The Real Deal

          My parents forced me into slave labor by the time I was old enough to walk. By slave labor, I mean gardening. It wasn't too bad until I hit the age where I developed my sense of justice; and all of a sudden, I didn't want to spend my summer in the sun sweating and pulling weeds. I think that would've been right around elementary school when I was old enough to realize other children weren't forced into such atrocious ways of spending their summer. They were busy eating sweet Fla-Vor-Ice and running through a sprinkler, while I was stuck eating peas and tomatoes with mud-caked nails. Like my mother before me, I vowed that I would "NEVER have a garden when I grew up".
            As I grew up, my tastebuds matured beyond colored sugar water, and I realized that homegrown produce was much better tasting (although I still think garage ripened tomatoes from the final pre-frost season in October taste nasty). Now, we are the parents of children that are encouraged to help in our garden (note that they are NOT slave laborers because we have not planted our entire yard in crops like my dad did...yet). We were out gardening as a family on Friday, when I showed the girls how to tell what plants were weeds and which ones were potatoes (since that was the patch we were tackling).  We've had some pesky beetles attack some plants, leaving many with holes; but I was still pretty confident in identifying potatoes because of my years of servitude.  Potatoes are an awesome crop because they usually grow so fast they only need a few weedings to choke out the competition. I highly recommend them for the beginning gardener (plus potatoes keep nicely most of the winter if stored cool and in the dark). When I got near the end of weeding, I grabbed one of the plants only to get poked by it's thorns. Since when did potato plants get thorns? The weeds were  perfectly spaced and, in some cases, were growing right next to the real deal. I had been fooled. Take a look at the picture. Can you spot the weed? I had to go back through and weed through the "plants".
            Gardening is good for my introverted soul. I'm usually quiet. (I say usually because this past week I was little Miss Chatterbox when helping plant a forrest garden with my hubby...sorry, Charles). While pulling the thorny weeds, I started thinking about all the half-truths in our lives that are close to the truth. They fool us into letting them grow in the garden of our life. Little thoughts like "I need time away from the kids" is true, but if it grows into thoughts like "I'm tired of never having enough time for me", it could lead to neglect of your kids. Thoughts like "I really messed up" can be true but can be either self-destructive or motivational, depending on what grows from it. If it becomes "all I ever do is mess up", we need to pull that weed/thought out right away.  If it grows into "I will apologize for messing up and behave differently next time", our mistake can lead to learning. Our thought bears fruit (or vegetables, if we're sticking with the whole potatoes analogy).
          How do we judge weeds from plants? If you relied on me or others, you could be just as disappointed as I was with my "fake" potatoes. Today, I read 2 Cor 10 which talks about our true struggle being supernatural,  not physical.  I am convinced there is another unseen rhelm in play all the time. There is a force determined to deceive you. Verses 3-5 say, "For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." If you're like me, you may be saying, "Great! I've heard that verse before.  How do you take thoughts captive?" Here's what I believe (but I'd love to hear your thoughts on it...feel free to leave them below.): When we have a thought, we need to be intentional on what we keep and what we weed out based on whether is true, noble, lovely, admirable,  excellent, or praiseworthy (Phil. 4:8). How do we even begin to judge what is true? The best way I've found to determine the veracity of a thought is by reading the Bible for myself. It is our truth. It is our sword of the spirit, our weapon for demolishing stongholds. Let the Holy Spirit guide you. There is nothing wrong with listening to a pastor or teacher; but just as you eat daily, you need to eat spiritual food daily, not just weekly at church. We live in a time where the Bible is easily readable with many translation options. (Here's an online reading plan.) Many of you helped your kids sign up for a summer reading program, why not plan one for yourself in the best book of all time?
          Inevitably,  you may make a mistake or two on your thoughts. Maybe you are like me and don't recognize that it's a weed till you get hurt. No biggie! Just go back, do a little more weeding and ask Christ for help. Think about what you know is truth (having scripture memorized to meditate on instead of that half-truth is fabulous when you can't get a thought from replaying in your head). God wants us to be victorious, and He will help us all the way. We just have to ask. My hubby sent me this great link to top five regrets people have on their deathbed. I don't want mine to be that I tended the weeds and lost my true produce--the things that would've nourished me, not poked me. Happy gardening!

The Feeling of Falling

           It happened again Tuesday morning.  I neglected to see the water from the melted snow (that refroze overnight) in our gravel driveway.  You know the pathetic person with their feet up in the air on the wet floor sign? That was what I looked like. Last week, I fell twice (once on ice outside, once in my kitchen) landing on the opposite side of my body. At least, I'm equally bruised. I have a history of clumsiness...and falling. I heard last week that the best way to prevent a fall is to waddle like a penguin. Clearly, I need to test this one out or invest in some whole body padding...my hips and elbows are taking a beating.
           History is one of my favorite subjects because I love understanding the "why" behind events (science is my next favorite subject). I felt a little stupid Tuesday that I hadn't seen the ice as I was scurrying around, trying to switch over car seats. When will I learn from my history to slow down, pay attention,  and waddle? The topic of this Thursday's Blog Hop (sponsored by Hearts at Home) is "Loving Your Feelings".
            Last week a local station did a promo for Valentine's Day that shed a new light on my marital relationship. A pastor was proudly announcing a newlywed couple for the first time as "two who became one". I smiled at the words, remembering my own delight at taking my hubby's name. However,  I rarely think of my hubby and I as being "one" nowadays. It's hard to feel connected to him when I have five very real distractions asking for my attention. He is Charles. I am Caroline.  He works full-time time out of the home.  I work full-time in the home. He enjoys beer. I prefer a glass of wine. He likes to fall asleep to the T.V. The sound of the T.V. makes it almost impossible for me to sleep. He loves to learn as he goes. I love to research an idea for years before hesitantly deciding I should still research it a little longer before trying anything new. There are so many ways that we are exact opposites, and yet we have beem declared "one" person.

            Mark 10:7-9 says, "For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.'So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

             I always think about this verse in regards to physical intimacy,  but in reality the verse goes far deeper than that. When my hubby is hurting, do I hurt with him? When he rejoices, do I get excited too? When he has a problem, am I there to really listen? If we are really "one", shouldn't the answer to all three be "yes!"? Honestly it's easy  (but not right) for me to look at his problems as just that: "HIS" problems.  It's easy to say that because we have five children that it's just too hard to find time together and really share each other's burdens. Isn't this whole connecting thing important though? Even with lots of little ones?  Shouldn't they see the way you are to treat your spouse?

             Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says, "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up."

            We are married for a reason. He's supposed to help me up when I'm down,  and I'm supposed to help him up when he's down. How do I get my feelings to match up with the reality of our "oneness"?
          Sometimes,  it's just hard to know where to start. Rev. 2:3-5 talks about rediscovering your first love (who knew the Bible has advice on that??). It says to do what you did at first. When I was first dating Charles, I spent a LOT of time with him. We did things together. I learned what his favorite foods were. I paid attention to anything new on him all the way from clothes to a scratch on his arm. The past couple of weeks, I've tried to look back at our history and learn from it.

          We've both been more intentional about spending time together--like really intentional. We've spent hours talking on the weekends (sometimes with a sitter watching the kids and sometimes before the kids get up) and even started watching a movie on Sunday nights, just the two of us. I feel like I have a best friend again.  We've laughed a lot together and we've even talked through a couple of issues to resolve a thing or two. This is easier to do when you actually talk minus children, who are bound to interrupt every ten seconds. I have no shame in putting on an occasional movie to distract my children from interrupting us.

          Another thing that I've been doing a whole lot more of is praying for my hubby. Last week, he shared about an especially rough day. Instead of just seeing it as "his problem", I spent a day fasting and praying just for him. Even when I'm in a heated conversation,  it's amazing what a quick prayer can do. New ideas pop into my head. It calms me down so that I can communicate better. It's hard to be mad at someone that you're praying for. God always seems to gently point out what I should be doing differently or change altogether. 

            I've also been intentional about what I think about regarding my hubby.  When we were first dating, he had just as many annoying qualities about him, but I never noticed.  I was too focused on all the kind things he did for me and the way he made me feel. Charles has always been a generous man, but I've been dwelling on it a lot more lately. Two weeks ago, I dropped my smart phone, and he didn't even bat an eyelid at the substantial deductible we paid to get a new one. He gave all the girls a single long-stemmed rose for Valentine's Day, but I received two dozen! He wanted me to have enough to put them around the house wherever I wanted.  I put a big bunch next to a purchase of his that had initially annoyed me (just in case I was tempted to think grumpy thoughts). He's not just generous with money though. When it has been wet and slick out, he's left his Suburban to drive, so I can get around safely. (Maybe that is a generous money move considering the damage I've done to the van this winter.) What I've focused on has made me feel a lot happier about our relationship. I've had a new sensation of falling again, but unlike slipping it hasn't hurt. It's familiar...part of my history...I love the feeling of falling in love.

What can you learn from your history?  What do you do to love your marital feelings? I'd love to hear your comments below and learn from you.

To learn more about how other moms are loving their feelings, click here to see other blogs.

The Spinmaster

           Remember the mother of nine that inspired me to run during pregnancy? Guess what she does when she's done running in her third trimester? She does spinning classes. I have not followed in her stead. I know about the awesome cardio workout you can get from riding your bike, but that's not what this post is about. Life can be hard, and it is easy to focus on the negative in a situation.  There are moments, days or, yes, in this case, even weeks that are full of despairing thoughts to fight. With God's help, you can spin your thoughts in a positive dirrection. That's the kind of spinning I'm talking about.

          I thought about naming this post "When It Rains, It Pours" because the last week and a half have felt a lot like one big storm in motherhood. Mr. Blue Eyes has brought in a new tooth during all this hoopla, evening out his adorable six-tooth grin. He had his first ear infection three weeks ago and started coughing just a few days after getting off antibiotics. His follow-up appointment for his ears (at the two week post-antibiotic mark) brought a few suprises. After five kids, I've never had a practioner tell me my baby's lungs sound congested. They've always assured me that it sounds bad, but it's really just an upper respiratory issue. That wasn't the case this time. What started as a routine appointment quickly escalated to deep suctioning (not the endo-trachial kind--they stopped at his mouth) and a nebulizer treatment.  Just for the record, I will not be consenting to another session of deep suctioning unless my child was really, really ill (like on the brink of hospitalization). At the beginning of the nebulizer treatment, the nurse told me  to "get ready for the screaming". Confused as to why, I asked if it hurt to which she replied,  "No, they just don't like it." Very reassuring. Very. During the screaming session, another nurse came in to inform me that he needed a chest x-ray. She wanted know where I wanted the order sent to. The heat in body raised at least two degrees at this point, and I felt my body transform into a big hairy mama bear.  I worked as an x-ray tech for over seven years, and I know a thing or two about x-rays (and children...and the increased risks of cancer later in life when they have an x-ray under the age of seven). I refused the exam, which they wanted to perform to see whether or not he had pneumonia. He had no fever. He was eating and acting normally. He only had a cough. I didn't think his situation required that much intervention.  I was so shaken by the time we left that I called my old pediatrician's office for a second opinion (of course, my shakiness may have been induced from all the Albuterol I inhaled while holding the mask onto my son's screaming face).  The office validated my concerns; and the next day, I discussed them with the nurse manager (after making sure it wouldn't be an issue to return the nebulizer they sold me...the second-hand one I had from my sister-in-law ended up working just fine). I've worked with enough doctors to know that there is a wide variety of acceptable treatments for the same issue. Some physicians are aggressive,  while others are more conservative.  Which one do I favor? I favor the one with enough experience to know what is called for. My old pediatrician had lots of experience to back his approach. This new practitioner was less experienced and too aggressive for me.
           This was just the tip of the iceberg with our fun...the thunderstorm was a brewin'. Mr. Blue Eyes threw up on me the next morning, which meant an impromptu shower. Half-pint, our nine year old, had such severe back pain that she couldn't get her jacket on to do chores without crying. Our schedule for the day quickly filled up. We saw a chiropractor in the morning (for Half-pint) that was 40 minutes north of us. Then, we traveled 40 minutes south for the baby's appointment with a different pediatrician at the same practice. Mr. Blue Eyes wasn't any worse at his appointment; so I was told we only needed to come back IF he ran a fever or was having problems breathing.  That night he threw up again and started running a fever. Ugh! We went back again for antibiotics because they diagnosed him with pneumonia, due to the fever (and how it started...all without needing a chest x-ray, the bear gave her seal of approval on that one). We only needed to return if the fever didn't  go away in two more days. He continued to toss his cookies once each night AND run a fever for three more days (yes, that meant another doctor's visit). His sister Carrie went sledding on day two of antibiotics and ran into a fence. She saw stars, got dizzy and had blurry vision. After getting the baby down for his nap, I held Carrie; and she complained that her head hurt. The next thing I knew, I was wearing her granola bar. She threw up all over me, herself, the couch,  and a misplaced comforter. (That prompted my second shower of the day...I felt really tired last week, but squeaky clean.) After a phone conversation with the doctor's office, we found out we didn't have to race to the emergency room unless she threw up again; but I would need to sleep in the same room as her for two days to observe her. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" like sleeping in a double bed between a thrashing three-year-old and five-year-old. Fortunately,  I was too tired from all the late night fiasco's (i.e. "puke clean-up") to care.
           Then, Mr. Blue Eyes began to get diarrhea from the antibiotics, which caused a huge diaper rash. I switched to cotton balls with water for cleaning him (along with some air-drying and lots of diaper rash cream) The following day, I found myself in the doctor's office getting peed on by our son while trying to "fan the fannie".  (This was office visit #4, due to his extended fever.) The doctor walked in on me cleaning the floor and let out an empathic groan when she saw my wet jeans. It was a little cold on the drive home. After that I made sure to use a diaper as a pee deflector, when I let him stand and air dry. On the way to the doctor's office, I also added a crease to the side of the van. Chalk it all up to some fishtailin' on a snow-covered road and less than expert driving. It wasn't my best day, and it ended with a bang...literally.  I bought some peppermint stick ice cream, which goes perfectly with coffee. However, when I went to make the second round of hot water for my French press, I turned the wrong burner on our stove...one occupied by. 9 x 13 pyrex container. Miraculously, my hubby saw the Pyrex pan heating up and turned off the burner,  just before it exploded. I believe it was God appointed that he saw it at the moment he did. Three of our children were on the floor in front of the stove. His body must've blocked the shards of glass because no one had so much as a scratch on them although there were pieces of glass everywhere.
            Did we survive this all? Yes. Do we have some funny (and not so funny) memories from it? Of course. Through it all, I kept thinking,  "This could be worse. You could be at the hospital.  You could have five children sick, instead of one or two. You could've totalled the van. Someone could've gotten cut (or worse, blinded) from that glass." The day our appointment at the doctor's office got out of hand, a friend I deeply admire (Jill Savage) was undergoing a lumpectomy after a diagnosis of breast cancer just a few weeks beforehand. As the reminders chimed on my phone, reminding me to offer up a prayer for her, I thought ,"Thank God, I'm not dealing with this."  I wasn't alone in any of this either storm either. My hubby raced home to help transport little Miss Concussion if needed and rearranged his schedule to help me. My mom was helping me this past week too. My sister-in-law helped with my kids during doctor appointments and errand running. My small group instantly offered prayers when I messaged them about the drama concerning the concussion and my crazy office visits. Most of all, God was there with me each step of the way with wisdom, comfort and strength to get through this. All you have to do is cry out to Him, and then intentionally dwell on His blessings.
            Despite all the showers of negative things that happened in the last week and a half (that prompted one very used bathroom), there were even more things to be thankful for. It's easy to take our health and safety for granted until we see how easily it could all change. This holiday season has helped me spend time thanking God for all we do have, even as Gracie has now succumbed to a sickness and is running a fever. She is the only sick one right now, and I'm so thankful that no vomit is involved. My mom remained healthy through her visit and kept our house from being overrun by the dust bunnies. 

          Psalm 34:1-9 holds my thoughts to dwell on right now. It is how I will spin my wheels. It says," I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul shall make its boast in the Lord; the humble shall hear of it and be glad. Oh, magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together. I sought the Lord, and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces were not ashamed. This poor man cried out, and the Lord heard him, And saved him out of all his troubles. The angel[a] of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him, and delivers them. Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who trusts in Him! Oh, fear the Lord, you His saints! There is no want to those who fear Him." 

         On Christmas day, our cat, Sierra, came home after not seeing her for eleven days. I never thought I'd see her again. My hubby deep fried a turkey for Christmas,  and apparently her hatred for the kittens wasn't deep enough to dissuade her from checking for some scraps. She was found sniffing the cooling peanut oil. We took turns loving on her, and she relished the new cat digs my hubby had set up (complete with a heating lamp, fuzzy cat bed, and heated water bowl). She is even allowing one of the kittens on the bed with her after a few days of hissing at them. Maybe she's been listening to me when I've said, "It could be worse. You could be sharing your bed with a dog." It's all in how you spin it.

Fruit Flies, Don't Bother Me!

          We have been plagued with a host of fruit flies. This is not my first adventure with this either. A family of seven + loads of dishes + a few extra things to be done (like moving or illness or a small crisis over animals) = a small feast for fruit flies. Disgusting and annoying? Yes!! Harmful to our health? Not that I'm aware of!? Also, I've noticed that we love certain foods they love. They adore bananas, and so do I. Part of Mr. Blue Eye's food training has been thanks to a good supply of bananas.  He has gone from very finely mashed to lumpy, clumpy bananas in the past few months. This has opened him up to a wide variety of table food that at first was too textured for him to handle. (He finally has two teeth on the top...he could've played Dracula for Halloween if I was into that whole vampire thing.) The other surprising thing that they like is cups that have had tea in them. Yesterday,  when we tried to clean up their major food sources, they congregated in the bathrooms on the Softsoap and toothbrushes. I even discovered several of them mating on the cupboards. We caught at least 50 in homemade fruit fly traps, but it didn't even make a dent. (Is their mating getting out of hand or have they found a secret fruit fly door to re-enter the house?) This was all the more difficult since poor Mr. Blue Eyes has been throwing up. He has only been on clear fluids since Thursday evening when he first deposited, what felt like, his entire stomach contents all over both of us. At this point, we both appreciate a moment of prayer for him to feel better.
         Fruit flies make me think about the little irritating thoughts that come up in my everyday life that threaten to make my day bad even though nothing majorly bad happened. Take Thursday for example, when all I could think about is how I didn't have time to make fresh bread. I had to stop and consciously choose to think about what I had gotten done, like baking banana blueberry muffins and yogurt. I had cleaned up my sick sweet baby several times and spent time reading/singing "Truckery Rhymes" with my kindergartener. I also finally found homes for all our jackets (our bench is now free to be used the way we had intended: to sit and put shoes on). Despite all this, my tendency was to let that one negative fruit fly thought buzz around in my brain.
          At the moment I needed to add carrots to our soup last night, Mr. Blue Eyes had another incident (after a six hour hiatus) all over the floor which prompted yet another bath (and another clothes change for me...just when you think laundry is caught up, right?). This was right before I expected Charles home. I kept feeling badly that it would appear to Charles when he arrived that I hadn't done my job all day. The soup would be hot, the carrots crunchy, and the mom wary (waiting for the next heave). Fruit flies. Nothing life threatening had happened,  just pesky little thoughts were trying to derail my day.

            Focusing on truth acts like a giant fruit fly swatter to get rid of these annoyances. I am a huge fan of "Battlefield of the Mind" by Joyce Meyer because it was honestly the first time I actually realized I had a choice in what I thought about (Read Phil. 4:8, and you find that it is totally biblical). It takes a conscious effort to not get bogged down by the bad thoughts. Then and only then, can you say "Fruit flies, don't bother me!" or better yet, "Fruit flies don't bother me."

The Escape Artist

             We have one chicken who is a master escape artist. Her name is Sunny, and she goes rogue almost every afternoon. She brilliantly flies off or climbs through a fence hole (there are some perks to being the runt and smaller than everyone else) to free-range without her sisters. She eats first from our compost. Then, she tastes the choicest grass on the hilltop. The world is her oyster or buffet (however you want to look at it). She loses the safety of her flock; but since she is the bottom of the pecking order anyhow, she also frees herself of the heirachy and pain. 

          Sometimes, I wish I were Sunny. I just want to fly off and have my own space. I feel a pang of guilt in admitting that; but this past week, I realized that even Jesus got tired and took naps. I can't tell you how many times I've been exhorted to get up early before everyone else and spend time praying, just like Jesus did...and I'm not saying they're wrong. It is biblical, but I can't remember anyone preaching about how even Jesus took naps. It's in the Bible too (Luke 8:23). Remember the story about Him falling asleep in the boat and being woken up because of the disciple's fear over the storm. (Can you relate to people, albeit little people, waking you up because they're scared?)
          At one time, I questioned why anyone would seriously not feel like going back to their family after getting a break. I remember hearing a good friend express this to me, and wondering what was wrong with her. How could she even consider this? This was all before I had more than two children, so that might explain part of it.
          This past week has brought me many moments that are funny now, but I desperately wanted to escape from at the time. Half-Pint incubated some duck eggs that Puddles (our female mallard duck) is refusing to sit on. After a few hours, the porous eggs began to ooze their rotting contents. The smell that hit me when coming into the house was horrendous. I would suggest checking what your nine year old has researched on the internet concerning fertile eggs...yes, they should have shadows...but also veins...and only AFTER incubation, not before. We had to dump the eggs, but thankfully, Puddles has begun laying more fresh eggs. This meant cleaning the incubator. I carried the base (that was too heavy for Half-Pint) filled with some putrid water accross our carpet, never realizing there were some holes in the base until some of the nasty water spilled on my clothes and the carpet. It was enough to make me want to hide in room and take a nap, but that didn't work out so well for me this past Saturday either.
           I laid down to rest my eyes for half an hour. When I got up, I went down to the basement to start some laundry. My jaw dropped open in suprise at the concentrated laundry soap that covered a good 3 square foot area of tile. While I was resting, the container had been knocked over onto the floor and the lid that I had loosened so the detergent freely flowed out the other side came off. I began sopping up the soap with some dirty laundry while I wondered what the point of my nap was. I no longer felt rested.
            Then there is the awesome change of season which brought the sudden realization that Mary has one outfit for fall...and Half-Pint has zero warm shirts. We headed off to Kohls last Friday for a lesson on Economics and Art (creating and combining outfits for the tween crowd at our house should count for something,right?) We were only there for ten minutes when little Carrie declares that she has to pee NOW. I race to the nearest associate to find out where the bathroom is. As I'm shoving the stroller at break-neck speed (the amount of accidents I have cleaned up in the past month are beyond counting, and I don't want another one now), Carrie stops in front of the stroller to talk to me. I run into her causing her to complain about her ankle getting scraped, but I rush past her goading her on toward the bathroom. I'm convinced she is exaggerating the pain, but she promptly drops to the ground in agony, holds her breathe, passes out, and looses control of her bladder in front of the Vera Wang pajamas display. We proceed to the bathroom and problem solve how to get a five year old to the van where clean clothes (intended for my potty-training three year old are). Carrie refuses to put her wet clothes back on. I end up giving her my Blush as a makeshift skirt. We did exit the store again 3 hours later with a couple pants and tops for both girls. Mission accomplished. I won't even go into detail about the escapade of yet another accident on Tuesday this time at the park by Grace. She rode home in a diaper and jacket, since I hadn't remembered to replace the clothes for the accident bag.
        The reason for wanting to escape from my work isn't really so much about exhaustion or feeling underappreciated like I've heard many moms talk about. I think it might be because I don't really value the moment I'm in. I hate it when the unpredictable happens. I don't like my schedule being messed with. I love what Jill Savage says in "No More Perfect Moms" that "The moment we are in is just as important as the moment we planned." I need that as a daily reminder because my planning is constantly hijacked. My attitude can make the difference between it feeling like a vacation or prison (laundry anyone?).
          So for now, I will relish the fifteen minutes of holding my new eight week old kitten in the sunlight (Harley, the dog, has already been sternly told that they are not chew toys, and he no longer drools while staring at them). I will open my heart to the words I read in the Bible when the house is quiet in the morning. I will stop and smile when my day is derailed...and know that every moment is a gift and an opportunity for growth.

          

Appetite for Destruction

         Last week, I surprised my mom by showing up with the kids to a birthday party thrown by her co-worker celebrating her 70th birthday.  It was awesome to meet some of the people that she has impacted in the last 18 years of work at a support group for people who have had a loved one die.  It was also a wonderful break from the ordinary, but it was just long enough to forget about the partially burned peanut butter jar that Harley found at the top of the hill on our neighbor's burn pile. Harley, our dog, didn't forget. Food is always on his brain, especially when it's peanut butter. He must have somehow snuck up there after coming home on Tuesday afternoon. Wednesday,  I found out about his secret binge when his body began purging the blackened plastic all over our floral carpeting at the top of our stairs. He looked so pathetic as he continued to empty the charred contents of his stomach throughout the next 24 hours. He stared accusingly at me when I withheld his regular meals, so I lectured him all day about making good food choices,making it easier to resist his huge puppy dog eyes.  Eating garbage prevented him from eating his regular nourishing food, but it also caused him to be isolated from us. I love him, but when it comes to puking dogs, they are confined to tile areas with washable items only. I have too many children to spend hours on my hand and knees cleaning dog puke out of the carpet. I had enough fun the last time around to last a lifetime. (If you missed that post, here you go.) I also informed Harley that he chose this isolation by indulging his appetite. The vet mentioned that I needed to be sure he continued his bowel movements. His appetite could literally destroy him (or at least his internal organs). Why would he choose to eat trash?
          I have begun to say goodbye to the familiar.  Sunday was my last service in our home church, where they celebrated a finished balcony by holding a free Mandisa concert. What a treat! She is fabulous!! My daughter celebrated her final birthday with her best buddies yesterday,  and it is just a matter of days till we say goodbye to the town that has been our home for the past twelve years. As I began thinking about all the people we are leaving behind, I began to feel very weepy.
           If I wanted to, I could've thought about all the negative things; but it wouldn't really be any different than choosing to eat a burnt jar of peanut butter. It would make me feel sick and cause me to draw inward, isolating me from those I love.  I chose instead to take my sadness to God. He reminded me that we aren't guaranteed any length to our life. For all I know, I could be exiting earth tomorrow. Even if I never see all my good buddies again in this life, I will have all eternity to spend together with those that have trusted in Christ. (Although I am planning on returning for an occasional visit). I felt a smidge better after those thoughts, but I still told God how special they all are to me. It brought tears to my eyes to think about each friend and the important role they have played in my journey.  He told me that my friends here are wonderful, but I have no idea all the amazing people that He is going to introduce me to in Missouri. God is no stranger to sorrow,  and He knows how hard this is for all of us. I know He can handle my tears, but He can also lift my spirits with the truth of wholesome thoughts. This is what I'm choosing to dwell on, instead of eating the garbage.
          This is why I'm singing with all my heart the song that Mandisa led us in during her concert. It says, "At all times, I will bless the Lord." Thank you, Mandisa for that song; thank you, hubby, for surprising me with the CD; and most of all, thank you, God, for the feast of good thoughts!
     

Looking To The Hills

          Yesterday, the girls were in a panic over our rooster, Duke. He was laying on his side  digging his feet into the wood chips, which resulted in him spinning in a circle. The description reminded me of a clip I vaguely remember of Curly from the Three Stooges laying on the floor spinning. They told me that he couldn't get up.  By the time I came down to the barn, we realized he COULD stand up because he was standing next to the barn door, a little wet...but fine. I'm still unsure why he did that, but I saw the matted circle left from his spinning.  I could be just like Duke these days. When I wallow in negative thoughts, I have the same silly circle dug into my mind. I run and run, but go nowhere. Looking up is what I need to do.
            Today, moving and everything that goes with it seems much more real. Adapting to change is not my strong suit. It makes me tired and weary. I've honestly been struggling for the past few days with just feeling tired and wanting to bury my head in the blankets. I miss my hubby, and I miss just relaxing and taking in the warmer summer weather. I don't feel like decluttering, and getting the girls into a cleaning routine to prepare for the showings that I anticipate.  However, I don't believe that God wants me to live by how I feel. Thank God that I have learned that I have a choice in the matter.
            Psalms 121 has become one of my absolute favorite chapters of the Bible. Today, as I began to feel weary this Psalm started playing in my head,  like a much loved LP. The first four verses say, " I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep." I was outside at the time, and when I looked at the hill behind our house I could feel God's presence and strength filling me up with what I need for today. I don't know what you are facing today, but I know God is watching over you the same way that He is watching over me. All you need to do is look up and cry out. His strength is there for the asking. 

The Venus Tick Trap

           
            Last week, my daughter got a venus fly trap. We talked about what we'd feed it if it was an inside plant...it needs to eat insects to live. After brainstorming,  we thought maybe it'd eat the ticks we keep finding on each other and the dog. Apparently, tick season is upon us. On my worst non-perfect 24 hour period, we found more than ten! I hate the thought of getting sick with a disease from these nasty critters, so the thought of them being slowly disolved sounds like justice to me.  One of the people helping in the gift shop for Shedd Aquarium confirmed that it would eat them.  My daughter has happily fed it each time a leaf opens up.
           This morning I was having a negative thought fest despite that there were lots of great things to think on. Today, we went to Chuck E. Cheese to spend the tokens from my daughter's Christmas present. It was lots of fun, but I was tempted to dwell on the thoughts about different possibilities of temporary living...none of them quite as appealing as our current home. I was tempted to feel frustrated about being woken up at 5:45am and not getting to return to sleep again before we needed to get up. Today was our actual last day of school, but I was tempted to feel irritated about trying to keep the girls on task after having a fun morning playing. There is a mountain of laundry waiting for me upstairs. One child smacked into her sibling who was balancing on an exercise ball (who cried out, "I almost hit my head and could've died!"). The youngest is happily sleeping on me after filling his belly, with the occasional snort due to the cold he is suffering from. I found pee and green pus on the carpet today, both of which I've dutifully cleaned up. One of my girls has poisin ivy, and continues to itch despite her medication for it. It would be easy to look at the negative things about this day and feel discouraged.
             Ok, so it's time to apply the "venus fly trap" of 2 Corinthians 10:5 which says, "We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." It is easier to dwell on the positive when I choose to be mindful that Christ is with me, moment by moment...and that I can choose what to dwell on.  God wants us to experience a great (not necessarily easy, mind you) life with Him leading every step of the way. Today,  I was encouraged in 2 Corinthians 2:14 about how "In the Messiah, in Christ, God leads us from place to place in one perpetual victory parade." I love a good parade, but I've never pictured my life as being a perpetual victory parade. That brought a smile to my face. God came through in amazing way last year...is there another victory around the corner? Every day, God can make our life amazing, victorious even, because of His power to work all things together for good. I would encourange you to give those negative thoughts to Christ, let Him trap them and devour them.

Adventures in the Windy City

         I've been quiet lately, but a lot has been happening around our home...I just can't share our major news yet. My mind has totally been consumed with it, so I haven't been able to write about anything else...until now.
         Last year, we celebrated the end of the school year with a field trip to the children's museum. This year we went on an even greater adventure, traveling to Chicago. It was sort of last minute for me (being the super planner that I am) since my hubby first mentioned the possibility of me going on a trip last weekend. Monday,  we talked about it some more (originally, we had discussed him taking the girls on this trip). Tuesday evening,  I made the reservations, including a bid on Priceline for our hotel (my $99 bid was accepted for a four star hotel on Michigan Avenue--hooray!).  Wednesday morning, we began our adventure in the "Windy City". I just took the two oldest and our three month old baby while our three year old and five year went on their own adventure to Nana's house.
         Going into a new situation with kids in tow can be a little stressful for me if I choose to think about all the things that could go wrong.  Talking to a friend who lived in Chicago for many years helped me a lot, but I admit that "Adventure Girl" wondered if she could really pull this off. After successfully getting on the train loaded with a backpack, purse, diaper bag, and three month old in a sling, I began to feel a little more confident. After all, the girls were old enough to handle their own luggage and wouldn't wander off. By the time we arrived in Chicago, the four of us were in great spirits. However, I made a memorable entrance onto Chicago soil thanks to the narrow stairs on the Amtrak train and my long cowgirl boots. There was too much shoe and not enough stair to support it (when I dismounted on the way home I was sure to put my feet sideways on the stairs).  I tripped down the stairs, landing on my knees. Several people asked me if I was ok, but the baby slept in the sling through the whole thing...really it was all just very embarrassing.  Within a minute or so, the girls and I were laughing about it.
          One of the coolest things about the trip was watching the girls experience so many new things...their first train ride, their first taxi ride, their first trip to the American Girl Doll store, and their first trip to Shedd Aquarium. It was exciting to watch them take in another city's norms as well.They had never seen street performers and wondered how the saxophone player made it down the street  before us. They were surprised when I informed them that there was more than one person playing for people on the street...that this wasn't the same person we had seen several blocks before. They were amazed by the heights of the buildings as we walked along Michigan Avenue because they'd never seen skyscrapers up close before. We talked about the lake effect from Lake Michigan and how they dyed the Chicago River green for St. Patrick's Day (later we watched videos about it).
             I watched as my oldest came to life at the American Girl Doll Store. She has read every book at our library from their series of books, and virtually memorized their magazine. She's also been saving up money for the past eight months to buy her own doll. Five hours after we entered the store, we were finally done shopping.  My second oldest (who loves animals and spends hours exploring our pond) glowed with excitement pointing out all the crabs Shedd Aquarium had to me. She raced from one exhibit to the next, talking about all the turtles, snakes and frogs she could spot. My girls also fell in love with the penguins, the dolphins, and beluga whales. I personally thought the jellyfish were amazing, and the 4-D show was fantastic (the dimension they added when the shark snapped up the sea lion nearly made me scream and caused my ten year old to view the rest of the flick from the back of the movie theater).
          We were able to experience new cuisine in Chicago at Mercat, a restaurant that has a menu made up solely of appetizers (except for the whole roasted suckling pig for $440). It was hilarious to hear my daughter say," Mommy, I can't read this menu!" since she can read at a high school level. It took me a moment to realize that it was because it was written in Spanish (the english was written in tiny font following the Spanish). I thought the bacon wrapped dates stuffed with Marcona almonds were amazing! My daughters enjoyed the shortbread, one topped with beef shortribs, fresh horseradish, parmesan, and bacon marmalade...the other with marinated shrimp, chorizo cantimpalo, garbanzo bean puree, tomato escabeche, and manchego. It was definitely different fare than we've had before...but delicious!
          After all these wonders, guess what their highlight from the trip was? It was feeding seagulls leftover pizza crust in Grant Park. They weren't quite able to get the birds to eat out of their hands, but they were close. They delighted in that just as much as the store and aquarium we went to.
         I know this is a trip we'll never forget. I'm so thankful for my hubby suggesting I go (and financing the whole thing). I felt God's blessings continually upon us . Our room was even upgraded to one with a view of Lake Michigan. Nothing truly bad happened to us. No one mugged us...although a worker at the train station mistook my daughter's venus fly trap as trash and "stole" it, so I found myself digging through his trash bags to find it. We missed our return trip on the train by five minutes because I took a wrong turn  (and there were too many people and not enough taxis outside the aquarium).  After accepting that we would be late, I told the girls that worst case scenario we'd just stay another night. However, Amtrak exchanged our tickets for a train leaving a couple of hours later. The girls were severely disappointed to find out that we would be leaving Chicago.
         The "Windy City" blew us away and left us dreaming of another visit. That, however,will have to be an adventure for another day.