Prayers

I love this lady's blog. She is just so real! Recently, Jennifer's youngest baby, Stellan the miracle baby, was hospitalized. There are many praying for this precious little life, and I hope that by sharing the need, some of you will join his prayer army. Click on Stellan's picture to follow his journey.

From The Depths Of Woe...

Actually, it's not so bad. It's just that I am up to my ears in things to catch up on, ceramic plates to be finished, and a birthday party to get planned. So, rather than leave you all in the lurch (because there aren't thousands of other blogs out there to entertain you), I have pulled an oldie but hilarious goody.

Hilarious in hindsight, that is.

That's What I Get For Asking...

Enlarged To Show Texture

This
plus this
equal this

And that is how we do afternoon snack/crafts around here!


Eat one, string one, eat one, string one...
Eat more, eat more, eat more,string some, string some,

hand over hand, eat them!

And look cute while doing it!

Then send the sticky fingered little critters outside to eat the ones they managed to string!

Snack time this afternoon took almost an hour and a half!!! I need more of these dual purpose ideas, people. Share yours??

Men At Work

Blog under construction. Bless you for stopping by! Drowning over here...need chocolate...

Home At Last

The past couple of weeks have been more chaotic than usual around here. Last week, as I mentioned earlier, I took my business where I used to teach and took 60+ impressions of sweet little hands and feet. Since the school is an hour away from where we live, we were getting up in time to get everyone ready and out of the house by 6:30.

Ew, ew, ew.

And then we didn't get home until about 7 or 7:30 that evening.

Ew, ew, ew. Ew.

Good for my business, I had several last minute orders placed. Bad for my family, I had several last minute orders placed. It meant we had to go back one day this week so that I could finish up.

The thing is, the kids L.O.V.E when I do something at the school. They adore being in the classrooms and being with all the other kids. They love the arts and crafts and food and learning and Bible time and singing and playground and different toys inside. Although there are a few moments of separation anxiety each morning, the overall effect is incredibly tired, but content kids.

And boy, do they sleep well!!!

With the exception of one set of prints, I am done with the out of the house part now. It was fun, the kids learned a lot, and I got to see lots of my old students and meet siblings that I didn't even know they had, chat with parents who I had become friends, and spend time with staff members I enjoyed working with.

But I am glad to be home. As I tap this out, Thomas and Sarah Grace are quietly sitting and perusing Mommy's special books (a collection of really nice childrens books I have that they have to have permission to pull out as compared to the regular kids books that float around and get torn to bits) and Elizabeth is happily sitting in an (empty!) laundry basket flipping the pages of a book and sucking her fingers. Anna is napping and all is well here in our world.

It's good to get out and be active. It's great to be able to relax at home when it's all done.

My day of rest before I start work tomorrow on creating a finished ceramic plate from each of those sweet little prints in the clay...

We Look Like This

Since you all have been so patient with all my words lately, I scrounged up a few pictures. Posts with pictures and words to resume sometime this week.

Maybe.

Elizabeth and her new love - dandelions!

Thomas in his St. Patrick's Day shades.

Sarah Grace in her SPD get up!

Anna - up close and personal!

The Munchkin Brigade

Uh-Oh...already?

I will post about the ins and outs of this week later. Until then, bear with me through a few vague details.

The girls and I are back on my old stomping grounds this week. I am doing a stint with my hand print business at the pre-school where I once taught children. You know, before I started giving birth to children. Thomas is keeping his regular schedule, thanks to Granny, but the girls get to go with me and be exposed to all sorts of new things.

One of those new things came flying out of a classroom as his Daddy was picking him up this afternoon.

'Daddy! There's a new girl in my class!', crowed the boy!

"Oh, really?', asked a mildly interested Dad.

'Yes. Her name is Sarah and she is my new friend. She wears a pink dress and she is so pretty! I like her, Dad!'

And so it begins...

On The Lighter Side

I always loved those emails that went around listing out a bunch of kids answers to a question. I would read and re-read them, laughing every time. Now that I have kids, life is just a barrel of laughs.

Well, at the very least, there are many laughable moments through out the day. And just for you, I have written some of these things down as I have heard them. Otherwise, as you all know, these comments are pushed out of my head. Those last few brain-cells are overworked, people. Seriously overworked.

Sarah Grace has been singing Christmas carols this week. Why, you ask? I haven't the foggiest. But O Christmas Tree, Jingle Bells, Jolly Old St. Nicholas are a few current favorites. So is Wonderful Christmastime. Except her version goes something like this.....

'Mean old Abby, Wonderful Christmas now. Mean old Abby, Wonderful Christmas now.'

Who is Abby? I dunno. But I do know she's mean!

Yesterday as I was driving, a car ran a STOP sign, causing me to hit the brakes pretty hard to avoid hitting the car. Thomas let out a squeal that let me know he had been some how hurt in the slamming on of brakes. Once the blood stopped rushing through my ears so that I could hear him, I waited until he took a moment to breath and asked him what was wrong.

'You hit me in my head with the van when you shook it stopped like that.'

I am still working on the actual translation of that one, but I did manage to get that he smacked his head on something.

And Elizabeth, well, she is just incredibly verbal for a not-quite-two year old. I can hold conversations with her, and understand what she is saying! She has an amazing grasp on the English language and an insatiable appetite for learning more words. I probably hear it a hundred times a day.

'Mamma, what dat? What da-a-a-at, Mamma?'

Her chubby little finger will point to something and her bright blue eyes will zone in on it until you figure out what 'dat' is and enlighten her.

Good times, people. Good times.

Falling Sometimes Takes Time

When I fall in love, it will be forever...
~~Nat King Cole

At the birth of my first child, when the nurses finally let me hold that precious little baby whose arrival I had so anticipated, I felt a rush. But not the rush one might expect from a new Mommy. Not the overwhelming and unconditional love that a Mommy is 'supposed' to feel upon meeting her child. No, for me, it was relief. Just the relief that he was here in the world and not in my belly. That I could watch his chest rise and fall. That I could check on him and see with my own eyes he was okay if I didn't hear him rather than the torture of waiting for the next appointment or kick because he was being 'quiet' in my belly. And awe. Who could look at a baby and not see the miracle of life that only God could create?

And that about summed it up. Relief and awe.

Day Two felt odd, and I chalked it up to just being tired after what I know now to be a hard birthing experience. Day Three still didn't seem right, and I knew, knew, at that point that there was something wrong with me.

I refused to think it 'out loud'. It had to float around at the back of my conscience because to give it real estate as an actual thought process would be admitting The Scary Truth to myself. And if I allowed myself to treat this truth as real knowledge, then I would have to confess this terrible thing to someone else. To expose myself to the scrutiny of someone else who was no doubt an excellent mother and would judge me until the day I died!

You see, I knew I wasn't in love with my baby. Oh, I loved him, but I didn't feel that all-encompassing infatuation that the mother of a new child was 'supposed' to feel. Everyone that I had met was given to droning on about their child and how wonderful they were and how great motherhood was.

Just thinking about it made me want to pull my hair out.

I wasn't feeling it. I dreaded having to face people on Sundays (the only time I got out) and pretend that this child was the coolest thing since sliced bread when I really didn't feel that way. In fact, even though I loved him, I was rather frustrated by him. Nights stretched out long and lonely, despite the help from Joshua. Days were nearly as bad until, finally, I got to go back to work.

And I harbored guilt about that, too. I felt as though work was an escape from the slow trip to the padded room that being home was for me.

What about those unbreakable bonds? Where were the apron-strings? Was this my cross to bear for being upset, feeling cheated even, when we first found out that, less than two months into marriage, we were expecting?

Then, one day, it vanished. I was fine. I was ready to accept this little baby as a part of my every-day-from-now-on-he's-mine-and-depends-on-me life. Suddenly, I was in love with him. Suddenly, he was wonderful. Suddenly, I was the one droning on about how wonderful life was!

And I was a bit surprised but completely ready to be in love again when we found out that Sarah Grace was on her way. After all, those feelings, or lack thereof, had to come from a place of selfishness, and now that I was past it, I was good to go, right?

Then it all came crashing down again when she was born. I knew it immediately. It tugged at my heart, causing a sense of panic. Again, I wasn't in love with my baby.

Oh, no! What if it is one of those things that you only have room to love one child that way? What if I never love this one the way I do the first one? Will she always be second fiddle, never understanding what it would be like to have all of her Momma's affections directed towards her? Could a child live that way? Certainly, one could not thrive with that kind of emotional detachment from her very own mother.

But it came. The day when I looked into her lovely eyes and realized that this one was my child, too. That she was wonderful and perfect in every way. Well, you know, perfect apart from that whole born with a sin nature thing. That was the day I fell in love with her.

By the time Elizabeth was born, I wasn't nearly as concerned. I knew that I just needed to give myself time. With Anna, I expected it. I all but threw a party for myself the day I realized I had finally arrived, and that The Scary Truth was behind me. And it really wasn't all that scary, now that I knew myself better and knew what to expect.

I have never been a love at first sight kind of gal. I have a hard time meeting new people, making friends. I have to get to really know a person first. It was kind of that way with my kids. I mean, I loved them from the moment I knew they were growing inside of me, but it took a little while with each of them before I was just head-over-heels in love with them.

Is it that way with all women? I have no idea. This is the first time I have admitted to anyone, other than myself, how shallow I felt those first few weeks of Mommy-hood. How terrified I was that 'this was it'. That I would be nothing more than a care-giver and never deserving of the title of Mommy.

Sure, people told me all kinds of things about motherhood. But they left so much out! The craziness of those sleepless nights, the feeling of slowly going insane, the need to just let someone else deal with the baby while you go out...guilt free! Ladies joked and rolled their eyes and laughed to make light of these situations. Girls, I am here to tell you that they are for real. Really, real for the real, real. Sometimes the need to gauge out my eyeballs or lop off my ears was overwhelming. Combine that with the fact that I didn't feel as though I was measuring up to the Love Standard, and I was nearly a crazy woman.

But, ya'll, I am there. I love those precious, sweet, funny, sometimes pesky kids inside, outside, sideways, backwards, forwards, up and down. I am 100% in love with each and every one of my kids. I know I will be in love with any others that the Lord blesses us with. I may not like them as much some moments as I do other moments, but I am in love with them.

And I'm gonna love them forever and ever, Amen!

Speaking of Eating More Chicken...

We had us some more of it last night. The wonderful chicken place that uses cows to advertise for them (a scam that still gets me tickled) has Family Night on Tuesdays. So guess where we went?

And we came home cow-less!!!

Kids eat free on Tuesday nights and entertainment is provided. Arts and crafts, magicians, cows, pinatas, and the list goes on. Last night, the entertainment was balloon animals/objects. We sent Thomas and Sarah Grace and Elizabeth to join the gaggle of children crowded around a table where two high school girls worked furiously to create balloon masterpieces for each kid. Thomas quickly discovered one of his friends from Mother's Morning Out. They chatted and gestured with their hands and carried on. It was neat to watch.

Joshua loved on Anna while I put in our order, and when I joined him, he pointed out how very small our brood looked. As I looked at the group as a whole rather than just my three and the little girl that Thomas was conversing with, I saw what he meant. The other kids were head and shoulders over my little ones. Some of those kids had to be ten years old!

My heart clenched as one of the kids nearly stepped all over Elizabeth. I knew it was just because she was so little and the older boy just didn't see her, but that knowledge didn't temper the Mother Hen flare up I had. I suddenly had second thoughts about how great Family Night at a fast food restaurant really was. I gasped a little, and was poised to jump over to help her if need be, but then I saw Thomas wrap his arm around her shoulder to steady her and I knew she was alright.

Burned into my mind is the image of all those kids, and how little my kids still are. Despite how big they look to me some days, they are still small and need protection. And I am so thankful that they have been trusted to Joshua and I to give them that protection.

A Different Kind of Apology

Living with four little children can often be summed up as nothing more than an exercise in chaos management. With that goal in mind, we try to streamline things as much as possible.

Toys are always at the top of the list of things to be parred down. Somehow our kids manage a new toy almost weekly. Note now, I didn't say I bought them a new toy every week. I said they wound up with a new toy almost every week. Kids meals toys, some cheap little something that a check-out girl somewhere gave them, a prize from church or school, a small little gift from a relative. It all adds up.

All that to say, we weed out frequently. In fact, the more children we have and the older they get, the more often I find myself rooting through the toy box culling things out. I mean, really, how many stuffed cows advising us to 'Eat mor chikin' does one family need?

I spent about three nap times this week dealing with the toy army that had become unmanageable. That’s about a full work day of my life I can’t get back. I sorted different toy sets with multiple pieces into containers, cut the stuffed animal population in half, gathered the myriad of dress-up clothes into one bucket, tossed a handful of mangled books, and stacked toys that were no longer used but in decent condition in the consignment pile.

And then I breathed a sigh of deep contentment, idealizing the ease of clean-up each evening.

Most of the toy containers were placed on the shelves in the kid's closets, to be pulled out for a morning or afternoon of entertainment rather than a day of cluttering my walk spaces. Then the mandate was issued that the children were not to get into the closets. Toys would be brought out upon request and approval of request, only to be played with if all other toys were picked up. Do not get into the closets. Period.

I made it exceedingly clear to the children that the closets were off-limits, regardless of what they were after. If they needed something from their closets, they were to ask Mommy or Daddy for help. Then I had them each repeat back to me what they had heard me say. I also informed them that this was not something to test me on. The first offense would lead to consequences. And I didn't mean just a stern look and a reminder or warning.

Less than 24 hours after the rule was set in place, and after several times of me asking randomly what the closet rule was, Thomas breached protocol.

I was sitting in the play area with the kids when Thomas got up and wandered into his room. I started to remind my little man of the new rule, but decided to test him out in his obedience to the closet rule. I had just begun to relax my ears, deciding that he was obeying when I heard the tell-tale sound of the metal wire shelves being disturbed.

I got up and was sure to make a little bit of noise as I entered the room to alert Thomas of his company. He jerked around, head hung, guilty look upon his face. I squatted down and looked him in the eyes and asked him what the rule about the closets was.

"Not to go in them."

"And you chose to disobey?"

“...........yes," he whispered.

"I am sorry you chose that, son."

I administered the consequence, and then sat down beside him.

"I'm sorry, Mommy! I will never come out of the closet again!!!" my son sobbed into my arms as he hugged me.

Sincere though it was, it took every ounce of decorum I possessed not to laugh at his apology.

Lest We Forget Silver Linings

I have mentioned before the fact that this blog is my scrapbook equivalent. Things I post on here are generally for posterity, or perhaps just documenting some rant that I am on. Occasionally I participate in give-away or carnival type stuff. At times I will post something that has nothing to do with me or my family, but made me smile, so I shared. But for the most part, this here little piece of cyber-space is dedicated to the sweet and chaotic times that we are living and loving.

Except for those days where I am not loving it so much. Days like yesterday that I would really rather just not remember. The kids were crabby. Argumentative. Whiny. Tired. Irritable. Squealy. Dramatic. Fretful. Mean.

It was one of those days that regardless of the approach we took to managing our emotions, we were all basket cases. All five of us. Nothing says 'forget a day' like four crank-pot kids and one crank-pot Mommy.

However, when we sat down for our family devotion just before bedtime, things leveled out. The two older girls curled up in Joshua's lap, Thomas sprawled out in my lap, and we settled in for a few moments of study. Nothing was particularly different last night about 'story time' as the kids call it.

That was what made it so special. The fact that the Lord blesses our efforts in teaching our children about Him and His love. That He guards our time as a family each evening. And that sweetness is what makes every day special and worth remembering.

Fashionistas

Due to the fact that Alabama rarely gets snow, lots of outdoor winter apparel is not something I waste a lot of effort on. The kids get winter weight coats and we keep a handful of sock hats on hand. Gloves/mittens are hit or miss, and scarves are decorative. Snow suits are simply not on the radar.


This being said, you should know that as I was on my way home from our visit with VitaFam last week, I realized that I had left the kids coats at their house!!! Since we meet up for a few minutes each week though, I decided not to worry. It had been in the 60's that day. My kids could last a week with out their heavy coats.

And then it snowed on Sunday.

Two days before I would see the VitaFam again! And that, my dear friends, is why we were left scrounging around looking for coats Sunday morning. Well, coats and a lot of other make-shift winter wear.

Fortunately (?!?!?), I am often forgetful. I had scored a coat of decent weight at a yard-sale over the summer for Thomas. For a quarter, it was ours. Then I forgot about it and bought him one at the consignment sale. It is great to have it as having two allows one to be a 'nicer' coat and one to be a 'play' coat.

So Thomas was covered. We dredged up one of his old coats for Sarah Grace, then turned to the well loved Carhartt for Elizabeth. Not exactly feminine in color or appearance, but warm.

Then we added odds and ends scarves and sock hats and mittens. Thomas still opted to wear his cowboy hat over his sock hat and the hood of his jacket, but then allowed the snowman to wear the cowboy hat for a short time.


To Sarah Grace's dismay, the boots that Thomas wore last year fit her nicely. She was the only child with proper footwear, despite the fact that she was unreserved in sharing her utter discontentment over wearing the shoes. Thomas went out in his flimsy play shoes and Elizabeth in her Keds. To help keep moisture from getting to their feet, we tied plastic bags around Thomas and Elizabeth's feet. Not quite duct tape, but Southern-riggin' nonetheless.


Thomas had on his very own clothes. Sarah Grace had on most of her very own clothes. But little Elizabeth felt the hand-me-downess that goes along with being the third child. The only thing that child had on that was hers, originally hers and had never belonged anyone else, was her diaper.

And the plastic bags, if you would like to credit those to her account.

Pigs Are Flying...

Talk about coming in like a lion! March is here, folks, and Alabama got snow.

Did you catch that? I said...

ALABAMA GOT SNOW!!!!!

Proof for you, and sorry (but not really)...there are a few pics here!