Please, Pass the Ketchup!

         Today is the third Thursday blog hop for Hearts at Home. The topic is "No More Perfect Meals."
I don't know that I even want to talk about this topic. It's embarrassing. I'm a pretty good cook, but I have been greatly demoralized by A) having a new baby B) feeling overwhelmed by all the illness and C) having the creative side of my brain sucked dry by teaching our girls their school lessons for the day (homeschooling has at least one downside).
          The last couple of months have consisted mainly of me getting a main course on the table, and maybe one side...if you're lucky! The main course isn't too bad, but I've pretty much stuck with things I can make without a recipe in front of me...like pizza (at least it's from scratch), spaghetti, or chicken and rice soup (every once in a while it'll be chicken and noodle soup just to keep them guessing). No one has really complained; but when one of the kids doesn't like the meal, I've noticed that they really get into their bedtime snack. My five year old will eat anything if you give her ketchup as a side. My three year old will eat anything my five year old eats because she is at that lovely copycat age. If I keep a large supply of ketchup in the house, I can easily assure two people will eat any meal. My two eldest girls don't say much other than "yum" or "yuck" if they don't like it. They are wary of getting too verbose these days about food...maybe this is because they know I'm likely to blow my fuse if they complain about the meal I made while nursing the baby and teaching math to them. My hubby happily eats what I serve, and I'm very thankful for that.
          Then, there are days like today. Our driveway started flooding yesterday; and by this morning, it was covered. My hubby left a Suburban in case I wanted to try getting out. I made the call to go out for groceries at 9:30am and I'm so glad I did. By 11:30am, parts of our road were covered on our return trip; and by 4pm, our barn was flooded. The girls moved our chickens successfully; and with the help of other neighborhood kids, we moved the lawn mowers to higher ground. It was crazy how quickly the water rushed into our yard after making it over our neighbors road. My hubby left work when I called about it coming over the road, but took him a while to find a road not flooded in order to reach us. So what was our meal tonight? It was meatloaf made by a dear friend a month ago and frozen for us to use on just such an occassion (with a side of canned peaches...see, I told you there is usually one side). So many people have blessed us with meals after the birth of our new son (to read his story click here), which has given our family such a break from my imperfect meals. A couple of weeks ago during an outbreak of strep, another dear friend took my non-germy kids to the library and provided a delicious thanksgiving casserole along with an Easter Candy Dump cake. God knows that we aren't meant to do life alone, and I'm so thankful that this imperfect mama doesn't have to do meals alone either.

What have your meals been like lately? What is your favorite go to meal?  How have you been blessed?
I'd love to hear your comments.

To read more blogs on the blog hop, click here.

Buried Alive

      The house has been messy a lot lately. Part of that is because we have a new baby, and cleaning up toys is to not a priority over cooking, laundry or cleaning...or keeping my little man's diapers dry (which has been a real challenge in light of his digestive response to the antibiotics he has gotten via milk).  It feels like we've really only had a couple days off from illness for almost a month. My thirdborn got a non-strep sore throat this past week that has kept us away from others for three days (and impetigo, which did mean another trip to Walgreens). I just don't want to work non-stop orchestrating what needs to be done after I'm done with my chores, which these days don't always get done. I want to sit down and stop wondering if the pile of clean laundry will ever fold itself. I know some people dream about zombies attacking them; I, on the other hand, dream about my laundry revolting and burying me alive, smothering me in Downey freshness.
           The other part of the messiness has been that two girls have had a birthday party which means a lot of extra presents to find a new home for. These days it is difficult to find to a clean spot to sit let alone not trip over toys on the journey to the couch.  My youngest girls make 90% of the mess around the house, but get easily overwhelmed when assigned the task by themselves. They need a lot of direction. I don't think the little ones would be so overwhelmed if there wasn't so much stuff in the first place, which brings me to yet another chore that begs to be done...finding toys they don't really want anymore and donating them. I know that some parents do the dirty work at night or when their kids are gone, but I committed a long time ago to not throwing away things without their knowledge. I still remember my panic and horror at finding my Uncle Rax paper spectacles from my kid's meal being mysteriously gone one day. I asked my mom if she had gone through "my" drawer. She usually limited her "straightening up" (that was her word for it...I would've called it "throwing away my treasures") to anywhere, BUT my drawer. Apparently, she wasn't pleased with being unable to pull "my" drawer in the kitchen open without mess flying everywhere because of all the "treasures" I had jammed in there (which included my ubercool paper glasses that made me look like an alligator). I was crushed to find out she'd thrown them away. I knew all about the Bible and forgiveness since my dad was a Pastor, but I had a real hard time forgiving that. God has now blessed me with a daughter who has a similar sentimentality (and most people agree that she looks just like me)...so I've experienced first hand how difficult I was (and have repented of this to my mother). Anyhow, I have since committed to only throwing out things in their presence.
         I have personally come to the realization that it is not worth it to keep something unless you actually have room to enjoy it. This has been a tough concept to teach, and I can't claim to be entirely successful yet with my kids. The only thing that really lasts and leaves it's impact here on earth are the relationships we make with other people. The "stuff" we value all becomes trash at some point. I am reminded of Matthew 6:20 which says, "But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,where moths and vermin do not destroy,and where thieves do not break in and steal." I am dedicated to taking along as many people as I know with me, instead of storing up stuff.
     It's time to help my children let go of the clutter to prevent us from being buried alive in a pile of mess...even if it means throwing away some paper spectacles from a kid's meal.

"You've Made Your Bed, Now..."

         "... lie in it." Were you able to finish this line? I can't remember exactly when this was taught to me, but I'm pretty sure it was at a rather young age.  Sometimes, allowing our children to feel the consequences of their actions is a great form of discipline. If they neglect to put clothes in the laundry, they will run out of clean clothes. In the same way, I as an adult suffer consequences. If I leave fruit out too long, I will draw fruit flies. If I speed, I will get a ticket (eventually). Obviously, there is a certain level of maturity required for one to learn something from this form of discipline.
        This past week, I was challenged to consider that God will still help us even when we have made decisions without His "blessing". He doesn't say, "Well, you've made your bed..." God never leaves us. I'm in a Bible study called "Believing God" by Beth Moore. In the study we watch a video at the end of our time, and it was in the video this past week that Beth challenged this notion.
         She used a story from Joshua 9 and 10 to illustrate the point that in order to have victory God sometimes requires us to give our all. In this story, the Israelites have a miraculous victory over five kings that join together to try to defeat the Gibeonites whom Israel made a pact with in Joshua 9. Israel is not even fending off an attack specifically on them but on an ally they had made. They had a fierce battle. During their pursuit of the armies, God hurls hailstones from the sky "and more of them die from the hail than were killed by the swords of the Israelites." (Joshua 10:11) Beth points out that God could have clearly wiped out all of these enemies with hailstones in the beginning. Why did Israel even have to fight? God was more than able. She believes that God wanted Israel to do their part, not just believe God to fight for them. Israel had to give their all. They began with an all night march, fought while hotly pursuing their enemy, and even cried out for God to make the sun stand still. Verse 14 says ,"There has never been a day like it before or since, a day when the LORD listened to a human being. Surely the LORD was fighting for Israel!"
         This is a great inspirational story, right? It is, but that's not what got me all choked up...it's the context in which He gives Israel the victory. If you read the story in Joshua 9, you'll read the story of how the Gibeonites, who were afraid of what the Israelites would do to their city, pulled out old garments and moldy bread to fool the leaders of Israel into thinking that they had come from a long, long distance. Israel had been forbidden by God to make alliances with the people living in their "Promised Land". God warned that if they did they would eventually adopt their customs that caused God to drive them out in the first place. Israel would commit just as horrible atrocities like sacrificing their children. Well, the leaders of Israel were completely fooled by the their ragged appearance, moldy bread, and cracked wineskins. They forgot to "consult" God. Big mistake! He'd have told them that the wool was being pulled over their eyes.  Mrs. Moore pointed out that they could've wondered on that long march about who's fault it was that they were even in this battle...perhaps they were even slapping their forehead thinking "how stupid" they were...maybe, just maybe they were even feeling that since they had gotten themselves into this mess, they'd have to get themselves out. Beth points out though that God is not human. He never leaves us. He is full of grace; and when you cry out to Him, He is sure to hear you.
        This is what made my eyes start to water. This what filled my heart with hope. There are many times that I am reluctant to cry out to God for deliverance because I've bought into the lie that because I didn't listen to God or stop to ask His opinion that He no longer cares about me...that He will not help me. God loves us. All of us. It is much easier for me to extend grace than to accept it. Just as I would always help my child if they were in trouble regardless of whether or not they took my advice, God is just waiting for us to cry out to Him.    
        This past week my stupidity has cost my family several trips to the doctor's office/Walgreens for treatment for strep throat. I realized one of my daughters was suffering with a sore throat after drinking from her water bottle. I asked her why she didn't tell me her throat hurt to which she replied,"I did...you didn't listen to me." Ouch! Given my history of sometimes shushing my children, I know she's likely right. Slap my head and call me "stupid". Cleaning for strep throat is only effective if everyone is symptom free. Mama has fallen out of the saddle of her high horse. There are other things at play in our house this week too...big decisions affecting our family's future...some of it clearly beyond our control.
         So today, I'm believing God to be huge compared to our problems, ready to hurl hailstones at my enemies, more than capable to make the sun stand still. I'm crying out, “Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you." (Jer. 32:17)

     

Back In The Saddle

       Two weeks ago, I started running again. When my youngest saw me, I had expected her to cry and whine about how hungry she was. Instead, her face broke out into a huge smile. It was as if that piece of normalcy reassured her that life would indeed go on just like it did before we had a baby. Our baby wouldn't always be in my arms, trumping her needs. Mommy was still the same mommy despite the bloodshot eyes and slightly shorter fuse.
            I'd be lying if I said that transitioning from four kids to five is easy. Adding a new child is always challenging, and it takes a while to find your new rhythm. Eventually, some of the familiarity returns. Thursday night was the first night in more than two weeks that I've been in bed before 10:00pm. I feel rested this morning for the first time in a long time. Perhaps the bags under my eyes will be going away soon? Other things never go back to "normal"...there are no longer any extra seats in our vehicles when we all ride as one family. Yikes!
          We have celebrated two birthdays this week, back to back  (Tuesday and Wednesday). I now have a three year old and a five year old. Our five year enjoyed a large birthday party complete with aunts and uncles, grandparents, and twenty plus friends last Saturday. It went well considering the circumstances, although present time was a little crazy. Several presents were opened before the cards, and a couple times I had to ask the gift giver to identify themselves. I confess that I found a couple of cards yesterday when I was vacuuming. Oops!
         The one present I had managed to purchase for our five year old to unwrap at her party was wrapped in tissue paper because I had zero birthday wrapping paper (and I didn't have a gift bag large enough for a scooter). I almost copied my ingenious friend who uses newspaper as wrapping paper, but unfortunately the newspaper was downstairs. I was was holed up in my closet upstairs with guests actually arriving on-time while I was still wrapping...so I used tissue paper. Our five year old was thrilled with the scooter.  She didn't care about the lack of real wrapping paper. Then, I felt badly when I realized Monday night that each of the girls only had one present to unwrap for their birthday (they only had that one because my hubby had gone shopping). The lack of presents was easily remedied though by a trip to Target on our five year old's birthday where she picked out the present she really wanted...a bubble machine. Our three year old was equally thrilled to pick out a couple of presents a day early, helping her accept all the attention her sister was getting. I was concerned their birthday wouldn't feel special to them, but they seemed to enjoy this unexpected twist on our normal celebration.
          Thursday, the doctor's office felt crowded with five children in a tiny room...and following the appointment, we had three different prescriptions to pick up for three different conditions--diaper rash, pink eye, and strep throat. I just kept thinking over and over how glad I was that the two highly contagious ones hadn't made their rounds through all five children. We had to make several trips around Walgreens, going through the McDonald's drive-thru and getting gas, in order to keep the baby asleep and still allow them enough time to fill all the prescriptions.
        Also instead of bemoaning the fact that I was late to our appointment, I celebrated that I was ONLY seven minutes late. I know exactly how much effort it took to get everyone fed, dressed, and out the door at 9am with a newborn. If I'm under ten minutes late, I will take it as a little victory. If I am actually on time somewhere, I will expect to see pigs flying by my car.
       Some things have changed, but some things remain the same. It's been 24 hours since we started the antibiotics, so please pass me the "Basic G". It's time to shoot some germs. Mama's back in the saddle again...although I may fall out from time to time.
        

The Post Baby Bump

         Hi! It's the third Thursday blog hop for Hearts at Home. Welcome to my blog! Today's topic is "No More Perfect Bodies". I wrote all about my insecurities about my body during pregnancy in a post a couple months back called "Your So Vein". I'm now 7 weeks out from having a new baby. I loved reading Jill Savage's take on "No More Perfect Bodies". She talks about how society embraces the pregnancy bump, but they also need to embrace the post-pregnancy bump. I've watched my body slowly go back to more of it's former self over the past few weeks; but honestly, I never am quite satisfied.  I asked my hubby when trying on clothes this past Friday if a top made me look "fat". He assured me that it looked great (and thankfully, he always tells the truth in that area...sometimes it even stings a bit). Still, it's been almost a week, and although I've enjoyed wearing the other clothes I bought that evening, I'm still yet to pull it out for fear that maybe he was wrong, or maybe I've had one too many cookies this past week and my "bump" is past what that shirt can handle. I'm always conscious of myself. I've always been that way. I even find myself  wondering what my midsection looks like when I'm sitting down in a group or at the swimming pool. I find myself putting my arms around my waist to disguise what people see. When people comment how great I look post-baby, I feel pressure to maintain that. If they don't comment, I think maybe I don't look good anymore. It like I can't win. I don't think I obsess over this, but I honestly am tempted every day with thoughts to loathe what God has so graciously given me.
        My mom didn't allow me to play with Barbies growing up because she thought they would give me a distorted self image. Well, that didn't work because I rarely remember enjoying how I looked. I've always loathed my legs (my brother used to call me "thunder thighs"), and that is the primary reason that I started running faithfully...I liked the way my legs looked for once. (I've now found what a difference it makes in my attitide and fatigue level, and now I'm hooked for other than liking my legs) I look back now at pictures of me in high school and think how perfect I looked. Someday, I'll probably look back at me in my 30's and think the same thing. There is such a temptations to want more and to never be content.  The women that are older than me that I truly admire for their beauty are not perfect,  but exude a confidence despite their imperfections. So what if they have crows feet? Their smiles light up their eyes. So what if I have age spots? I'm probably more aware of them then anyone else is (except maybe my two year old who daily scrutinizes my face and points to my spots asking me, "What's that? Is it an owie?").
       The fact is that God created me in my mother's womb and saw that "it was good". To despise what He has made me to be is like telling the Master of the universe that He messed up in His creation...that He is somehow wrong. God is perfect. I am not. The sooner that I can appreciate this fact the sooner that I can accept my imperfections and move on to what God has really called me to do...to love others and be His hands and feet. He thinks I'm beautiful post-baby bump and all.

What do you struggle with? I'd love to hear. Please share it below.

Click here to read more blogs in the blog hop.

Cleaning + Unsupervised Two Year Old = Disaster

         I'm challenged daily to let go of my notions of who my kids are and watch who they are developing into. I've had lots of practice relaxing about how my kids dress or comb their hair; although honestly, there are days that I long to stick a bow or braid into my current two year old's hair (her natural curls minus hair accessories cause her to resemble Kramer from Seinfeld more than Shirley Temple). Our children fill my heart with joy at their creativity, but sometimes their ideas can get them into trouble. Our third oldest seems to have an affinity for trouble. If you went to "Girls Night Out" last year for the Hearts at Home National Conference, you may remember a cut up pack 'n play used for the survivor skit...that was our pack 'n play.
        Tomorrow our daughter turns five; and in honor of that, I'd like to share about the incident that will forever live on in our memories as "the day she almost didn't live to see three". My hubby had purchased a lovely large LCD TV during an "after New Year's blowout" sale. I was really tired that day; so when our baby laid down for a nap, I put on a movie for our two year old to watch. When I came downstairs, my heart sank as I saw water on the TV and half of the screen no longer showed a picture, just rainbow colored lines. I asked my two year old why there was water on the TV, and she happily replied that she had lined up her "Lightning McQueen", "Sally", and "Mater" cars to clean them. They were sitting on the entertainment center directly in front of our new TV when she had sprayed them off. I was puzzled why she had "her" cleaning bottle out in the first place, but it quickly made sense when my sock got soaked from an "accident" on the carpet. She knew I was sleeping and wanted to clean up the potty on the carpet. However, I had made it very clear before this that she wasn't allowed to use the spray bottle without me. Apparently, she'd forgotten this or thought that this situation didn't apply. She had no idea that her cleaning project had just cost us well over a thousand dollars. This all happened just a few weeks before my hubby left his good paying (but very unfulfilling) job for a job with a start up company that had great potential but cut his salary nearly in half. I knew a replacement was out of the question.
        I felt sick as I rushed to dry off the TV. I tried turning it off and letting it set; but after picking up our older two from school, it was still the same. I had no idea how my hubby would take the news; and understandably, he was very upset when he came home and heard the news. Our two year old was napping at the time, so he had about thirty minutes to decide how to handle it. He handled it wonderfully and decided that since the destruction was unintentional the only thing she was really in trouble for was using a spray bottle without me. When she came down later, she was given a consequence if she ever broke that rule again. She was pretty upset when she realized she'd broken our new TV. My hubby asked us all take turns talking about mistakes we'd made before, so she'd know she wasn't the only one.
        Clearly, she lived past that day. She never got that spray bottle out again without me, and we have since then replaced the TV. A TV is replaceable, but a child's delicate heart is not. Looking at I Cor. 13 can give us an accurate picture of what our love as Christians is supposed to look like. "Love is patient. Love is kind...Love is not easily angered." May I add to that "even when a brand new TV is ruined".

Have your kids "cleaned" anything and ruined it? I'd love to hear your story below.

Up In Smoke

         If you'd like to read about a really bad day that I handled well, click here to read "Harley and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". Today though, I'd like to be honest with you about how many of my days have gone "up in smoke". It feels good to only write about my successes, but it hardly feels real. Real life consists of the good, bad, and the ugly. Lately, there has been a lot of ugly in mine.
        I've been averaging 5-6 hours of sleep a night (on a good night I get 7, but even then I get woken up an average of three times...and try to keep "the spit-up king" upright for at least 15 minutes after nursing and changing diapers...which is tough). Each "wake-up" usually takes about an hour of my time. I know it could be so much worse, so it seems silly to complain. The poor baby is just 7 weeks old and will do a five hour stretch but sometimes I only catch 2 or 3 hours of it because I'm putting the other four to bed or completing some essential thing that I couldn't do with him in my arms (last night, I stayed up to finally make the birthday cake that I'd been trying to make all day). I know this level of sleep deprivation is temporary and that has been my consolation for the past couple of weeks.
          This is the list of my imperfections and low-points from just this past week: 1) I've yelled at almost everyone daily, including the dog. 2) I can't remember how many times I've been asked why I'm crying. 3) You would probably laugh at all the medical issues I've googled in the past week, assuming that I've maimed my children or we will need surgery to fix my mistakes/worn out body.  I believe in God's power, yet I'm having hard time resting in trust. 4) I'm participating in a study called "Believing God", and as part of the study we divide our lives into fifths to chart the notable events in our lives. Do you know that I have had someone very close to me die in each section (we're talking immediate family or best friend)...and I'm beginning a new fifth. This leaves me wondering "Who'll die next ?"
         I'd also be seriously exaggerating to say that I've been like this all week. Sometimes, I am so weak, but not always. Last Sunday night, I successfully navigated waiting for an extra half hour for pizza (without losing my cool) with a six week old, two year old,  and four year old. I had to wait because I had called the pizza into the wrong location. My infant overflowed his diaper, so I changed, nursed, and  burped him while entertaining two hungry kiddos smelling pizza they couldn't eat. There was no yelling either. This past week, I have kept up with laundry, schoolwork, and bills (though I'm yet to do this month's budget). I've hosted seven family members for an overnighter (although in truth, they handled two of the four meals,, and took care of all the dishes for me). I've sucessfully fed our baby (and kept him clean...which is time-consuming considering all the spit-up), all despite going through two illnesses. I've hugged and kissed my kids and spouse...and apologized to them when I've messed up.
        What is the key in all this mess of sorting through my past week?  I know that I have value, not because of what I've done, but because God says I matter to Him. He takes delight in me and sings over me each night at bedtime. (Zeph. 3:17) He loves me without conditions and despite how much I mess up. (Jer. 31:3 ) What I think about is powerful, and I need to be careful what I choose to dwell on. I've come accross this same scripture three times this week, which is my cue to pay attention and apply it. Philippians 4:18 gives us the perfect filter to pass my blunders all through. It says, " Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true,  whatever is noble, whatever is right,  whatever is pure, whatever is lovely,  whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." When I choose to only dwell on what is not only true, but noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy, I can no longer beat myself up on all the things I've done wrong. I have to learn from my mistakes and move on. Proverbs 15:15 says, "For the despondent, every day brings trouble; for the happy heart, life is a continual feast." (taken from NLT) Is your life a continual feast? Check the reality of His love for you and what you're thinking about, and I promise your day will go better...hopefully, you can put out the fire before your day goes up in smoke.

What are you struggling with? Feel free to leave it in the comments below, and I will happily pray with you about it.

Cowgirl Boots And My Achy Breaky Heart

        When we came back from Kentucky,  I brought home a strong desire for some cowgirl boots. I think I may have seen one too many horses while there (or spent too much time staring at the local's footwear while waiting to be seated at Applebee's). Thanks to Amazon (and my hubby's enthusiastic approval), I will be getting a pair sometime next Tuesday. It's funny how having a baby can put you in a clothes funk. I've felt a little out of it with choosing clothes. I'm limited to what feels like a small amount of tops and pants that actually fit, and some days I'm so tired it's hard to think straight. Tonight, I went on a date with my hubby though, and I had fun picking out some new tops and jeans...that should look fabulous with my new boots.
        Apparently, that wasn't the only thing I brought home with me. By mid-morning this past Monday, I had a horrific headache.  I very rarely have headaches, but I sometimes get them if I'm running low in sleep. Our one month old was up every hour on the hour from two o'clock on, and since I didn't get to lay my head down for the night till sometime after 11pm, the headache didn't really shock me. If you add to that my whiplash incident from that morning, it was easy for me to understand why I could've had a headache. When I'm in my third trimester of pregnancy, I can barely see my feet; but I'm also blinded following pregnancy to my left foot while carrying a baby. My four year old neglected to put her book away (as I had instructed) and left it on the stairs... so later that morning while holding our newborn, my left foot slipped on the book and went sailing out from underneath me.  I kept my balance though after a momentary jerk, and I only had a bruised elbow to show for it (my daughter had a mini-lecture on listening to Mommy the first time). My headache raged on.
        I went to Walmart to get groceries since my mom and brother's family would be visiting our family the following day; and by the time I left Wal-mart, I felt achy and cold in addition to having a raging headache. I came home to take my temperature, which was indeed a little high, so the baby and I took a nap for the next four hours. I explained to my older girls the rules, which basically boiled down to this: "pretend you're me...think 'what would mommy do'?" They were more than happy to help with the two little ones because they really wanted to get to see their cousins. They know a sick mommy equals no visitors. My second eldest daughter started crying when she heard I was starting to get a fever. They'd been waiting to see their cousins for over 6 months, and my sickness was threatening to ruin it. I told them their only hope was to pray that God would heal me quickly and to be as quiet as possible. I've heard a lot about the debilitating flu that is going around this year, and my family chooses not to get flu shots. The last time I ran a fever was more than four years ago. I rarely get sick, but this felt serious because of how horrible I felt in a very short amount of time.
        My extended family loves me. I know this in my heart, but there is still a part of me that questions if it's really unconditional. Despite my knowlege that God's opinion is the only one that really matters; honestly, my heart still aches for their approval. When I recently read the book "Unglued" by Lysa Terkheurst, I could totally relate to her panic of having her mom visit and trying to make extra sure that everything was acceptable (only to discover to her horror that the toilet seat in the bathroom her mom would be using was missing a seat). There is a part of me that still remembers the messy room I kept as a child, and how my mom would agonize over how messy she could imagine my house would be when I had one of my own. Since then she has told me repeatedly what a great job I do keeping my house clean and tidy, but there is always a nagging voice in my head that insists she doesn't approve of me...or she will be appalled by what my house actually looks like.  Remember, those dust bunnies are still waiting to pounce (although I did try to banish them last week before our trip to Kentucky). I asked God to give me the grace to relax and them the grace to overlook the mess. As I lay in my bed shivering, I was still a little disappointed that my house was such a mess (and I wouldn't be able to do much about it).
          My sister-in-law said that they could maybe just come for a meal (that she would bring and prepare) without staying for the night if I was still feeling badly the next day. This was the first time they would get to see our new little baby, so their family would be disappointed not to come over as well. After my long nap that evening, I no longer felt achy...but my headache was slightly worse. My temperature was higher as well (101.8), but oddly I felt a little better. Amazingly by morning my temperature was back to normal (98.3), so I got up, put a meal together in the crock-pot for supper, and vacuumed (the only cleaning that really needed to be done...a week's worth of dog hair is so nasty). God had answered our prayer because even with activity I never felt worse. My daughters joyfully stripped their bed linens for washing, cleaned their rooms, and cleaned a bathroom. I've never seen them work so cheerfully and quickly.
    We had a great time visiting, and my brother's family brought lots of presents for the baby and us. My mom commented on what a good time she'd had, and later that night I had a good boo-hoo when I thought about how my financially conservative brother (Dave Ramsey has nothing on him) had clearly okay'd the shower of presents that my sister-in-law had so diligently sought out. The truth was and remains that my family just came to see us, not my imperfections. They didn't care. They loved me. I told that to my achy breaky heart and it exploded with happiness (instead of blowing up and killing this woman).

The Napping Fiasco

 

                I remember waking up feeling refreshed for the first time in several days.  I had no idea that sleeping for 30 minutes could feel so good!  That’s when my eyes caught the clock, and panic began to set in.  I reached for my phone in my pocket, and realized that it was on vibrate.  I had missed my alarm, and four phone calls…three of which were from the local elementary school that my oldest attended.  At the time, I had a one month old, a two year old, a 5 year old, and a 7 year.  I realized that I had somehow slept for more than 2 hours, and I was late to pick up my daughter…not just 10 minutes late, but 40 minutes late!  The baby had stayed asleep in the swing for the entire time, and my 2 and 5 year old had watched an entire movie instead of shutting it off when the timer I set went off.  I was mortified as I quickly listened to messages on my phone from the school asking if I was ok and letting me know that my child would be in their latchkey program.  I quickly got the kids ready, and listened to the baby bellow since she was hungry after sleeping for so long.  I felt like the worse mom in the world and could just imagine the trauma that my first grader was undergoing.  I was sure that every teacher there was discussing my irresponsibility and the fact that I had no business having so many children.  When I arrived, everyone was very understanding about the situation.  My first grader had made me a card that said “Did you forget me?” on the outside and thanked me for letting her dream come true on the inside.  Apparently, she’d always wanted to stay for the latchkey program.  That night, she even happily shared that it was her high point for the day.  I was horribly embarrassed about it, but I had to realize that at the end of the day no damage was done except my pride. We don't like to admit to our imperfections, but it's time to stop being so fake. There is a great book that encourages us to admit that we are less than perfect...and it is finally ready to purchase.  Here are some details to encourage you to consider getting it this week:

Everyone loves a good investment…especially one that comes with a big bonus! This is one of those investments that you don’t want to miss! Purchase Jill Savage’s new book No More Perfect Moms anytime between February 3-9 (online or at a store…and yes, electronic versions such as Kindle and Nook count too!) Send a copy of your receipt to NoMorePerfectMoms@moody.edu. Scan it, take a picture of it - just be sure to send it to the email! You'll be given access to well over $100 worth of resources that will help you on your mothering journey - absolutely free! What will you receive?   6 Sixty Minute Audio Workshops (MP3 format) from Hearts at Home

• Desperate for Wisdom - Dr. Juli Slattery
• How to Fight for Your Marriage - Dr. Juli Slattery
• It is Well with Your Soul - Jennifer Rothschild
• Multiple Intelligences - Dr. Kathy Koch
• Ten Stress Strategies Every Mom Needs - Jill Savage
• The God Who Sees You- Tammy Maltby

4 Printables from Hearts at Home

• 10 Stress Strategies Every Mom Needs
• “Love Is”--I Corinthians 13 for Parents
• Mom Rules
• How to Fight Fair In Marriage

3 Free E-book’s (including PDF, Kindle, iPad, and Nook editions!) from Moody Publishers

• Live Free by Kendra Smiley
• Growing Grateful Kids by Susie Larsen
• Real Moms Real Jesus by Jill Savage

1 Contest Entry You will be entered in a drawing to win hotel accommodations and two Hearts at Home Mom Conference registrations for you and a friend at a conference of your choice! (If unable to attend a conference, a Hearts at Home Conference To-Go will be substituted for the winner and a friend.) This offer is available for this week only (Feb 3-9)! Grab a copy of No More Perfect Moms, scan your receipt, email it, and start enjoying your new book PLUS all of the extra bonuses you’ll receive! It’s “mom university” delivered right to your computer!

I will also personally be giving away free copies of this book...with one catch:

Leave your own personal story of being less than perfect in my comments below.  Just to clarify, you do not have to be a mom or even married to participate.  The book talks a lot about other things besides just motherhood (including decorating, organizing, and our self-image). Maybe you'd even like to share a comment to be able to pass along this book to someone else.

For every 10 comments, I will give away one book (with a maximum of 10 books as my limit...and I will faint if I get that many comments because I rarely get that many views on each post). I will draw names on Wednesday, so stay tuned.

On My Last Nerve

    The hardest thing about the past week or so has been the pinched nerves the baby has occasionally  been sitting on. Every once in a while when I'm walking, I move (or he moves) just right...and oh, the agony! Something even more painful happened to me this past Sunday. It really got on my nerves too.  I don't like to be wrong.
      I thought my water had broken at the concert Sunday night; but after nothing happening to indicate active labor, my midwife tested me and confirmed that it wasn't amniotic fluid. We are calling it "mystery fluid", since I know that I did not pee my pants! Initially, I was pretty disappointed. My hubby had gotten everything ready (including our hot tub) and had taken the day off of work. I felt like a failure (this is child number 5...how can I not tell??) and embarrassed since I had even posted on Facebook that my water had broken. Some of you may be smiling and understanding now why I was a perfect candidate for the "No More Perfect Moms" launch team (which comes out next Monday).
     Yesterday while I was running I was relieved when I realized that although I am severely imperfect...God is not. In her book, Jill Savage says, "We must understand that the imperfect parts of our lives are counterbalanced with the reality of a perfect God who longs to shine His light through the cracks of our lives." His timing is always amazing. I thought back to last year's fast and how I really wanted to stay in our old house. I had the thought in my mind, " What if God wants to give you something better?" Of course, I put that clause into my new prayers saying, "Well, God, if you want to give us something better, help me to let go of what we have." However, last summer when we were nearing our closing date with an RV or apartment in what seemed to be our new future, I had a hard time understanding what God was up to. He was preparing, what for me was, a real life miracle (click here to read more). Trust is hard when you are unsure of the outcome, but trust goes hand in hand with faith. The longer I've walked in relationship with God, the more I've realized that He always has a really good reason for answering my prayer "No" or "Not yet".
     I wrote all this last night while bathing our children, and this morning there was a lovely puddle when I got up from cuddling my four-year old who had a bad dream. Is it more "mystery fluid"? Well, it changed the litmus strip green, so I think we're in business...but this imperfect mama will let you all know. Time to let the Perfect One shine through these imperfect cracks of mine.

Welcome To The Jungle

     It's the third Thursday blog hop for Hearts at Home,  and today's topic is "No More Perfect Homes". In her new book "No More Perfect Moms", Jill Savage talks about our expectations of home and ways to make our expectations more realistic (along with tips to keep them manageable).
     I remember attending the annual Bloomington conference in 2007 and feeling stunned to see the tour of Jill's house in all it's non-perfect splendor. (When you get the book, there will be a link to be able to watch the original video.)  I was definitely suffering from "perfection infection" as Jill terms it, where all I could see was how perfectly beautiful everyone else's home was and how imperfect mine was. Most of my friends had lovely homes in subdivision settings that had been much more beautifully decorated than mine and were, of course, much newer than mine. Most of the ten years we were living at our home we either were expecting a baby or had one under a year old.  The constant stream of projects and baby gear in the way made me often feel like I had to somehow "explain" for my home when we had people over. When I saw Jill's house, I was so relieved to see that someone else had a house without the perfect chair from "Good Housekeeping" or had piles of unfolded laundry looming in their house too.  She even had favorite hand-me-down furniture just like we had. What a relief to know I wasn't the only one!
      As I've grown up and matured (a little), I've slowly been able to accept the fact that in reality everyone feels inadequate about something in their home. I'm learning to stop apologizing for what "normal" is in our house. I've learned that when people come over they are more interested in seeing me or my family with a smile on our faces than judging my less than perfect house complete with sticky food pieces under my kitchen table, or mound of dishes in the sink. If I am welcoming versus insecurely apologizing for all the things I didn't get to cleaning, they seem to relax and enjoy themselves a lot more. It IS easier said than done though; and when a friend dropped by a couple of weeks ago without any notice, I did cringe just a little bit when I saw the dirty entryway to my house and caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror (which was still sporting yesterday's make-up following my 30 minute run that morning).
     I'm 36 weeks pregnant, and I honestly think that part of the reason that I wouldn't have wanted a home birth before this is because I would've been stressed out about keeping my house perfect for the midwife who was going to deliver me. I mean, how stupid is that? She's a mom too, so she understands...and there is zero chance that I will feel like cleaning in between contractions when labor hits. It's not important! I still have to fight for the proper attitude about my home. Today was our "home visit" from our midwife that will be delivering our next baby. My four year old had just reached the 24 hour "all clear" from strep throat (because of antibiotics) just three hours before she came...which meant it was time to do the post-strep cleaning spree (disinfecting all the counters, tables, knobs, light switches, toilets, etc.) I had to tell myself that it was fine that I didn't have time to clean up the splatters on the kitchen floor, or help my little ones clean up the explosion of toys in the living room. It was more important to make sure she wasn't exposed and that the kids were fed and educated.  Jill's book is a good reminder that my home is "normal".
      I used to wait till my house was "perfect" to invite people over, and freak out for the 40 minutes before they arrived trying to straighten things up (practically sending me and my kids into tears). Having to keep my house in showing condition this past spring taught me a lot about what to focus on, and how to keep clutter down...but now I do run a much more relaxed household. I'm not bothered that there are still a few unpacked boxes from our move this past summer. I don't make the kids pick up every last toy before we have kids over for a playdate...we are just getting them out again as soon as they come in (granted I do need the floor cleared enough to be able to safely walk about). We do dishes daily, clean bathrooms weekly, and fold laundry at least every other day...but since the end of July, I've only dusted our house three times. (I know my mom will probably be shaking her finger at me when she reads this.) If you happen to come over and see a giant dust bunny in the corner (that now looks like a dust tiger due to the size), I just have one thing to say to you: "Welcome to the jungle."

At The Twilight's Last Gleaming

               “Oh God, You can’t let it end like this!”  I remember uttering those words in shear desperation as a growing knot grew in my stomach.  It was supposed to a wonderful fun family event…a free outdoor concert for Mandissa.  Two years ago, I experienced one of my lowest points as a mother.  I’d lost my two year old daughter. The sun began to fall, and the volume of the concert rose with the opening song.  Tears streamed down my face, and fear coursed through my veins.  I’d been sitting with my little infant and friend while our older children played together.  My two year old had asked to join her sisters, and I agreed.  I sat down for a moment to adjust my shirt; and when I got back up to check on them, I couldn’t see her.  At first, I thought my view was merely obscured by another child.  However, when the child moved, I still couldn’t see my two year old.  I calmly walked over, determined not to panic.  As I got closer, I still couldn’t see her.  I asked my older two if they knew where their sister was, but they were clueless.   I sent them back to the blanket with my friend.  I thought I heard a voice crying out “Mamma!” from the woods that lined the back of the clearing for the concert, so I ran toward the sound I’d heard and cried out her name every few feet wondering if she was lost in the woods.  Panic began to set in, and I had this dying realization that this event could forever change my life.  I cried out to God as I ran trying desperately to find her.  Still the fear remained that I would never see my daughter again.  I ran back to my friend where the rest of my children sat waiting, and she told me that her husband had recognized my two year old in the arms of a police officer when he was helping his youngest use the bathroom.  My daughter had made it all the way to the opposite side of the clearing.  I began to sob in relief as I took her from the officer’s arms, but she just looked at me with no emotion oblivious to what had just happened.  I wasn’t instantly relieved because all I could think in that moment was what a lousy, incompetent mother I was.  Instead of feeling grateful, I felt the weight of what I guessed everyone was thinking about me: “What was she thinking bringing four children to an outdoor concert?”   After this story, I imagine you can see I’m clearly qualified in the area of not being a perfect mom.

                This was not my shining moment as a mom, but God saved me from disaster. It felt like divine intervention for a police officer to find my little girl, and for my friend’s husband (that I barely knew) to recognize her.  The scariest part of my story was the fear of not knowing how God would answer my prayer.  Honestly, it still is the scariest part of prayer for me.  I have an easy time believing that God exists, but I don’t know whether or not He will answer my prayer the way I want it answered or not.  Watching my dad die from cancer quickly awakened me to the fact that God doesn’t answer every prayer the way you hope.  Our church is beginning its annual corporate fast that will last for the next three weeks.  We always pick a few requests to seek God’s answer during this time.  Our pastor talked about the need for faith to experience the breakthrough we need in our lives.  He used Hebrews 11:6 which says, “And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.”  Again, the first part of this is easy for me…but the second half is a little intimidating.  I have several requests for God for the next few weeks; and although I’ve seen Him work in amazing ways in the past few years, I know sometimes it can take years to see the answer to a prayer.  This means continuing to believe and persist even if it doesn’t happen immediately.  I am choosing to believe that He has amazing answers planned for this coming year.

Harley And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

     On Thursday, Harley gobbled down his breakfast after a potty break and proceeded to itch for a very, very, long time. When I called him over, I noticed huge welts all over his body, including one above his eye. The night before I had squeezed out one capsule of fish oil on his food because the vet had said it would help with the dry skin he was experiencing. Apparently he had a reaction to it because it was the only thing we had done differently for him in the previous 24 hours. I discovered a large pile of dog puke complete with a piece of silver garland. My logical husband reasoned that he probably swallowed that in lieu of grass. Later that morning, Harley began retching up his breakfast. This is not how I had envisioned spending my day. My mom and I had planned on meeting at 1:30 p.m. halfway between her house and mine, so I could bring our two oldest girls home after spending a few days with her. Their favorite science class at the library was that day from 4 to 5 p.m., and the drive home should have taken only an hour... leaving plenty of cushion time for them to unpack, get their library books to exchange, and even give them a little time reuniting with their cats on the bench outside. Then my midwife asked to move my Friday morning appointment to that afternoon at 2:30 pm, which should have still been fine given that I was planning on being back in town by that time anyhow. My appointments usually only take 15-30 minutes. We'd still have just enough time to unload and grab the library books from home after the appointment.
     While getting ready for the day, I noticed my favorite shirt had three small holes in it; but since they were tiny, I decided to wear it just one last time. I left my bathroom only to find a vile smelling pile of dog puke waiting in my bedroom. Some days I can really relate to Alexander in the story about his awful day... except for his desire to move to Australia. No offense, but I'd rather move to Ireland. When my hubby and I traveled there in the spring five years ago, I fell in love with the landscape and the charming accent... and all the green. In fact when we came back, I promptly painted the largest room in our house (as one disapproving decorator called it) "Kermit the Frog" green. I began to feel my day unravel like a cheap sweater, and my dreams of moving to Ireland began (or at the very least I dreamed of the crisp clean scent of some Irish Spring soap). Apparently when I let Harley out for a potty break, Oreo the cat (with parrot-like tendencies) has conspired with Harley. She perched on my shoulder and rubbed her head and side against my face, blinding me from the fact that Harley was searching the hillside for cat poop. (My vet has assured me that this is completely normal although I find it completely revolting.) Do you know how I knew he'd been snacking on cat poop? Well, guess what the vomit smelled like? I found this mess eight minutes before I needed to leave in order to pick the girls up on time. I had my little ones search the rest the house for any other stink bombs. They couldn't find one; so after cleaning up my bedroom, I packed food for a picnic lunch in the van. As I collected the rest of the movies due back to the library my darling daughter said, " Mommy, what's that?" In a room full of wooden flooring and tiles, Harley had chosen the cream and tan area rug to deposit another puke pile. After cleaning this up, I took Harley out ON A LEASH for a quick potty break... so there could be no more cat-related binging and purging. We ended up being five minutes late, but my mom was an additional ten minutes late...making me fifteen minutes late to my midwife appointment. We no longer had enough time to run home for books; so after whispering a prayer, we regrouped. I decided to just renew the girls' books and head to the library without their books. We ended up arriving at the science class five minutes early, and the rest of the night went much better. Harley puked again after sneaking a couple of branch tips off of our Christmas Tree, but his welts went down a lot (and his itching was much better).
      Jill Savage says," Motherhood is the ministry of availability.  You could also say it's the ministry of interruptions! " My whole day Thursday was not what I expected, and it was full of interruptions. I had not counted on playing nursemaid to a sick dog. As I pulled out of the driveway already late, I thought, "Are you going to let this ruin your day?" It was at that moment I chose to not get angry, anxious, or upset about whatever came next. One of my favorite lines from "No More Perfect Moms" is this: "We need perspective that the moment that we are in is just as important as the moment we planned on that didn't happen the way we thought it would." It's hard to keep that perspective while cleaning dog puke. It didn't feel important, just annoying. However, I am sure that even if I did move to Ireland, my "ministry" (a.k.a. the children and Harley) would follow me; so I might as well just stay here in the USA.