Object Permanance

When babies are very small so is their world. It consists of what they can see, and hear, taste and smell. To a baby’s way of thinking if he cannot see his mother she is simply not there, though she may very well be only feet away. But as a baby matures his world grows. He learns that even if he cannot see something it still exists. Peek-a-boo becomes hours of entertainment because the baby gets the joke; he knows that what he cannot see still is. It’s called object permanence.

Here’s the thing: sometimes I think that object permanence is a lesson we forget as we age. Just like when we were young, we think that our world is only what we can see. I know that is my tendency.

I live in suburbia.
Yards are well manicured.
People are well dressed, and most families have two cars, at least.

My world is absurdly affluent.

I forget that my world is NOT the norm. Most people don’t live as I do.

This road trip has been an excellent reminder. My husband is from New Mexico (yes, that is a part of the union). But the culture here is very different than the one I inhabit in Colorado’s frontrange. It is heavily influenced by Mexican and Native American culture. We’ve driven hours upon hours through rural New Mexico and Arizona, and in so doing crossed lands reserved for indigenous people.

The two story homes that I am used to driving by have been replaced by old trailer homes with tin roofs. The roofs are littered with old tires. I was puzzled by this, but my husband explained they were there to secure the roof against the stiff winds of the Southwest, and to muffle the sound of rain on tin. Yards, become dumping grounds for abandoned cars. And it is not uncommon to see multiple trailers on one lot – extended families live together and keep costs down. And if a second trailer cannot be afforded then an old school bus or Airstream will do to expand the living space.

I love to trespass. It’s a quirk. Somehow, “Do Not Enter” reads like an invitation to me. Abandoned buildings fascinate me and the romantic in me wants the walls to speak. I just know there is a story to be told. Eddie has finally accepted this and will sometimes accompany on my illegal expeditions. He even offered to show me an old abandoned barn not far from his parent’s home. On the way I saw an old run down house. “Can we go check out that one?”, I asked.

“That one? I think someone lives there.”, Eddie replied. That one? For real? Here in the United States? I am stunned.

My first encounter with poverty was as a teenager on a missions trip to Jarez, Mexico, and later West Africa. It’s a thing that changed me; expanded my world. Now, again, I am realizing that the poverty is not so far away from home. It is just beyond my line of sight. And like a baby, sometimes I think the things I cannot see do not exist.

My world is expanding.

So as we drove through the Navajo Nation I began to think about my daughter’s native heritage. I wonder what it’s like to grow up on a reservation. So, because I’m a rich girl, I pull out my fancy phone and Wikipedia, “Sioux Reservations”. While we travel through arid land marked by poverty I read about another land, further North. It is a Sioux Reservation. I am floored:

-70% unemployment

-Rampant alcoholism, depression and domestic violence.

-STDs

-High infant mortality, and pathetic healthcare.

HERE – IN THIS COUNTRY. Poverty...the soul sucking kind.

And those children, they look like mine.

My world is expanding…and I do not like what I see, what I know. I can return to infancy. I can pretend my world is healthclubs, two story houses, and SUV’s. Or, I can grow-up. What will that mean, I wonder? What if I live in such a way that acknowledges that what I have is so much more than most? What if my neighbors live in trailer houses with tires on the roof? And what if their babies’ die because of lack of health care?

If I pray, “thy kingdom come” am I willing to be a part of it? Can I say that I know Jesus, love him, at all if my heart does not break for the things that break his heart?

Culture Shock

So my husband's parents own a home in the sticks - The WAY - sticks. The first time I visited rural New Mexico I experienced culture shock. Now, Eddie is fully acclimated to suburbia and he sees his old haunts with new eyes. These words actually came out of my husbands mouth, "They don't even sell Starbucks coffee here..." He said those words on our way back from the "grocery store". If memory serves that was right before we passed PETE'S DRIVE-THRU BAR. Yep, you read that correctly; it's a drive thru bar.

Merry Christmas!

I can't stop

I'm going through our pics and found this one. I love it. I'll try to stop posting this pictures one at a time, but I'm not sure I can do it.....

Not on the Christmas Card

Ah, this one didn't make the Christmas Card. Note fiesty one year old is wacking annoying 5 year old brother in the noggen. Befuddled father looks on with dismay, while mother pastes on her "happy family" smile. It is unclear whether 5 year old sustained brain injury.

An attempt

This is my dad's attempt of getting a picture of all the grand kids. I LOVE IT!!!

We're in AGAIN....for real.

So you'll remember that we had planned on putting the kids in school come spring semester 2009. And then the cash presumably dried up...and private school ain't cheap. So we nixed tht plan. We re-adjusted our attitudes and planned on continuing to homeschool. But then this is what happened within 24 hours.

A) Eddie got a bonus

B) I got a call from the school that they were offering our family 1/2 price tuition

so...

I called the school and said that we'd re-evaluated, and I wanted to enroll the my kids. The receptionist started to cry...on the phone...which was kinda weird. She said that they had been praying everyday for the last 2 weeks that God would provide a way for our family to be a part of their school.

Prayer answered.

And so our lives are going to change. But I am certain, absolutely certain, that this is where our family needs to be for this season. And that is a good thing.

Aren't we cute?

Merry Christmas

I try to do only one family picture a year because, let's face it, getting 4 kids to look one direction and smile is a relatively impossible feat. In fact, I think they might take family pictures in hell because, in my experience, family photo shoots are a little taste of hell on earth.

My dad graciously took this for us. We have some fabulous pictures of the kids that will get posted when I have more than 30 seconds. So, ah, consider this your Christmas card from us this year. I MIGHT get around to emailing one out, but it would not be good for your health to hold your breath until you receive a Christmas greeting in the mail.

On Safety

This is the second year that our family has incorporated Adorenaments into our Christmas Tradition. Adorenaments are ornaments with pictures of the names of Jesus. There are 12, and each of the 12 days before Christmas we hang an ornament and read a little about that particular name of Jesus. It's a good tradition. The kids like to fight about who's turn it is to hang the ornament, and it does shift our focus away from present and to the Christ in Christmas.

Yesterday, Bub hung an ornament with a picture of a door on our Charlie Brown Tree. Jesus is the Door...He is our Way to the Father and no one comes to God except through Christ. The book that accompanies our Adorenaments pointed out that the shepherds of Jesus' day would herd the sheep into a fold each night and lie across the opening. They would become a literal door, and would protect their flock against wild animals and enemies.

I love that image of safety.

I am of the school of thought that locking ones doors is just an illusion of safety. All it does is keep the good people out. Legitimate bad guys are not deterred by a $50 Home Depot lock. But Jesus as my door seems like a legitimate defense. Real safety.

Given my cynical nature about security you'd think that safety wasn't a big deal to me. But you'd be wrong. Safety is a big deal. In fact, it's one of the reasons I fell in love with my husband. I know it's supposed to be more romantic than that. But, in the end, security is one of the things that drew me to him.

When I met my husband I was working and going to school at CU. At that time there had been a number of rapes on campus...of the "jump out of the bushes and grab you" variety. This had women on edge. I was used to carrying pepper spray and a whistle and going places with a buddy. But sometimes I did walk across campus in the dark, by myself. It was scary.

Eddie always hated that I did that.

I liked that he hated it.

He always had me call when I got home so he knew I'd gotten there safely. He walked me to my car. He opened doors for me. He put oil in my car when I, ah, couldn't figure out what all the banging in my engine was about. (Apparently, pistons make that noise when there is almost no oil in the engine). He showed up early. He followed through with commitments. He walked on the street side of the sidewalk. He was trustworthy. He was safe. Still is; and I love him for it.

I think I love Jesus because he's safe too. When, as they say, " the fit hits the shan" (and it invariably does) Jesus is the same. He is mighty to save. He is victorious, and good. And when the temporal just sucks I know that there is an eternity that is different. And it began with a baby in a manger. But I think, this Christmas, it is important to remember that baby Jesus , meek and mild is not the only image we need to have of the Christ.

He is the door. Strong. Mighty. And a sure defense.

Little Children

True confession: I subscribe to Rainbow Kids waiting children e-mail update. Everyday my in-box is filled with several children who've been added to a list of children who are waiting for homes. Sometimes I cannot bear to open the emails and read the profiles of these kids. I hit delete and shoot a quick pray that these little people will find families soon.

Some days, I do read the profiles, and look at the pictures. And I am reminded that that the orphan crisis is not an abstraction. These are real children, with names, and needs, and sometimes siblings. And they NEED homes.

I want to adopt them all, which is a ridiculous impossibility.

The other day Eddie came home and saw my laptop was opened to an Ethiopian adoption blog. He said, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!!" He remembers what happened last time I started reading adoption blogs. Here's a hint: it has resulted in the purchase of a Suburban and countless Cheerios on our dining room floor.

Truth is, it makes me nervous too! I'm sorta maxed out; adoption seems absurd. But I cannot help that my heart breaks for these little people. So here's the thing: if this blog tempts you to check out an adoption blog, or go see all the waiting children photolisted on Rainbow Kids, DO IT! If there is room in your heart, or your house, or your car for one of the least of these....consider adoption. It has been one of the scariest, most costly, incredible blessings of our life.

Oh Christmas Tree

It's becoming family tradition to go Christmas tree hunting in the outback of the Colorado's wilderness. Okay, not exactly "outback", but close enough. This year it took us 6 hours, 6 HOURS!!!!!! to cut down a very unattractive au natural tree.

Baby was not convinced that this is, in fact, a good family tradition.

It is an unattractive tree.

It was cold.

We did blow an entire day in the hunting.

BUT

We have our obligatory photo with Smokey the Bear and the kids seem to forget all the unpleasant parts of the experience and beg to go cut a tree year after year.

Hey, guess what! I got a new toy...but I wonder whe n I will get my toy from Christmas...Oh, I know when it's Christmas. I wonder what

Cyber-stalking

Recently, I did a little cyber-stalking. Don't tell me it's never occurred to you. It's so easy; just type in the name of an ex-boyfriend, or long lost friend in some search engine and see what pops up.

Give it a try. But I warn you: you must be prepared for what you discover.

I wasn't.

I discovered a long, lost ex-boyfriend was doing post doctoral research at Yale. I always knew he was smart, so I wasn't totally shocked. What surprised me was the bout of insecurity I felt at the discovery.

I thought to myself..."I wonder if my ex has ever cyber-stalked me?" If he has he won't discover my name in the byline of any academic journals. He won't discover that I matriculated from a fancy pants university or two. He might, perhaps, discover this blog. Then he would find that I am a stay-at-home mom of 4 children.

Impressive, no?

When I shared my discovery and the resulting insecurity to my baby sister she had these words of wisdom to impart: "Don't be stupid. It's not like you got knocked-up when you were 15 and kept popping out babies. You chose this life. It's good. You're a good mom, and you have a good marriage. What you do is important."

PREACH IT SISTER!!!!!!

Because I need to hear it. I need to hear that what I do matters. That, in the end, it's not about grocery shopping, and diaper changing. It's about serving, and in so doing ministering the love of Christ to my family.

By the world's standards there is little remarkable about what I do. But eternity uses a different economy; it is one where servanthood is valued. And in eternity the only ones to gain their life are the ones who are willing it lose it.

So everyday I have a choice, a choice to pursue my own agenda, or to lay down my life. I can live for the accolades of the world, or I can live in the service of a the Most High King. And, by the way, that can be done while conducting post-doctoral research at an ivy league institution, or in while scrubbing dishes at the kitchen sink

So for me, for today, I will chose to believe that my calling is high, and my reward is great. I will serve the people God has called me to serve, and in the end, that is what matters.

My Portion

I am learning how to live in the present, to live fully today.

I've always been a "head in the clouds" kind of girl. I'm a dreamer. This is who God made me to be, and it's a good thing. The problem is that sometimes I can put my hope in what could be instead of enjoying what is.

What "is" is always less glamourous, and romantic than my idealized version of life. In real life there are mosquito bites, and runny noses. In real life I will never ever be caught up with my laundry. In real life I have 15 pounds to lose and gray hair that refuses to stay colored. And real life is good. In real life I have four small children. In real life I must bake gluten free. In real life I wake up early and don't stop working until my head hits the pillow. In real life I go to the bathroom with a 1 year old knocking on the door. My real life is not all that suited to my introversion - I am rarely alone.

But in my real life I am married to a man whom I deeply love and treats me better than I deserve. In real life I make green eggs and ham for breakfast in honor of Dr. Suess. My house is always warm, and I always have food in the pantry to feed my children. I get time to cuddle on the couch and read stories. And I have all that laundry because all 6 of us have all the clothes we need. I have better, and deeper friendships than most people even dream of. And Jesus loves me.

This is my cup; my portion. It is more sweet than bitter. He has given me this man, these children, this home. He has given me these talents, and these struggles. He has given me this amount of money, not more, not less. I will swirl it around and take in the aroma. I'll note the aftertaste and the complexity of flavors. This is my cup; portion. I will accept it and taste it's fullness today.

Steppin' on Toes

So I thought I'd step on some toes and talk about race...

When I went to school at CU it was en vogue in some circles to say race was an artificial social construct. They said there were more genetic variances within a particular "racial" group than within humanity at large. They said there was no such thing as race.

I always thought that was kinda dumb.

My reasons were less scientific.

I wondered why little white kids, who've only grown up around other little white kids think all black kids look the same. I know I thought that all black kids looked the same, at least, until DeMarcus became my friend. Then DeMarcus looked like DeMarcus.

I was talking to a black woman who was married to a white guy at a picnic at my sisters house; she joked that all white people looked the same. Apparently, it goes both ways.

We know who's "in" and who's "out" by the shade of our skin, and the size of our butts, and the slant of our eyes. Race may be an artificial social construct, but it does matter.

I think it's confusing that it matters.

Today there are no neat little categories; probably, there never were. Here is what I mean: My friend's Ethiopian children are African, but to me, they look nothing like the West Africans I befriended in Ghana. And the African Americans who were with me in Ghana were declared "white" by the nationals there. They were too light, and too tall...which, sadly, has slavery written all over it.

Black and white aren't straight forward. Because, actually, our black president-elect is only half African. He's definitely black, but he isn't African American in the traditional sense..in the sense where he can trace his roots back to slaves. Some people would say that that's irrelevant, because in this country having dark skin and kinky hair is all it takes for people to see you differently. I might agree...but I'm not sure.

The black and white discussion is an academic one for me...because I'm the only one in my family who uses hair products for people of color...and my color is, well, I'm a white girl.

What's confusing to me is the issue what it means to be Native American. My blond haired and blue-eyed "Barbie" look-alike college roommate got a discount on tuition because she was Cherokee, and had the documentation to prove it. My husband's great-grandma was Choktaw, and my great-grandma lived on a reservation. My youngest daughter is Lakota, but it can't be documented, so she is not eligible for tribal membership. But she actually looks like a Native American. When Eddie and I went to New Mexico some Native American little girls came up to us and tried to sell us jewelery. It was creepy how very much they resembled our baby.

So is our baby Native American? Legally, nope. But, really, she is. Does it matter? I'm not sure. Will she care about her genetic heritage? I can't say. What I do know is that when I look into the face of my brown-eyed girl I see my daughter. Her eyes are brown, and her skin is darker than my own...but when I look at her all I see is the girl I love.

What do you think? Race is real, right? Or not? Does it matter? Or doesn't it?

Because this should be documented for posterity...

So it was the day after Thanksgiving and we went down to Littleton for a Christmas light parade, and leftovers at Grandpa's. Sounds harmless, fun even. Well, someone got the time of the parade wrong by an hour and a half. So, mostly we stood around in the cold for an hour with four kids plus assorted cousins. Never did make it to the parade.

My five and six year old had to pee while we were waiting for the much-talked-of-never-seen parade. So we searched out a port-a-potty. My six year old was disgusted by the port-a-potty and after much drama and tears used the potty, even though the seat was chilly.

Next, it was the five year old's turn. I toss him in the port-a-potty and shut the door. And then I remember...the kid's still wearing his mittens. This could be a problem. Quickly, I open the door and offer to hold the mittens. Unfortunately, I was too late. My son said, "No, it's all right Mom, I just put them in this holder." What holder? Ah, that would be the urinal (aka mitten bowl).

Pisser!

Exactly.

The leftovers were good though...

There is a moral to this story, an important one, at that. ALWAYS, ALWAYS hold your five year olds mittens for him while he pees in the port-a-potty. Don't say I never told you...

November: a photo documentary

M and me

This was my baby...how is it that he is so big?

kids.

Ahh...the photography of a 5 year old...something to behold...here is me making hot cocoa

Baby and me

He's sexy when he throws stuff...

Remember November

The kids built a candyland from trick-or-treat loot...before, I, in a fit of motherly concern for their health pitched it.

I only had baby carrots so our snowman has a cucumber nose.

Baby is not convinced snow is fun...

Maybe a little fun.

November in pictures

2 days after Thanksgiving we had our first real snow.

Apple slicer invented with circuit board.

Pre-snow leaf playing...M is buried under there somewhere

I found my camera in the office...it was sticky. Next time the culprit should not photograph himself in the act. When asked about this picture the said 5 year old culprit asked, "Mom, was that cute or am I in trouble?"

My Answers

Some questions on a FridayJerry Springer: Real-life guests, or staged actors? ACTORS

Organics: Worth the money, or total rip-off? Generally, a rip-off, maybe...

Twilight series: Great fiction, or over-hyped? Cannot say...as I haven't read 'em...gotta be better than the "Left Behind" series

Libraries: Useful resources, or too much trouble? I adore the library

Babysitting: Easy way to earn some cash, or equivalent to torture? Torture

High school: So much fun, or a necessary evil?EVIL!!!!!!!

Big yearly vacations: Definite musts, or costly extravagances?Vacations are necessary, but the don't necessarily have to be expensive...camp.

Regular date nights: Essential for a good marriage, or impractical and overrated? Love the idea...can't seem to pull it off...do you know how much babysitters cost?

Church: Kids worshipping with you, or in Sunday School the whole time?Sunday School - a girl needs a break from her children from time to time.

Sesame Street: Educational, or ridiculous? Ridiculous, but a good way to get a shower with toddlers in the house

.Jim and Pam: Should definitely get married, or getting married will ruin the show? Sadly, it might be ruined

.Donuts: Sugary delights, or fatty stomach-ache-inducers?Stomach ache inducers, but worth it from time to time.

Caffeine: A must in the morning, or something you avoid?I cannot imagine a life without caffine.

just showing up: Some questions on a Friday

just showing up: Some questions on a Friday

These are some fab questions my cyber friend, Briana ,posted on her blog. Someday I will actually meet her in real life...I know it. Hope your kids feeling better Briana.

running away part b

My 8 year old decided not to run away, and instead watch Spunge Bob and eat a rice crispie treat. This same child wrote a hartwarming essay on thankfulness. It went like this:

"I'm thankful for everything but Satan. I'm most thankful for the 3 "F"s: friends, family and food. "

His sister and brother, on the other hand, waxed elloquent on thankfulness for baby birds and such.

But lest you think he is my "dull" one I've got to share his latest invention. The kid actually built a string cheese and apple cutting machine with his circuit set. It worked, but he was irritated at me for making him stop slicing things. A girl can only take so much string cheese confetti being strewn about her kitchen.

These are the challenges that make me think homeschooling is an excercise in futility. They are also the things that make me wonder if any "traditional" setting would work. I give the kid a wide berth and still manage to squelch him.

Help me Jesus!

Running Away

As I type my 8 year old is making plans to running away. He's annoyed at me for making him do his best at handwriting. So he's out a here and off to the park. But don't be alarmed...he's packed. He's planning on pulling a sled with supplies. He's got a pocket knife, and a circuit board, a pail and a stuffed animal. He should be good, right? He wanted to pack a snack, but I told he'll just have to forage; I'll keep my rice crispie treats thank you very much.

I can't decide if I'm annoyed or amused.

I don't get it God!

Once, many moons ago, we were considered as potential parents for a sibling group. Two babies, in fact, needed a home. One would be 1o months old and the other would be a brand new one, straight from the hospital. We were overwhelmed at the idea of going from a family with three children to a family with five children. We prayed, and we prayed, and over the course of a few days decided that if these were the children that God had for us, then we would joyfully accept them into our home.

Ultimately, they were placed with another family. This was a good thing; it was the path that led us to our daughter. But, still, I was devastated by the loss. Which made no sense, I know it. But there it is. To this day I cannot understand why God led us through the process of opening our hearts to two children who would never be our own.

Wednesday felt a little like that. I was busy filling out enrollment papers for our kids to start school in December. When, it finally dawned on me that the one job that I'd found that would work with our families schedule (sort of) would actually cost us money by the time I paid childcare. And then I found out that the freelance job I was planning on was going to get nixed due to budget cutbacks.

We were excited about school for our kids. We'd prayed about it. We felt peace. And then the money to pay for tuition evaporated. And like that, our plans changed.

So now the plan is to continue to homeschool the kids, and squeeze our budget to hire a babysitter a couple mornings a weeks to watch the baby. Because homeschooling 3 while caring for a toddler is kinda beyond me. This feels okay. Good actually. But I don't get it. I cannot even begin to tell you the emotional energy and time I put into finding this school for the kids. It seems like such a waste.

Sometimes, more times than children's books and Disney movies let on, life doesn't make sense. The bad guy doesn't always wear a black hat, and the hero isn't always riding a white stallion. Sometimes going around in circles is the shortest distance between two points. And that make no sense to me.

But only told you about half of my Wednesday.

There is another part of the story. Scroll back to 8 AM Wednesday morning with me. Picture me with messy hair and a bathrobe helping the kids do their chores. Picture me frazzled and freaking out about how to pay for school. Right about then is when my daughter handed me a white scrap of paper off her bedroom floor. She said, "Mom, I want you to have this." Sure. Whatever. I stuffed it in the pocket of my fluffy white bathrobe. When I pulled it out to read later I discovered it was the verse my daughter had been learning at church. It read, "God is my shepherd. He gives me everything I need."

I wasn't aware that God used 6 year old couriers to deliver His messages. Apparently, He does. Because that little scrap of paper was a message from God to me. Personal, and appropriate. This is what he said,

"Chill - I know - I care - I'll take care of you. "

And at the end of the day, after tuition money evaporated, I still didn't understand. There was no "Ahh..Haaa". But somehow, in the mess of it all, God will give me everything I need. I know because he told me...via a 6 year old courier service.

cheater, cheater protein shake eater.

Here's a picture of the chillins an' me - just for fun! Yes, that is a toy gun my son is pointing at the camera. I tried to do the "no guns" thing until my 2 year old started chewing his toast in the shape of a gun.

So I picked my battles.

My boys love violence. The really, really do. I just hope they grow-up to be honorable and couragous - and just shoot the bad guys;)

Diet update: The thought of eating eggs for breakfast - again, made me want to hurl. So I made a chocolate protein shake. Dr. Atkins would not approve. But I suck at following rules. So far I've lost 2 lbs. , only 13 to go.....
Dieting stinks!

Journey to Skinny: A Chubby Girl's Story (Atkins style)

Okay...well it's more like a continuing saga. Because this chubby girl is still, well, still chubby. But now that I am properly medicated and the kids are going to school its time to do something about the pregnancy fat I gained while adopting.

My dear friend Linette has had enourmous success with a ketogenic diet. And my friend Heather is watching her carbs too. So, follower that I am, I decided to give it a shot. Truth is I'm a smidge skeptical, but desperate enough to give her a whirl anyhoo.

The idea is that you send your body into benign ketosis by severely limiting the amount of carbohydrates you consume. When your body doesn't have enough carbs to burn for fuel it has to burn fat. That's is ketosis. And I say bring it on, because I've got some fat to donate to the cause.

The down side is that you have to live on salad and meat. The upside is that, hopefully, it works. Yesterday was day 1. I missed sugar, fruit and bread. I felt a little lightheaded (like when fasting) but I'd been eating all day long. I think that's a good sign. I think.

I'll keep you posted. Has anyone out there done this before. Does it work?

Stay at Home Mom Needs Job and Shamelessly Networks

Here's the deal... I need a job. So I'm using my blog to shamelessly plug my own personal agenda.



My resume (were I to have one) might read something like this:



Objective: To develop my skills and gifting as a writer and visionary while working in an environment that allows me the flexibility to meet the needs of my family.



2000-present - Stay at Home Mom/Foster Parent/Homeschool Educator - spent the last 4 years educating elementary age children in a home environment. Developed and implemented learning strategies based on specific learner objectives. Complied with Colorado homeschool and foster care law. Coordinated care of minors with social workers, pediatricians, specialists, occupational and physical therapists, and teachers. Complementary tasks include, floor mopping, toilet scrubbing, and diaper changing. Can recite "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" by memory.



References Available Upon Request: Please take into consideration, however, that these individuals are all under the age of 10 and are considerably biased because I make them eat their vegetables.



Impressed?



I thought you might be.



Seriously, though, I need a job. Before my mommy gig I worked with occupational psychologist to deliver 360 degree evaluations to professionals. I also did some instructional design, and copy writing, and a little training. I type really fast. I can edit (though I sometimes choose not to...at least on my blog). I know Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Outlook and Publisher. I've also dabbled web page development and have a decent eye for design. I'm a quick study and can work independently. Do you know someone who's looking for a part time employee (preferably someone who's really nice and would make a great boss). I might be just the girl.

Leave a comment ...I'll be in touch.

How about a little H2O

We're doing something a little different this year. Instead of baking I'm giving water. Literally.

Usually we deliver Christmas cookies to neighbors and teachers during the Christmas season. But this year we will be handing out waterbottles and cute cards. The money we save on presents/baked goods will be donated to Water Charity.

Really, who needs the extra calories that christmas cookies bring? Not I.

But people DO need water. And many people live without clean water to drink. Unacceptable. And we can make a difference.

My sweet and artistically gifted friend Anne, of Annie Dupras Design, is making some darling labels for my water bottles. She's donating her time to the cause - GO ANNE!!!!

If you'd like to Give Water for Christmas this year let me know - leave a comment here. We might just inspire a few others to give too!

Yeah, our efforts it might be a drop in the proverbial bucket, but $20 will provide clean water to one person for a lifetime. $20 CAN CHANGE A LIFE....it could be the most important thing we do this season!

It seemed like a good idea at the time...

It seemed like a good idea at the time... It did.

A certain blue eyed bald guy is on a business trip and I didn't much feel like cooking dinner for just the kids and me. The Applebees by our house has half price appetizers at happy hour (4-6pm) so I put 2 and 2 together and decided we'd make a dinner of nachos. It'd be cheap. I wouldn't have to cook, or clean up dinner and my kids would feel like they got a special treat. Sure it's a lot of work to take four kids to dinner by yourself, but, generally speaking, my kids are exceptionally well behaved at restaurants. Generally speaking.

What I neglected to take into account is that my kids have been acting like they've been taking shots of espresso all day long. They are jazzed and spazzed. Mostly spazzed.

We spilt 2 lemonades.

My daughter took off her shoes, and my son lost one of his under the table.

E ate a jalapeno to see if it was really hot. It was. He nearly hyperventilated.

Bub SAT ON THE TABLE!

Baby had a tizzy fit because I wouldn't let her launch a plate onto the floor. So instead she opted to launch chips on the floor.

M and Bub decided to switch places and CRAWLED under the table.

E belched big and loud on account of the large amount of lemonade he inhaled trying to put out the fire in his mouth from the jalapeno.

M stuffed Baby's coat under her shirt pretending to be a fat person - loudly.

But at least our tab was only 11 bucks. Unfortunately, I felt compelled to leave an excessively large tip because of the atrocious behaviour on the part of my progeny.

And ,oh, if that had been the worst of it.

This part didn't even seem like a good idea at the time, but I did it anyway. I ordered boneless Buffalo wings. Boneless buffalo wings are breaded. Breading generally implies wheat. I know this. I did it anyway. The kids didn't like the wings, so I ate them. They were scrumptious and glutenful. I have a crazy bad stomach ache.

For the record: I am still gluten intolerant. Duh! Sometimes I think that I must be a nut job, that really gluten intolerance is really just the result of my overzealous imagination. So I test it. I eat gluten. And then I get a stomach ache, sometimes, like tonight, I get a really bad one. So if I ever get the urge to partake in glutenful foods in your presence, please, pretty please, say "buffalo wings". I'll get the hint.

Water for Christmas

This is a great idea from my friend Karen.....

Discovering My Inner Wimp

I've entered a chapter in my life I like to call, "Discovering the Inner Wimp." Come with me on this journey of self-discovery. It's psychobabble curlyjo style.

So my M.O. thus far in life has been to deny feeling of insecurity, or fear, and act as if I am confident and unafraid. Generally, it serves me well. It keeps me from acting like a coward when otherwise I might. But in attempt to live authentically I am going to set aside my former ways.

I remember once as a child I overheard my grandpa say that I was the most shy child of all the sisters. I was outraged. "I am not shy", I thought. But years later I have discovered that, actually, I kinda am. I am discovering my inner wimp. It's why I blog instead of give speeches at Toast Masters.

So after all these years of repressing my inner wimp, why do I find this need confront my fears and insecurities head on. Well, oddly, it has a lot to do with choosing to put my kids in school. If we are going afford private school tuition then I am going to have to work, at least part time. I don't mind that; I'm looking forward to new challenges and change. But I am also completely and totally intimidated.

Over the last few years I have developed an expertise in homeschooling. I know curriculum. I know learning styles. I've read books, and gone to conferences. Homeschooling is safe for me. I know what I'm doing and I can do it in the privacy of my own home.

Now I have an opportunity to do some freelance instructional design and copy writing, possibly some training. I know I can do it. I am naturally wired to be a teacher, and writing is something I feel comfortable doing. This doesn't make me nervous. What makes me nervous is being seen. People (who are paying me) will read what I write. I will have to stand in front of adults and present new concepts and material. They might see the nervous 12 year old girl I feel like instead of the 30 something professional woman I am. And that is downright scary.

I am petrified! And kinda shy!

I feel like Moses sans long white beard, toga and staff. Moses was the man God chose to lead the Israelite Nation out of slavery in Egypt. But Moses didn't want to do it. He said he stuttered when he spoke, and couldn't possibly lead so many people. But eventually Moses did grow into the man who he was supposed to be. He led God's people to freedom.

But I understand the insecurity, and the desire to stay out of the spotlight.

Before Moses "Lead the Nation" gig, he was a shepherd. He'd done it for a long time, and it was comfortable. Safe. Confronting the Pharaoh of a powerful nation? Not so safe. And though I'm just talking about moving out of the safety of my little homeschool life, I feel like I'm doing the same thing. I'm moving from safety to risk, and in the process exposing my inner wimp.

Only this time it will be different. I will acknowledge my fear, and my feelings of insecurity. I will invite Jesus to tea with my inner wimp, and formally introduce the two. I will allow Christ to transform the fearful, childlike person inside and become the woman he has made me to be.

American Girl

So I was considering getting my daughter an American Girl Doll for Christmas. But there kinda cultish. Cultish and expensive. Frugal girl that I am, I decided to do my research and see if one of these cult dolls could be purchased online for a deep discount. I'm having minimal luck. But I did run across this crass, not tasteful, and funny blog post. It's amusing - but remember you've been warned.

http://www.gapersblock.com/detour/american_girls_gone_wild/

Just Because...

Neurotics build castles in the sky. Psychotics live in them. My mother cleans them. -Rita Rudner

Confessions of a Homeschool Dropout (almost)

If you've been following my blog you know that 6 weeks ago or so I "hit a wall". I woke up one morning and said "I CANNOT DO THIS." And by "this" I meant homeschool my children. So, we declared a state of emergency, and took a break. We discovered my depression had snuck up on me again and I got proper treatment.

Both Eddie and I thought that we should delay any decision about our children's schooling until I got my depression under control. I felt that any decision I made would be a reaction to depression and not necessarily what was best for our family. Secretly, I thought once my depression was treated I'd choose to homeschool my kids. After all, I have loved homeschooling and it's been such a good thing for our family.

BUT...

I was wrong

Before I began this school year I was in a tizzy about being able to meet the needs of all my children. Homeschooling 3 with a toddler in tow, had me in a genuine panic. I dismissed this concern, because lots of people do it. Surely, I could too.

Well, ah, not so much.

We have some sweet moments, but I am exhausting myself AND not meeting the needs of my children. My son is lonely, my daughter needs more structure, Bub needs a mom who is more available. I don't want to miss out on my baby's toddlerhood because I'm scrambling to fit in a spelling test. I need help.

So we checked into some schools and discovered a fabulous option. It's a private Christian School, and the more we check into it, the more we get to know the teachers and culture, the more I love this as an option for my kids. I feels such peace about partnering with this school to educate my kids. And so...I am about to join the ranks of the homeschool dropouts.

It's strange though. I have loved homeschooling. I will miss it. My kids will miss it. Yet I know that this is a season that is passing in our lives.

I know that sending my kids to private Christian school doesn't sound like risky business. But for us it's definately a faith walk. It's expensive, and doesn't make much sense financially. Eddie calculated just how much it would cost to put 4 kids through private school. The grand total is astounding. We could buy a house with the money we will spend on tuition. And, while we have some answers for the short term, we don't know how we're going to do it.

My kids really really want to be homeschooled. They are feeling angry and sad, and nervous. I don't blame them. I feel those things too. But I know...I know... this is what we need to do.

Mobile Church

This is a picture worth seeing. Please Click. Please. Please. If you want to "get" the post you have to see this copyrighted image.

Reverand Branford Clark had a revolutionary idea. He took his chapel on the road, complete with a fold down steeple (so the port-a-church would fit in his garage - naturally). Apparently, in 1923 one could not do church sans steeple.

Ninetyish years later, my post-modern self cannot fathom why converting ones automobile into a pimped out ride for Jesus is a good idea. Maybe you had to be there...or maybe good ol' Rev. Clark was a nut case. Who can say?

Coincidentally, Clark and I have something in common. We both attend mobile churches. Today, Mobile Church is just code talk for super broke church. We cannot afford a building so we lease space in an middle school once a week. Our church "stuff" (i.e. sound system and baby toys for the nursery) is in storage most of the time. It gets hauled out in a gigantic white trailer every every week for a couple hours, and then, back into storage it goes. It's cheap; it's also a hassle.

Here are my thoughts on this issue of mobile church:

A) People are stingy. We, as Americans, living in a relatively affluent suburb should be able to afford to lease a permanent space. I can appreciate the need to keep overhead low - and truly, I appreciate our church's decision makers commitment to good financial stewardship. But still - if people were generous we could easily afford permanent space. We're stingy...and here's the hard part to swallow: where we spend our money is a pretty good indication of our values. If churches all over America are going broke (and they are) then we don't have a money problem, we have a faith problem.

B) I wonder if 100 years from now people will look at a picture of our gigantor white trailer parked outside of the middle school and think, "That's crazy. They missed the point of church ." Because that's what I thought what I saw 'ol Clark and his Model T. Those people, you know the ones who live in the future, will be half right about us and our white trailer. Sound equipment, LCD projectors, and washable baby toys are not the point of church. But they are the tools we use to reach our culture for Christ. They aren't a fold down steeple, but hey, it's what we've got.

But still...I wonder sometimes if all the stuff is superlative - unessential - a distraction from the Holy God and the people whom He made.

I wonder if, as our culture shifts more and more away from the Judeo-Christian roots of our past, the church in America will evolve into a more decentralized, organic community. Maybe pastors will be lay people. Maybe overhead will be eliminated almost entirely. Maybe we'll meet in each other's homes and their will be an underground movement engaged in Kingdom work. And maybe it'll be a good thing...

Pros and Cons

Yeah well, this one probably doesn't qualify as a blog. It's just a peek into my brain, and a sort of yellow sticky notes type of analysis. So read it if you want, and skip it if you couldn't give a rip.

Homeschool pros -

-We can do school in our jammies and eat pancakes at 9 AM
-The kids can wake up in the morning when they're rested
-Going to bed late isn't that big of deal
-We can take vacations/road trips whenever we feel like...in fact, we can take school on the road
-Field trips
-Those moments when I'm glad I got to be the one who was there to see my kids "get it".
-Great literature, independent learning, and school taylored to the needs of individual kids.

Homeschool cons -

-The reality of homeschooling is WAY less cool than the ideal. We try to cram as much stuff into the time when the baby is sleeping as possible. No breaks. No fun experiments. Just nose to the grindstone. I am a good teacher but I'm pulled in too many directions to provide the education I wish my kids could have.
-It IS hard to be the mom and the teacher.
-My older kids would benefit from structure, that, right now, I can't provide.
-My younger kids would love to have the Very Hungry Catipillar and Curious George read to them. Instead they get, Usbornes History of the World and Time Travellers.
-My house gets messy...homeschool messy.
-Those moments when I want to beat my head against the wall because of the interupption, or attitude, or the whatever...and yes, they are more common than I wish they were.

Private School Pros-

-Structure.
-Good teachers, who share our worldview, pouring into my children's lives.
-Friends are plentiful and easy to find. This is especially important for my extroverted eldest kiddo.
-Good education.
-Having to navigate social bummers (like being left out, and not getting the best grade in the class) in a safe environment.
-Less holes in their education than with homeschool (oops... I forgot to teach my 8 year old the months of the year.)
-HUGE stress reduction in not being the sole person responsible for my kids education.
-More time to focus on my little ones, and more time to take care of me (maybe)

Private School Cons-

-Structure; yep we'd have to plan our vacations around someone elses schedule, and save pancakes for the weekends.
-I miss out on teaching my kids.
-Money honey. It ain't cheap and I'd have to work to pay for tuition. I don't mind working I just don't want the baby to be in daycare all day.
-Huge change for my family...homeschooling is a lifestyle my kids are used to, and like. Frankly, as a kid, it's a pretty good gig - this being homeschooled.
-There is a risk that my kids could see Christianity as a culture (which it is), but miss out on the faith, relationship, knowing Jesus part of the equation.

Unless it Dies...

JOHN 12

23Jesus replied, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. 25The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.

The kids and I read a bit of autobiography about the life of Amy Carmichael. Here is my nutshell version of the story: Amy was born in Ireland into a life of relative privledge. But by the time she was 18 she knew she would leave that life behind to serve as a missionary. Eventually, this led her to India where she established the Donvavuer Fellowship and rescued many hundreds of baby girls from a life of temple prostitution. This fellowship still exists today (and is run primarily by Indian Nationals) Many years after Amy Carmichaels death girls are still being rescued.

That sounds sort of glamourous and exotic to me. Amy Carmichael left a great legacy, and lived in a foreign land.

But the reality of living it was different.

In that first year Amy took in 3 babies, and within that same year she watched all 3 babies die. Anyone who's taken care of children (and babies especially) knows that it is not glamourous work. And losing those 3 babies must have felt like defeat; I cannot imagine the pain.

Amy Carmichaels life was a push your sleeves up, dirt under your fingernails affair. She scrubbed floors and washed bottoms. She rocked babies and played children's games. And I wonder if sometimes she doubted whether what she was doing made any difference at all. Because sometimes I wonder. I spend my life on behalf of 4 little people. And frankly, I rarely hear, "Mom, I just wanted to say thank you for making me take a bite of my carrots, and tucking me in. I really appreciate how you ask us to brush our teeth and make sure we have clean underware. "

But that verse from John (at the top of my blog) and the story of Amy Carmichael give me hope. Because sometimes to find our life we must lose it. And sometimes, probably most of the time, what counts the most are little acts of service. It's the things that don't make the headlines, and no one ever sees that matter for eternity.

Tomatoes

This is how I know I'm back: I took a picture of a bowl of tomatoes.

About 2 weeks ago I picked around 10 pounds of green tomatoes off our plants in the garden. They were still green, but the nights were getting too cold to allow them the time they needed on the vine to ripen. Tomatoes will ripen off the vine too. So we've had pounds of tomatoes on our window sills and counters for weeks ripening.

Today, I noticed they were pretty.

I put them in a cobalt blue bowl and snapped a picture.

And that is how I know that the depression is lifting. I feel human. I notice beauty. I think homemade vegetable soup tastes delicious, and it's not even a carbohydrate. Well at least not of the doughnut, muffin, cookie, scone variety.

I'm back. The funny thing is that for a long time I didn't know I was missing. It's strange that I could become so good at pantomime that I convinced even myself that that what I was doing was real life.

The words are back too! I have a half a dozen blogs percolating in my brain. I'll share them as I get the chance.

Jack-o-lantern??

This looks like a jack-o-lantern right? (Hint: the only correct answer to this question is "Yes".) Actually, it's a GF pumpkin cookie posing as an acceptable alternative to birthday cake.

Bub's going to be 5 years old in a few days. He, quite convieniently, bumped up his due date by 3 weeks and decided to be born the day before Halloween. This is just so stinking handy in planning birthday festivities. There is always a hayride or a pumpkin patch or a corn maze available for dual celebration. So tomorrow, we're headed to the Pumkin Patch to meet a couple friends for a "birthday party". We'll feed a goat at the petting zoo, buy a pumpkin or 2, and then decorate a pumpkin cookie/faux birthday cake/jack-o-lantern. Then we'll throw in a round of obligatory Happy Birthday and call it a done deal.

We aren't one of the "good" Christians who find Halloween objectionable. We are pro mini-Snickers Bars, and and goofy costumes. We are against spending lots of cash on cool costumes. But my kids are homeschooled; they don't know their costumes are lame. And, for the record, we are anti -creeepy neighbors who scare the bajeebers out of our small children by jumping out from behind large trees in Gorilla costumes. That little incident will cost us years of therapy. But other than that we are pro Halloween.

Because I'm a nerd I did a little research on the history of Halloween. Orginally, it started as a Celtic Pagan celebration. Then, with the Roman invasion of the British Isles and spreading of Christianity, it took on new meaning. The Church started to celebrate All Saint's Day, and the evening before All Saint's Day was dubed the Old English equivilant of "Holy Evening", eventually it became known as Halloween. The history of Christianity is full of instances where new meaning was given to old traditions. For us, Halloween falls into this catagory. We tell the kids that many years ago the people of England lived in fear becuase they didn't know Jesus. But we know the end of the story. Good defeats evil , and we don't need to live in fear. Jesus is the winner. Halloween is a chance for us to love our neighbors and have fun. What once was a scary day of ritual is now FUN!

Hence, the pumpkin cookie/birthday cake/jack-o-lantern....

Laughin' through the Tears and Such

My daughters are emotional. They can, and do, cry and laugh at the same time. It is not all that rare of occurance. My poor poor husband, cannot fathom why any one would do this...let alone why anyone would do this frequently, and dramatically. There is no box to put that kind of behavior into. And so Eddie shakes his head in wonder, bewilderment written across his face.

I, on the other hand, get it. A lot.

Yesterday, I was so encouraged to find a school that I felt really good about my kids attending. The class sizes are small, the teachers share our worldview, and the curriculum is challenging. Mostly, it just felt good. And in a school, culture counts. (Thanks Paula, you taught me that!)

Today, I am still happy about this option. But there is another emotion that wars with the peace I feel about this private school. It is sadness, and grief. The thing is I really, really love homeschooling (sometimes). I love my kids. I love teaching them. I love learning with them. I'm just not sure its the best choice for us now. We'll have to make a decision shortly, but today, I'm torn.

I understand tears with joy. It's called bittersweet. And I feel like whatever choice I make, homeschool or private, there will be a sweet sorrow in the living it.

Maybe that's why semi-sweet chocolate chips are the best kind. A little bitter to go with the sweet just makes for a fuller, rounder, more whole experience.

Sarah

This is worth watching.

(thanx Jennifer)

Private School

This morning I went to visit a private Christian school. I really liked it! But there are some logistical hurdles. They look like this: $$$$$$$

The easiest educational option for me is to send my kids to public school. We could do the school bus and the whole she-bang. Unfortunately, our "home" school is not really in our neighborhood at all. The brilliant folks at Adams 12 decided to ship kids from our neighborhood South to a Title 1 elementary school. Think low income, government subsidized lunch programs and CRAPPY test scores. Yes, I'm generalizing, and applying unfair stereo types. But..ah, sorry, I am NOT sending my kids to that school.

My next easiest school option is to try to get my kids transferred to another public elementary school. The school is okay, but it's crowded. My kids would be in classes with close to 30 students. And that, in my humble opinion, is not optimal, even for a great teacher.

Plus, to pull off this transfer I'd have to jump through numerous hoops, blind-folded and with one hand tied behind my back. I can get sorta feisty where my children's well being is concerned - I could jump through hoops. I just don't want to. It reeks of bureaucracy, and stupidity, and wasted tax dollars. Oh yeah, then I get snotty attitudes from school district folks who find out I'm homeschooling. Nice. Someone should tell the superintendent's administrative assistant that she can give me her attitude about homeschooling when the school she proposes my children attend is delivering more than 40 out of 100 students reading proficiently at grade level.

See my dilemma? I have a bad attitude about public schools.

Now, hold the phone. I'm not saying kids in public schools are bad, or their parents are bad for sending them. I'm not even saying the teachers are bad - many are good. I know many parents find that public school is a good option for their families. Many teachers feel a calling on their lives to work in the public schools. That's fine.

I AM saying that the bureaucracy drives me batty.

Here's a little figure to make your head spin: It costs the school district apx. 8K per child per year of education. It's not unheard of to have around 30 kids per class in elementary school. Now the private school I looked at today charges a little over 4K a year for tuition, but it actually costs them 6K (they make-up the difference with fund-raising). The teacher to student ratio is 1:10. The curriculum is rigorous and prepares kids for college.

Hmmm....how could this be?

Now I have public school teacher friends who say that this is because public schools have to be equip to meet the needs of every child - even those with very high levels of special needs. Granted. But still...the system is totally inefficient. It doesn't equip teachers or kids to be successful. It needs to be overhauled. So there. I said it. It's out. And no, I don't particularly want to be part of the solution. Yes, I do just want to gripe about it. In all likelihood I won't be attending any PTO meetings for an Adams 12 Five Star School in the near future. Unless, of course, I end up having to eat humble pie and and my words along with it.

randomness..

-Yesterday was Fall Family Fun Day, our family's bizarre made-up holiday. It's an annual tradition that has, in years past, included events such as gourd bowling and pumpkin seed spitting contests. This year was relatively tame - we stuck to pumpkin carving, football and face painting. A good time was had by all.

-I'm still feeling cruddy s0 I convinced hubby to ditch church (we do church Sat. evenings) instead of hurrying home from FFFD to be spiritual. I know what you're thinking - Freakin' Heathen. DEAL!

-Instead of attending church the kids gave me a spa treatment. E massaged my hands. Em brushed my hair, applied make-up, and rubbed my back. Then she sprayed me with perfume and applied deoderant to my underarms. Bub applied lotion to the tops of my feet and to my shins. Heaven knows, your shins can never be too moisturized. And applying deoderant goes above and beyond the call of duty. Sweet kids.

Later, Em gave Bub a spa treatment. It consisted of Karate chopping his back - a sort of sisterly back massage, I think. Then she applied Eddie's deoderant to Bub's armpits. I overheard her saying, "It's so you don't stink and you smell spicey...then you be able to get a cuter girlfriend." Not sure what to make of that one.

My husband rocks! He knows I feel cruddy so he super cleaned the kitchen. It sparkles. He vacuumed too! Nothing says love like a clean sink and those little vacuumy lines on the carpet. MY HERO!

flowers

My friend, Paula, dropped off flowers for me today. Just because. God thanks for friends, and for family. I am, indeed, blessed!

family!