It was to be..."The Summer of the Dress"

Yeah, I aim high when I set goals. And it soooo isn't turning out as I had hoped.

Early in Spring, the Spring that we didn't really have, I decided that I would wear dresses more this summer. No, not "Leave it to Beaver" mom dresses, more like fluttery & feminine, run on the beach dresses. Because well, I do a lot of that during my summer, don't you? Okay, I dream of doing that a lot during my summer. Really I need a dress that is suited for changing-poopy-two-year-old-taxi-driving-baseball-watching activities.

But I digress.

So I planned to wear dresses more. More than just to church. But there are a few downfalls to dress wearing, I have discovered.

Spills. They happen often here, and while I'd love to blame them on the ten messy hands that touch every surface of my life, the gigantic chocolate splatter down the front of my outfit was ALL me. I was, after all, the one enjoying the microwaved smore. Well, when wearing a 'two piece' outfit, not a problem---change out the top (or bottoms) and go on. A bit more annoying when it involves the entire ensemble.

I now totally understand the saying, "wrapped in mama's skirts". Because quite literally, many times a day (when I'm wearing a skirt/dress), Elli is wrapping herself between my legs and intertwining her body into my wardrobe. Something she has no interest in doing when I am in shorts. And this proves to be a tad bit embarrassing when it results in the showing of one's unmentionables.

I had hoped that wearing dresses would add a flair of sophistication to my otherwise domestic life. You know, kinda like drinking wine instead of beer. But I have discovered that cleaning a toilet or walking a dog in a dress doesn't make me any more glamorous to the bowl or dog.

I kind of rationalized that if I looked like the carefree woman on the beach, I might just gain some of her tranquility as well. Apparently the beach is the necessary part of her ensemble. Who knew?

rain, rain....GO AWAY!

It is difficult to keep these unseasonably cool temperatures and endless rains from crowding out my usually sunny-side-of-life attitude. Don't laugh, I am a closet optimist.

As I am confined for even longer to the walls of our home I am forced to face the giants that loom here. Giant piles of laundry. Giant dust bunnies. Giant blanket forts built out of boredom. Giant stacks of dishes. Giant bad attitudes.

Don't get me wrong. I love my home. And all that it represents. It is, after all, not only my primary residence, but also my full-time place of employment.

However, I have plenty of up-close-and-personal time with it in those L-O-N-G months of winter. My saving grace, my silver lining, my wish in the well, is for the lazy, hot days of sunshine that will replace the need to be confined within. And when they do not come---well, patience runs thin.

I know that it is not forever. I know that once again the sun will shine and spirits will quickly be soaring as high as our imaginations can take us. But for now, the whipping winds, and rain streaked windows leave a very somber feeling.

Maybe I will go crawl into that blanketed fort and laugh a bit with the ones who light up this home from the inside out.

Happy Father's Day!

WE LOVE YOU DADDY!

I LOVE YOU CHAD!

(Message from the kids!)

Dazed and confused in Mass

It was towards the end of Mass. I was listening intently to the final blessing and announcements. It was then that Kate tapped me on the leg and whispered: "Is Father going to tell us if we're going to Heaven?"

Confusion filled my eyes. "What?" I asked incredulously!

"Does Father tell us if we're going to Heaven?" innocently she asked again.

Fearing that we had majorly missed the mark in explaining the mysteries of our faith with this child, I answered emphatically, "Oh goodness no Kate! You believe in Jesus and live your life for Him...it is in that hope and His promises that you know you are going to heaven."

Confusion filled her eyes. "What?" she asked incredulously!

"I just wanted to know if we were having coffee, juice & rolls after church." in bewilderment she spoke.

"What did you say to me then!?" I asked, wondering HOW in the world I could possibly have misunderstood 'coffee, juice and rolls' with heaven.

"I asked you if Father would tell us if we were going to HAVE THEM!"

Another lesson as to why deep conversations are better saved for after Mass.

Animal House

Being the head zoo keeper, this is something that I ought to know without having to post signs. But apparently one of my children felt it necessary to make it clear that summer vacation is in full swing, and the animal house is open for business.

Let the FUN begin!

In perspective

From time to time I get caught up in the comparing of myself and my stuff to that which others have. It is something that I despise. It is useless, fruitless, and discouraging. It robs all thankfulness from the blessings which abound in my own life.

My brother has always said that if you are unhappy with your life and what you do/don't have, you are comparing yourself to the wrong people.

He's a wise one, that guy.

Even though I know that to be true AND whole-heartedly believe it AND 99% of the time LIVE that truth---it is part of my sinful nature to wish for and want that which I do not have. Like a dream vacation to Hawaii.

Recently, on our way to the camp ground for our first summer camping trip, I had the rare opportunity to visit one-on-one with one of my children. We covered all sorts of topics. We talked about her best friend, who just happened to be surprised by her parents with a dream vacation! Both of us, feeling nothing but joy for this family, couldn't help but ponder the 'what if's' that it brought to mind. My daughter remarked, "Awww, those lucky-ducks!" To which I responded, "Yeah, no kidding!" Thinking in my head, "My kids will NEVER know that kind of surprise." And all sorts of other dwell-on-what-we-can't-give-them thoughts.

My daughter, not knowing she was interrupting a first class pity party in my head, chimed in immediately with, "Well, camping is great too!" Not sarcastically, as I would have said it----but with true, sincere, and honest heart-felt feeling.

That was the end of the conversation. And though no words were spoken on the subject thereafter, tears slid down my cheeks and a prayer of thankfulness rose from my heart, as once again, I was taught a lesson by a babe.

That's my boy

Favorite quote from Andrew's kindergarten screening experience:

Incredulously,

"MOM! They didn't even ask me to count to 100 or what 4+4 or 6+6 or 8+8 or 10+10 was!"

Smiling and not even trying to hide my amusement,

"Oh shucks, they didn't? Oh well."

"But I told them anyway."

That's my boy.

If I could save TIME in a bottle

With excitement we purchase school supplies, freshen the wardrobe with new school outfits, replace the flip-flops with practical tennis shoes as we prepare for the going back to school. The feelings are those of anticipation and excitement mingled with the sorrow of a passing summer.

Now I prepare to welcome my flock back to the nest. Sound a bit dramatic? I was going for poetic, but hey, that's why I am not a paid writer. The feelings associated with this time of year are similar....yet so very different. It is with reserved excitement that I send them off each August, but it is with unbridled joy that I welcome them home.

Late nights in the yard, impromptu picnic lunches with daddy at the park, afternoon movies, days at the beach, and lazy mornings in pj's are all just atmospheric benefits to the kids being home for the summer. The really good stuff, the really, really, important stuff is the T-I-M-E.

Time for watching them grow, time for bonding through new experiences, time for listening to them, time for hearing them, time for friendship to develop between siblings, time for unlimited physical activity, time for loving them, time for teaching them, time for disciplining them, time for cherishing them, TIME for each other.

I will never take this TIME for granted. EVER. For I have been adequately warned that it will pass in the blinking of an eye. I will not trade these moments for another. Because these moments will be the ones that I cling to in the cold winter nights of old age.

So yes, you could say that I am excited that the final bell of school is soon to ring, but if that is all that you think it is, then you would be wrong.

Smells like summer

Recently on a day outing I pulled out the trusty can of sunscreen and began the slathering of my two youngest, working on the ears, hair line and shoulders before coming around to the front.

Andrew stood patiently and sniffed a few times into the air before commenting:

"Mmmmm, what smells like the outdoor swimming pool?"

Yes, my boy, that day is coming. Hopefully sooner than later!

Elizabeth Jo turns two!

*(Re-posted, after blogger had a meltdown)

Two years is such a short span of time in the great journey of life. And yet, these two years have done much in the way of changing this little girl. Transfiguring a helpless and dependant infant into a talking, toddling princess.

But more than anything, these two years have changed me. You would think that if I had lessons to learn through motherhood, God would get that point across by baby three, or four, perhaps. Not so. Lest I think that my molding was complete, the Potter has shaped me more in two years than I thought possible.

Thank you Elli. Thank you for not only coming into our home, but forever changing my heart. Happy Birthday to one of the greatest blessings this side of heaven.

I put together a video montage of her second year...mainly for those related to us, or with a great deal of time on their hands :o) For the brief readers, here are a few of my favorite Elli shots!

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Happy Birthday Katharine Anne!

K- Kool Kat
A- Amazing
T- Truthful
H- Hilarious
A- Artistic
R- Responsible
I- Inspiring
N- Noisy
E- Encouraging




Happy 7th birthday to one of the most loving little girls in the world. Kate, you are and will always be the SUNSHINE of our home!

I love you Katy-bug!

Because of her

I am a ‘young’ mom,(humor me), early 30's...little children. So I am thoroughly overwhelmed with humility when I am told that I am a 'great mom', or any variation of such a comment. I am so, so, so very much not!

These compliments seem more like a message I am meant to pass along. A message to the woman who modeled motherhood to me in a way that was Christ-like: caring, compassionate, selfless, and unconditional. You know, all the things I want to be, but still remain far from.

But then, in prayer (where all of my really good thoughts come to me), I realized that by not accepting the compliments I am not honoring her.
I am who I am, because of her.

The things are countless that she sacrificed, gave up, and went without simply to be the one who tucked us in, woke us up, and met us at the door after school. We didn't have worldly luxuries abounding, but the mother of pearl in our home was the one who gave us life, and with her we lacked nothing.

By being a foster parent for many years, other children have experienced her love simply by being welcomed into her home for a season, and her heart for eternity. And now through her work as an aide, in an elementary school, she continues to be the welcoming arms and caring heart for the many students with whom she interacts daily.

There is no greater gift that I can receive on Mother's Day, than to see my children wrapped up in an embrace with my own mother.

I love you Mom!

*I have also had the privilege of knowing and witnessing some of the best of the best in the vocation of motherhood. Today, I celebrate you as well. Your Godly examples continue to be a source of inspiration to me and the many other women that encounter your love. To all of you with whom I share this bond of motherhood, I salute you!

A square peg

Those who know me now...as a mom of five, might be surprised to know that as a young woman, I was probably the least likely of my high school friends to settle down and settle in to the role of motherhood. Especially stay-at-home motherhood.

Those of you who have known me since 'way back when' can you confirm?

So this role has been an evolutionary process. Not a 'born to be a mama' one. I have friends like that. And it shows in every aspect of their mothering. They are naturals.

I am a square peg trying to fit into a round hole.

Thankfully, I know a very skilled carpenter. And He makes house calls.

Not only has He worked at grinding down the rough edges, He has given me a passion for what I do. Something that seemed of such little significance at one point in my life, He has now given me the eyes to see its extreme value. In this role, I can see my value. And that is huge.

I am sure that I could have been successful in many other fields. I am sure that I could have contributed to many different intellectual environments. But if it wasn't His plan, then I am sure that my joy would not be complete.

Motherhood may not come naturally for me...but every single day I thank my Father above for ignoring the natural and leading me to the SuperNatural.

for the birds

When you drive by our home and notice that there is a slightly browning Christmas wreath still gracing our entryway, please do not judge. I know, the time for removing Christmas decorations has long since past. And even though our temperatures have led us to feel not so far removed from the holiday season, that is not the reason for my continued slothfulness.

Over the Easter weekend, while my family was away, a mama bird decided that this would make a lovely place to start her family. If you look closely, you will see a nest.

Although it is not in my nature to accommodate anything with feathers (I have severe anxiety around animals in flight), we just could not bear to disrupt this tiny home...especially when we saw the itsy-bitsy eggs inside.

Easter 2011 in pictures

Dad and his kids. I love this picture.

My beautiful monkies

Easter basket

Egg dying in Clark

Visiting Grandpa at the hospital on Holy Thursday.

Family pictures

Dressing a little one for Easter is such fun

Elli shares her sentiments on too many pictures...

Pbbbbbbbbbb~

Jesus, you can HAVE me

This song speaks to me so strongly. It is my life prayer, and even more fervently as I head into these Holy Days. My prayer of blessing is with each of you!

In our weakness, He is strong

I still feel like a little girl in the presence of my parents: looking to my dad for words of wisdom and advice, seeking affirmation and approval from my mom.

But when the roles are reversed, and the very people who not only gave me life but nurtured it and sustained it, are now the ones in need of advice, affirmation and approval, that little girl realizes that time indeed changes things.

My dad has been in the hospital since Monday. He is dealing with complications related to pneumonia. Each day he waits, hopes, and fights discouragement and disappointment when he is told that today is not the day...and in fact the stay will likely lengthen. He is scheduled to undergo a surgical procedure in a few days. One that, prayerfully, will bring conclusion to the ongoing nature of this sickness.

There comes a time in our lives when the people whom we have leaned on, depended upon, and looked to as our strength, suddenly do not look so much different than ourselves. And maybe it isn't so much that they have 'fallen' to my level, but perhaps that I have finally risen to theirs.

Seeing the vulnerable side of my parents has not diminished my own faith....but increased it. In our weakness, HE is made strong.

Thank you for your prayers.

Baggy jeans are a girl's best friend....and worst enemy

Who doesn't love a great pair of baggy jeans?

I'm talkin' the kind that hug nothing and just hang. I am tempted, when sorting through my clothes for charity, to throw in the baggy jeans. They were several sizes ago, post-baby-making-carrying-pudge days, and they really do nothing for my rear end due to the sagginess, and I am talking of the jeans here...because trust me people, five kids does it's own thing on the sagginess factor of the hind quarters.

But every now and again it feels so nice to slip into them and feel no part of my skin tugging against the coarse fabric of jean. Forget skinny jeans, nothing makes you feel slimmer than a baggy pair of jeans!

The problem however, if worn for extensive periods of time one might forget that these are the over-sized, out-grown jeans, and find themselves getting a tad bit carried away at the Chinese buffet. And there is nothing more depressing than finding that the once baggy jeans are now not so baggy anymore.

So let me help my sisters out. Wear the baggy jeans while playing in the yard with the kids. Not out to supper, that's a great time to wear the skinny jeans. These are the life lessons I am learning. Just thought I would pass it along. You are welcome.

Walk with me, if you dare

Being able to walk to the school to pick up my kids is something that I look forward to with great anticipation, as do they. Recently the weather made that first opportunity present itself, and after days of the kids asking if 'today was the day', I was finally able to commit to a walk-home-from-school-request. Everyone was excited as they headed out to school that day.

I awakened Ms. Elli from her nap, loaded her into the jogging stroller along with a consolatory sippy of chocolate milk for disturbing her peaceful sleep, and leashed up the hound for what promised to be an interesting walk/jog to the school.

Bobbi (the hound) was electrified with excitement. She seemed to sense that we were on our way to gather the children and most importantly 'her boy'. I fought the urge to just leave her behind, as I realized that holding her leash while maintaining proper 'walking training' along with the pushing of the stroller was going to be tricky....to say the least. But off we went. The 12 or so block trip over was speedy and uneventful. To keep up with Bobbi's enthusiasm we found it easiest to jog.

The bell rang. Seconds passed and four very happy faces came bounding through the doorway as they realized that mom had indeed remembered, today was the day. "Did you bring me a sweatshirt?" one inquired. To which I replied, "No hon, I don't think you will even need it, but if you do you can wear mine." Face sours. "Everyone put on your tennis shoes, you won't need your snow boots to walk home." I ordered. Excitedly they complied.

As I stood visiting with a teacher as she admired the hound, the sour faced child somehow found a way to slip and fall while standing perfectly still behind me. No injuries to body incurred and she quickly leaped up and nodded her head in assurance to the inquires as to whether or not she was okay. As she walked away from the gathering of people around the circus tent of our life, I noticed the slumped shoulders and stiff chin.

I excused my brood and headed out. As I walked nearer to her, I realized that while her body was not injured her pride seemed a bit bruised. Adding to the tears streaming down her pinched up face was the fact that her pants now were wet from the fall. In an encouraging tone I said, "It's okay babe, as long as you aren't hurt, your pants will dry long before we get home. Let's walk!" It was obvious my optimism wasn't being felt. But on we trundled.

Boy with hound, sister and brother dragging sticks through mud and remaining snow piles, baby in stroller, and Sour Puss lagging behind. "I NEED NEW SHOES! These ones are all wet!" Deep sigh. "Try not to walk in the puddles if wet shoes bother you." "How can I NOT walk in puddles? That's what they are there for?" Good point, even if a bit irrational.

The walk continued. The Boy was growing ever impatient with hound's lack of cooperation on the leash and has started to border on frantic and explosive. Sister Sour Puss' constant whining and moaning of wet feet add to his anxiety and cause him to fling less than kind comments back and forth between the restless pooch and annoying sister. Thus making the sister cry and moan all the more. Baby in stroller, and brother and sister with sticks are oblivious.

"I thought that everyone was excited about a walk home from school today. I know everything isn't easy but could we try and enjoy it and stop complaining and picking on one another? (directed at frustrated son) I will walk the dog for you, and you can push the stroller." We swapped rolls and continued on.

The mindless hound still refused to cooperate without causing herself great discomfort, but I said nothing and carried on. Son however grew increasingly annoyed with his devoted companion and expresses his disgust with her stupidity at every possible opportunity. Sour Puss sister is growing increasingly angry with her wet feet, loud brother, stupid dog and long walk. "I want to put my boots back on!" She demands. Done. Boots on. Carrying on.

Upon seeing the hound appear to be settling, son requested ownership of his beloved yet deeply despised pet and continued on walking. I waited as patiently as possible for me, for Sour Puss to catch up but realized quickly that she intended to lag behind for dramatic purposes. Tolerating only so much I asked, "Why do you suppose that five children are out for a walk home with their mom and only one is finding a reason to cry and complain about everything?" (Momentarily forgetting son's issues with hound) To which the only response I was given was a louder wail.

Deeper sigh. I leaned in closely to her face trying with all my might to see the sunshine that usually resided there despite the deep frustration I felt at her unwarranted attitude. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous we must look to the people passing us by?" "I DON'T CARE!" "Well, I have to be honest....I kind of do." I admitted. And on we walked.

Not much in the way of conversation transpired between Sour Puss and the others during the remaining blocks of our trip. Sometimes a complete ignoring of the behavior is the only silencer of it. But as the final two blocks came into view the tears were still streaming down the face and the moaning and groaning had only ceased for brief seconds of re-energizing. The others raced on ahead, equally as exited to be done with their walk as they were upon starting it.

With stroller stopped I waited for her to join me. Not wanting to bring this into our home, I knelt down and took her face in my hand. "Please tell mom why you are crying and what causes you to get this way when I can not think of any reason that you may have to be so upset. You are such a joy in school and would never behave like this there." Between sobs, "I don't even KNOW why I'm crying!" "Okay, that's okay. Then let's just be done with it." Exclaiming loudly, "But mom, I don't ever get to cry in school. My tears just needed to get out."

A long hug followed as her body seemed to relax a bit. I looked into her face and asked, "Are they gone now? Are the smiles ready to come back?" Only the grin through her tear streaked face was my response.

So what do you think, anyone up for a walk with me?

The wonders of the Magic Eraser

So sometimes a woman, especially a woman with a full quiver, needs to multitask.

I leave it up to you to disclose in the comment section some of your more unusual forms of multitasking...for the rest of us to admire, steal the idea, laugh at with you, or be totally judgemental about.

There are many ways in which I multitask, however, most of them prove to be totally ineffective.

My latest attempt was when I grabbed the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser right before jumping into the shower. You see, I had noticed upon the last visit I had in there, that the tiles were collecting far more than a few water droplets. And yet, I still had not made the time to tackle the project.

So what better use of time while waiting for the darn conditioner to do its thing, than to incorporate a little cleaning, other than my body parts, while in the shower?

I have to be completely honest when I say that as I marvelled yet again (I'm a simple woman) at the cleaning power and pure 'magic' in that little sponge, I was more than a wee bit tempted to give my thighs and stomach region a good scrubbin' with the magic eraser.

I have seen it remove soap scum, crayon, marker, nail polish, mildew, mold, etc. etc. etc. Do you have any idea how much the stock price would go up if they could add stretch marks and cellulite to the list of evils it can erase? Profits would soar within minutes, I guarantee.

No, I did not. I resisted the urge assuming that the chemicals necessary to remove nail polish may just leave my delicate skin rather angry. But I'm telling you, it was tempting.