do just want to improve.

The Gift

2011-07-29T23:58:00.025-06:00

I've been handed a gift.

My dear, adorable 90-year-old Granny has recently had some health issues. As a result, she was put on an antibiotic that we were warned had a slight chance of affecting her blood sugar, causing it to plunge. In a diabetic, this is not good news.

Yesterday morning I was at an appointment. My kids were with my mom, who *just happened* to NOT be volunteering like she usually is. When I got out of my appointment, I saw that I had a text message from my youngest sister to CALL HER. She was at my moms.

I knew it must be serious. She had been at work the last I knew. I called her. She told me that my Granny very suddenly deteriorated to the point where she had to lay down, wouldn't eat, was feverish, and barely coherent. Mom, not able to reach me or my older sister, called my youngest sister, who dropped everything and ran over. She told me she was very close to calling an ambulance - that's how unresponsive my Granny was.

I told her I would be home in a few minutes. I knew I had to check her blood sugar. My youngest sister had never done it, and neither had my mom. My Granny, my older sister and I were the only ones who did. Obviously, that will change.

I ran in the door, and immediately understood the concern. My Granny looked very frail lying on the couch. She was so "out of it" that when I poked her finger she didn't even know or care. I was surprised then to discover that her blood sugar was a little high.

I then found out (although I had been told this already but didn't retain it) that my mom very wisely was able to get my Granny to drink some Pepsi just before she *crashed*. And I honestly believe this drink of Pepsi is what saved my Granny's life.

It took about an hour after drinking the Pepsi, (about ten minutes after I got there) but my Granny came to and, after initially being very weak, was able to get up and walk about with the assistance of Lana and I. We took her immediately to the doctor, where my suspicions were confirmed. Her blood sugar dropped dangerously low. She was taken off the antibiotic that interfered with her blood sugar and switched to a different one that didn't. (Likely should've been what was done from the beginning......but then hindsight is always perfect.....).

The implications of what could have been are very difficult to think about. *If* my mom wasn't home......*if* my mom didn't give her a quick sugar fix.....*if* my mom couldn't have reached my sister......

We quickly made arrangements to have someone monitoring my Granny at all times while being treated for this illness. That meant staying through the night and during the day when my mom was not home (plus giving my mom some peace and reassurance, which she very much needed AND deserved). As a result, my kids and I had a sleepover at Granny's last night.

I made a pledge to my Granny a little while ago that I would do my best to serve her to the best of my capacity. Even though there have been times it has made my life very hectic, I honestly feel like I've been given a privilege. I wonder if I would have felt that way 20....or even 10 years ago?

Last night I helped my Granny. I became her servant. When she was finally ready for bed, I told her I was going to tuck her in. She smiled and said, "okay". She sat on the edge of her bed, not moving. I repeated my request. She smiled at me, realizing she really would have to indulge me. Then she laid down. I tucked her in nice and cozy.

Then I knelt beside her bed.

And I prayed. I thanked God for this wonderful woman. I asked Him to wrap Himself around her that night. I asked Him if He would touch her and heal her. I told Him I had the best Granny.

And I heard my precious Granny saying, "Jesus. Jesus."

I then leaned over and kissed her cheek. And said, "Night, night."

And I left her room knowing I had received a precious gift. Life had come full circle and the Granny that blessed me and at times tucked me in bed when I was little.....well, I was able to return the blessing.

As much as we enjoy reaping what we sow....assuming we have sown for the *good*, I realized how precious it was to be the instrument of blessing to my Granny.

And I will preserve this precious memory. For all time.

The List

2011-07-07T15:28:00.019-06:00

My daughter has entered a new phase. She is freaked out over all "flying" bugs. This was something she mostly conquered a couple of years ago, but for some reason, this year it has hit her worse than ever. Consequently, it makes doing our regular paper route very stressful, frustrating, tricky.......and tries my patience to the max.

However, this post is not about Hannah's bug phobia.

Today, I had to cut my Granny's grass. My mom was not home. My daughter is freaked out over bugs. Therefore, in order to actually complete my task in a timely manner, I chose to let the kids stay inside while I cut the grass. Otherwise, I would have been dealing with my daughter and not getting my work done......and it was too hot to mess around.

So, my children stayed inside with their Great Granny. (I felt the need to explain why they would be INside while I was OUTside, thus the story of her phobia.....of which my son is only slightly better....). I gave them "the rules".

1) Seth was not to be a pest to his Great Granny. At all. He likes to bug the snot out of her if he can get away with it, by touching her cheek or her hair, "stealing" her chair, and various things.

2) Hannah was to do something quiet.

3) They were both to OBEY any request of their Great Granny's.

4) I spelled out to them their consequences........Seth was to lose his lego-making privileges...(it was his current passion) INDEFINITELY. Hannah was.......well, to be honest I didn't name her consequence because I didn't think she would be the issue. But I did let her know there would be a consequence if she disobeyed her Great Granny.

I then went about my thirty minute grass cutting task.

When I came in they *conveniently* disappeared downstairs. I asked my Granny if they obeyed her. My Granny likes to stick up for her poor, little great grandbabies if she fears for their....ahem....safety, so the fact that she very willingly stated that they "didn't listen to me at all" is a very strong statement to their disobedience. Apparently they shrieked and screamed and pushed and wrestled (all things that are okay at times and in certain places if it's in fun.....but they know it's not to be done at Great Granny's house because it bothers her).....Great Granny hollered and yelled for them to quit......to which they remained intentionally oblivious to her pleas.

I FOUND them downstairs. I told Seth his legos were currently history. I told Hannah that she was not allowed to read any of her NEW library books or ANY of her own books at all until further notice.

I suspected this could be a very effective method of discipline based on the reaction I got from my daughter. I was, after all, *TAKING HER VERY LIFE AWAY!!!* sniff, sniff.

I went upstairs to visit with my Granny. A while later, Seth came up and handed me The List. From his sister. A list she made because of the dire consequence of her *inability to read*.

1) I cannot read the Bible.

2) I cannot play the piano. (Because of course that involves *reading* music).

3) I cannot type on the computer. (Because she was practicing typing using paragraphs of...BOOKS.)

4) I cannot read to my brother.

and my personal favourite.......

5) I cannot cook or bake........(Because of course she would have to read instructions of some kind.)

I laughed. They were pretty good actually. And I knew I had hit on a potentially awesome consequence.

And I assured her she could still read the Bible. And all of her future cooking instructions could come verbally, of course.

Now I expect a full gourmet meal from this.

Vanquished

2011-06-21T22:28:00.033-06:00

I walked in the house after work tonight (I work a couple of short shifts two evenings a week at a doctor's office) to my son yelling at me from the bathtub.

"MOM! COME HERE! QUICK, QUICK! I HAVE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!"

I hadn't even taken my shoes off.

I went to the door. He looked at me gravely, then told me to, "Sit down mom. I must talk to you."

Very curious by this time, I sat. He began his story.

"Mom. You'll never guess what. We watched a video tonight about someone in THE MUD! IN THE MUD, MOM! Can you believe it? Mom, it was SO gross that I had to stop watching it! I thought I might ACTUALLY THROW UP, MOM! I mean, they put their FACE in the mud, mom! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! THEIR FACE! I mean, couldn't they DIE if they ATE MUD?"

Refraining from smiling (although I was laughing inside) and rolling my eyes (using my inside-eye-rolling instead), I reassured him that no, you did not die from eating mud.

"When I'm older, mom," he continued, "I'm going to VANQUISH all mud baths, all mud bath pictures, and ALL MUD BATH VIDEOS!"

Vanquish. Yep. Eugene Meltzner the second. I went into the living room to ask his dad what they were watching, and found out they were watching volcanoes - his current passion - which turned into mud volcanoes, and then mud baths.

When I tucked him into bed, he began talking about the mud bath again, only to stop very abruptly.

"Mom. I have to stop talking about it because then I can't help thinking about it and I don't want to think about it! When I get married, I am going to be asking my wife to erase ALL mud bath pictures and videos!"

Smiling, I asked him why he couldn't erase all of them himself.

"Because mom, I am going to need help spelling ERASE MUD BATH VIDEOS AND PICTURES. That's why."

Well.....duh. Now why didn't I think of that?

I went into the kitchen and whispered this conversation to Dave. We laughed hysterically.

Some stories just have to be documented. That's all I can say.

Oh, and one last thing. I kept myself together quite well in front of my son. I think I deserve a medal.

Rant......

2011-06-13T17:11:00.015-06:00

Just when I think I have seen everything.

Today, in Sydney, Australia, there is a "Slut Walk". Apparently to protest against men......that the *lack* of clothing on women should NOT cause men to think they get to have more *liberties* with women.

So, let me get this straight. Feminist women are ticked that some men don't exercise self-discipline - when half their cleavage is sticking out - but think that they have all the right to NOT discipline themselves in the way they dress.....

This world is getting more wacky every day. I just came across an ad (on my online newspaper no less) for a prime time TV series about professional, beautiful, successful LESBIANS, living a filthy, vile, lifestyle. Each episode (because I read about it) contains graphic lesbian sex scenes. This is on PRIME TIME TV.

As a non-feminist WOMAN, I am offended.

I have grown to despise what Lady Gaga stands for. She is the epitome of evil; a woman who has sold her soul for fame.

And, as humanitarian as Ellen Degeneres is, I truly believe she is one of the main reasons lesbianism AND female sexuality is so out of whack. BECAUSE, she is one of the nicest, most seemingly normal women. Therefore, her sexuality must be okay.

Women have sunk to new lows. And they lay too much blame on men.

And, one more thing while I am ranting......I am sick and tired of seeing pictures of so many perverted stars or singers WEARING CROSSES AROUND THEIR NECK.

I'm done.......for now.

Done With School

2011-05-17T13:39:00.023-06:00

I am tired of school. Taking four weeks off (for our vacation and ensuing sicknesses), I am trying very hard to get finished so we can take a much needed summer break.

I have tried to change my methods of teaching and base it on my children's personalities and strengths, but I must confess to struggling with this. When one child thrives on movement, noise and music and it distracts the other, and the other doesn't want to be alone in their bedroom (and peace and quiet) to do their work because they're "lonely", then I find myself at a loss. A genius I am not. More than that, patient I AM NOT.

Today my son surprised me by getting up, getting dressed and doing his chores without any prompting from me. Thinking this was the start of a very good day, I soon found out I was mistaken. Previously walking normally, he went into the bathroom and from there started complaining that his leg hurt. And needed my help. And whined. And whined. And whined.

I understand that I have not been effective in ~~getting this blasted habit out of him~~ controlling his tendency to whine. I am trying very hard to change that. I have obviously mollycoddled him far too long. So, I informed him that he could camp in the bathroom if he wanted. I was not coming in. His leg was fine prior to this. And I got up (he was in our ensuite with the door shut), shut my bedroom door and went into the living room, where my daughter was practicing the piano - thus effectively drowning out the noise.

It worked. He quit crying and *miraculously* walked out of the bathroom.

Now on to school. With my son, a ten minute assignment takes at least an hour. And then he has the nerve to whine that "he doesn't want to do school anymore". Today I had enough. He went to bed every time he whined. Consequently, he was in bed......a lot. School dragged on. He got up, did a bit, and ended up back in bed because he "forgot" and whined.

Eventually he got the picture, I guess because I held out long enough (which is my biggest problem.....obviously). He finally came out, sat down, did his school diligently. I told him I did not want to hear about his leg at all. I told him that because he is a master exaggerator and whiner, I tended to not believe him when he whined about some pain here or there, and that one time he really was going to have a true problem and I wouldn't believe him if he kept on whining so much.

This is what came out of his mouth instead:

"Ouch.......(then catching himself..)...um...oops."

"My leg is trying really hard to make me cry, mom," he informed me with a ((smile)).

He then began to LAUGH at the pain in his leg. Yup. Laugh. Cuz if whining doesn't get you attention then surely LAUGHING will. I had to STOP his laughing.

And I really don't want there to be NO LAUGHING in this house.

To all my dear friends who so kindly read this blog, will you please pray for me? I do write this while laughing, but truly, I do need God's inspiration. I need to effectively handle my son without.....SNAPPING.

And I truly need summer vacation. God bless.

The Lame Man

2011-05-07T09:39:00.031-06:00

It begins like this.

Because the kids have been sick for three full days with fevers; because they have been house bound for those three days; because I did their papers on Wednesday (while grandma babysat) because they were sick; AND because they are on the mend today with their fevers gone; THAT.........

Dad very wisely suggested that they needed to get outside today to do the papers. It didn't need to be rushed. It could take however long it needed to take, but the fresh air would do them good. I wholeheartedly agreed.

Immediately following this announcement, our poor, young son discovered that he was lame....{{sniff, sniff}}.

BOTH of his legs, directly below his knee caps but above his calves, were "hurting really, really bad".

"You have NO IDEA how bad my legs are hurting, mom!" he wailed.

He got out of bed to go to the bathroom and COULD NOT HOLD HIMSELF UP! Imagine! He landed on his bum with a wail, proclaiming his inability to stand. I heartlessly told him to crawl to the bathroom then. He continued to wail. Dad came into the bedroom to talk to me. We completely ignored the invalid. We talked ABOVE the wails for at least five minutes. The wails grew louder. I stepped over him to go to the kitchen. The crippled boy got on his belly and pulled/pushed himself on the floor to the kitchen, proclaiming that his "belly hurt in that position!" I.......very kindly.......turned on the bathroom light for this poor child (because there were monsters there in the dark you understand) and told him however he had to bring himself to do it, to get to the bathroom. I was NOT lifting him up. He managed to pull himself into the bathroom and shut the door. And continue to wail for another five minutes.

If Hannah is the drama queen of the house, Seth is MOST definitely the drama KING. In fact, he wins the overall prize for drama in our house.

Dad finally opened the bathroom door (after we stood in our bedroom laughing for a while......these things require a sense of humour to keep your sanity) and convinced him of the need to go to the bathroom. Truthfully, I honestly didn't care whether he wet himself. I wasn't helping him. I have been stuck in the house myself with sick kids and my patience was EVEN LESS than normal. What were wet pajamas and a wet floor? I would just get Junior to clean up the mess anyway. That was my attitude.

After he managed this miraculous feat, he came wailing out of the bathroom, still proclaiming his inability to walk. So, dad offered to *massage* his legs. Lest anyone thinks this was harsh, I was witness to it. It wasn't too hard at all, but it was such that Seth did not like it. Dad continued to *massage* his legs until Seth agreed to walk his pain away.

Back and forth down the hallway, our poor, weak child shuffled. Back and forth. Back and forth. Wailing the whole time. We told him he could quit walking when his *pain* was gone. So, of course the pain didn't leave immediately. It took about 15 minutes of walking AND WAILING for there to be a noticeable improvement.

When I finally had enough, I told him that his legs would definitely get more strength if he STOOD IN THE CORNER until the whining ceased.

He stopped. (Maybe we should've thought of that first, I don't know. Sometimes you just have to try things out though....).

While our miraculously-healed-lame-boy was eating his breakfast, eyes swollen, he was surprised to find HIS MOTHER - on her hands and knees - crawling, and whining, and moaning, and wailing down the hallway........

"MY LEGS ARE SO SORE!!! I CAN'T WALK!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!! I NEED HELP!!!"

Needless to say, the morning ended up.....funny after all. My son even wanted me to repeat the scene. Both of my children were totally surprised that I could/would crawl ALL THAT WAY on my hands and knees down that *mile* long hallway, and laughed hysterically.

(How insulting is that! Maybe they should BOTH go in the corner!!)

Laugh Of The Day - 2

2011-04-26T22:52:00.011-06:00

Two in one day......wow.....

My son (again) asked me very seriously tonight while I was tucking him into bed if I could "please teach Hannah how to make *good* jellyfish (translated grape jelly) sandwiches so that when I die (gulp......as in ME), she will know how to make them for.....him."

Yep. Awesome, comforting questions. I did inform him that HE could learn HIMSELF how to make those "awesome jellyfish sandwiches" because his sister was NOT his slave!

Needless to say, Dave and I have had a few chuckles today because of our son.

Laugh Of The Day

2011-04-26T18:31:00.003-06:00

Question from Seth:

"Mom, was Jesus powerful because of His hair?"

Thinking he must be confusing Jesus with Samson, I told him no, and then asked him why he thought that.

"Because there's power in the MANE of Jesus," he said, "and I know what a MANE is. It's hair," he said, completely serious.

Aren't children just amazingly awesome?

Family Fun

2011-04-23T22:47:00.015-06:00

It began with request from my son to read him the classic Three Little Pigs tonight, which I have not read in eons. As a joke, I called it the Three Piddle Ligs instead. This prompted my husband to google the Three Piddle Ligs, which turned up scads of spoonerisms.

If you have never read to your children using spoonerisms, try it. We had one of funnest evenings in a long time.

Dave read Cinderella and the Gairy Fodmother. Then I read the Three Piddle Ligs. I honestly thought my son was going to wet himself, such were his lelly baughs. Particularly when I read that the wolf : "chimed the climney and dropped tail first into a boiling stot of POO!"

Talk about deeding nepends!!

Ha Ha! Nood Gight!

Praise To A Faithful God

2011-04-22T18:54:00.029-06:00

Dear Jesus:

I have a lot on my heart that I wish to thank You for. I am in awe that once again, You have proven your kindness to my family. I really can't begin to express my gratefulness.

While we were on the highway today, driving home from Edmonton, I almost *didn't hear* your gentle whisper to "just slow down a little". I questioned why on earth I would even think I needed to - after all the roads were great and it was still light out, AND we were only 30 minutes from home - but then surmised that there must be radar up ahead. So, actually thinking I was a *little crazy* for slowing down, I set my cruise control to 10 kms slower.

Until I came across THE ACCIDENT.

The accident that involved at least FOUR vehicles.

The accident that had a police car AND ambulance racing toward the scene FROM the opposite direction - the direction of home.

An accident that there is more than a good chance our family could have been involved in if I did not slow down *just a little*, because of Your nudge.

I can't quite describe the feeling that I had when I came upon it, but then, You know my heart anyway, Lord.

I know, Jesus, there are many times that You take care of us that we don't even know about. For all of those times, I truly thank You.

There are other times, Jesus, when You let us know in little ways that Your hand is on our lives. That everything that happens is entirely in Your plan. That You protect us. You have shown me that today. You showed me that while on vacation in all of our travels. You particularly showed me that during the "sneaker wave incident" involving my daughter.

So, for all the times You have protected us, Lord, I give you praise. I pray, Lord, for the people involved in the accident, for which I have not heard anything about yet.

And I pray that I NEVER forget to be thankful.

Thankful

2011-04-17T22:45:00.007-06:00

After being away for two weeks and two days, I have discovered a few things that I am VERY thankful for:

1) I asked God to please keep my Granny healthy while I was away. I found it very difficult to be so far away from her when I couldn't quickly get home if I needed to. God was so good. My Granny was fine.

2) I asked God to "pretty please keep the highways safe", particularly from snow/blizzards. And you know what? He did just that. Every single one. We either just missed a storm, or were ahead of it. Thank you, Jesus.

3) I thank God for being able to go to the excellent services in Spokane, WA for three days, as well as a very nice church in Eureka, CA for prayer meeting and my previous pastor, Bro. Bow's church for one service. I HATE being away when I can't get to church.

4) I thank God for helping me every day to drive carefully. Wonderful God that He is, He did.

5) And finally, although not the least, I thank God that he kept my family safe. In particular, my daughter when at the ocean (as I previously blogged about). I cannot really express my gratitude enough about that.

Truthfully, I had a difficult time on this trip in general, and I needed help from God every day with my attitude about it. I did not want to be so far away from home for so long, driving so many miles. Every day He helped me, and I felt a noticeable difference with His help. Today I am home. In my own bed. And I am grateful for such a kind, caring God.

Seven Years

2011-04-08T22:23:00.030-06:00

**I tried to post this on the day of my son's birthday, from my laptop, while on vacation. But my laptop is possessed and would NOT HAVE IT. Here is a tribute to my son....**

Today, he is 7.

I am not sure there is much I can say that I haven't said a kajillion times. But today, he is 7. That I have NEVER said before.

We tried to make the day as special as you can make it when you are on vacation and have driven endlessly. When you are currently staying in your FIFTH hotel room in EIGHT days.

Today we stayed put. We are in the coast of Oregon, heading North, eventually making our way home. We spent time at a wild animal games park which my son really enjoyed, because it was the type of park that allowed the tame animals to wander free through the park. He got to pet rams, goats, sheep, donkeys, burrows (there IS a difference between the two, which I didn't know). He tried to get close to the deer and peacocks, but they would have none of it. In addition, he got to pet a baby Bengal tiger, a possum, a coon, a ferret, and even a de-stinkified skunk.....which turned out to be his favourite. What a surprise.

His first phone call this morning was from his Auntie Laura. She told him to take lots of pictures of the tiger so she could scrapbook them, which he promptly replied with: "Auntie.....you are *destroying* my sense of humour!"

All day his milked his birthday-boy status. "I think, since it's MY birthday, that we should go to the park," or "Do I get to pick a place to eat, since it's MY birthday?" He did pretty much get his choice of everything, too.

He told the kids at the park it was his birthday. He coloured a picture at the restaurant we were at, put it on the window facing out so the "cars passing by could see what an awesome job he did".

Yep. That's my boy. NEVER wanting to be the centre of attention.

He is still such a stinker. He is still so stinkin' lovable. He is the kind of kid whose personality I have always enjoyed tremendously IN OTHERS. Maybe God saw that and decided that's the kind of son I needed.

Whatever the case, I sure am glad he's my son. Even at my most frustrated, I know deep down inside that I wouldn't change him if I could.

I'm thankful to God for seven wonderful years. Oh how I love that boy!

What If?

2011-04-06T23:43:00.028-06:00

Every once in a while something happens in life that has great impact. I suspect these things happen to teach valuable lessons. I certainly hope that I've learned mine.

Today, as part of our vacation in Northern California, we decided to visit Patrick's Point. Patrick's Point is a part of beach that is known for having agate rocks. An agate rock is a rock that, when held up to the light, you can see right through. People from all over the world come to Patrick's Point to collect these rocks. Upon reading this history, my daughter had her heart set on finding some of these rocks.

After spending several hours hiking in the Trees of Mystery and going on a gondola ride, we made our last destination Patrick's Point. What we didn't know is that Patrick's Point is, in fact, a cliff that overlooks the Pacific, and that to get to the beach a person has to climb down the steep embankment for quite a ways. It's not that the trail is terribly treacherous, at least not until the end, but it is long and I knew in my tired brain that meant it would be a much harder climb back to the top. At the beginning of our descent, we watched the angry waves come crashing in for a while. It was a rainy, windy day, and the ocean did not appear forgiving. A fact that should been a warning to us.

The roar was loud as we descended. We took our time, fully intent upon walking on the beach, trying to find Hannah's precious rocks and a seashell or two. At the bottom of the climb, we came across a California Coast Guard. She warned us that the ocean was at high tide and that, if we decided to continue, there was a chance we would be caught unaware by a "sneaker" wave. She said that if we came back in an hour, the tide would be going back out and we shouldn't have to worry about them at that point. Dave and I stood in indecision. We watched the waves for a while, noticing that we had a good amount of sand where the last waves came and the rocks of the cliff where we could look for agate. I watched what I thought were "sneaker" waves coming in, thinking "what's the worst that could happen? So a wave comes a little further and I get my shoes wet....no real harm done". And the thought of climbing back UP, only to return in an hour and again have to climb back UP.....well, for this out-of-shape, fat body who already spent hours hiking - it was just too much. So, Dave and I made the decision (which in all fairness he probably made because of ME) to chance a little ol' sneaker wave and stay.

We spent a delightful 45 minutes collecting what we only think are agate rocks, along with the odd seashell. Then we headed back to the section where we were to begin our climb. We wandered quite a distance down the beach, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing, feeling completely safe. We reached a section that, right in the middle of the sand, had a little stream flowing. I had Seth with me, Hannah and Dave were following. I jumped over this "little" stream and grabbed Seth's hand to help him jump. We both weren't successful and ended up getting a little wet. While my back was turned away from the ocean, a little "sneaker" wave caught us unawares. This "little" wave wasn't as little as I thought it would be, however. It soaked us past my ankles, and totally upset my son. I turned back to look to see Dave and Hannah holding onto a log, cheering us on.

I took my crying son around the last cliff before the ascent, when we were hit yet again with another "sneaker" wave. This time it soaked Seth to his knees and me mid-calf. My son was hysterical. I rushed him to the stairs as I tried to comfort him.

I waited a ways up for Dave and Hannah to catch up. That's when I saw that they were totally soaked. That's when my heart stopped. I did not realize that as I was calming my hysterical son, trying to get him up the stairs, Dave and Hannah got hit with a wave. Dave was in water up to his WAIST and Hannah was in water up to her ARMPITS. Hannah lost her balance and Dave managed to catch her and hold on to the log. My daughter was crying. My son was crying. I was in shock. Dave was quiet. My son cried for 15 solid minutes.

We drove about 15 minutes back to our hotel room. We cleaned up sand in four pair of shoes - none of which we could throw in the washer at the hotel because it was against the rules. We cleaned sand in pants and skirts and socks. We had baths. We comforted our children. We talked and talked and talked about it. After once saying that we needed to stop talking about it, I realized the unfairness of that because my daughter NEEDED to talk about it.

We hadn't eaten since breakfast, so we finally found a restaurant and sat down to eat. And talk more about THE INCIDENT. Dave and I had been avoiding the "what ifs", but really, I think it's impossible to totally avoid them. Sometimes I think they're even necessary because they make you more thankful.

"What if I wasn't right beside Hannah?" Dave asked. Or, "what if I would have seen this and screamed when I saw my daughter in deep water? Would I have screamed and intensified the situation?" I asked. "What if I didn't suddenly feel a rock holding me up?" Hannah asked us, instantly sobering Dave and I.

"What if I would have crossed the little log first, as I was intending to, and then reached for Hannah to help her, only to have the wave come when I was on the other side?" was Dave's last question. And then I watched as his eyes filled with tears.....and he tried to hide it.

The fact is, we should have NEVER gone out on that beach in high tide. We will both always regret it. It was a stupid, stupid mistake that we will never repeat. We will have to take the kids both to the ocean in the days ahead at LOW tide, just so they don't develop an unreasonable fear of the ocean.

The fact also is, that God was merciful. When Hannah asked where the "rock" suddenly came from, well, I think we all knew Who the Rock was.

And I ask, "what if" we didn't really KNOW Him?

Half and Half

2011-03-24T00:17:00.026-06:00

She wasted time tonight looking for her little blue puppy that went missing because she "just couldn't sleep without it". "She is the littlest of all my animals, mom, and if I don't find her she'll be....lonely."

That's my girl. Still a child in so many ways.

Today she is 9.

She reads books about the famous, historical men of Greece and Rome. She constantly gives me little bits of trivia after she has read these books, which is the third time for each one.

Her interests are that of a girl much older than 9.

She runs her legs off around the racetrack while I play volleyball. In between her laps she (and her brother) stop at an area with a platform and play office, school, church, and any number of games. They then carry on running around the track.

She is a 9-year-old girl again.

She picks my brain about geography, history, Japan, tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes.....all in a DAY. Not a week or month. Her intelligence is greater (I believe) than the average girl of her age, simply because of her insatiable curiousity and thirst for knowledge. I tell her constantly that when I was nine, the only thing I cared about was sports and television. I NEVER read.

She seems older than her age.

She encloses herself in her brother's bedroom so the two of them can form their own band: Drums, xylophone, flute, tamborine......all the toys I have stupidly neglected to remove from her brother's room. Yet.

She is once again a carefree girl of 9.

She works hard. She earns her own money delivering flyers. She keeps her little monthly allotment in her purse and carefully chooses what she will spend it on. She is beginning to understand the value of not throwing her money carelessly away now that she has actually earned it herself.

In that regard she is more mature than a lot of adults.

She cleans a part of her room......she runs to the piano to play a tune......she sneakily reads couple of pages in one of her latest books.....she helps her brother fix this or that......she runs down to the freezer to grab me a loaf of bread.....she runs back to her starting point - her bedroom - to try to accomplish a little more.

She is fiercely determined to figure things out on her own - like her dad. She is just as determined to throw in the towel when she hits a road block - like her mom. It depends on the situation and her self-belief.

She is a paradox.

That is my girl. Half child and half teenager. Forgetful AND organized. She walks around in a dreamy state AND compiles lists to help remember things. She loves her brother to distraction AND fights with him passionately. She obeys me most of the time AND completely disobeys......very occasionally.

I get tears writing about her. She is everything my mother's heart could ever hope for. She is loyal. Affectionate. Smart. Determined. Beautiful. Warm-hearted. Kind. Compassionate.

She is 9 today. Jesus knows - I love her so.

New Crush

2011-03-14T22:49:00.016-06:00

"I luv Deesree Frum Seth"

(Desiree is a sweet girl at church whom my son had a crush on for months. He drew her pictures and wrote her notes regularly.)

Somewhat surprisingly, yesterday Seth crept into my bedroom to tell me this secret.

"Mom," he informed me very seriously, "I plan to marry either Julie, Shawna, or Cassandra."

And thus his first crush has abruptly.......ended.

My Granny's Amaryllis

2011-03-06T22:27:00.032-06:00

(Photo courtesy of my niece, Rachel)

This wonderful, classy lady is my Granny. At the end of March, she will be 90 years old. Because many people from the church will be gone in the next few weeks to Israel, we decided to have a birthday party for her early so everyone could be there, and so celebrated the wonderful woman who is my Granny this afternoon at the church.

Is she not the most beautiful 90-year-old lady you have ever seen? We went shopping yesterday and bought her that beautiful new light blue jacket you see in the picture and the white shell underneath. Her one request was that her hair be done "special" for the occasion and, since Granny RARELY makes any requests, her favourite hair-doer, Lana, came over especially early to fix her Granny's hair. She was simply stunning.

And now I have a heartwarming story which I only hope I can do justice to.

About a month ago, Sister Dehod was having a chat with my Granny. Knowing how much Sister Dehod loves flowers, Granny told her about the amaryllis she received from one of her sons and how wonderful it looked in full bloom. My Granny told me of her "chat" with Sister Dehod. Several times in fact.....because unfortunately she has become more forgetful lately - as anyone her age would.

"Sister Dehod would like to see my amaryllis," she would tell me. Or, "Sister Dehod might try to plant her own amaryllis after hearing how well mine is doing."

She is very fond of Sister Dehod.

This afternoon at her party we talked about my dear, wonderful Granny. We told stories about some of the things she has experienced in her lifetime.

And then Sister Dehod hit a grand slam.

She ended with her version of my Granny's story. She told us how inspired she was to plant her own amaryllis after hearing about how well Granny's was doing.

And then she brought out the amaryllis she planted - just one month ago.....in FULL BLOOM....and presented it to my Granny as a gift from her. My Granny's eyeballs were a sight to behold. "Is that really for me?" she asked.

This is the heartwarming part of the story: Sister Dehod has been nurturing this plant for a month. She was not sure if it would bloom on time or even at all for this event today. Then, just a few days ago it broke out in full bloom. In a week's time they leave for Israel.

If it didn't bloom when it did, Sister Dehod would have either waited to give it to my Granny, or chosen to present it to her without the beauty of it in full bloom.

And, although my Granny would have appreciated it one way or another, there was really nothing quite so special as seeing the look on her face when she saw the beautiful, fully blossomed plant.

And personally, I think God did that. Just for my Granny. Because my Granny is special and HE loves her.

Just About My Boy

2011-03-02T23:38:00.025-06:00

This post is about my boy, whom I've been neglecting in my posts recently. I actually found him funny today. Maybe my vitamins are kicking in.

He began the day teasing Hannah, telling her that "all girls want a beard", which of course got an outrageous reaction from her. I secretly laughed. He so easily knows how to push his sister's buttons.

After overhearing a discussion I was having with my daughter (who is very inquisitive and was asking me about how the white people took the land from the natives, which turned into the very sensitive topic of Residential Schools and how mistreated the native people were at the hands of white people.......), he informed me that if it was him that was taken out of our home, put in a Residential School, the first thing he would request is to go to the park. Then, after the trip to the park, he would turn and THROW STONES AT THE GOVERNMENT!!! Then after that, he would find a digger to come and "dig a home out for us" (because he would leave and find his parents after all) which would, of course, be conveniently located across the street from the park.

The night ended with the discovery of half of his stuffed animals hidden in his coat sleeves, hanging on a hook in his bedroom. I went to get his coat and found it very heavy. As I removed his beloved animals, I couldn't help but chuckle. I could imagine him saying, "wasn't I tricky, mom?! HA HA!! I sure tricked you, mom, didn't I?!"

But then again, maybe he was just trying to take them along to his next destination. You never know.

If this post isn't funny to anyone else, that's okay. It certainly was to me and even more than that, is somewhat of a celebration that my sense of humour just might be returning with regard to my boy. I needed that.

What Really Matters

2011-02-28T23:46:00.031-06:00

This last weekend Dave and I attended the homeschool conference. This is my fifth conference and I can honestly say that every year I glean something worthwhile. I find it very refreshing to attend an event with so many likeminded people. People who totally understand where I'm at and why I sometimes get frustrated. People who embrace homeschooling as normal.

As is typical, I discussed the conference at length with my pastor's wife. She and my pastor were very active in the Saskatchewan homeschooling organization when their kids were younger. I am very thankful for their (among others) contribution to the cause because they have truly made my path so much easier. Provincial legislation as well as the funding I receive is currently the best it has ever been, and I was told this weekend that presently Saskatchewan is considered the easiest province in Canada in which to home educate your child.

My pastor's wife and I have never been similar in our approach to homeschooling. She embraces the unschooled approach. I embrace the ducks in a row, regulated approach. However, I have changed a lot since I began and, although I don't think I will ever be totally unschooled in my approach, I have come much more toward the middle. I at least understand why someone would choose the unschooled approach. The unschooled approach is really suited to a laid back personality. In someone like me, who is far too intense, it would create grey hair and early baldness. And extra heart palpitations.

My pastor and wife have three tremendous kids. They are thriving and successful. They are excellent Christians. You really could consider them to be the poster children of successful parenting and homeschooling. As I was reflecting on the conversation I had with my pastor's wife, I tried to imagine myself following their exact prescription of homeschooling AND parenting because, quite simply, YOU CANNOT ARGUE WITH RESULTS.

And I had an epiphany. Maybe I'm just slow.

I realized that even if I did my best to follow their exact methods, there would be no way I (we) would have the same results.

Because I am not my pastor's wife.

Because my husband is not my pastor.

Because my kids are not their kids.

And, because sometimes I get myself worked up over my inadequacies, I felt like God dropped this little thought into my head and told me to "just relax".

It's not the unschooled approach. It's not the legislative approach. It's really not about education at all.

It's whether the parents are bonded with their kids. Loving them. Praying for them. Teaching them. Guiding them.

It's whether the parents (and not the peers) have their children's heart.

And within the context of our own unique family, God is the centre. He knows that with all of my little stinky pitfalls, my heart's desire is that my kids fall in love with Him.

After all, that's what really matters the most.

Disclaimer: I do understand that even when all of these essential elements to parenting are completed perfectly, there are still some children who make choices that break our hearts. All we can do is our very best.

Return Of The Valentine Box

2011-02-14T21:37:00.059-06:00

Last week I asked Hannah if we were going to get our Valentine Box out again this year for Valentine's Day. She had no recollection of what I was talking about, so I pulled up my story, The Valentine Box, and had her read it. With a smile on her face, she decided she was going to make this year's Valentine Box. She is not very artistic, but she happily constructed this from Seth's Thomas The Tank Engine lego box, carefully cutting a big slit in the top for cards and other delightful surprises.

The box sat outside her door for several days. Despite an attempt by Seth to restore HIS Thomas The Tank Engine box back to its original state, it did manage to survive the week. My girl would sneakily stuff things into the box. At times she would coax her brother to do the same. I waited in anticipation.

This morning at 6:15, a pre-planned time because Dave leaves for work at 6:30, a sleepy-eyed boy and a wide-eyed girl convened in our bedroom to open the box. Treasures galore were in the box: home made pictures, a tiny box of beads, cards, treasures from the kids and treasures from mom and dad. I was spoiled by everyone.

I managed to find something little for the kids. Scooby Doo is Seth's favourite dog right now. Several years ago he received three electronic Scooby Doo books from an aunt which he memorized. He periodically drags the books out, practices the theatrics, and then puts on a skit for us. So, when I found Scooby Doo for only $5.00, I knew I couldn't pass it up. He was ecstatic, and his reaction was worth enduring a morning of "Rall right rom! RI'm roming!"

I found a little stuffed pink poodle, which was inside a miniature pink purse for Hannah for very cheap. She promptly named her poodle Lucia, calling her Lucy for short, and spent the day cuddling her and teaching her obedience.........:-) She put a belt around her neck and used it for a leash. When she got in the shower tonight, she tied her to the chair leg. She explained with a smile that she didn't want Lucy to "get away".

I am told I have wonderfully unique kids.

Tonight Dave and I went out for dinner. It wasn't fancy. It couldn't be called supremely romantic. All of those restaurants were packed and we really didn't want to spend any more money than we already had. We used a coupon and went to an average restaurant where it was just the two of us without the kids. That's all we really needed anyway.

One last thing, something I must show........at bed time Seth - my wonderfully unique son - always gets his bed ready. He cannot simply just jump in bed and get under the covers like other boys. That would be too simple and un-unique. Plus, he has too many animals that he sleeps with. So, he arranges them in exact, perfect order, every night. At times I have pulled his covers back and tried to arrange his animals, but I always manage to mix some of them up - which totally ticks this boy off.

Here is what I am talking about:

He sleeps in a rectangle, with his animals surrounding him on all sides. Not an elephant out of place.

And so ends another wonderful Valentine's Day.

Dreamin'

2011-02-12T00:32:00.024-06:00

I tried to reach my sister this evening. Several times. I knew she was off work but she was not answering any of my texts.

And I became impatient. Harrumph.......!!!!!!!

Then it struck me how different the world is - with ME being a very guilty culprit - because of technology. How astoundingly........IMPATIENT. In the days prior to cell phones, a person would actually have to wait until someone was AT HOME to call them. How novel! It is becoming the norm for people to cancel their land lines and carry a cell phone only. And you know what that means? That a person can be reached AT ANY TIME, ANYWHERE. It means that a person carries their phone 24/7 because heaven forbid we should miss a call. Or a text. Or not be able to surf the net. Instantly.

Sometimes I sit and wonder what it would be like without any of this *garbage*. Tonight I imagined myself living on an acreage - just one or two acres is enough - just outside the city limits. With only a land line. No texting. Maybe even.......{{gulp}}......no internet. Having my own garden with fresh vegetables (that I absolutely detest taking care of but perhaps I would push myself to do). Maybe even a flower garden if I got REALLY good at gardening.

One, maybe even two dogs that ran wild outdoors.

No cats. They are detestable.

Room for my children to run free and play outside. Ride their bikes without worry of traffic.

Taking life slow.

Learning the art of true patience in an instant society.

Maybe I could start a new movement: Apostolic Amish Society. I can't help but smile. (Maybe I'd even trade in the car for a horse and buggy.....you never know).

Gracious God

2011-02-02T22:29:00.017-06:00

I've been praying for my daughter a lot more lately because she needs the Holy Ghost. Tonight, in God's gracious lovingkindness, He showed me a glimpse of her heart.

On the way home from church, she brought up Solomon and we discussed him. Then she said to me:

"You know mom. If God ever asked me what I wanted more than anything else like He did Solomon, I really wouldn't want anything in this world. You know what I would want?" she asked me. "I would want Him to take away the pride that seems to keep me from praying and worshipping in front of other people."

How is that for an honourable desire? She knows that she is hindered by the thought of anybody either staring at her while she is praying or worshipping, or by the thought of somebody helping her pray. We have had many conversations about this and she has finally come to the understanding of the root of the problem.

I was so thrilled with her response, I told her that God heard her request. Right in the car. Then later when we were having our little chat at bedtime - I was rubbing her back and she was lying on her stomach - I told her that WHEN she got the Holy Ghost, I was going to pray that she become an altar worker. That she has a desire to pray with kids AND adults at the altar because, quite simply, she has the heart for that. In her silence, I heard her smile.

"You are smiling right now aren't you?" I asked.

"How did you know?" she asked with a GREAT BIG SMILE.

"Because you can ALWAYS hear smiles when you listen close enough," I said.

And we both smiled.

Stark Honesty

2011-02-01T23:42:00.043-06:00

I've had writer's block lately. Except that would insinuate that I'm a writer, which I'm not. I simply like to put a few sentences together in a blog. I guess that means I have blogger's block. Added to that, I am bone weary. With winter. With ongoing situations. With homeschooling (which normally happens in January/February of the school year).

It's not that I don't have any writing material, either. Many times I tell myself that I have to blog about a particular incident, but by the time evening comes I can't seem to get it out. I have thought about shutting down my blog, an option that I am still considering. It may be time to simply stop my stories and compile the ones I have. Time will tell.

Frankly, I am struggling telling anything about my son because I don't know how to tell it in a positive manner. I love that boy-o-mine to distraction, but he is driving me stark, raving mad and at times I feel guilty about that. I am not sure how to deal with his constant craving for attention and am troubled by it because when I look into the future I see an attention-seeking boy and I wonder what lengths he will go to for attention. I shudder to think of him in public school because he is such a FOLLOWER. I suspect of my two children, he is "the crowd's" favourite because he is so funny and charming. They don't know my loss of sleep, or my extra worry lines in my forehead (hmm....on the other hand maybe they do.....) and several hundred more grey hair. Because I am concerned about the FUTURE of this boy.

I know He's in God's hands. I just struggle daily to leave him there. Maybe I should be better at trusting. Truthfully, I'm not. That's stark honesty. I know of better parents and better Christians whose kids rebel against them when they are older.

I don't worry about my girl in the same way, although I do worry. She is going to get her heart broken continuously because she sets her heart on things. For example, yesterday we went to the library, just her and I, after her piano lesson. We went to a different one than we normally do because we were in a different area of the city. This was the first thing to set her off. She wanted the "main" one. What was her undoing, however, was the fact that THIS library didn't have Thea Stilton books. She was pinning all her hopes on Thea Stilton. Boxcar Children wouldn't do. Our Canada books wouldn't do. American Girl books wouldn't do. Hardy Boys books wouldn't do (she's read the Nancy Drew books several times over). Only Thea Stilton would do.

She pitched a fit. She shocked me by it because it really isn't typical of her. She DEMANDED to know why we couldn't go to the "main" library! Harumph! She began pleading and begging - in the middle of the library - to drive to the other library. None of this was done very loud, but it was a public display nonetheless, and I had to tell her three times to stop. When we got into the car, I told her how very displeased I was with her behaviour in public and that in no uncertain terms would we be going to the other library after that display. She was so distraught that she told me that I "PROBABLY DIDN'T EVEN LOVE HER"!!! (That was a first).

I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. (Does this make me mean?)

She sulked for a solid hour. Then she pulled me aside (we were at granny's house) and apologized to me. I thanked her for her apology, but asked her if she thought that meant I was taking her to the other library. She was honest (I love this about her). She told me that yes, she hoped I would, but she understood if I didn't and that she was still sorry.

We went today to the "main" library to get her beloved Thea Stilton books.

One last note.....since I'm on a role that may not come again for a while.......about my son. A couple of days ago he wore his clothes to bed. UNDERNEATH HIS PAJAMAS. He showed me them in the morning. He was "being sneaky", he said. We had a good laugh over that one. I have no idea how I could have missed his bulk.

And I just realized that, at least for a short time, I became unblocked. Good night all.

The Teacher

2011-01-25T00:30:00.033-06:00

She patiently reads to her brother, often encouraging him to read and helping him sound out words.

She shows him how to do house work, teaching him more patiently than her mother does.

She helps him with his school. In fact, it is her delight to do so.

Over the last while, the conviction has crept upon me - slowly, I might add - that my daughter is a born teacher. In fact, although it is too soon to say for sure, I wouldn't be surprised if that is her life calling.

A few days ago, quite out of the blue, she asked me what I thought she should do when she grew up. Truthfully - and this will be met with some opposition I am sure - I am of the opinion more than ever that as a female, she needs to *first* plan her future to be at home, raising the children God gives (should He decide to bless her). All other future plans should revolve around that.

So.......

I asked her the question: "If you decide you want to further your education, what would you do if you got married and had children? Would you be willing to forsake your *career* to be the nurturer of any children you might have?" Because, quite simply, I believe this to be one of the reasons women (yea....even APOSTOLIC women) are often tempted to hold part-time jobs and give their children up to a babysitter. They don't like their two year, four year or even longer *year* education GOING DOWN THE DRAIN.

To this end, this is what I advised her (yes, I know she is only eight but it is NEVER too early to guide my opinion....AND...so she doesn't have to work a minimum-wage paying job all her life if she doesn't get married):

That since she loved teaching, even THRIVED doing it; AND all indications are that she excels playing the piano.........that she concentrate putting the two together to teach piano. Because teaching piano pays excellent, is something she could do while pursuing more education, while single, while married, while raising and nurturing her children to help out financially if necessary, as an empty-nester, and even in her retirement. In a nutshell, it is something she could do at all stages of her life.

It is also something she could contribute to children who could not afford lessons by donating a little time each week to an inner city school teaching kids. I said this last point because my daughter......BLESS HER SWEET, LOVELY HEART......asked if teaching piano was something she could do to help those in need.

I tell this next story with full permission. My youngest niece, Jenna, who is 19, just began piano lessons. Tonight she completed her second lesson and came over, much frustrated. I give her full credit for trying. I tried in my early 20's to take lessons and quit after a month. I found it extremely frustrating after playing by ear for years (and not very well at that) to try to "unlearn" all my bad habits and start at the beginning playing Mary Had A Little Lamb. She has the same teacher as Hannah, and we are discovering him to be a bit "out-of-the-box" in his teaching style. I think ultimately it will be good for Hannah because he is pushing her out of her comfort zone. For Jenna, he is trying to get her to play songs that are not beginner level. It does seem as if he is putting the cart before the horse.

So, much to Jenna's credit, she swallowed her adult pride and asked Hannah for help. For the next hour or so, Hannah - very patiently - went through one of Jenna's songs, teaching her things that it seemed her teacher skipped. Step by step. Line by line.

Precept upon precept. Here a little, there a little. ((smile))

I was in the kitchen listening. Hannah never lost her patience. Jenna never got mad at Hannah. I marvelled at Jenna's occasional "OH, I GET IT'S!!" until eventually they played Jenna's first song duet-style - Jenna playing the left hand and Hannah the right. In one hour a whole lot of progression was made. It was beginning to click for Jenna. Hannah was in her element.

And I was in the kitchen teary-eyed.

My daughter is born to teach. In what capacity in the future, only God knows.

But the piano is a wonderful place to start.

A Thought About Teenagers

2011-01-19T20:31:00.013-06:00

Just found this quote that I want to share:

"The idea that kids must first be teenagers for seven years of their young lives, and in many ways their most ambitious years, before they can be adults in our society is absurd. I have not found a place in the Bible that says anything about this teenage time. What I have found is this: "When I was a child I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish things behind me." (1 Cor. 13:11). Why aren't children maturing the way they should?"

This came in my homeschooling journal today. A woman was doing a book review on John Taylor Gatto's Weapons Of Mass Instruction, and was stating her opinion. Since I have not yet read that book, I am not sure if she was reflecting the view of John Taylor Gatto.

What do you think? I have never thought of it this way. I definitely will be pondering it......

Music Of My Heart

2011-01-13T00:16:00.037-06:00

With the passing of well known pastor and singer (amongst apostolics), Brother Murrell Ewing, I have been thinking a lot about music. This has come about because, like so many others since Brother Ewing's passing, I have listened and watched him on youtube. I have been touched by his thorough, unabashed love for the Lord and anointing, both in preaching and singing. Whether or not one liked his musical style, nobody could deny that he was anointed.

In one of his videos, he was telling the congregation that when his daughter Vonnie Lopez (also very well known for her musical ability among apostolics) was a child, she did not appear to be musical at all. His son, Landy, from a very early age was obviously talented, so he and his wife, Joan Ewing (fabulous songwriter) found themselves praying in earnest that God would bestow this gift upon their daugther as well. This is where the video clip ended, but it is obvious that we know the end of that prayer, for we know the talent of Vonnie Lopez.

I then watched the archive of Brother Ewing's homegoing/funeral service online. Near the end of the service, they played a clip of the last time their family was together for Thanksgiving. At this gathering, in the midst of their family's usual singing and playing, Brother Ewing started unexpectly praying. They were blessed to be able to get his praying on video and played it. I have transcribed a portion of his prayer, particularly the part he prayed about music:

"I want to thank You for the beautiful, beautiful family that You not only gave us in these yesterdays of my mother and daddy's life, I want to thank You for what You've given Joan and I. And let me say thank You right now before I go any further with this prayer, let me thank You that You gave our family the knowledge and an ear to be able to hear music. So many people cannot enjoy music like we are enjoying this tonight. They just don't have an ear to hear it. It's kind of like Jesus said about some of his followers, He said, "You just don't have an ear to hear." And that's so true in so many people's lives. But You've given us not only the ability to hear music, You've given us the ability to harmonize and make music ourselves, and enjoy what we can produce. And we can get the blessing from that as well."

Let me say this right now: I think I have a new revelation. I guess I have always thought that God just chose whom He chose to have musical ability. I didn't know why He chose whom He chose. It is my belief (and remains so) that if God chose to give a person musical ability that they need to be very serious, careful and not big headed about it. Because of this, I have never been one to flaunt my own ability (at least that I know of).

What is a revelation to me is that a family can so enjoy music, bask in the wonder of it, talk about it, be well known because of it, and still be totally ANOINTED, CAREFUL AND HUMBLE about it. My brain has a hard time mixing the two. Although those in our family that are musical have gotten together and had fun jamming, none of us really talk about music outside our own family. We talk about it if we're asked, we sing if we're asked. I'm not saying that is bad, but I am saying that I almost feel like we've been scared to ENJOY IT TOO MUCH. And although I regularly ask the Lord to anoint my singing, I am ashamed to admit that I haven't often thanked Him for the ability to sing. Somewhere in my pea-sized brain it almost seemed to me that that prayer made me less than humble. (If you wonder where that came from, your guess is as good as mine).

What's also a revelation is the fact that if you ask the Lord, He may just make a previously non-musical person turn musical. Like Vonnie Lopez. Which again is warped because, come on, this is the Lord we're talking about.

And you know what? I've been asking like I've never asked before. I have a daughter who has surprised me by her piano playing ability. She has been told now by several people that she is advanced. She loves it. But she had never been able to sing. Although she is only eight, the singers in our family all could sing quite well much younger than that, so I assumed she would not be a singer. However, in the last few months she has been expressing a genuine desire to sing. She has been trying to hear harmony parts. And, since I've got my new "revelation", I've been praying for her. And you know what? Tonight in church (as she has done for the last few services) she is listening to me sing harmony. She sang harmony with me (we're talking high tenor) and for the first time tonight when I heard her singing it fairly effortlessly, I changed to soprano to see if she could keep it on her own.

AND SHE DID! FOR QUITE A WHILE! And she could not wipe the smile off her face when I gave her the thumbs up!

And you know what, I now have dreams of duets with my daughter. She could even play the piano and sing harmony at some point in the future. And you know what else?

I AM NOT GOING TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT! Although I won't flaunt it, I will enjoy what the Lord has done, REJOICE AND BE GLAD about it.

I am going to start praying for my son in earnest. He can't carry a tune in a wet paper bag.

YET.

Although tonight after the first song, he nudged my arm and informed me, very seriously, that:

"Just thought I'd let you know, mom, that I was singing the low part of this song."

And I grinned. You gotta love it. God is good.

Normal And Daring

2011-01-01T01:07:00.054-06:00

I don't think it's daring, I think it's normal.

I recently read this statement on someone else's blog in defense of their belief. Since then, the comment has stuck in my brain and has made me think of the things that I think are normal. Some of them are very distinctly MY OPINION.

I found this person's belief very interesting, so much so that I believe given the opportunity, I could be "swayed" by their belief. Thus, on this New Year's morning, I decided to compile a list of things I think are normal. Things I am firmly convinced of and the roots of belief run deep. This is not to condemn those in disagreement, but is meant to cause thought. As well, I would be interested to hear what other's view as normal. I love giving thought to something I have never before thought about in a certain way.

Here is a list of eight things that come to mind as being normal to me (in no particular order):

1) I think it's normal to homeschool my children. I think it's daring to send your child to a public school.

2) I think it's normal to breastfeed. I consider it daring to to try to replace mother's perfect-for-their-baby milk, with a one-size-fits-all formula. (Although this is pretty much a societal norm).

3) I think it's normal for a mom to stay at home with her children and for a dad to be the breadwinner. I think it's daring for parents to put their children in daycare.

4) I think it's normal for children to have two parents (a mom and a dad, more specifically) and very daring for a mom to intentionally choose to be a single parent (for the sake of having children).

5)......and we're getting more controversial here.......(bearing in mind there is no malice intended..) I think it's normal for parents to be the main influence of their children....NOT PEERS. This means that I think it's daring for children and youth to spend too much time with other children and youth (yes, even youth groups) because it causes conflict of "influence" between the parent and the peer.

6).....more controversy......I think it's normal for a woman/girl to be distinct from a man/boy in dress and conduct. I think it's daring to blur those lines even a little because of the danger of.....INDISTINCTION.

7) I think it's normal to go to church for every scheduled service. I think it's daring to miss (except for sickness, of course) any of the scheduled services quite simply because we're human and humanity is CARNAL.

8) I think it's normal to have close bonds with your "blood" relatives (despite stinky quirks or traits). I think it's daring not to give special consideration to your family (over friends.....for the most part) because we reap what we sow, and we can fully expect to end up lonely and alone in our old age (because if anyone will stick with you to the end, family will BEFORE a friend). That is a FACT.

Like Father, Like Son

2010-12-29T14:56:00.023-06:00

This little helicopter took about 45 minutes for Dave to build.......while Seth watched and observed. Even though the helicopter is small, anyone with legos knows the pieces are small, so the job can be tedious.

We were wondering how long it would take for Seth to take it apart. Surprisingly, he played contentedly with it for a few days, we went away for a few days, and then last night upon arriving home, the first thing he did was go into his bedroom and take his helicopter apart.

He was so tired that I told him he couldn't "rebuild" his helicopter again until today......he had to go to bed. Truthfully, I didn't think he would be able to rebuild it without his dad's assistance.

This morning he got up, shut his door, and came out a short time later with his completed helicopter. Dave told me that he didn't help him at all, that Seth put his helicopter together completely BY MEMORY, and did it absolutely perfect. I must confess to being shocked. It's been almost a week since he watched his dad put it together, he took apart last night, and still remembered everything perfectly today.

This afternoon while Hannah and I laboured delivering 150 flyers (in the -29 C with-the-windchill-temperature......((whine, whine......:)), Dave and Seth built a much bigger fire engine. It took several hours to build.

Now, less than two hours later, Seth has taken it apart. I await in anticipation to see if he can rebuild it on his own.

Somehow, I think he can. I believe he's found his forte.

Point Proven

2010-12-22T12:20:00.004-06:00

This proves the point of my previous post. My son can't just do his school. In this picture his foot is on the table because he wanted me to "rub the middle of it".

It is taxing.......and hard on a person's feet after all..........to sit on your bum for longer than five minutes to do school.

Woe Is Me.......:)

2010-12-21T12:56:00.029-06:00

I won't ever, ever, EVER let myself get behind with Seth's school work again.

EVER.

Because of my lack, we are spending a few days ON WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE A BREAK playing catch up with his school. I fully intend to be done tomorrow. However, before tomorrow comes I may find myself totally bald. In fact, when we finished school today, I walked into the bedroom where my dear hubby is studying (he is off for two weeks, and writes an exam in early January, or so was his ~~excuse~~ reason for being holed up in the bedroom while I slaved away.....:) and pointed to three spots on my head.....warning him in a sinister tone that "very soon there would be no hair there at all".......

He managed a lopsided grin. I guess having a bald wife bothers him not at all.

One half of my brain laughs hysterically at my son. The other half of my brain is in the depths of despair. I am speaking truth. He comes up with such funny things that I dare not crack up about because he needs no encouragement at all to be funny. I also realize, however, that he has far to go regarding some areas of study. Very far.

Today, he was to fill in the blanks. The first question asked (with an accompanying picture) was:

Sally Skunk ate ___________________. He filled the blank with "a cairt". Translated: "a carrot".

The second question: Tim Turtle crawled ____________________. He answered, "ovr a roc". Not a hard one to figure out.

The third question: Billy Beaver swam ____________________. His answer? "In too the loj". Translation......"into the lodge". Lodge? Loj? Why Billy swam into a hotel is a mystery to me.

Fourth question: My teacher's name is _____________. He answered, "darlu", even though he has spelled my name a hundred times. AND in spite of the fact that capitalization has been one of the major focuses right now.......((heavy sigh)).

And finally......my favourite of all that almost sent me into hysterics.....

What is the best part of the day in your class? The best part of the day is_________.

His answer? "rim".

"Rim?" I asked. What is "rim"?

"You know," he answered. "Rhyme." (NOTE: He has been learning root words and suffixes too, but clearly needs help with this as well).

Oh......of course. He loves to rhyme. He certainly does NOT love to spell. He rhymes so much in fact, that there have been some near disasters.

Like when he gets on the "truck" and "duck" rhymes.

Yep. That's when it's time to end.

Precious Truth

2010-12-05T22:37:00.077-06:00

**DISCLAIMER: This is very frank and perhaps offensive to some. If you are not interested in hearing a rant about what I believe to be Biblical Truth, this post is NOT for you***

When I was 14 years old and desperate, God introduced Himself to me. He did this by sending someone my way, proclaiming just the right amount of His Word, and then in a Still Small Voice to my heart, telling me that "this was what I was searching for". In later years after learning to recognize His voice speaking to me, I understood this more clearly. Even now it astounds me how clear His voice was then. I remember that moment and still hear His exact words; I still feel the tingling down my spine that I felt back then. Most importantly, I still BELIEVE IT.

And I believe with all of my heart, this is what has kept me from believing a lie throughout the years. This is what has kept me from *changing* what I initially believed. The truth is down deep in my spirit and God has confirmed it over and over and over. I cannot and will not change it. It is NOT my Word to change.

I am disturbed at the confusion about *standards*. I am disturbed at the blatant rebellion against what was once believed. I understand fully, 100 percent, that standards do NOT save us. I understand that my sleeves could be to my wrists and my skirt to the floor and I could have a heart full of hatred, a tongue that gossips, a bitter spirit. And that I WILL be lost if those remain unrepented of.

What I don't understand is the belief that *forsaking those standards* might actually make us CLOSER to God.??? Why forsaking the standards suddenly gives a special insight to what GRACE really means. I understand the potential for self righteousness. I understand that God HATES self righteousness. But I don't believe we forsake separation in order to get a grip on self righteousness. The closer I get to God, the more I understand that my own righteousness is nothing but filth. But I also understand that there are many things that could defile my temple, and it certainly doesn't give me carte blanche to do what I please. It's all about balance.

What I do understand is how people who forsake the *legalism* - bless God it's grace alone after all (completely not understanding that GRACE teaches us, not permits us) - end up losing the revelation of ONE GOD, BAPTISM IN JESUS NAME, THE INFILLING OF THE HOLY GHOST BY THE EVIDENCE OF SPEAKING IN TONGUES. And I ask, do they really forget the times God moved on them in their spirit and they spoke in a language they did not learn? Do they really? If they don't forget that, why do they suddenly believe IT'S NOT NECESSARY?

How can they attend a church that believes God is a Trinity?

All the clothing/hair arguments go up in smoke entirely to me when those same people forsake the very foundation of Truth. The Oneness of God. Baptism in Jesus Name. The infilling of the Holy Ghost. Why can't the foundations be kept once the *standards* are gone? If standards are the issue, why don't they still believe in One God? If they still believe in One God, why do they go to a Trinitarian church?

I have a lot of standards for my children. Likely quite a few of them are unnecessary. Being unsure, however, of exactly what might ensnare them, I keep the standard high. Likewise, being married, I conduct my behavior AND dress in like manner. I do NOT flirt with men, married or single. I do not wear provocative clothing (and wouldn't even if I was svelte).

Why would a Christian wear provocative clothing or dress in any way that could be considered seductive? To some extent this is an individual conviction, but my goodness when someone's individual conviction is to show their cleavage, then I can certainly understand why there is a standard!

I don't feel like I am explaining my heart very well, but I my main point is this: Once upon a time, God gave me a revelation of His Truth. He then proved it by giving me a supernatural experience that was promised from His Word when I received the Baptism of the Holy Ghost. He helped me understand that He took flesh on Himself, came to earth as a man, and that he is not THREE persons. Why on earth would I risk losing ANY of that precious revelation because I feel restricted by *legalistic* standards?

I have yet to see one person retain the knowledge of that Truth once they rebelled against those standards. Not one.

It is that Truth that is precious to me. Not the length of my sleeves per se. However, even if NONE of the guidelines I keep is necessary - and I truly won't know until Glory - history has shown me that it is not worth rebelling against them because of the risk of losing the knowledge of His precious Truth.

The Truth that He spoke to me in that Still Small Voice 29 years ago.

On The Brink

2010-12-02T20:34:00.032-06:00

My son sends me to every extreme of my emotions. (Whether or not I have extreme emotions is for the jury to decide....:)

I am convinced the sparkle in his eye grows brighter every day. Obviously in some respects I adore that. In others, it purty near drives me over the edge.

For instance, while he is cleaning his room, he sings at the top of his lungs. He dramatizes stories. He yells. While he is singing and I am elsewhere, I can't help but smile. My heart is warmed when he sings his own versions of every kind of gospel song.....from Gaithers to Gateway, IBC to bluegrass (we have a varied taste in music). That warmth quickly leaves me, however, when I go to his room only to discover he got involved in a building project and forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

He is happy. He is carefree. He laughs constantly. He sings all the time at the top of his lungs, everywhere in the house. He tells jokes to make people smile. My heart is mush.

He is lazy. He is an invalid. He procrastinates. He over-reacts and dramatizes pain worse than a girl. He drives me mad.

Last night he complained after church that both of his feet/ankles and his left elbow and wrist were aching. His dad had some compassion and rubbed them for a while. I remained cold-hearted. I've been through these dramatizations too many times. He managed to survive through his snack. He thrived through his story. However, when he went to go to the bathroom at bedtime, the tears began. AGAIN.

"I can't walk. AT ALL!"

I remained unmoved. He continued his cries from the bathroom.

"MOM! I AB-SO-LUTELY CANNOT WALK!!!" he wailed.

I finally go into the bathroom (because I wasn't prepared to stay up all night) to find him on the floor. I tell him to get up. INSTANTLY. He somehow manages to find strength in the midst of his extreme pain and.....rises. I tell him to go to the bathroom. NOW. In spite of his protests that he can't STAND, I witness the miracle of his RISING. He finishes. By himself without my assistance.

"Mom, I still really can't walk you know. I have to hop," he protests, much less however. I ask him how he can manage to hop when he can't even walk.

"Hopping is easier. That's why," he 'splains.

We brush his teeth. He is increasingly-amazingly (bad grammar, I know) healed. So much so that he runs to his bedroom, forgetting his ailment.

We pray and do our nightly rituals. He kisses me good night.

And I do not hear a peep from him all night. Nor all day today. It's a miracle.

And that is why I rarely take him seriously.

And that is why he drives me to the brink.

Today while I took my granny to an appointment, daddy took the kids to Mickey D's. They had quite the time playing. I discovered when I finally arrived that my son was the gallant knight. According to him, he rescued "a little cutie" (his words) from a bully. He proceeded to talk about it off and on for the next couple of hours. He also let me know that this girl was sure a "sweetheart".

He is six. SIX! And I am more grey every day.

Pray for me. Please.

Plum Wore Out

2010-11-26T14:44:00.025-06:00

Today my son decided he wanted to be a scientist. He decided this because he wanted to "make dinosaurs come back to life". I guess I need to work on his *theology*.

I have actually found myself plum wore out homeschooling my son. This is not to be misunderstood about homeschooling in general - I love homeschooling and still believe in the merits of it 110 percent. I have every intention of continuing.

But pardon me if I'm just having a bit of a whine.

Truthfully, I've been spoiled by my daughter. From the beginning she has been such an independent learner. She read early, so was able to read her own instructions early and only come to me for assistance. Although Seth *reads*, he is only very average at best (whatever average is) and needs my help with everything.

Totally everything.

One hundred percent EVERYTHING. And that's what I am plum wore out about.

I've decided lately to give him his assignment and leave him - ALONE - to do it. I try to occupy myself, sometimes in another room altogether, but sometimes in the same room. This has been a total trial. Even though I have explained to him that he is to work alone and NOT to call me unless he has a question, he cannot seem to grasp this. He will work quietly for two minutes maximum before he calls me to "come see how good I made my 'S' mom!"

My son needs continual affirmation.

Other times he just dawdles when I'm not watching him like a hawk. And school drags on for much longer because he is not getting his work done.

Lest it appears that I think my son is "stupid" in comparison to my daughter, let me clarify. For some reason I have been able to tap into my daughter's learning mode. She is very, very bright but I understand her areas of strength. I get what makes her tick and have figured out how she will catch on to things. My son, however, is beyond brilliant at things I just don't get. There have been times I have told people of some things he's said or done and they have responded with by expressing their opinion of his sheer brilliance. Such incidences give me a wake-up call to my own struggle to understand his areas of genius. At times I feel totally inadequate to teach him. I know if I *only had this gift or that understanding* that he would be even further ahead.

Right now the only gift I have is of impatience.

On a positive note, one of the things I have clued into is how to teach my kids proper study habits. That is simply because I have adopted their dad's mode of studying (all the credit goes to him, really). He has taken a half dozen correspondence courses and has proven his ability to study by continually acing his exams. When I was first giving Seth spelling tests, he flunked them. All of them. Then I adopted their dad's study habits and he has been doing brilliant. Today he got 100 percent.

Now if I could only figure out other ways to help him, I'd be set. Or he'd be set. Or we'd both be set.

And I would be less grey.

I'm done my whining now.

Proud Of My Girl

2010-11-11T23:17:00.005-06:00

I'm so proud of my girl.

She will be starting her Royal Conservatory of Music (the Canadian version, which I'm told by her piano teacher has better songs....) next week. She has worked so hard and thrived at playing the piano. I very rarely have to remind her to practice. Typically in a day she flitters around the house from task to task, stopping every hour or so at the piano to play for about 15 minutes. She repeats this until all together she has likely practiced a couple of hours. This method of practice so suits her personality. If she actually had to sit for longer than 15 minutes I think that she would go stark, raving mad.

I'm so proud of my girl.

After her piano lesson today we went to her favourite store in the planet, Michaels. She works hard and is learning to save her money. This is her once-a-month treat (which I prefer more than candy) where she usually spends just a few dollars on little items.

I discovered I was rather foolhardy to go to Michaels during the Christmas season. They have such cool things at this time of the year for a *crafty* girl such as Hannah, and I had no idea how she was going to make up her mind. My heart melted when she finally settled on a kit that constructed a bird house AND an airplane/car. She decided on this because she knew her brother would be delighted to construct and paint the airplane/car, while she enjoyed working on the birdhouse. I decided to let her spend a little bit more money than usual because of her sweet motive and as a reward for doing so well in her piano.

She then spent the entire drive home anticipating her brother's reaction to his gift.

I smiled all the way home. And I told her how much I loved this trait of hers.

Have I mentioned yet how proud I am of my girl?

Spotted On The Balcony

2010-11-08T15:22:00.032-06:00

I have been working on my ~~son's~~ children's behaviour. I am fully aware that I have written several posts confessing my lapses into inconsistency, but I suspect that until I'm in Glory it will be a constant battle for me in that regard.

To continue with my story.....

He is improving (which means that I am improving, obviously) but it was apparent on Sunday morning that we still had some work to do. I am always on the platform on Sunday mornings as part of the praise singers. Dave operates the sound. Usually I have him sit with someone, but I decided that since he has shown improvement I would give him a chance to prove himself. Thus, I let his sister and him sit in the back because it is right beside the sound. And their dad. I gave him a stern warning:

1) Participate in the song service (that meant no sitting down or doodling in his notebook - the only thing he is allowed to bring to church at this point);

2) Do NOT torment his sister;

3) Do NOT make funny faces;

4) Do NOT jump around and perform doing funny dances;

5) Do NOT do ANYTHING to draw attention to himself;

6) He COULD breathe like normal. I did give in on that.

I informed him that I was on the platform and would be watching his behaviour.

After sufficiently warning him, I ran the plan by their dad. Their dad, bless his heart, takes mixing sound seriously. He is a typical male who zones in on the task at hand. Earthquakes could happen, people could be screaming.....but bless God, that sound would be PERFECT. However, he did tell me he would *watch out for him*.

I will admit that he did a better job than usual in watching out for him. However, the entire time I was on the platform I watched my son do EVERYTHING I told him not to do. I watched him make his goofy, cross-eyed, tongue-sticking-out-of-his-mouth face. I saw him poke and bump and tickle his sister. I saw him dance all kinds of goofy dances. I saw him leave the area and move to a different row altogether (thinking....."stink, I DIDN'T tell him he couldn't leave the row....but what good would it have done anyway since he hasn't obeyed even ONE of my commands"....??). I saw his dad motion to him TWICE to smarten up. I saw him straighten up for all of twenty seconds, only to go back to his stand up routine.

It is very difficult as a mother to be in a situation such as this. I had to school my facial features. I planned all kinds of *sweet retribution* when we got home. One part of me wanted to hide my head in the sand and ignore it altogether - I couldn't do anything about it at the time, after all. Another part of me wanted to laugh hysterically at his antics.

Just try to sing with all of your heart and worship God while your son is out of your reach giving the performance of his life.

It does remind me of that old Mark Lowry story where he begged his mama for permission to sit with his friends on the balcony while his mama played the "piana" and sang. She gave him permission, so he used his time to practice his comedy routines. Only, he ended up being caught because she saw him and he knew it. And then he sings:

Oh victory in Jesus, my Saviour forever

And then she spots me on the balcony........

That story has forever ruined the true significance of that song for me. And, although my son never did clue in that I "spotted him on the balcony" while he was in church, he did clue in that I "spotted him on the balcony" when we got home.

And met his just reward.

Interpretation

2010-11-01T17:46:00.011-06:00

Definition: (from my son)

"Mom, do you know what car-league means? It means a professor."

Huh???

The story:

The professor from his computer game was getting into a car and was called by another person in the game "his esteemed car-league (a.k.a. colleague)". Thus, car-league means professor.

Obvious.

I loved this interpretation so much that I just had to record it.

A Conversation With My Son

2010-10-28T21:02:00.017-06:00

Today my children were cleaning up my son's bedroom because both of them had been party to the mess. In the midst of their work, they had a spat. Hannah yelled at Seth. Seth then yelled to inform me that:

"Hannah's mad at me and I didn't do anything!"

Sometimes I intervene. Sometimes I ignore it because I want them to work it out.

Tonight, rightfully or wrongfully, I ignored them.

A little later while his sister was otherwise occupied, Seth informed me of *what really happened*.

"Mom, did you know that Hannah was mad at me, and I didn't do anything to deserve it?" he emphasized.

"Oh?" I said. "If I were to ask Hannah to tell me her side of the story, what do you think she would tell me?"

He thought for a little bit. "She would tell you that she was folding a blanket," he replied.

"And.....?" I asked.

"And while she was folding her blanket, I blew at it," he answered.

"What happened when you blew at it? What would she tell me then?"

"She would tell you that it made her have a hard time folding it," he stated. Then, realizing his error, he added quickly: "But I didn't know it would be a problem!"

We had a chat about his less-than-honest plea of ignorance, but I will confess to really enjoying this conversation. He thought through the issue from another perspective and ended up spilling the beans.

Think I'll try that method more often.

Thankful

2010-10-25T15:07:00.009-06:00

It's been a while. We've been busy.....are having awesome church.....and I think perhaps many of my stories are repetitious. Sometimes I think I should "rant" about something (the Lord knows that I have MANY opinions), then I wonder who in the world will care about my opinion anyway....:)

So I just haven't blogged.

I'm sure eventually that I'll come out of my mini-hiatus. But for now, I will say that God is doing amazing things in our church. He's doing great things in my family. I'm very excited about the future.

In short, I'm thankful.

Flyer Adventures II

2010-10-08T13:26:00.024-06:00

I think some of the best memories I'll have of this stage of life with my kids will have happened during our flyer route. When you deliver flyers three times a week on the same route, you must get creative to fight off boredom.

I have mention before that the kids like to race our mail carrier, Kelly. She is such a good sport. I've told her she reminds me of Wooten (mailman in Adventures in Odyssey), because he once lost his job for taking too long to deliver the mail every day. All the little old ladies along his route would wait for Wooten to come because they had some sort of task for him, which he very good naturedly carried out. Kelly has told us how she has gone in for "just a few minutes" into a lady's house because she wanted to show her dogs, and ended up staying for tea, leaving 45 minutes later. That is the kind of sweet lady she is. Anyway, the kids wait anxiously every time we go out, hoping we will meet up with Kelly, because if we do, there will always be some great adventure along with a little visit.

There are certain houses we label with names. There are games the kids come up with. For instance, one house has a tree that has little red berries on it. The berries always cover the sidewalk - thus the house is called the Berry House. At the Berry House, the kids always play the Berry Game. The Berry Game quite simply is trying to avoid stepping on any berry while delivering the flyer, which at times is impossible. However, Seth and Hannah attempt it every time, and sometimes there is even a winner.

Then there are the Dog Houses. There are several Dog Houses on our route. Most of them have the dogs behind the fence with the BIG SIGN of warning. We talk to the dogs as much as possible in a kind voice to let them know we are their friends. However, most of them let us know we are on their property and don't appreciate it.

There is one house, however, that is the ultimate DOG HOUSE. For in this house lives a 160 pound Newfoundland dog. I know this because this dog and owner were outside one day and we got to meet this dog..........from about 50 feet away. He told us he was very friendly, and although he had a huge BOW WOW, he meant well. However, 160 pounds on top of my 50 and 65 pound children would spell disaster, so even though the mutt is friendly, we still shiver and shake in our imaginations.

This house has a big front door and right beside it a thick pane of glass. Every time one of us delivers the flyer to this house, the big DOG jumps up on the pane of glass and barks.......

BOW WOW!!!!

(literally folks, it sounds like that)

and scares the living daylight out of whoever the lucky candidate has been to deliver the paper. Even though we prepare ourselves, the bark is enough to make my own heart skip a few beats.

Well, my son has recently decided he wants to deliver the flyer to the DOG HOUSE. He gamely tells me he is not afraid, and impressively, he has done so for several weeks now. Every time he walks down the sidewalk, before he turns into the yard, he has a chat with himself.....

"YOU'RE NOT GONNA SCARE ME, YOU OLD DOG! HA! I'M NOT SCARED!"

and it has me in stitches. I am so tickled that even though it scares him a bit, he is determined to go up the stairs to the DOG HOUSE and deliver that flyer.

One day a few weeks ago, he walked down the sidewalk to begin his journey. He began his usual muttering.

"I'M NOT SCARED, YOU OLD DOG!!"......he cautiously approaches the front door......."YOU'RE NOT GONNA SCARE ME YOU.......

AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

I was practically on the ground laughing. For whatever reason, no matter how much he psyched himself up, this time when the DOG jumped up it scared the living daylights out of him!

To his credit, he still delivers to the DOG HOUSE. I sadistically look forward to going to this house every time, if only to hear his mutters.

All in all, delivering flyers has been a great experience. The kids get exercise. They earn money, for which we get to teach great lessons in money management. They get to meet and talk to people regularly on the route.

And we get to laugh ourselves silly. It's all good.

My Little Johnny

2010-10-03T16:21:00.039-06:00

See My Little Johnny? Doesn't he look sweet?

My Little Johnny got sent upstairs today from Sunday School. He disobeyed one teacher twice and another once. I could hear My Little Johnny screaming in the sanctuary (he was in the stairwell leading downstairs, a bit of a distance off). Little Johnny's dad went down to lend a hand. My Little Johnny - after he walked through the valley of the shadow of death - slithered into the sanctuary, totally embarrassed.

Even though I am writing this in a humorous style, I really don't find it funny. I've been gearing up for boot camp, which I was going to begin tomorrow, because I've understood that if My Little Johnny is a disobedient child, then I am directly responsible as the main parent (as in disciplinarian because I'm with him all day). I accept that responsibility. After seeking resources, I finally feel like I know what I am going to do to change the situation - and so tomorrow a *whole new life will begin*.

Daddy told his Little Johnny that he will be apologizing to his teachers this evening. My Little Johnny nodded in agreement.....then said:

"But I'm going to tell them not to tell ANYONE ELSE...."

Obviously My Little Johnny already forgot that *everyone* knows.......he made sure of that by his shrieks and by slithering into the sanctuary. The only child in the sanctuary. Like, duh.

I'll end this by saying that My Little Johnny has been sick with a cold, which prompted another *famous* question.....or should I say two questions:

"Mom, do germs get fevers? Do they get sick and throw up?"

I apologize to those who do not find his questions funny. However, since this blog is my only method currently of recording some of his sayings, I will be posting them. I happen to find most of his questions side-splittingly funny and I really do want to remember them.

So now I sign off........to prepare for boot camp.

Five Important Qualities

2010-10-01T23:02:00.019-06:00

I have recently completed the book To Train Up A Child, by Debi and Michael Peart. I hope to blog about this common sense advice on child rearing at some point. What prompted this post was found in the last pages of this book. Michael Peart wrote a letter to his two sons, who were then 17 and 15 years of age. Paraphrased, these are the qualities he advised his sons to look for in a Christian wife, in order of importance:

1. That she love the Lord and be His true disciple. That she knows how to pray. No argument there from any Christian.

2. That she be cheerful. A girl who is unhappy and discontent before marriage will NOT suddenly change afterward. No man can make a discontented woman happy. A woman who does not find joy from a wellspring within will not find it in the difficulties and trials of marriage and motherhood.

3. That she is thankful. When a young girl is unthankful toward her family or her circumstances, a change of environment and/or relationships is not going to make her thankful. Avoid a moody, unhappy, unthankful girl. If she is not full of the joy of living before marriage, she most certainly will not be afterward.

4. That she be a creative, hard worker. This speaks for itself. She should not be lazy or slothful.

5. That she love children. Needless to say, raising a family will be extremely difficult if the woman does not have a love for children.

Lest one thinks he is being too critical of women, he did go on to admonish his sons on the proper care and nurturing of their wife, which was true and excellent advice.

I think most of us {old married women-folk} would have listed some of these. What struck me the most, however, was number 2 and 3, and the fact that they were in that order. It's not that I didn't think these qualities were important, I just didn't think they would have made the Top Five list of so many things that "seem" important.

But I think I've just changed my mind. I want my home to be full of joy and cheer. And I never want to lose my thankfulness.

Most of all.......if I want my daughter to have these qualities, I must lead by example.

Dramatics At It's Finest

2010-09-30T20:16:00.014-06:00

My boy is sick. Translated that means the world is ending.

He has a simple cold. It started with a sore throat and has gone full blown into his head. He has nasal congestion and is coughing because of constant post nasal drip. The problem is that neither of my children will BLOW THEIR NOSE. I am at a loss to understand why. They would rather NOT breathe through their nose then blow it. I have never met any other kids their age who do not blow their nose.

I'm pretty much tired of his whining.

This afternoon we were waiting in the car while Hannah was at her piano lesson. Seth whined.

And whined.

I ignored. And ignored. And ignored. I am determined that even though he is sick, I will not give him more attention when he whines. I must break him out of that nasty habit once and for all.

Because I was ignoring him, he decided to try harder. He turned to me, and in all seriousness said:

"Mom, I'm pretty sure I have cancer." {bottom lip quivering for full effect}.

I'm glad he told me. At least I'll have time to prepare.

Which Do You Prefer?

2010-09-23T22:39:00.016-06:00

(Picture taken over two years ago.....my how they've grown up!)

Anyway.......tonight I had a little snuggle with my daughter. And played a game of "Which Do You Prefer?". In Which Do You Prefer, a silly game we started years ago, we give each other two things and ask which thing we prefer. Simple.

So tonight I asked her the usual. Which do you prefer.....roses or tulips? Gumballs or cherry candies? Lime green or orange? The rules are simple....if you can't answer then the game is over. After tiring my brain out trying to think of more unique things to pin her on, I finally told her it was her turn to ask me which I preferred.

What does the turkey ask?

Which do you prefer.......Hannah or Seth?

The game was over.

The imp.

Just Words About My Girl

2010-09-22T22:37:00.014-06:00

Let me tell you a little bit about my girl.

She is very serious-minded. Yeah, she laughs and gets goofy like any normal eight-year-old child, but when it comes to important things, she is very serious. The more I see this trait in her, the more I appreciate it.

She is so serious-minded that she won't even sing a song if she knows she cannot apply the words of the song to her personally. For instance, there was a song playing today about having the Holy Ghost and being baptized in Jesus name, so she stopped singing when those lines were sung. She then explained to me that because she couldn't claim that to be true for her, she felt she shouldn't sing those words.

She is taking very seriously her decision on whether to live for God or not. This used to trouble me because I would see other children, even younger than her, get into the "groove" during church, worshipping and even receiving the Holy Ghost. She did not. She took everything in, thinking about it deeply, and getting upset at someone who tried to push or prod her in that direction.

But underneath it all, God has been talking to her heart. And in the way only a loving Father can do, he has been gently coaxing her to trust in Him.

She has been slowly opening up to me as well about how God is dealing with her. She tells me how she talks to Him. She tells me what she is afraid of, but then also admits that when she tells God about it that she is comforted.

Like a flower, she is slowly blooming. She is slowly trusting God. And because she takes this decision so serious, I am hopeful that when she does receive the Holy Ghost, she will also be a serious keeper of that precious gift.

One last thing.......she also has such a sweetness that I just love. We were at her grandmas and great-granny's house today. While they weren't looking, she wrote them each a personal note (telling them how much she loved them and that they were the best grandma/great granny in the world) and snuck it into each of their bedrooms to put on their pillows.

How I wish I could have seen their faces when they found the note......

Hannah's Poem

2010-09-19T21:40:00.009-06:00

There once was a girl who sat on a log.

She sat there quite a while when out jumped a frog!

Hello, said the frog do you want to play?

No, said the girl. Just go away.

So the frog went away and made the girl sad.

Not like the frog, he was mad!

And she sat down and began to cry.

She sat quite a while and along came a fly!

Hello, said the fly do you want to play?

Yes, said the girl. Do not go away.

So they played all day and the girl did say.

I will never again say just go away.

Written by: Hannah, age 8

(Original and unedited)

Hannah's First Composition

2010-09-16T22:21:00.017-06:00

Hannah began her piano lessons with her new teacher last week. At her first lesson, her teacher challenged her to find some Japanese piano music on YouTube and write down the titles of the songs she had listened to. Today, her second lesson, she challenged her to write her own composition, of any length, Japanese-style.

When Hannah told me this I must confess to having my doubts as to Hannah's willingness to complete this assignment. This is a girl who is very creative "in her imagination" but struggles putting that to paper. However, she surprised me.

This is her written composition. Below is her playing it. Keep in mind that she has only had one year of piano, has had most of the summer off (because her first teacher moved away and her second teacher did not work out). Additionally, the piano is out of tune (yes Mrs. Wizzle - we will be looking into it.....:-). And, she does play more complicated pieces, this is just very simple because she composed it herself.

Maybe I'm just a proud mama, but I do think it has a Japanese sound to it (having listened with her last week).

I am very, very proud of my daughter.

Future Plans

2010-09-15T12:31:00.045-06:00

I just received a job offer to work in a doctor's office for a doctor I worked with in my early 20's. I'll be working a few hours in the evening twice a week, and on Saturday. Dave will be home with the kids (VERY important).....and also of extreme importance to me.....I'll be home to tuck them in bed at night (I couldn't have done it otherwise...).

Because of this, I had to go looking for a uniform for work yesterday. This is when my son found out that I was going to be going to work. He was devastated.

"You mean, you are going to work and leaving Hannah and I at home?" was his first inquiry.

I explained to him that he would be home with his dad - "won't that be fun...being with daddy?" - and that I would be home to tuck him into bed. He still would not be comforted. He walked around for at least an hour, very quiet, occasionally bringing up the fact that "he did NOT want me to go to work!" He also got it into his head that I was going to be a doctor (don't I wish...) and that I was working in a hospital, although I tried to correct him about this.

He is very concerned that I will not be around for him. This has become an obsession with him. He mentions regularly the fact that he doesn't want me to die.....thankfully just last night for the first time, I believe I really got through to him when I prayed for him that it is all in Jesus' hands, and that Jesus was there to comfort him. I can't give him false reassurances, I don't know the future. But I do know Jesus is the Comfortor, and thankfully, he was comforted. I believe his not wanting me to work is part of this separation-anxiety he is experiencing.

Anyway, this morning he woke up and made it his mission to please me. He even vocalized this. He is not always *bad*, but I am not sure that he always obeys me just to please me, either.

He was so good this morning that he even informed me ahead of time what he was going to do to be *good*. He did MORE papers than his sister (on her flyer route). He sat quietly while I cleaned the church (instead of running around like an orangutan). He walked quietly beside me at the store. He didn't have the "galloping greedy gimmies". I was so happy with this lad of mine and told him frequently. He wore a constant smile.

During lunch he informed me of the change in his future plans. Yes, he still wants to build tables and chairs (on Saturdays, to be exact). He wants to be an ice cream maker (on Sunday, to be exact). He wants to build roofs on houses - why NOT the house itself is a good question - and use bricks as well in his building (on Monday mornings, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays).

On Monday afternoon, however, he informed me that he was working with me at the hospital. Giving up on trying to straighten the location of my employment out, I asked him what job he would be doing.

"I'm going to be a doctor, mom," he answered.

Alrighty then. He's going to be a doctor - one afternoon a week - so he can work with me. I wonder what he would have done if I told him that I don't even work on Mondays? And that by the time he's a doctor, I would be looooonnnnng retired.....

To end this post.....completely unrelated......he kissed me on the cheek last night and told me that I was "the best great aunt he ever had!"

As long as I'm the best...I guess that's all that really matters....:-)

Reflection of Eleven Years

2010-09-11T21:53:00.035-06:00

At some point in the middle of the night, on the eve of our eleventh wedding anniversary, my husband managed to yet again surprise me. Traditionally, he is a *gifted* surpriser. He enjoys very much thinking up new ways to surprise me on my birthday, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day or our anniversary. The most common thing he does is awaken me at some ghastly hour when I'm barely cognitive. When he does this, it's usually the gift that surprises me.

Last night I thought I had it figured out. I was expecting an early start. However, I awoke - on my own - at around 4:00 a.m., to find the shadow of this in the corner of my room:

(Note the perfect place for my children's art work.....)

My heart was glad and I smiled. I realized that he must have snuck out in the middle of the night to his *secret hiding place* in order for me to see this when I woke up. I found out later that his *secret hiding place* was out on the deck. Since it had rained nonstop for two days, the deck was left vacant and thus a safe place. I smiled as I imagined him creeping out onto the cold deck in the middle of the night to retrieve my prize.

This trait is one of the sweetest things about my husband.

While driving in the car the other night, I told both of the kids that daddy and I will be married eleven years on Saturday. My ever-inquisitive son piped up and said:

"Then Hannah came along? Then me?"

Tears came to my eyes. "Yes, Seth. You and Hannah are God's gifts to daddy and I," I answered.

I sit in awe of the last eleven years. There has been some extremely tough times when I didn't know if we would make it, as I am sure there are in most marriages. But tonight I have a grateful heart. I am married to a man who wasn't raised to have kindness. I am married to man who was taught to fight back hard or else you would be trampled on. I am married to a man who didn't have birthday parties and where birthdays were more of a verbal comment than anything else. Yet, through eleven years, I have seen him strive to be kind, because it's not his natural tendency. I have seen him learning to bite his tongue and not fight me back when I wanted to do nothing but fight.

And I am married to man who makes national holidays out of every special occasion in our family and perfected them to a fine art. He could actually teach seminars to other men on "how to make your family supremely happy on their special days". He could show men how to make their wive's day on a very limited budget.

My husband is NOT stingy. He puts my wants before his needs. The other day I called him to ask him if I could buy this couch (pictured above), which our neighbour was selling for $80.00. (Pretty good deal if you ask me......my couch of 16 years was starting to fall apart). Without hesitation he said that I could. When we are not budgeted for a couch AT ALL, $80.00 is a lot of money out-of-budget. He shops for his kids when he has a little extra - for no reason at all but that he loves to surprise them.

So, eleven years later, we are both still growing. Still striving to improve our relationship and our walk with God. We are not stagnating.

And I am so very thankful for this man that I married.

Getting Old

2010-09-08T22:18:00.021-06:00

I had a serious conversation with my son tonight. It went like this:

"Mom, when I'm old and grown, will you have any more kids?"

"Uh, no Seth. I won't." With a straight face.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll be too old to have any more babies," I answered.

He pondered this while I read to him. I thought the conversation was over, but really, he was brooding during the whole story because as soon as I was done, he turned to me with tears in his eyes and said:

"Mom," {lips quivering} "I really, really don't want you to get old."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I don't want you to be old and wrinkled," was his reply. He was fully crying by this point. I know where these questions are coming from. We have been spending a lot of time with his great granny and, unfortunately, the fact that she is failing a little is an ever present part of conversation in our household.

"Seth, when I'm old and wrinkled, you'll be a grown man and you will feel differently about your mom being old and wrinkled then," I tried to explain.

"I will not! I will NEVER want you to be old and wrinkled!" he adamantly stated.

"What is it about being old and wrinkled that bothers you?" I asked him.

"Cuz when you're old and wrinkled, you'll likely get killed in a car accident!" he replied.

How do I get that out of his head? When I'm old and wrinkled I will die, but not likely in a car accident.......but that will not be any more reassuring to him. It's the whole death, dying and getting old thing that is pressing most on his mind. So we prayed. I asked God to comfort him. Then it was time for bed, so I told his dad about his concern so dad would pray for him as well. Before we all prayed, his dad's conversation with Seth began like this:

"Seth, don't you want to grow up and be a man? And do grown up things?"

"NO!" was Seth's reply.

"Don't you want to ever drive a car?" his dad asked.

"NO!" was Seth's reply.

"Don't you want to build buildings?" This hit the jackpot, because that is Seth's passion.

"Yes..." very quietly.

"Don't you want to go on a long walk in the woods, all by yourself?" dad asked.

"NO!" Okay then........

"Don't you want to go on a walk WITH A GIRLFRIEND?" dad asked.

"I already have a girlfriend," he said with a sigh. (Like, why would I need to be grown up if I already have a girlfriend, dad?)

Like duh. Of course. (She is 13 years old and goes to our church and he has had a crush on her since the minute she stepped in our door. She is also the sweetest girl in the world fortunately).

And even though we didn't quite convince him that it was okay to be old, it did get his mind off of the subject somewhat.

Oh the methods parents must take......

Squishy Cheeks And Other Things

2010-09-04T23:43:00.023-06:00

Notice all the animals on my son's bed? Every night, he has to lay them in this EXACT order beside him. EVERY NIGHT. If he can't find one (which happens often enough) I have a hard time settling him down enough to go to sleep. I think he has a teeny wee bit of OCD.

He was such a wonderful little guy at church tonight. He snuggled down in my arms, turned my ear to his lips so he could properly whisper:

"Thank you God for giving me such a wonderful mom."

How simply sweet and heart melting is that? To top it off, he stroked my cheek and said:

"Mom, you have such squishy cheeks," (like squishy cheeks was a wonderful trait - and actually the first time I didn't mind having squishy cheeks) and "your cheeks are so kissable." Yes, he actually said that to his mother. Can you imagine how on earth I'm going to cope when he's older?

We are currently looking for a home on a deserted island.

He had two new questions for me as well.

"Mom, how do you know when dogs are laughing?" (which I think I know the answer for) and,

"Do fish have hearts?"

We haven't searched out the exact answers yet, but I find myself thoroughly enjoying his questions.

Today, my mother's heart is mush for my boy.

Fireworks And Such....

2010-09-03T23:43:00.019-06:00

{Photo courtesy of my niece, Rachel}

Tonight we went to the fireworks. We had *front row* seats on the roof of a high rise condo. My kids were pretty excited when they heard we were going. However, we discovered that my poor son did NOT like the fireworks, at all. It has been a couple of years since we've been anywhere near fireworks and I honestly thought he would have gotten over his fear. He could not be convinced that they weren't going to land on us. Neither was he impressed with the noise.

Earlier today, this son-o-mine spent quite a bit of time constructing a new building. He then called me to come into his room to see the finished product.

"Do you know what it is, mom?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "Why don't you tell me."

"It's a saloon," he answered.

Oh.....

"What is a saloon?" I asked.

"It's a place where you go to relax and have a drink," he replied.

OH......!!!!

"Where did you hear about saloons?" I asked.

"On Freddi Fish and the Hogfish Rustlers," he explained. (One of his favourite CD's).

Later on, after talking about his newly constructed saloon to my niece, I asked him to tell me exactly what drinks were served in a saloon.

"Coke. Water. Orange juice. Strawberry juice. AND Banana juice," he answered.

Then my heart was comforted. His innocence wasn't shattered after all.

Until my *stinky* niece told him to make sure he told our pastor about his wonderful saloon.......

Looks like I'll have some 'splaining to do.

Awesome Girl

2010-08-30T23:54:00.032-06:00

See this girl to my left.

She's my girl.

She is VERY sweet.

She helped me with all my work today, asking me WHAT she could do.......

AND....all on her own.....without my prompting....

She brought out her school work and completed THREE subjects!!

How awesome is that? I have been telling the kids that we were getting back at school AFTER Labor Day. She decides to pull a fast one on me today and pulls out her books, much to my unprepared (although very impressed) self. Mule-headed as I am, however, I told her that I wasn't going through her work until AFTER Labor Day (what can say....I'm a person of my word). I have to totally prepare myself mentally when I start what I know to be something big. And starting the next school year is a BIG DEAL to me. And I am not prepared to begin until after the long weekend, plain and simple.

I know this much, Seth ain't starting until AFTER Labor Day......

A Tale Of Two Sisters

2010-08-29T00:25:00.059-06:00

I have a little story to tell. It is a true story.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

There were two sisters who lived in the same apartment. The older sister was named Rachelle. The younger was named Jennifer. Rachelle was known to be serious and scholarly. Jennifer was outgoing and hotheaded. Generally, she was afraid of very little and was known for fighting battles for her older, more *dignified* sibling.

They both had one, very important thing in common: Their total, absolute, FEAR of eight-legged creatures.

They happened to be born into a family with strong genetic arachnophobia. In fact, their two *elder* aunts, Darlene and Alana, also possessed this strong genetic predisposition. In their younger days, they were known to damage walls and waste entire cans of hairspray on these critters. However, it was thought that the gene must have mutated a hundred fold because nothing and no one surpassed the fear that these two sisters, Rachelle and Jennifer had.

One dark, lonely night, these sisters were home alone. They were having a......disagreement...(they were known to have a *few* of these). The older one decided it was time to get into the shower. She grabbed a couple of clean towels, and with her glasses off - and thus half-blind state - noticed something black underneath one of the clean towels she had just dropped on the floor. To her dismay, it was a spider (although it looked like a dead spider). Totally freaked out, Rachelle jumped onto the toilet lid, because we all know that dead spiders are known to occasionally come back to life. She pounded the poor sucker with a broom (although how she got the broom while on the toilet seat remains a mystery.....), and then decided to spray it with half of a can of Raid. Just in case it was miraculously healed after the beating.

She then called her sister (whom she wasn't on the best of terms with at that moment....remember) because she needed moral support as well as a second opinion as to whether this was a dead spider or a fighting-for-life spider. And, whether it was the dead spider that still lay in another area of the floor of the bathroom (because dead spiders are just as intolerable as live ones and proper burials were not always given) or whether this was a second spider they were dealing with. Jennifer concluded that it was a SECOND spider, it's sibling lay in death elsewhere, and that she thought this spider looked dead to her (although she had a moment when she had second thoughts when trying to take a picture of the creature - for to her it looked alive through the lens of a camera....). Anyway, the final conclusion was reached that the ugly thing was dead. Five minutes of heated debate ensued as to who would clean it up (although I'm not sure why this one had to be cleaned up since it's sibling lay in another area of the bathroom floor, carelessly disregarded in death..). Rachelle thought Jennifer should since she killed it. Jennifer stated adamantly that she.would.NOT.

So, perched atop a stool (for the toilet lid by this time was becoming unstable), and still a teensy bit afraid this critter would yet pull a Lazarus, the eldest sibling very bravely took a broom and dust pan, put a kleenex on top of the dead spider (viewing of the body was unacceptable), and tried to sweep it into the dust pan. This proved very difficult, however, for the kleenex got soggy because of all of the Raid (literally leaving the floor WET), so the added assistance of Jennifer's flip flop (to Jennifer's SUPREME annoyance) finally put the creature onto the dustpan, where it eventually had it's burial in a sea of toilet water.

The tale does not end here, unfortunately, for just as Rachelle was about to get into the shower for a second time, Jennifer let out a shriek from her bedroom. Rachelle went into her sister's bedroom, knowing full well what the problem was going to be. On the wall in Jennifer's room was a monstrous-sized, fully ALIVE, crawling SPIDER. Totally ticked by this time, both at the offensive creature AND her sister's hysterics, for by this time the usually braver Jennifer was crying......Rachelle took the broom and whaled the living snot out of the spider. When she finally finished swinging, Jennifer had actually gone from crying to laughing hysterically. The sight of her benefactor viciously swinging her weapon was really too much.

Disaster struck again: It was discovered that the spider had gone missing. It was not on the floor or in the broom (although this was observed from about ten feet away, so one could not be totally sure). Jennifer was unsure whether or not it was actually dead or...hiding....and this proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Rachelle and Jennifer stayed that night at their parents.

This is the end of the story. Certainly not the end of *their* story. The question begs to be asked: If this gene mutates yet again, what will their offspring be like?

Note from the author: This account is factual. Anything resembling known persons is *purely coincidental*.

All In A Day

2010-08-24T21:34:00.038-06:00

I was awoken early this morning by my happy son, jumping on my bed, trying to shake me awake.

"Mom! Mom! Why won't you and Hannah wake up?"

My befuddled brain thought: "You won't be so chipper when you realize you are going to the dentist today for a filling. I won't rain on your parade yet, however, sonny-boy." It's amazing that sarcasm can come so naturally even when my brain is so tired.

Off to the dentist. I thought he needed one teensy filling, but he needed two. Both were very small, but still required anesthetic. I tell ya, when you find a good dentist, one who knows how to handle kids, hang on to him. He had that needle in and out so slick, Seth chatting up a storm the whole time. The only thing Seth refused to cooperate with was having a rubber-dam. I don't like rubber-dams, so I totally sympathized. Tears filled his eyes and he started to panic and cry. Fortunately, they were very patient and removed it (even though it makes their job much easier using the rubber-dam) and did the fillings quick-as-you-please without it, all the while making Seth feel like a million bucks.

He did deserve it. He was totally awesome today. His parade wasn't rained-on after all.

So, because he was so amazing, his dad and I asked him what he would want the most as a reward.

"Smarties," he said.

I explained (hopefully) that it did not have to be candy. It could be a toy. It could be anything (pretty much).

"Smarties," he repeated.

Even though too much sugar and inadequate brushing (although I am stumped about that one because I have been VERY diligent with brushing) is why he needed fillings in the first place, how could I deny him his one request?

So, tonight we went for Smarties. Him and I. Since it was a gorgeous evening, and I needed exercise, I told him we would walk. He walked his little legs off. Twenty blocks, round trip.

When he got home, he ate smarties, talked, read library books, talked some more, rode his bike, talking the whole time. We ended the evening looking up answers to his questions (since I am trying to take them more serious like a good mommy should).

What do giraffe's bones look like? VERY BIG. Saw some interesting pictures.

Do elephants lie down to play dead? Yep. Even though they sleep lying down AND standing up, it stands to reason that since they would be lying down if they were REALLY dead, that if they were playing dead they would have to lie down, right? Sound logic.

Do bees have a heart? (newest question) Yep, although it looks like the large intestine of a human.

And tonight in bed: Can skeletons lie on their side? Again, yep. Sure. If a person dies that way, why not?

The last two questions are definitely worthy of Chapters 3 and 4 of "The Book". At the current rate of his questions (several a day), I will need enough material to fill A THOUSAND chapters.........

All About My Girl

2010-08-21T23:58:00.026-06:00

The day started ~~in the wee hours of the morning~~ at 8:15 a.m. My husband, who had been up for hours (he has formed this terrible habit in his old age of rising VERY early), came to awaken me. Barely able to focus (because I've formed another terrible habit of going to bed VERY late), he told me that Seth had requested some special time with just his dad. So, since I had been trying to schedule a mother/daughter outing anyway, he suggested that we split up and he have a father/son day at the same time.

Even in my slightly half-wit state, I was very happy that my mama's-boy-son made this request. He loves doing things with his dad, but he has never requested having some time just with him. Away from his mom. And so we planned our day.

Once again, I had a superb day with my girl. Besides going for lunch, we went to her favourite store, Michaels, with the intent of picking out another silk flower, which she just happens to love.

It is becoming more apparent that my girl is very indecisive. She took a half hour just in one aisle of the store, staring at the silk flowers on sale, going back and forth trying to make little bouquets, not being able to decide which ones she liked. She finally told me she wanted me to pick them out.

"What if you don't like my choice?" I asked her.

"I don't care. I want you to pick them out because I just can't," she replied. "And, I know that once I pick out one flower and it's paid for, I will regret not picking the other."

Such is her logic. In fact, she does this all the time in a store, in whatever she buys. She quite often picks out what she doesn't want because she "just knows that she will regret buying what she wants".

????????

She has such endearing quirks. Tonight at prayer meeting, she whispered to me that after prayer meeting, before we left, that she wanted to talk to me. ALONE. Alone to Hannah doesn't mean finding a corner of the sanctuary and whispering. It means setting out on an excursion where there is nobody else and no chance of there being anyone else. We thought we found such a place, but someone came in and dared to turn on the light and ruin it. So we ended up going outside, away from the church.

So she could tell me her secret. In private.

And I will 'fess-up to all here and now. Her secret was VERY GOOD. Maybe some day soon I can share it with y'all. With her permission, of course.

No Song And Dance

2010-08-18T14:11:00.033-06:00

I've said before that I believe that most of the stories I will have to tell about my son will be about things that happen in church. Well, if that is true, then the second most frequent stories I have to tell are about his tremendous fear of.....BUGS. While driving. In the car.

This time he wasn't singing...yet. He saw the GInormous beast on the roof in the back seat. His brave sister did her best to kill the monster, but missed. I asked her where the offensive critter was.

First mistake.

She told me.

Second mistake.

"It's ON Seth," she answered, without thought.

And the end of the world came. Shrieks and screams. Fits of terror. I pulled the car over, I must confess that I was ~~going to tie him to his booster seat and duct tape his mouth~~ FULLY EXASPERATED, and opened his door.

If you have ever wondered if it was possible for a kid to wiggle out of their seatbelt, I have full evidence that IT IS. Seth was at an angle that put him partially out of his seatbelt.

I never did find the bug, but I checked and reassured my son that it was gone. His sister, trying to make up for her earlier mistake, told him that it "must have flown out when mom opened the door". He believed her. His big sister knows pretty much everything, after all.

I end with one last thing: This incidence sure weren't no song and dance.

Just Thoughts.....

2010-08-16T21:34:00.031-06:00

It's 9:30 p.m. My worn out husband has gone to bed even before the kids. My daughter is writing in her journal. My son has been kissed, cuddled and prayed for.

So I'm writing.

As my daughter gets older, I realize I have to be much more careful about what I write about her (thus the lack of blog posts about her in comparison to my son). Even though she is only 8, she really is quite mature and VERY sensitive. I find myself in tug-of-wars with her will about things that I am not prepared to battle yet. She tells me she "feels grown up" all the time (which proves, of course, how not-grown-up she really is - which may seem contradictory to my initial statement about her being quite mature for her age....but really isn't), so even though I am loosening the strings significantly, it is not fast enough to suit my daughter.

{Big Sigh}

Tonight my son told me that we needed to buy a "barrier".

"A what?" I asked.

"A barrier," he told me.

"What in the world is a barrier?" I asked him.

"You know," he said, "it's one of those things that you need to bury people with. So that when one of us dies in our family we can bury them."

How comforting......

I honestly don't know where he comes up with these things.

I find that he asks many of his questions while he's eating, likely because we are trying to get him to stop talking while he's eating - since it's pretty much constant chatter and he takes forever to eat - so when he's not yapping, his little mind is going a mile a minute.

"What do giraffe's bones look like?" he also asked. And: "Why do officers like donuts so much?" (to which I almost choked. Honestly, his dad and I have not made any jokes lately about the police frequenting Tim's or anything....) He comes up with these so out of the blue, that's what makes them so hysterical. And, he'll ask several questions in a row, all about completely different things.

School starts in a couple of weeks and I feel totally unprepared mentally right now.

This is one of those "rambling" posts that I don't have a brilliant ending for. Just my thoughts cuz I was in the mood to write. So good night.

Question Of The Day

2010-08-15T12:57:00.004-06:00

My son's question this morning, while eating breakfast:

"Do elephants lie down when they pretend to play dead?"

So, do they I ask?

Definitely will be the title of one of the chapters of their book of life.

Not Wired

2010-08-11T15:06:00.019-06:00

My son yelled at me, quite frantically this morning:

"MOM, COME! MOM! THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS PLUG. IT DOESN'T WORK AT ALL WHEN I PLUG IT IN!"

I quickly discovered the problem:

He was trying to plug in this white plug protector and wondered why nothing "lit up".

I'm thinkin' the chances are slim that he will be an electrician when he grows up.

Perhaps he'll stick to his carpentry work and tender for that electrician when the time comes.

Whatcha think?

Of Bugs And Praise

2010-08-02T00:14:00.025-06:00

Have I said lately that my son hates bugs? I mean the loathe-kind of hate. He freaks out over everything with the exception of butterflies, but truthfully, I'm sure if a butterfly swooped down near him and caught him off guard that he'd freak over it as well. And it's because of his dislike of bugs that I'm telling my story.

The setting: Our car on the way to church Sunday morning.

Seth is sitting in his seat, just building up to a rousing rendition of Send Up Judah, which was the current song playing.

"Send up Judah, send up Judah, send up........DAD!!! THERE'S A MOSQUITO LOOSE IN THE CAR!!!!!" And all through his shrieks, the song keeps on playing.

And he keeps screaming AND singing.....back and forth.

"DAD!!! KILL IT!!!........For everything He has done, for every victory He has won.......DAD!!! I SAID THERE IS A MOSQUITO!!!!!......Lift it up, lift it up, lift it......AHHH!!! THE MOSQUITO IS ON MY WINDOW DAD!!! GET IT DAD!!! Let everything that has breath praise the......IT'S GONNA GET ME!!! KILL IT, DAD!!!! Praise Him, praise Him......."

I was trying in vain to maintain control in the front seat. Spasms of laughter were trying to burst forth. Dad, on the other hand, was unmoved. Bugs loose in the car and his son's wails are a regular occurrence, after all. For me, it was the combination of wails and singing that got me going.

Then all of the sudden there was a big "thud" against the window.

"There, dad. I threw my Bible at the window and I think I killed it. Yup. For everything He has done, every victory He has won, send up.....AHHH! IT'S STILL MOVING, DAD!"

That was too much for me and I could not suppress it anymore. Dad was still NOT amused. I realize that throwing your hard cover children's Bible at the window is really not a good idea and could cause damage, but it is was still really just too much for me.

The story ends with the mosquito NOT dead. With dad unamused. With me finding it all totally hilarious.

And with my son sending up praise while the crippled mosquito hid for dear life.

Questions

2010-07-31T22:58:00.031-06:00

"Is there going to be a hole in heaven when you get there mom, so you can come back to me?"

Rather serious, huh? In fact, this evening has been rather different. Seth went from being upbeat and perky, to almost crying in the blink of an eye. He became suddenly concerned about me dying and was literally sniffing and teary-eyed. He has just recently started asking questions about death (I'm not sure why because nobody we know has recently passed away and I'm unaware of the subject being in any books or computer games), so it took some time trying to calm him down.

He wanted me to ask Jesus when I would die. I tried to explain to him that Jesus wasn't going to tell me, so he wanted to know why. Then asked me if I would die in a car accident.

"I have no idea how or when I'm going to die, Seth," I explained. "I may live to be great-grandma's age. She is 89, remember?" I said.

"You mean, great grandma GOT INTO A CAR ACCIDENT?" he asked.

Huh?.......(which proves the theory that boys have hearing defects..)

And my favourite question of the evening? A much lighter one (after the tears and sniffing).......it's one in a million......

"Do bugs eat mini wheats, mom?"

And I think: If I ever compile my stories into a book like I long to, I have found the perfect title.

DO BUGS EAT MINI WHEATS?

And other stories of my kidlets....

Darla Hude

I can always dream, can't I?

My Brilliant Husband

2010-07-30T23:44:00.016-06:00

I have a brilliant husband. Truly. I am convinced that there isn't a subject that, even previously ignorant about, he cannot master.

The key to his success is that he has learned the true art of studying.

He recently finished his fifth (of a total of eight) correspondence course through the City of Saskatoon. These courses take anywhere from 4-6 months of study, minimally four evenings per week. His ultimate goal is to be well prepared in the next few years when all the "higher paid supervisor positions" become available because of several people due to retire. Having a better position means one job (that means no night work for me as well), home every evening with his family, and a little more breathing space in terms of the future. I truly appreciate his hard work and dedication in this regard.

He got 99% on his latest exam. He has had no less than 95% on any of his previous courses, and I believe averages around 98% with all five.

He has told me that it was a smart college professor who taught him the art studying, and it has obviously paid off.

I am the primary home educator in the family (dedicating much of my time as well to research on homeschooling in general) AND am very outspoken (big shock......) about home education. However, I am convinced that it will be my husband's superior study habits and fantastic teaching ability that will help the kids most in the years to come. Any success they may have with their schooling will most likely be because they have a dad who taught them proper study habits and patiently found ways to help them understand a concept. He excels at both.

And I am more than okay with that. In fact, I'm grateful.

Mini-Copters

2010-07-27T11:23:00.012-06:00

Look at the size of this dragonfly, taken outside my window. I love them because they protect me from the beastly mosquitos - which they are having a marvelous feast on this year, judging by the size.

I've extended a personal invitation to this one to stay and bring all of its extended family as well.

Tickle Bug

2010-07-26T10:41:00.021-06:00

I spent some time this morning wrestling with my son. His wrestling with his dad is true man-to-man-type, but with me it's tickle-'til-you-puke. Nothing short of that makes him happy. I could tickle that kid for a solid hour and he would still come back for more. I have yet to hear him say, "okay, that's enough now, mom. I'm done tickling". Ever. For six full years (even as a baby it was evident he loved being tickled) I have had to keep his tickle-cup full.

What is even funnier is the places he likes being tickled.

Under the chin.

On the back of the neck. He will literally drop what he's doing if I start "scratching" him there and stand as still as a statue. I've learned it's a wonderful way to get him to calm down a bit.

Behind his ear. He pulls back his ears when that part of his anatomy has been neglected.

Under his arm (which he calls "shoulder" pits). He actually lifts up his arms and waits.

In his "knee pit" (his terminology).

On the bottom of his feet - he'll even put his foot in my face if I've ignored that area too long.

I realize that some of these areas are the more common tickle areas (in the shoulder-pit, for example), but I reckon most of them are not. And I've become convinced of one more thing.

My son really is part canine.

Daddy The Hero

2010-07-19T23:20:00.043-06:00

Just returning home tonight from a quick trip to Edmonton yesterday, my son, being very over-tired, did not want to sleep. He didn't go to sleep last night until 11:00 p.m. and was up at 7:00 this morning. This is a boy who requires at least 10-11 hours of sleep per night, and even asks to go to bed when he's tired.

He called me to his room at 10:00 (he was in bed by 9:00).

"Mom, I'm lonely," he stated.

Hard-hearted (and extremely tired myself), I was not moved. I told him to go to sleep. Lest anyone think I am totally without compassion, this is a boy who on a daily basis wants me with him in every room of the house because he's lonely. He's the last one eating - EVERY DAY - so I leave him at the table (or I might as well set up a tent and camp, and get nothing done) - EVERY DAY. And EVERY DAY he tells me to come back because he's lonely. This is a boy who has a stay-at-home mom and is homeschooled on top of that and he's STILL LONELY.

I tell ya, this is a boy who has been lonely FOR YEARS.

In my hard state, I left him there.

So, he decided to let his dad (who was already in bed) know that he was lonely.

And his dad, who does not stay at home with him all day (because he supports his family like good dads do), and who does not do 99 percent of his schooling (because he supports his family like good dads do), and who NEVER has compassion at mealtime and is the first to leave the table (because he eats the fastest ~~like good dads do~~), was moved by the pleas of his son. He told me he was going in to lay beside Seth for a little bit. I smiled secretly, glad that someone in this family had a heart, but feeling not-at-all guilty that it wasn't me.

I creep into Seth's room an hour later. If I could take my camera in to capture the kodak moment (and not wake either up), I would. In the small twin bed, daddy is laying on his side, while his son is laying not beside his daddy, but over top of his daddy (in an arc-shape). Fast asleep. Making double sure that daddy has no way of escape.

And my tired, hard-hearted self, is finally moved.

Moments

2010-07-12T23:21:00.020-06:00

Frustrating moment of the day: Getting a job interview to work casually in the criminal record department at the police station (very interesting work to me - great pay and get to choose my own hours when Dave is home with the kids.....perfect scenario) only to find out that I MUST find my diploma from the secretarial college I graduated from 23 years ago BEFORE I get the interview! Stupid, ridiculous rule............perhaps I should beg???.............Like a six month course means more than 14 years experience!!!!

Ear-splitting moment of the day: Listening to my darling children blow their KAZOO's in the car on the way home from an errand this evening. They were given these wonderful toys when we were out and I was ever......so......grateful......for......the.......experience. If you have never heard a kazoo played by children before - in an enclosed space no less - you are truly missing out.

Heart-warming moment of the day: Going with my daughter to the library to find CD's to learn how to speak Spanish. The challenge came yesterday from my pastor in church, encouraging whoever was willing to try to learn a foreign language. The goal is to become a church of many ethnic cultures that is unhindered by the language barrier. My daughter took this to heart and, always being interested in Spanish, is determined to learn the language. I am totally thrilled with this.

Hilarious moment of the day: This evening with my two nieces.....watching them duck and hide beneath blankets in my living room because a MOTH was flying around. To their credit, they restrained their shrieks quite well (they knew their auntie would throttle them if they woke up the kids), but as I stalked the moth, I managed to subdue my mirth. And become a heroine in the process.

Magic moments.

Happy Birthday To Me

2010-07-07T23:38:00.021-06:00

Tomorrow is my birthday. I am older than 40 and younger than 45. I normally don't advertise it, but I can't tell my story unless I do.

Taking two vehicles to church tonight, Dave decided to take the kids home. On the way home - all by myself - I clued in as to why he whisked them off so quickly.

"Mom, it's your birthday tomorrow!" my son informed me as I walked through the door.

Smiling because it confirmed my suspicion, I thanked him for reminding me.

A few minutes later, he rushed to see his dad, informing him, not so quietly, that he "let me know it was my birthday but he didn't tell me anything else". Dave and I grinned at each other while he "quietly" reminded Seth not to say anything else.

Then, while praying with the kids at bedtime, Seth leaned to my ear to whisper:

"Mom, dad is gonna wake Hannah and I up early tomorrow for your birthday!"

The little stinker.

Not that any of this is a surprise at all. It did make me grin, and also made me realize he'll probably be 22 before he can keep a secret.

Happy birthday to me tomorrow. I look forward to lunch with my sisters (and friend, whom we call a sister) - a tradition we established a few years ago, and who knows what else. I doubt I'll be surprised, but strangely enough, I am actually looking forward to it.

Which is a miracle when you're over-the-hill.

Sandbagging

2010-07-02T08:31:00.030-06:00

This post is entirely Dr. Laura's fault. She expressed something in her blog today that I had never heard stated in the way she stated and I believe it was profound. Here is a portion of what she said:

"Sandbagging" is a term used to describe an awful thing to do to another person where you collect years of grievances of all sizes and dump them on someone all at once. There is nothing they can do about these supposed "slings and arrows" as they are history. The context is gone, the possible provocation is ignored, the amalgam of complaints is impossible to dissect and respond to.

The point is that sandbagging never results in resolution or redress. It just results in the feeling of being disdained or betrayed.

I believe that people sandbag when 1) they simply want to hurt someone else, 2) want to get superiority over another, and/or 3) desire not to take responsibility for their contribution to the problem.

Time for total honesty here. Because of the goodness, mercy, and longsuffering of Jesus, HE brought me out of my sandbagging mentality. In fact, I believe that the direct result of sandbagging was "crashing and burning" within the last year, causing me all sorts of anxiety symptoms.

What I also know, from being a previous sandbagger, is that it is contagious. Sandbaggers always stick together. It is also VERY prevelant amongst our "apostolic ranks".

The bottom line is this: If you feel you have been wronged (real OR imagined....), but DO NOT have the courage to communicate this properly AT THE TIME OF GRIEVANCE, then just LET IT GO! Nobody can properly deal with a complaint against them when the incident happened so long ago they don't even remember it!

Bottom line #2: We ALL hurt people (only we never think what we do unto others is that bad....). And require unending mercy. The sooner we get this revelation, the sooner we can forgive others for just being human.

Bottom line #3: We apostolics tend to forget God's very important principle: We must forgive in order to be forgiven. (The result of having an unforgiving nature is sandbagging.)

I don't know about you, but I need God's mercy every day. I cannot live without it. I cannot make it to heaven without it. By God's grace, He has shown me this. I cannot afford to be unmerciful and unforgiving. I cannot afford not to let it go.

I cannot afford to be a sandbagger.

Five Facts

2010-07-01T01:07:00.014-06:00

I have recently discovered these five - deeply profound - facts to be true:

1. We have had more rain this year than in recent memory.

2. We have ten times MORE mosquitos than last year.

3. I do NOT like tornado warnings. (I like actual tornadoes even less.....)

4. I REALLY don't like TRAINS travelling through right in the middle of a tornado warning.

5. It is easier to wet yourself the older you get (particularly when you hear a train on a tornado-warning evening....)

Hannah's First Recital

2010-06-26T22:37:00.026-06:00

This is Hannah's beloved piano teacher, Tanya, whom she adores. Unfortunately, Tanya is moving away and we have to find a new teacher. Today was Hannah's recital.

And so Hannah finishes her first year of piano. We have to begin the process of finding her a new teacher, one that she connects with because I truly believe that is a huge reason why she did so well this year.

I am tremendously proud of her.

P.S.: You'll note at the end of her duet that she did not curtsy. It's funny because she manages to play two songs - while being very nervous - but is too "scared" to curtsy. What a funny, delightful girl. (We'll work on the curtsy for her next recital).

The Pipsqueak

2010-06-24T21:56:00.066-06:00

"Sometimes their rationalization seems unreasonable to adults, or doesn't make proper sense."

(a comment from my friend, Rachel R)

Truer words never spoken.

My son is completely irrational and I cannot figure him out.

He insists that he wants me to throw out a book that Hannah gave him about a dog and a robot.

"Why in the world do you NOT want this book, Seth?" I asked. "You like both robots AND dogs. In fact, you build robots with your blocks."

"I will build a robot," he replied. "But I WILL NOT read a book about a ROBOT AND A DOG!!"

?????????????

That was this evening. Let me tell you about my morning. At the mall. With my sister.

My pastor used a word in our Wednesday night Bible study that very much suited my son. It even suited my daughter. The word was pipsqueak......a.k.a. TWERP.

I thought I would join my sister this morning - at her request - on a shopping excursion. Just to get out of the house. And because malls have become an unknown entity of late. My sister makes this request about twice a year, and each time she does she slaps herself, shakes her head, puts a big "L" sign on her forehead because she again remembers TOO LATE why she only asks us to go with her TWICE A YEAR. She then marks it on her calendar as a reminder NOT to ask again (but then obviously senile dementia sets in because she loses her calendar).

This trip to the mall reminded me that for the 754th time, (some people are slow learners I guess), I need to work at my consistency of parenting. Or change my methods. Or take a long vacation. I personally favour the last suggestion.

The kids drove me, and my sister, batty at the mall, particularly my son. When I found myself pulling Seth along unsuccessfully, I discovered it was because he decided to "walk short" (in his words) by trying to walk by squatting. He nearly dislocated my shoulder.

Whenever correcting him, he ALWAYS has a wise crack. This is a method he has used to try to get out of trouble - unfortunately, it must work too much - that has me thoroughly annoyed. I do NOT find it funny at all, and neither did my sister. On one occasion after he used his wit, we both told him we did not find him funny at all and to stop. Totally. He thought about this and then informed us that,

"I sure wish I was with my dad. HE at least would appreciate my jokes."

On another occasion (of hiding around the clothes, imagining he was being chased by his sister), his auntie had told him she had had ENOUGH.

"I've had enough, Seth. I'm serious. ENOUGH. Quit."

He paused for a short time. Then said,

" "e" "e" "n" "f". That's how you spell enough, right?"

(He's always excelled at spelling, what can I say?.......)

And the grand finale...

I had to take him into the bathroom at the mall. This was a big bathroom, and with the air hand dryers and noisy flush toilets, was the noisiest one I've ever been in. He went into a stall and shut the door. I did not think he would lock it because I was standing outside (he's had problems unlocking the door in the past, so I don't like him to lock it).

He did.

I yelled at him to unlock it (remember: it was noisy - I had to yell).

"SETH. UNLOCK THE DOOR!"

"I CAN'T!" he said.

"YES YOU CAN. UNLOCK THE DOOR!" I repeated.

"NO, I CAN'T!" he repeated.

I repeated myself. He repeated himself. Life in the bathroom went on as only life in a bathroom can. Nobody could hear us (I think) - it was that noisy. Then he said,

"GET YOUR KEY OUT. UNLOCK IT YOURSELF!"

"I DON'T HAVE A KEY," I said. "THIS IS A DOOR I DO....NOT.....HAVE...... A..... KEY..... FOR!"

"THEN CALL DAD! HE HAS A KEY. HE CAN UNLOCK IT!"

I actually laughed. Right in the middle of this frustrating situation, I regained my sense of humour.

Then a miracle happened. The toilet flushed. On it's own (it was one of those kind of toilets). It scared my son.

He opened the door. Miracle.

Thank God for automatic-flush toilets. I think we'll get one in our house.

A List

2010-06-20T00:30:00.017-06:00

Today, my son said a sissy-cuss word. Actually, it was a unique three word combination (just because he likes to talk constantly whether it makes sense or not), the third word being this sissy-cuss word. It's a word that I confess to saying a time or two, although not in front of my son, so I asked him where he heard that word from.

"I just made it up," was his answer.

I have had him stop saying "made up" words in the past for that very reason. He has slipped before and said a "real" cuss word without knowing it. When he explained to me that he didn't know that this was a word he shouldn't say, I re-emphasized why I didn't want him just saying all kinds of words that he had never heard before.

He thought about this for a few seconds. Then he made a suggestion.

"How about if you give me a list of all the bad words you don't want me to say. I will look at the list so I can know them, but I won't say them," he vowed.

Hmmm.......Very sound reasoning to me..........

A Date With My Princess

2010-06-17T23:51:00.042-06:00

My daughter told me last night that she "desperately needed a day with just her mom". Feeling convicted that I had let too much time lapse since our last mother-daughter outing, I was only too happy to comply. So, tonight, we went on a date.

She primped to ready herself, all aflutter in her excitement.

"Mom, do you like my hair?" she asked, to which I told her she looked beautiful. She even got to use hairspray. (I don't like her using it much herself because it ends up in one big clump.) She posed for her daddy's approval, grabbed her purse and skipped out the door.

Very much my "grown-up-little-girl" all in one.

Not eating out much at all these days, we began the special evening by going to Wendy's. Hannah was doubly treated because she even got to have some pop! She is only allowed to have pop on the rare occasion, so she felt pretty grown up tonight.

We then went to Michaels (where I took my first picture below). She "oohed" and "aahed" at so many things, proclaiming Michaels to be the best store ever, and finally bought a couple of flowers that were on sale. She paid for them herself from money in her own purse. Life was good.

We then headed to Wal-Mart. She is going to use some of her hard-earned money to buy a birdhouse/bird feeder to put in the tree outside her window. She loves the birds and could sit and watch them out of her window for ages, so we decided we might as well extend the birds an invitation to stay awhile. However, we were unsuccessful finding what we were looking for, so that search will have to continue.

Our evening ended at Dairy Queen, with a shared treat for mother and daughter.

We had such a lovely time tonight. A true marvel, this girl of mine.

One In A Million

2010-06-14T23:35:00.018-06:00

This should win picture of the year, in my opinion (captured by my talented niece, Rachel). My 89-year-old granny. On a swing today at the park.

She joined the kids and I today. Walking into the park, she said:

"I think I'll take a bit of a swing."

Surprised, I asked her if she was serious.

"Sure," she said. "I always like to take a swing when I go to the park."

She's one-in-a-million.

I will always treasure this memory.

Amazing Grace My Chains Are Gone

2010-06-13T23:07:00.020-06:00

I am very traditional. I love old time traditional songs, for the most part better than the "new" songs of the last decade. Generally they have more depth of meaning.

That's why I am flabbergasted that one of the most traditional songs of all time, Amazing Grace, is (in my opinion) actually improved with the added chorus of My Chains Are Gone. By Chris Tomlin (whom I don't dislike - he wrote How Great Is Our God after all) but is still one of the non-traditionalists of this last decade that I am not terribly fond of. Not the person, just the style.

To get to my point. Amazing Grace is a complete song in itself, a timeless classic. I never dreamed it needed improving or that it could be improved. It actually uses words like wretch - a word missing is songs of our day - and talks about being "blind but now seeing". But to add My Chains Are Gone is just plain genius, I think because it actually enhances the traditional song without changing it.

My husband even agrees with me, and he's even MORE traditionalist than I am.

Amazing Grace My Chains Are Gone is currently my new favourite song. I can sing with pure honesty about a God full of grace saving a wretch like me, setting me free by removing my chains.

His love is unending and His grace is amazing.

My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Saviour has ransomed me

And like a flood, His mercy reigns

Unending love

Amazing grace

Spelling Of The Day

2010-06-12T21:22:00.006-06:00

Seth to Mom:

"Mom, I'm thinking of a name that starts with "N" and ends with "oo". Can you think of what it is?"

Mom to Seth (after thinking for a bit):

"No, tell me."

Seth to Mom:

"Nancy Drew, you silly!"

Flyer Adventures

2010-06-09T11:31:00.013-06:00

Okay. I finally have some inspiration for a post.

Three times a week the kids and I deliver flyers. It is really Hannah's route, but Seth helps (when the spirit moves him) and I go along to supervise, and help (again, when the spirit moves me). Once or twice a week we happen to meet up with our mail lady. She is a wonderful lady who takes it upon herself to know those on her mail route as much as possible. She chats with the kids and the kids love her. The last couple of times we have met up with her, it has turned into a little game for the kids. They really want to WIN (competitive children that they are....) and beat her on our route.

Good natured as she is, she tries very hard to aid the kids in their adventure. Whenever possible, she will take the kids' flyer and deliver it herself if she happens to be going to the same house. This helps the kids get ahead. I don't mind this little game at all because it spices up the monotony, and the kids get even more exercise because they run their little legs off.

Today she was catching up and was a little too "close for comfort" for Seth. He turned around and yelled at the top of his lungs,

"HURRY HANNAH! SHE'S CATCHING UP! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE......POST-HASTE!"

Now, only Adventures in Odyssey fans will appreciate that one, but I split a gut with it because he was mimicking Eugene Meltzner.

When we got home - with the kids' having "won the race", the mail lady came around the corner of our cul-de-sac. I thanked her and then told the kids to say thank you as well.

That's when I had one of those "wishing the ground would open up and swallow me" moments.

Seth yelled:

"THANK YOU, YOU OLD MAIL LADY!"

Needless to say, he met his just reward.

Just For Fun

2010-06-08T23:04:00.020-06:00

I've had a bit of a brain freeze lately with writing anything. So, hope y'all enjoy these comics instead.

I simply cannot relate to the above one at all......{{note: sarcasm}}

These two hilariously reflect the times we are living in.

Have a superb week, everyone!

Sad News

2010-06-07T09:42:00.017-06:00

Sgt. Martin Goudreault

Sgt. Martin Goudreault was the latest Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan. He is the brother of one of my closest friends, Chantal Rohovich. Please remember her and her family in your prayers.

There is no greater sacrifice than of one who would lay down his life for his country and his fellow-man.

Thank you, Sgt. Goudreault. Rest in peace.

Seth's Debut

2010-05-31T23:26:00.005-06:00

I'll very generously let his dad take the credit for passing along his genes.......

Definition Of The Day

2010-05-29T21:24:00.014-06:00

Seth asked me tonight what the word "discipline" meant. As I was pondering how to define the word for his understanding (something his dad is very good at but I am not....), he spoke up and told me that he knew what it meant.

"It means that I am happy with my mother," was his answer.

Hannah and I exchanged a secret smile. I asked him a couple of minutes later again what the word meant.

"I'm very serious, mom. I know it means that I am happy with my mother," he stated seriously. "And right now, I am disciplined," he said with a smile.

It must have been the ice cream I let him have. Whatever the reason, I'm happy to such a disciplined son.

How To Melt A Heart

2010-05-28T21:32:00.008-06:00

After praying with the kids tonight, my son looked at his dad and very sleepily told him that "mom is the bestest snuggler in the world!" (thus ensuring he had an extra-special snuggle tonight). Then, just before our nightly ritual of kisses and hugs (this comes after praying and before snuggling - rather complicated......), he always says the phrase, "we can snuggle after kissing, 'kay?", to which I usually respond, " 'kay". Tonight, however, after he said his little phrase before I could say my usual response, he said, "mom, you can say that you would be delighted to snuggle me!"

I was delighted to comply.

My heart is like putty.

Epiphany

2010-05-28T11:27:00.030-06:00

It's been a bleh morning. A bleh week. It's been raining record amounts for this time of year, with colder than usual temperatures as well.

In fact, I've been fighting blehness for two weeks simply because of the bulging disc I have in my neck. Although it's slowly improving, I've had neck pain, arm pain - at times excruciating - arm numbness and tingling, and headaches. I can't sleep properly. I live on ibuprofen.

I had the recent revelation that my own blehness is affecting my kids (I'm slow sometimes, what can I say....). Since blehness is catchy, Seth is very whiny. He is so ridiculously whiny that he came out of his bedroom this morning, whining that his left arm was hurting.

"Mom, (big tears for dramatic effect) my left arm is VERY sore (lower lip hanging downward). In fact, it's so sore that you need to take me to the doctor," he said.

I was very surprised because he never has liked doctors much. He's seen them infrequently in the last few years because he is so healthy. I really couldn't imagine why he would actually WANT to see one. He then surprised me further.

"Mom, I think I'm going to need a NEEDLE in this arm to help it!"

Okay. A needle. A NEEDLE. A NEEDLE!!!!

This is when I had an epiphany. I had obviously been talking and {{gulp}} whining too much about my neck and arms, and my son was just my......echo. (Although I must confess the needle-thing is still surprising because I have not asked for, mentioned or even hinted that I might need one.....)

I know these lessons are necessary. I just wish I learned more quickly.

The Necessity of Struggle

2010-05-26T00:01:00.046-06:00

I don't feel able to adequately express myself tonight, but I'm going to try.

In January of this year, Dave had two jobs and I had one. In February, Dave had two jobs and I had none. In April, Dave had one job and I still have none. These jobs were quit because of BURN OUT.

We have cut our spending more than I thought was possible for a couple with two kids. I live on "X" amount of dollars per month. Exactly. Not more. I count my pennies. I look for deals more than ever. I use coupons whenever possible. I watch how much I drive the car. I use cash ONLY. Not debit. Not credit. If I don't have the money for something, I DO NOT GET IT.

We have not eaten at a restaurant - even a fast food one - once since April (which is quite miraculous for us).

However........

Dave has been home - EVERY NIGHT - for supper (compared to RARELY being home).

Dave has spent more time with the kids in the last month than the entire last year (he was just working stinkin' hard).

We have had more family time than ever.

And you know what? I have been able to step back and be truly thankful for this financial struggle. It has always been my desire to get out of the rat race and learn to RELAX. We have attempted this off and on over the years, but this has truly been the closest we've come to accomplishing this. Although I will likely have to get a part-time evening job because we can't quite meet all of our NEEDS, I don't want to fall into this trap again.

I am tired of chasing the almighty dollar.

I am sick of being married to material things.

I am constantly amazed when I hear parents say that they work their long hours "for the sake of their kids". So non-existent parenting is okay as long as our kids have their toys? Their sports? Their hobbies? Broken marriages is a price worth paying?

We are so twisted in our thinking in the world today. We fight the thought of letting our kids struggle when struggling is necessary to survival.

Struggling is the stepping stone to thriving.

Do we want our children to thrive?

Lord, help me, truly. Like any parent, I want to give good gifts to my children, but Lord, I do not want my gifts to be a detriment to them. I want their gifts from me to be long lasting, life changing - things that will mold their character and help them be better Christians than I am. Not materialistic things, Lord, for those things pass away.

Help me, Lord, not to fight AGAINST their struggle.

Hannah's Debut

2010-05-21T23:46:00.014-06:00

Hannah has been playing the piano now for ten months. This little clip is of her playing her own composition (which she made up just because she wanted to, not because it was required). The piano is out of tune (I'm not sure if it can actually get in better tune because there is a broken piece at the back of the piano). It's my granny's piano, so it is priceless to me, and at this point, it is good enough for Hannah to learn to play on.

Anyway, she doesn't play the song perfect, but I think she plays pretty good.

(Spoken from a proud mama....)

Dear Diary

2010-05-21T08:41:00.013-06:00

Dear Diary:

I have lived one full week with a bulging disc in my neck, and it's getting progressively worse. The only thing I can do to try to help it is by using ice, ibuprofen and a teeny, little stretch (maybe 1/4 of an inch) to the neck. I have to sleep at least half the night on the couch because it is the only place I can comfortably place the ice pack AND try to sleep at the same time.

This morning, diary, I had a very wonderful surprise. I was on the couch sleeping (finally) when Hannah and Seth ran out to me, already dressed (usually I have to prompt them because they can be slow to get going in the morning), AND finished their chores! As well, Hannah decided to make MY bed for me because "it's obvious that your neck is still bothering you mom if you're sleeping on the couch", she wisely concluded.

And so diary, in spite of my neck pain, I have to count my blessings in my two children. They started out the day trying to make my life easier. For that I am very thankful.

Ode To My Lovely Girl

2010-05-18T00:18:00.022-06:00

I have a lovely daughter.

This girl-o-mine is such a big help to me that I really don't know what I'd do without her. Today while I was busy with something else, she sorted, folded and put away three loads of laundry. This included careful folding of towels, her brother's clothes, as well as her dad's and mine. All of this without my asking her to.

She also helped Seth with his school while I was vacuuming. Because he wouldn't take his school work seriously (cracking jokes constantly) I gave him "lines". My elder sister passed this bit of wisdom onto me because it was a tried and true formula while she homeschooled. While Seth repeatedly wrote "I will not joke" and "I will listen to mom", if he had a question, Hannah helped him. (He was trying to write "j ke" without an O because he already "used his O in the word not"......go figure....). She helped so I could finish my work.

Hannah finished her grade two in early April and has been working on her grade three. Seth should be finished soon (and only isn't because of MY neglect - there has been too much going on lately), so I plan to let her stop for the summer when Seth is done.

She is doing very well in her piano, receiving high compliments from both her teacher and the receptionist where she takes her lesson. She practices very diligently and I rarely have to ask her to practice.

Her latest ambition is to be a veterinarian. And - a Sunday School teacher. When she told me she was "imagining her class of kids", I complimented her and told her that it was a worthy ambition when she grew up. She informed me that she didn't want to wait until she grew up. She wanted to teach Sunday School now and couldn't understand why she wasn't quite ready.

Ahhh, such a sweet lass.

More About Seth....

2010-05-13T22:26:00.038-06:00

My boy has been a total crankpot the last couple of days. I suspect he's going through a growth spurt, because he is extra tired and not very hungry. He is also whiny about everything.

Yesterday while doing our flyer route, he wiped out while running. The world came to an end. Fortunately, only his hands were skinned, but they weren't even close to bleeding. This mattered very little to Seth.

"I absolutely CANNOT do any more flyers!" he emphatically stated.

I kissed his hands and tried to get his mind off the stinging.

"Do you know one of the reasons why God made your hands?" I asked him.

"Why?" {sniff, sniff......wail}

"To protect you when you fall. Imagine how much worse it would have been if your hands weren't there and your head hit the concrete instead?"

He actually nodded his head and for a moment I thought he might stop.

He didn't.

He wailed and whined for at least ten minutes (even though I suggested amputation, an offer which he didn't accept) until I grew impatient with his whining. We came to one house where a man was working outside. He asked Seth what the matter was. Of course, Seth wouldn't answer, but just continued to stand there with his lip hanging down, so I told the gentleman that he had fallen and skinned his hands. He very kindly offered to go inside his house to get him a bandaid. Although Seth refused his offer, it seemed to stop his crying. Thankfully.

Fast forward to today.

He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I have been telling him that he would be able to stand on a scale to see how much he weighed, and then see how tall he was - stupidly thinking that he would find this interesting. Instead, he began whining and *very strongly* informing me that he was NOT GOING TO THE DOCTOR! He finally told me, after much prodding, that he didn't want to go because he didn't want to step on the scale! (Like mother, like son, I thought.)

I said: "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to take off my shoes!" he replied with his lip continuing to hang low. (Hmm, not exactly the reason I strongly dislike stepping on the scale....)

"Why don't you want to take off your shoes?" I asked.

"Because then they will see my feet, AND I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO SEE MY FEET!" (Now seeing my feet is fine, but smelling them.......well that's another thing altogether.......)

{Heavy sigh.....}

I told him before bed that he was having an apple for his snack, and ONLY an apple. He had two pieces of cake at grandma's house and he didn't need anything else. Again.....the wail.

"But mom, MY BELLY DOES NOT WANT AN APPLE! IT WANTS A TREAT! IT TOLD ME SO!"

"I really have very little concern about what your belly would like Seth," I said. "Your belly really doesn't scare me all that much." I realize I need to lessen my sarcasm, but honestly, sarcasm just seems so necessary sometimes. And fulfilling.

And so his apple was consumed, again with a deformed lip.

Finally, on a better note, tonight he was getting his jammies on. One of his duties is to "get his bed ready", which involves turning back the covers and lining up his million stuffed animals exactly right. (OCD perhaps?) Usually I have to prompt him to do this. Tonight, however, he told me not to come into his room. Of course, I knew why but didn't let on.

"Okay mom. You can come and look at my room!" he yelled.

I went to his room to find his bed very nicely "ready". I told him he did a good job with a smile. Not impressed, he told me that that wasn't what I was supposed to do.

"What was I supposed to do?" I asked.

"This," he replied, and then gave me a demonstration.

And so ended our evening on a good note. Of course, this picture looked so much like myself I just had to use it........:)

My Hero

2010-05-09T23:36:00.035-06:00

Now what mother wouldn't feel blessed to be chosen to mother these two children?

Not that I feel especially worthy (not saying that as a "boo-hoo"). I just always reflect more than usual on Mother's Day about my shortcomings as a mom and try to ponder how I can improve.

However, my post is really more about my own mother.

I know I am getting old when the things that used to make me cringe about my mother have lessened considerably. I know I am getting old when the thought of being like my mother is not as troubling as it used to be.

I am not being harsh. Just honest. My mother has idiosyncrasies that have made my sisters and I blush with embarrassment.

However, the biggest reason of all that I have changed is not really that I am getting old. (Although I am getting old........imagine that?) It's that I have seen the light.

My mother - all idiosyncrasies aside - is my hero.

My mother has selflessly laid aside her own life in the last few weeks, and put her whole heart into living, caring, and giving my granny - HER MOTHER-IN-LAW - as comfortable of a life in her twilight years as is possible. My granny is a wonderful lady, that's true, but her 89 years are beginning to show and she requires more care than ever. Because of that, my mother and my granny have moved into a duplex together. To share expenses. And even more, for my mom to help my granny when she needs help.

She cooks for my granny.

She regularly checks on my granny.

She laughs herself silly with my granny.

She even plans on learning to do my granny's hair so she can "spoil" her a little bit.

She has basically put anything she might like aside for the sake of my granny.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we reap what we sow. I believe that my mom will be rewarded greatly, I really do. One of her rewards will be having children who care for her like she cared for her mother-in-law. I am determined to love my mother that way because she deserves it. She has shown me how to properly care for those that I love.

I wanna be just like her when I grow up.

Seth Stories

2010-05-08T23:58:00.027-06:00

I had a raccoon jump on me this morning, while I was still sleeping.

"Mom, mom, moooooooooom, wake up! Mom, what do raccoons like to eat?"

"Huh?" I said, barely coherent.

"What do raccoons eat?" my son asked again.

{Big Sigh}. One eyeball managed to open up. Then, before I even had a chance to think about an answer, he asked his second of 359 daily questions.

"Mom, is a raccoon a predator?" my genius boy asks. All I can think of is that their dad really must stop teaching these kids all about the animal kingdom for science. They really don't need to know any of this stuff anyway. It's all their dad's fault, my befuddled brain thinks. Then, my son - the raccoon - decides to rub cheeks with me.

"What are you doing?" I finally manage to make a sentence.

"I'm a raccoon, so I'm rubbing your cheek," was his response. I have enough presence of mind to be grateful that he is not his usual kitten that not only rubs cheeks, but sometimes........licks it. {Gulp}

Fast forward to later this evening. There was music practice at the church after prayer meeting. My two darlings were told to sit because they had not been obeying me earlier. However, he eventually managed to get up on the platform.

On the way home, we talked again about how he did not obey me. He was quiet for a few minutes and I thought the subject was dropped. The little rascal was just thinking.

"Mom, do you know why I got up on the platform?" he asked me.

"Why?" I asked him.

"Because I wanted to be close to you," the little schmoozer said.

"Oh?" I reply.

"Yep. I wanted to be close to you because your tongue is gold and silver. Yup. That's why."

I'd say HE has the gold and silver tongue. What am I going to do with him?

Very Busy....And Very Tired

2010-05-03T23:10:00.021-06:00

I'm bushed. Worn out. Plum weary.

We moved both my mom and my grandma into one place this last weekend. That meant moving two households, cleaning my grandma's apartment (VERY thoroughly so she would get all of her damage deposit back), packing my grandma, helping my mom (although much more limited because of all we had to do for grandma - my poor, poor mom). We began loading my grandma at around 4:30 Friday, and finished unloading my mom around 8:30 Friday night. We were able to do it that quickly because the entire family helped (it was almost like a family reunion....). However, we were very disheartened to find the place we moved into disgustingly dirty. As a result, we have a lot more cleaning to do BEFORE we can unpack like we would like to.

Because of how tired we all are, tempers are rather.....high. Even my grandma, who is usually a mild tempered lady and is very easy to be around, is getting rather "bucky". I have had to try to remind myself that she is 89 years old, her usual secure world has been turned upside down, she has had to lose some independence, and she has got to be a whole lot more tired than all of us. However, when she decided she did not want to eat supper tonight at her brand new table and chairs that her family gave her as a birthday gift BECAUSE IT WAS TOO NICE AND SHE DIDN'T WANT TO WRECK IT........well, to be honest, my patience ran out.

And so now I have to repent.

To top it off, my kids are exhausted. They've been cooped up in a confined space among boxes stacked to the ceiling, bored and tired of the whole business. I'm impatient with them (another thing to repent of), other family members have been impatient with them (Seth in particular) because at times they made our work a little more difficult.

Tonight Hannah decided she was tired of EVERYTHING, and with much emotion informed me of this. She is tired of her toys (although she doesn't really have toys), she's tired of her computer, she's tired of bedroom, she's bored, bored, bored. It's a combination of exhaustion, growing up, and resisting the nudge God is trying to give her. She has been more discontent than ever, and our talks about her need for the gift of the Holy Ghost have not been very well received.

And in my exhausted state, I have to try to patiently deal with my emotional daughter.

My son has burst into tears at various times throughout the day. We stopped at the library today on our way to help unpack, and I had to tell him that he was not allowed to take any books into grandma's house. The last thing I will allow is another lost library book fiasco, and believe me, there are many places to lose a library book at grandma's house right now. When we got home tonight, I told him to clean up his legos, and then we would read some of his new library books. I stressed to him - very slowly and carefully - that he had to PICK....UP....THE....BLOCKS....AND....NOT.....BUILD.....ANYTHING. I had him repeat my instructions, which he did. I gave him the choice of playing with his blocks INSTEAD of reading his new library books, or picking up his blocks and reading his new library books. He assured me he would pick up his blocks because he had been waiting all day to read the new books.

After fifteen minutes, I went into his room to check on his progress, only to find a new construction. He had made a brick wall. I told him that he obviously had chosen to play with his blocks instead of reading books, and he informed me that he had NOT built that wall. This went back and forth a few times, each time with him denying that he had built that wall. Finally, with a straight face, he told me that,

"I did NOT build that wall mom! The Brickster did!"

The Brickster is the main character on his Lego Island CD that he plays all the time. And I can tell you that he was very earnest in his explanation. He simply DID NOT do it. Therefore he could not be responsible for the building of that wall.

And so, that's been our day. Our week. Our month. I'm ready for a rest.

Question Of The Day

2010-04-29T09:02:00.019-06:00

Lately Seth has been saying that when he gets older, he is going to have twin boys. Although I'm not sure where this came from, I do find it quite amusing.

Today, he informed me that "his boys were going to have to eat broccoli" (although the DOESN'T).

"Oh?" I said. Then, just out of curiousity, I asked him if he was having any girls.

"Yes," he said. "I'll be having EIGHT of them," he informed me.

And before I had time to react, he asked me the million dollar question of the day:

"But how in the world am I ever gonna GET so many?!" he asked me earnestly.

NOTE: He told me later today - unprompted - what ALL of his kids' names were going to be. The boys will be Jack and Oscar, and the girls will be Julie, Mandy, Jenny, Brooke, Connie, Crystal, Donna and Liz. (Think he's just a little influenced by Odyssey?)

Of course, I had to record these in the official family chronicles so I could remind him when he has his first child, as any good mother would.

The Boss

2010-04-27T21:11:00.023-06:00

I had a delightful evening with my kids. We giggled, talked silly and had a grand time.

During the course of our silliness, my son told me that when he got older, he was going to have "The Boss".

"The Boss?" I asked. I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Yeah. And The Boss' name will likely be something like Auntie Laura," he answered. "'Cept maybe I'll name her Cheryl instead," he reasoned. "She'll sit beside me and make me do my school," he informed me.

I am awestruck. You see, Auntie Laura was their schoolteacher today while I was at an appointment. Auntie Laura told me after that she was "very strict with my boy, and that he listened".

My boy is obviously awestruck as well.

I think I'll have this substitute teacher - who obviously made a very big impression - a little more often.

Even if I have to go shopping, or something.....:)