Duct Tape Chronicles

The Rat Race

2011-03-03T22:30:00.000-08:00

I have spent a couple of my most recent posts begging for your prayers of wisdom. I have been at a loss, not knowing how best to love a family that is close to ours that is having some difficulty, and now that we do have some concrete ideas I find that I am back to begging again because the ramifications of putting these ideas into action would have a significant effect every member of our (not so) little family.

Big changes.

So, here is where we are at:

1. We are considering inviting the teenage-girl we have been praying for to live with us for however long God would have her stay. She has before, but she was a preschooler then and well... did I mention she is a teenager now?

Our hope is that this would give the family some space to breath. There is a lot of raw emotion in the home and we all know it is easier to deal with things clearly when our emotions are not constantly raw or agitated. Our biggest hope is that there is restoration of fellowship for everyone (in the broadest sense possible), and oddly enough this seems to fit.

Logistically, for us this means more cramped quarters, especially for the little girls who would be sleeping four-to-a-room (I never in my life would have dreamed that one day I might need three sets of bunk beds to house my children). We don't live in a large home, but God usually does not seem to care that all the conditions are 'right' when he asks us to do things, now does He?

Darn. I love it when my conditions are 'just-so'.

2. None of my children have ever set foot in a public or private school. We do a home school co-op on Fridays as a family and that is the closet thing they have ever gotten to institutional learning. Our guest, on the other hand, has never known anything but public school and at the current time, traditional public Jr. High is not doing her any favors. However, I am completely overwhelmed at the thought of homeschooling someone who may not welcome it and who will be having enough changes to deal with, thank-you-very-much, without me yanking her out of her comfort zone entirely. So What to do?

Like I said, traditional Jr. High? Not a pretty picture. There is one option that has come to mind, and that is the K-8 magnet school in our town that resembles what an unschooling home might look like if they had a couple hundred children.

We are thinking of taking this route and putting the three oldest girls in together.
One of my girls really wants to go, the other wants-to-want-to-go, but has always had to own the idea of something before she dives in.

We are going to go visit next Tuesday; It is a lottery process to get in but if one member of a household is accepted, any others who apply get to get in too.

We like the size of the school, the fact that it places emphasis on bringing the whole family into the school community (I would probably volunteer one day a week), and yes, I do love the fact that the only assigned homework they give is nightly reading.

That leaves our evenings for us, just as it should be.

We are also hoping that we will be able to still attend our homeschool co-op on Friday mornings while it is in session, because the relationships we are forming have been amazing and our kids L.O.V.E it. I also want this sweet girl to see true Christian community and only hope that lasting relationships would be formed for her as well.

So yeah, we may be entering The Rat Race.

If you remember, it would mean the world to me to know that you were lifting our situation up.

Not going to lie -I am a bit anxious.

If this is the way He is calling us to serve, then I'll get over the anxiety; Mostly I just need clarity.

We are committed to walk through any door that He opens.

Any words of advice or encouragement are welcome too.

Poured Out

2011-02-25T21:05:00.000-08:00

"...[the] power of prayer can never be overrated. They who cannot serve God by preaching need not regret. If a man can but pray he can do anything. He who knows how to overcome with God in prayer has Heaven and earth at his disposal." Charles H. Spurgeon

I carry yesterday's conversation around in my heart, revealing it to nobody, not even my husband. It is too big and too heavy to be named just yet; even I am not sure what it all means. The weight of it causes my everything to ache but I am not ready to pour it out for others to share.

I have listened to another's burdens and walked away feeling so small, so inadequate, so without resources or answers.

I am wondering at what point I will know if my prayers are to become action or if my prayers are action enough?

What does that look like, anyway?

Am I trying to micro-manage or is this a God-nudge?

All I know is that there is a family hurting and a young girl who does not come home anymore on weekends or until past dark on school nights. She is not doing well in so many ways, and her absences put her in danger.

She is just 13, I think to myself.

Every day after school I can't stop wondering where she is and I pray for her protection. I resist the urge to call her mother and see, because I know the answer.

Is she home?

I want to bring her home myself because that is what you do with your children.
You go get them.

I have been praying like mad that the fellowship that is completely absent in that home be restored. I want to see a family healed.

I want to love them all, but I don't even know what that means.

Two Little Monkeys

2011-02-16T22:40:00.000-08:00

This little monkey is all smiles because his best friend turned two this week, and he knows what two year-olds are like.

Not only are they super affectionate (prone to toting you around by your tail, just as you prefer), they also know how to make some mean mischief.

Not to mention the fact that two year-olds appreciate jumping on the bed almost as much as monkeys do.

(Note to Monkey, from Mom: I am on to you! Please observe the cautionary tale 'Five Little Monkeys' sitting next to your bed- it is just as much for you as it is for her.)

Yes, I am pretty sure that Monkey looks so smitten because he is dreaming up adventures for the two of you, Ailish.

He is thanking God for the days that he gets to share with you, and

rest assured, he is not the only one.

We love you, 'baby'.

Happy 2nd Birthday!

If You Give a Kid a Camera...

2011-02-10T00:09:00.000-08:00

Do you ever go to grab your point-and-shoot and discover that the memory card is full of pictures you know that you did not take? I was planning on letting myself off easy today by doing a Wordless Wednesday post, but when I started to review the contents of the camera I noticed that exact 'something-amiss' going on at my house.

The bulk of which just cracked me up.

*SNORT*

So here you have it- a boys' eye view of the morning through a finger-print smudged lens:

Myles! Myles! Wake up- I have Mom's camera!

This thing still on?

Look, Myles! Inky wants his picture taken! Don't blink, Inky.

Okay, fine! Bear-Bear, you can get in too.

Dude, Yoda! Do you always have to 'Force' yourself into the action? Guys, let's just hurry this along so we can sneak down to the fridge before mom wakes up.

It really does take ~~The Village People~~ a village to raise a child, doesn't it?

I am just wondering where they were while I was still in bed.

Restorer of Broken Walls

2011-02-08T09:08:00.000-08:00

"This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live ²⁰ and that you may love the LORD your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the LORD is your life." ~Deuteronomy 30:19-20

There is a young girl and her family that need your prayers right now and in the coming days. A young girl that I firmly believe was given the chance at life 13 years ago because of another community who committed to stand watch on her behalf.

They prayed for a baby that was being knitted together in her mommy's womb; For her mommy and daddy who knew a life that was so difficult that they could not see enough hope in their circumstances to consider bringing another child into the world.

They pleaded before God alone, and on a November day that I will never forget, the little red headed girl was given a gift.

Her first breath.

I thank God for that gift and I thank Him all the more that He is not content with giving us breath alone; that His plans for us go beyond what we could ever hope or imagine; that His plans for us are for abundant life.

Would you pray with me for this family that they would find this? There is what seems like overwhelming rubble surrounding them right now. Discouragement. Confusion. Lies.

So much hurt.

Would you pray to rebuild the wall of protection around them?

Pray for wisdom and truth and hope and healing.

Would you pray that there would be a way through the destruction and that it would be as clear as day?

I have confidence to ask for a miracle now because God has done it before.

Would you stand with me in prayer?

Just Keep Swimming, Swimming, Swimming...

2011-02-05T17:01:00.000-08:00

I have decided that until I am blogging somewhat regularly again, I need to think less and type more.

(Man, can I think too much.)

So for a now the point is not necessarily what I write, just that I write SOMETHING. This brings me to Seven Quick Takes Friday.

Or at least it was Friday when I started-That makes it still count.

(And if you dare to get all technical on me, I will just play with Time/Date thing and make it whatever time I want. So there. )

1. I was looking for pictures to accompany my post and realized that most of our quick real-life snap shots involve us eating. I will be the first to attest that these five kids think they need to be fed regularly (unrealistic, entitled children), but isn't there anything else we do that might be considered photo-worthy? Anyone willing to tell me I am not the only one who will be prefacing all of her photos with 'This is so-and-so eating a such-in-such' when it comes time to humiliate her children in front of the opposite sex? Someone?

2. And speaking of photos. I can not get over how much Eilidh and Silas look like they could be twins in the one of them enjoying their first-frozen-yogurt-ever (See! I followed the formula! This is so-and-so...)! They would hate for me to say that, but even with three years difference, they are so much alike; Best enemies, you know the sort.

3. And speaking of Silas. He will be having his first over-nighter tomorrow. Going to Grandmas...wants me to go with him.

Swoon.

His sisters always get to go, so this time is just for him. In addition to seeing Yogi Bear, he has high hopes of being able to cross off 'own and master harmonica' from his bucket-list. Grandma, just for the record, I warned you not to mention the T-O-Y store.

4. My youngest daughter can not both eat and sit down at the same time; Primal urge to always be ready to flee from those who might steal her food, perhaps. At any rate, I am not sure if said child has figured out which is worse yet: Her food being lifted from her when she is not paying attention or her head meeting the tile below the chair that she is suppose to be sitting on.

5. Someone around here will be turning TWO this week! This certain someone can have birthday cake to her heart's content too... but only if she sits down.

6. I find February to be a loverly month for a birthday because 'February' is just so stinking cute. I think this is due to Valentine's Day and to pink doilies and felt/paper hearts in particular.

7. Is it odd that the last thing I associate with Valentine's Day is romance? No PG or R rating here, just cuteness and cupcakes, that is what I'm about.

There I go again about food.

A Little Dirt

2011-02-02T22:43:00.000-08:00

We were just hours into our first day living in our newest home when I realized that my children might never be clean again.

There was dirt here.
Dirt like I had never known before.

Not the kind of dirt that knows its place either;
This dirt was bold and rose in clouds that followed you around, taller with every step, until you suspected its' presence and looked over your shoulder, paranoid.

'Huh? Funny...I could have sworn I was being followed?'

See what I mean?
Sneaky dirt.

Anytime one of my five kids popped back inside from playing with their new BFFs (which you know was like, every two minutes), the dirt would barge in too.

It was sneaky and fast and I could not keep up with it for the life of me.

Before I knew it, I was chasing its' tracks through out the house: mounds on the floor, handprints up the stairwell, anywhere they might set their little hind ends.

Getting the kids all dressed for the day and then out to the car without one of them falling victim to attack became my primary mission. Yet, little did I know, Sneaky Dirt had a friend.

That is right-

bring on

The Rain.

Now it is not as though I never let my children get dirty. I love the occasional what-the-hay-just-go-for-it, but every time a young'n of mine needs fresh air?

Really?

And we live in Central Oregon where the rain accumulation is barely worth mentioning, so it only stands to reason that someone must have told it all to land at my house.

I try not to panic.

I try not to let the words 'I hate this place' out past the gate where my children might overhear them- This place that was suppose to make things easier for us. I try not to let them past, but the spaces between the bars are a little too wide and my words are crafty too.

I begin to formulate a plan that would make me The Boss again; a plan that involves lots of laundry.

I strip down the kids, gather our loads, and I push the magic button.

NOTHING happens.

Does this machine not know that there is a war going on? An enemy threatening to take over our camp?!? I will never be able to keep up now!

Much frustration, two repairmen, several electricians, a couple of new machines, and eight weeks later, I am finally submerged in The Parable of God's Washing:

I had tried to find a comfortable place again, to make myself a refuge, but Sneaky Dirt knew the way.

Life's Storms came too- dare I say they were given my forwarding address? Told they could stop by?

My Dirt and Life's Storms joined forces and really made a mess of things.

I made plans for counter attack.

I mustered my strength
and I tried to wash away what lingered.

Nothing.

Apparently, I really needed a reminder.

How thankful this momma of five is for the chance to do laundry in her own home again.

How thankful I am for a life that seems so out of control some days.

How thankful I am to know The One who is in control.

I am so glad that God loves us like the messy children we are and offers to make us clean.

Master of Disguise

2011-02-02T14:07:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that if you

go incognito

mom will never catch on.

Friction

2010-12-03T20:47:00.000-08:00

Who I want to want to be and the reality of me have been bumping up against eachother a lot lately.

This has caused friction and friction is uncomfortable and makes me want to get out from under it.

Nothing has brought this to a head like the idea of Christmas; At times I have truly just wished I could wake up tomorrow and discover that it is January first.

I don't want to feel this way.
I want the gift of Jesus to be enough for our family.
Not in a resigned yeah-well-Jesus-is-the-reason-for-the-season sort of way, either.

I want my children to experience the reality of His love and I want that Love to move us to serve others.

I need to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the reality of His love.

I want to be content and have a heart that is grateful instead of focusing on what is missing lately.

I want this to be my reality, but it is not.

Instead I have felt like hiding so that I don't have to experience the disappointment my children may feel when they realize that Christmas may not be the way they remember it being. I have had to bite my tongue so as not to say something that might quench their joy.

It is not even really as much about the 'stuff' as it is about not knowing how to do things differently; about not knowing how to re-adjust our focus to what is real.

I do want to be able to give to my children, but mostly I am bothered by the fact that I don't know how to give them what matters most.

That is what saddens me.

Shouldn't this have been our emphasis from the start?

If their were no pretty gifts around the tree, shouldn't we still be in awe of The Baby in the Manger?
Shouldn't this Everything be enough?

I am praying about how to do this.

How do you claim the season for Christ?

Dear Lord,
Help me to know that You are enough. Help me to offer up a sacrifice of praise to you that You may be glorified in my home and wherever you send me.

Amen

All Tied Up

2010-10-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

Every time I sit at my computer to pen anything longer than a status update on Facebook, there is one image that comes to mind: the pull cords to my sons' window blinds.

Odd, I know. Why?

Well it seems that no matter how many attempts I make to separate those strings, so that light can be given to the insides of our walls and our own vision expanded beyond what is immediatly before us, those things are always quick to find eachother again.

Not unlike the jumbledness in my head; each thought its unique strand but knotted together so convincingly that it is difficult to know where to begin tugging; the result being that no one is permitted to see in and no one is able to see out.

When this occurs, I know that nothing is going to happen if I don't start somewhere.

So, here I go.

I am just going to start pulling here-and-there to see where that gets us, okay?

Cause, well... it is dark in here.

Summer:
Many areas of my life this summer simply could not be improved upon. I have no regrets about how much living our family was able to squeeze out of June, July, and August.

There was lots of swimming and jumping and running and biking and just a lot of all-around-having-a-good-time-ing going on. The absolute highlight, by far though, was this special place (that won't link-for me) called Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch. I am not even exactly sure how our family ended up there, but God got us there somehow and from the moment I set foot onto their property I knew we were there because God knows every detail about us and knew exactly what our family needed.

This is not the last time you will here about it from me, for sure.

My Blog:
I am mix'n things up around here and though I can't manage to write on even one blog, I have decided to break things up into two blogs. Eventually 'Lollygag' will be my homeschool blog and 'Duct Tape Chronicles' will be more about what God is doing in my own heart.

So if you started out as my homeschool friend and your link has suddenly disappeared from this site, rest assured that I am just rearranging the furniture and you are seated comfortably elsewhere.

Employment & Such:
This is a doozey. Even the knots have knots on this strand.

Knot One:
Steve and I are still really enjoying working at the same place. We probably both have the best full-time work schedules in the world with him working Thursday nights and Saturday/Sunday days (each shift being at least 12 hours) and me working all night shifts Friday through Sunday. It may mean that we don't see each other at all on the weekend but then our entire family gets to spend our days together Monday through Friday. On top of the amazing schedule, The Boy gets to do things like mountain biking, or hiking, or building model rockets with some cool young adult and he gets paid for it.

Sp (oi) led.

Knot Two:
The hope for such a nice schedule is that this will allow him to begin pursuing what he is really passionate about, and that is photography.

He likes the outdoorsy stuff, but has become a big fan of a man who does humanitarian photography and (who we just found out) has also taught for YWAM's School of Photography. This gets me all goose-bumpy (and a little nervous) because before I married my feller God had me at working with YWAM and I had always hoped that my family would someday be involved in serving together somehow.
In recent years I have almost abandoned this dream.

I don't know what any of this might look like, but God is reminding me that He always finishes what He starts.

Knot Three:
While many aspects of Steve's new job have been WONDERFUL there have also been some new realities that we are struggling to adjust to. The fact is, even though we are thanking God for the job, Steve took the position knowing that he would be making less than he did even on unemployment and about half of what he once earned in his old profession. We did this believing that work is honorable, and that God would be faithful to make up the difference. There were some other decisions made that followed this thinking too (that I may share at another time) but in the mean time we knew that we would need to do our part in further reducing our expenses, so we gave notice and 'found' something more affordable.

Believe me, that sounded a lot more effortless than it actually was.

We are moved in now and are working out the kinks. I think the place will suit us well while we are here. We have a lot of healing and growing and trusting to do yet, and I get the impression that it is not going to be all smooth-sailing, but for now I am practicing gratitude and I am so thankful that God has no problems making sense of the knots.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, To The Coast We Go!

2010-05-27T22:28:00.000-07:00

Does anyone know what happened to the months between last Halloween and now? I sort of feel like you do when you have driven your route and get to your destination only to realize that you did the entire thing on autopilot; With all the busyness, I think I may have blown through a few stop signs along the way.

The month of May itself has been crazy busy. We are still adjusting to Steve being (choir of angels rejoicing) employed once again. He is on-call so his hours are as random as can be, but so far as this pay period goes, he will have twice as many hours as I do, and I work full time. The weekends especially can feel very long since that is when I also work-we end up imitating a cart-wheel- I do twelve hours, he does the next twelve hours and so on and so forth. There is a half an hour overlap in between where we share about the kids and have to specify whether or not it is our children we are talking about, or the 'kids' at work.I am very proud of him though. He has come into a new situation and is adapting so well that our superviser made it a point to mention it to me the other day.

He is a keeper in so many ways.

Despite our busy acrobatic performance we also managed to break away and go to the Oregon coast for five days. The first time in about 9 years, and it has been calling to me the entire time. It was my birthday/Mother's Day treat and it was made even better because we were able to share it with Steve's brother's family and his parents. It worked out so that we were able to stay at friend's house while their family was away visiting in Central Oregon. Such graciousness made us feel right at home.

On the way over our baby got 'car-sick' (we later figured it was probably a stomach bug since others of us got it upon arriving home while nowhere near a car) and we had to scramble to find a place to clean her up. Do you just take a pukey baby into your nearest fast food place and fix her up in their bathroom? Steve pulled over into a church parking lot and I noticed a car there; The gentleman was just walking into the building and I quickly got his attention and threw myself at his mercy. Other than the tear-inducing wind, the rest of the trip went smoothly considering it was our first time taking all five of out kids out of town. Normally I am all about packing light, but for this trip I was glad that that-something told me to bring lots of clothes- about 35 pairs in all, not including PJs.

And yet somehow I still managed to forget hats. Those would have come in handy, this being the Oregon coast in May, after all. Above is a picture of my oldest son snubbing his cousin because he had just fallen in the water. I am pretty sure he was thinking about finding me because he knew that I knew where the suitcase was.

This is my youngest son who, for me, did not cry because I had spent so much time before our trip telling him how much fun the beach was.

Even though honestly, there was some misery involved.

This was taken on our last night there, and in order to keep some cheer in the group, we bribed them off the sand with ice cream. We had not had dinner yet and so I prayed that we would find a place that served both Tillamook Ice Cream and dinner and this is what we found:

(Notice baby's wind burned cheeks and nose? And yet I could still eat HER up!)

We called this dinner 'Happy Birthday, Mommy!'

Why, thank you!

Even with the 'car sickness', miserable wind and extended recovery time due to a household of sick kids, we still had a great time. We definitely won't wait so long to go back!

Thanks again Tucker family for opening your home to us.

Somebody Ate My Porage!

2010-04-29T00:06:00.000-07:00

For the past nine years or so my husband has had three nights a week to himself once the children were all tucked into bed; He could video game, read, or watch movies to his heart's content. Secretly I was always a little envious-I mean, with five kids can you imagine reaching that beautiful point in the day where everything just rests-including your spouse's music, TV, and video games?

(Oh, did I just say that?)

I have always found delight in completely sprawling out over our queen bed without constraint- Have I ever mentioned that the simple fact that we own a queen bed is proof to me that we never intended on having a big family-have you ever tried fitting seven people into a queen bed first thing in the morning?

I'm just not a good sharer that way; I am pretty sure that when a I go to bed I'm at least seven inches taller and grow a couple extra arms and legs; I just need the whole thing, thank you very much.

That is why...WAIT FOR IT...

That is why, when my husband got called in to WORK the night shift last night and tonight, I was so excited to have the place to myself. Oh, the things I could do! The beautiful silence of it all.

I was going to tidy the house, and complete a craft, and read blogs, and stare at the wall in silence (Chirp.Chirp) until I grew tired. And then I was going crawl into bed and drool on my husband's pillow.

Yep, that is what I was going to do.

That is until my two year-old decided to cry for two hours because his nose was stuffy, which sent his older sisters into hysterics because they could not get to sleep with him crying, which woke the baby up.

Oh, well.

Once apartment-you-can-no-longer-tidy-your-house-without-bothering-your-neighbors time came (without me having actually tidied my house) my kids had settled down and I at least still had the absence of sound, and leg room.

I climbed the stairs with my lovely lap-top and rejoiced at the prospects, only to spy the stuffy nosed boy peacefully snoring SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BED!!!

Guess I am not the only one who grows extra appendages and likes to sprawl.

Oh well, at least my husband has a job.

Wonder if maybe he could pick up an extra shift tomorrow night?

Real (Part 2)

2010-04-10T00:12:00.000-07:00

Click Here or scroll down for Part 1

My time in Mexico was actually no easy thing. It wasn't exactly fun, but it was good and God, through all of it, was very, very, faithful. There are several things that happened there that I could tell you about that are stories in and of themselves. They are for another time. What I have selected to mention were chosen because they were gifts that went well beyond ordinary. They were the kind that can only be hand picked by someone who really knows you.

Remember that random thought that I'de had while still at home? The one about God returning to me forty times what I released to Him? Somewhere before our long outreach our team was very short on cash. My base leader had gone to welcome a short term group that had come from Canada and I decided that, to distract my hungry belly, I would journal a bit. When he returned I was still writing. He came into the house with food (YEAH!) and a big smile on his face and proceeded to tell me how the team that had just arrived was to pay $400 for their time with us, but had felt led instead to bless us with $1600! We were so excited about God's provision for our trip. We celebrated a bit and then I went back to my journaling which was when the random thought caper struck again. It was once more a total interuption to what I was writing about, and once more was very specific: " Forty times forty, Kathi, IS $1600." It was as if God was saying, "You are a little slow on this, so I'll point it out to you."

The rest of the trip was no different in terms of us having enough provisions of our own to mistakenly think that we were somehow in charge. What came to us, came the moment we needed it and in the perfect amounts. Towards the end of our trip (when I was at the stage where I was beginning to think more about the fact that I really had told the cute guy back home I would marry him, than about the moment I was in) I ran into another dilema. Our team was out of money and my dad had just notified me that he had gotten $500 for my car. Little did anyone else know that I was secretly hoping I would be able to bring a wedding dress home with me. At various times I had thought that maybe my car selling would enable me to do just that, and now the thought was gone. I cried before I let go of it. That night at dinner I could not help but think that with each bite I took, I was eating my wedding dress.

I should not have felt too sorry for myself. I knew God had been faithful and that he was not just going to abandon me now. Just as I was preparing to go back to the States a friend whom I had met during my time in Mexico City called and asked me if I had a dress yet. It was the perfect opportunity to give her all the details of my pity-party. When I stopped to catch my breath she was able to finish her thought. “…Because I was wondering if you would like to have mine…”

And would you believe that it fit perfectly?

Would you believe also that, once back in Oregon, my soon-to-be mother-in-law’s friend volunteered to provide the flowers and the food – and then called us at our rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding to tell us she was backing out? Most amazingly, I was not bothered by this development in the least. I was able to laugh and think, "well, of course", because I knew that God had more in store for his children than we could ever hope, dream or imagine. He had told me to leave the details to him and so that was what I was going to do.

I (and the rest of our wedding party) had evidence of God's goodness as soon as we walked into the church foyer. When the lady (mentioned above) had first volunteered her services we spent a bit of time searching the state for paper flowers like the ones in my veil. We found nothing. But there on the greeting table, in a place where no one in our familes had ever set foot before, sat an entire bouquet of them; Huge and overflowing.

And just how did they get there?

Well, a lady (a complete stranger) from the congreation had brought them back from MEXICO that very week, of course!

All the other details were covered too, as I'm sure you might be able to imagine by now.

And if you are wondering about the rock pictured above, It is just proof to me that God has a sense of humor A signauture, if you will. We found it on our honeymoon right around the time that we were counting our change to determine if we could make it home and still buy some Pop-Tarts and cheese-sticks to sustain us. We were heading back up the coast and decided to get out of the car for a while when my husband stepped on it.

If our house was burning down, I would try and save it from the fire. When I begin to doubt or become fearful I look at it to remember our foundation.

It reminds me that Jesus is the standard. He is the real thing, and nothing else will ever satisfy.

Real (Part 1)

2010-04-08T23:00:00.000-07:00

I once heard someone say that Satan is in the counterfeiting business; For every good thing God has made, Satan has a counterfeit. Often this immitation seems to be authentic but anyone who truely has studied the prototype will recognize the deception . If we are looking for what is real then the counterfeit will satisfy only temporarily, if at all, and will ultimately leave us defeated in expectation and hope. The immediate period of my life before I met my husband was full of counterfeits.

My days in college were rich with spiritual growth but at this moment in time I was sort of just plugging my ears with my fingers and singing my own song. There were things in life that, contrary to what I had once thought, God had declared to be good (like relatioships with the opposite sex, for example) and I desired them, but some how I felt like God was toying with me; "This is good, but not for you." Uh yeah, gee thanks. Then there was the long-hoped-for-mission-trip that God gave me the thumbs down on. Releasing that to Him stung primarily because I had the funding to go, but only if I went within a certain window of opportunity. I could not see having a chance like that ever again.

True, I was being fatalistic (not that I would ever be known for doing that ) and you might even say that I was pouting (though not without a good pair of protective shin gaurds). Regardless, I decided, if ever so breifly, that I would be better off taking things into my own hands. If God would not give me a good Christian man, or let me go on that YWAM trip to Mexico, then I would really show Him; I would simply date a Non-Christian Mexican. Brilliant! Two birds, one stone.

Okay, to spare you some time for the good parts, the God-showing-off parts, and to leave at least a little of my reputation in tact, I will simply conclude the telling of that short woeful tale with, "it ended." I got smart. The last time I ever saw that person was the moment before literally running out of his house mumbling in a Holy-Spirit inspired epiphany about how " I get it!" I'm sure the poor kid thought I was crazy, but it finally clicked. God did not set limits on me simply because he loves to tell people 'no,' he says 'no' or 'not now' or 'wait on me' because he loves us and does not want to see us repeatedly doing stupid things that cause us pain.

Shortly after this revelation (within the week) I found myself returning to my home town, something else I had not been willing to budge on. I still told everyone within ear shot that it was just for the summer, but God knew different. He just snickered and let me have my silly conditions for a little while longer. On the drive home over the mountain it was just me in my little-car-that-almost-could. I had a great time singing and praying and being free from myself. I prayed most of the way there. I prayed for my dad, and for my future husband (should-you-chose-to-give-me-one-please!),for my trip to Mexico which I knew God had for me, but had not been willing to wait on Him for, and for many other things. Surrender never felt so good.

What I truly did not expect was what happened when I got to Central Oregon. While staying with my former Young Life leader's family I decide that it would be important to plug myself into fellowship some where. I was resistent to attending their church because I always had felt it was too big, but one day I decided to give it a go. While there I thought I might just check out their young-adult group. My first night in attendence I ended up hitting it off with several people, one of which had just that week returned from her YWAM trip in India. We started hanging out often and I was having a blast. We were all very like minded and it was so refreshing. Soon I found that the summer was ending, and *GASP* I was still there! It was a good thing I stuck around too because it was precisely the end of summer that I met the chap who would become my husband. While he was away working at Yellowstone for the season, I had weaseled my way into his group of friends. Sneaky. I already mentioned how quickly things moved from that point here, so I'll spare you the re-run.

It is the rest of the story that was the real fun part anyway. When Steve proposed to me in February (with an entire box of candy hearts that had but one message; marry me) it was with the secret hope that maybe, just maybe, my trip to Mexico might be postponed. It was only two weeks before I was suppose to be leaving and though I had already given notice at work, I still had NO money for the trip. There was NO money for a wedding. In fact, I did not even know how I was going to buy groceries after giving my $40 tithe, but I felt like I was suppose to be obedient till the very end and allow God do the rest. I had the impression of God being my father, assuring me that he had already seen to the details of both my trip and my wedding.

During a quite time later I had this random but very specific thought run through my head: "I will give back to you forty times what you give to me." Okay, Lord if that was you then I guess you'll do it. I quickly moved on to other things and did not think about it again . About a week before I was to leave I had had my dad check on some information for me. When he called back he informed me of an additional expense I had not been counting on. My care free attitude kinda bothered him. I had said "okay" pretty flipantly when he told me the news and his response to me was that it was not okay. I surprised myself by laughing and then explained to him that I did not have a dime for the trip; that if I was going, God would be the one providing the money, and that He had probably already budgeted for the additional expense. I had this funny image of God franticly shaking out his wallet searching for spare change, but wasn't about to share my own humorous musings with my dad at that point. Being a non-christian, I knew he was already entertaining the thought that his daughter was losing her mind.

Amazingly, the very next day I received a gift in the mail. It was from a church I had visited only once. While there I had mentioned to someone in the group that I was preparing to do a trip with YWAM but I never told them of my financial situation. I still have not a clue as to how they got my address. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that check that was mailed to me was for the exact amount (to the very penny!) as the airline ticket I needed to fly into Mexico City. I bought the ticket with renewed confidence that God was providing for me a step at a time. With only days to go, I phoned the school in Mexico and informed them of the situation. I let them know that I still did not have all the money, and did they still feel as if I was suppose to be there? They agreed that they thought I should come and 48 hours later my new fiance was driving me to the airport. I left my dad my car to sell (not exactly a hot commodity, but the only thing I owned) and figured that since I had a round-trip ticket the worst that I would get out of it was a short vacation.

NOTE: THIS ENTRY WAS A REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG. SOMETIMES IT IS JUST IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER GOD'S FAITHFULNESS.

Signs of Spring

2010-04-06T23:19:00.000-07:00

You would not know it by looking out my window (given that it has been snowing off and on for two weeks! Ahem.), but spring is coming. I have decide that the Central Oregon seasons and I are very compatible; like our weather, Winter in my own life has not completely eased her grasp, but there are small and promising hints of new life beginning to push their way out of what had appeared to be barren soil- light where there had seemed only darkness.

I have posted very infrequently this past year, and much of what I have written has taken on an often despairing tone, but I wanted to let you know that I have really appreciated those of you who have been an encouragement to me. I am very much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get sort of gal; in real life I am transparent and in my writing I am as well; not everyone is comfortable with this because sometimes it looks messy, but for those who do stick it out, I think it speaks volumes about their character.

I hope to share soon, some of the new things God is doing in my family.

Mostly though, I wanted to say thanks. Thanks for reaching out to let me know that you have been praying and for your encouraging words. Your prayers have been powerful and effective and I consider you all friends.

Kathi

A Closed Door

2010-03-31T02:50:00.000-07:00

I was casually checking our local news site yesterday and was surprised by what met me there. Under the featured headlines was an article discussing the foreclosure rate in our county and to illustrate their point, an image of a closed door.

An image of OUR closed door.

What are the odds?

At first I wasn't sure what to make of it. I laughed, I got angry (feeling somewhat invaded), and then I blurted it out to my little Facebook world without much good reason, other than the fact that I had no pillow close by to scream into.

Really? Must I be the poster child now, Lord?

So what if very few people actually know who's door that is, I still do! I'm the one that picked out the paint and then grew irritated when our cats took it off again; mad that I had the audacity to suggest they actually go outside and be cats; that's my cat-scratched-rust-red-door with the lock box on it.

And then do you know what He said?

'I AM the one who shut that door, and you know that what door I shut, no man can open; That is not your door anymore-you can't go back.'

I did not take this news well, either.

It was uncomfortable because I knew it was true, and because what I am afraid of now is that this is not the last door He is going to close; There are other doors endangering my sense of safety with their creaking sound. This evening when I searched the news (maybe I should stop doing that) I learned that there are some who, because of a very tragic event, are essentially trying to have the company I work for shut down.

Unbelievable.

When I take inventory of the past two years they seem so over the top, so made up.

I feel vulnerable and exposed personally, and saddened for others who's good names are being brought into question.

I am coming to understand just how threatened I have been feeling.

What if the unthinkable does happen?

Can I trust enough to remember WHO closed the door?

Will I be able to release it all and willingly be led through new doors that I would have never chosen?

There are doors I can not open and one's I can not close.

I am being brought to my knees and I have to trust that there is goodness on the other side.

I Confess...

2010-03-01T23:37:00.000-08:00

I think there are some perfectionist tendencies running deep within my veins. My barely-functional blogger template (that I certainly did not love, but was *in-like* with) completely stopped doing what I asked it to do.

I know.

I mean, can you imagine?

And here I thought we were tolerating each other just fine.

It gave me some sob story about me not paying it enough attention, anyway, and that I'd be sorry when it was gone.

Boy, was it right.

Sigh.

I am back to complete bloggy-basics and it is driving me crazy! I have a vision of what I would like it to look like and this certainly isn't it. It makes me not even want to bother with writing right now.

Does anyone else get that way about stuff in their lives? If it can't be what you know it could be, then is it still worth it?

Please, somebody, tell me I am not alone.

The Pied-Piper of Custom Blog Goodness is calling to me.

I think it might be time for Mom to get a paper route

7 Quick Takes (For a Buck, Buck, Buck!)

2010-02-18T22:44:00.000-08:00

Look at me! How many blog posts is this in one week? I simply don't know what has come over me. Sure, I did cheat a little with the entire video thing, but still, this is me we are talking about here. I don't want to get too ahead of myself so I thought a list of sorts might be in order. With out further ado (about nothing, really), I present 'Seven Quick Takes Friday'... Please don't tell anyone that it is really still only Thursday night, okay? Thanks.

1. I kicked my husband out of the house tonight so that he could do some photo-study at Barnes & Noble and so that I could clean the living room while he was away. The first part of that plan happened, the second did not. I have at least ten minutes until the store closes but I am only at number one on this list so the living room's odds aren't looking so good.

2. I want some cookies. (Did I mention that Barnes & Noble is right next door to McDonald's and that they sell cookies 3 for a buck?)

3. I happen to know there is a dollar in my husband's pocket.

4. I want a blog face-lift.

5. I want a new camera.

6. I am just going to be darn content with my cookies.

7. And milk!

Some Things Just Can't Be Helped

2010-02-17T23:10:00.000-08:00

What a tragedy it would have been to let such a good mud puddle go to waste.

Tuesdays Unwrapped: Incomplete

2010-02-15T22:45:00.000-08:00

I remember the day that I began this mural on my daughter's wall. I can still feel the warmth and wetness of the paint covering my hands. It was imbedded in my finger nails in the same manner that the vision of unfolding possibilities filled and overflowed my heart; I was excited that I was being invited to participate in the actualization of a dream. Growing up my father and I had always lived in an apartment, which was never a bad thing really, but I was always aware that whenever I tried to make the place seem more like mine, what I was really doing was just putting holes into other people's walls.

This was the first house that I would ever consider my own. It was the first place that I would live where there would be both a father and a mother raising their children; it was a chance to do things

differently than I had seen them done in my own childhood.

God gave us seven years in this house and now that we are in the final days with it (yes, we moved out in June, but for many months I could not get myself to go back to gather the loose ends) I have been thinking about what the hardest part of saying 'good-bye' to it has been.

Was it the actual move?

The entirely new relationship we were taking on with the bank; failure at holding up our end of the deal?

Was it that the house was so perfect for us that I could not stand to let it go?

The truth is it was none of these things.

When we moved into that home we had a two year-old and a baby due in weeks- It was perfect for who we were then. Before we moved out though it was very apparent that we were too big for our britches. Five kids and (at one time) a mother-in-law (and her five cats!) living with us made that clear. You would have thought that we would have rejoiced at the chance to find a better fit, right?

If it wasn't any of those things then, what was the most difficult part?

The answer to the question is hidden within these pictures, and in the numerous other hopes we held for our home and lives that never came to be.

We were left incomplete.

Like the mural on this wall we surrounded ourselves with enough things until our flaws were camouflaged to the first glances of those who did not know what to look for. We settled for the 'just getting-by' of daily life and forgot about the true excitement that overflows from God's vision for our family.

Sometime along the way we forgot that as Christians we are called to participate in the actualization of a dream. But not just our dream; the kingdom vision.

Abundant life.

The hardest part of all this has been seeing how

we failed.

Miserably,

we failed.

And now God has graciously taken away all

the things that were not bearing fruit; things that we once thought essential.

My husband's job.

A home of our own.

Predictability.

The belief that we

were self-sufficient.

'Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, ² looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.'

Hebrews 12:1-2

He has done these things because WE are His masterpieces and He always

always completes what He has started.

Running Out of Babies

2010-02-14T12:34:00.000-08:00

It is official; We have 'run out of babies,' as my four year-old pointed out to me last week while discussing his little sister's upcoming birthday.

We could not really stop her from turning one, so we decided we'd just have to join her instead.

Happy Birthday little Ailish - We sure do love ya!

Mustard Seed

2010-02-05T00:49:00.000-08:00

This is a strange way to venture back into blogging again, but I don't know how else to do it. I *SO* wish that I could post beautiful pictures, the last childhood antics of my five favorite Littles, or some brilliant homeschool endeavor we have recently undertaken, but I can't because that is not where we are right now, and I am not very good at pretending.

I am tired.

This week (and last week, and the week before that, and the week...) have been some of the most difficult-testing-my-faith-God-are-you-EVEN-paying-attention? hours of my life. We seem to have hit all the wrong benchmarks in one fell swoop. As of Tuesday our house officially went back to the bank and my husband hit the one year mark for his unemployment, thus expiring his benefits.

Our proverbial belts have no more notches for tightening and now it feels like we are once again being thrown into crisis mode and frankly, crisis mode sucks.

There has to be some other gear we could coast around in for a while, right?

I am trying to trust that God is who He says He is, but I am doing a lousy job of it.
All sort of Doubting Thomas thoughts are entering my mind:

Do you really care about us?
Would you let us become homeless? Would you let it get that bad?
If you want me to homeschool our kids then why do our legs and routine and livelihood continue to get knocked out from under us?
Why haven't we heard back from the ONE company my husband has managed to secure an interview with this year? It has been two weeks. Why would it seem like such a good fit, and then nothing?

Our entire family is suffering for lack of vision, routine, and purpose. I see it not just in us, but in our children too.

We are begging for release. Freedom to move on from this place. Hope that we won't fall further.

We could really use your prayers.

I want to live by faith and not by sight, but I am afraid that I can't even hear His voice anymore.

Lord, I believe, help me in my unbelief.

2009-12-12T19:48:00.001-08:00

As if I needed any more excuses not to blog, my barely-ten-month-old computer has called it quits. Sigh. If history repeats itself, I'll see ya back here in a year. GROWL. HISS. SNARL.

We're Geeks Like That....

2009-11-02T23:40:00.000-08:00

Now that everyone around these parts is coming down from their costume-creating-sugar-induced-high, I feel relatively safe in assuming that the current silence isn't due to the fact that the three year-old and the two year-old have joined forces out of sight to involve themselves in some sort of no-good (most likely involving scissors). I can finally put down both my guard and my heiny long enough to share what we have been up to.

Halloween.

What? Just like you?

In keeping with the theme of all things unemployed, we set out to be very frugal for our costumes this year. We are pretty nerdy around here and so strange movie figures and video game personas are frequent guests in our household (My nine-year-old daughter acting out an Indiana Jones scene as I type). This largely comes from my husband's side of the gene pool, but since I am his girl and all, I usually decide to just roll with all the silliness.

This year's nod to geek-media culture first came about when my oldest informed me that she wished to be Coraline. Despit the fact that she did not own the signature yellow rainboots or coat, it seemed simply enough. She was in need of a haircut anyway, so we figured that a little snip, a can of blue hairspray, and some Raincoat-Yellow Duct Tape would be about all we would need.

Easy-Peasy!

It was the nine year-old's little sister that threw the wrench into my fuss-free groove. Not long after I asked her what she wanted to be, I began to wish I had'nt. While, giving her props for her ability to think outside the box, designing her dream costume was a bit of a stretch for my own imagination.

It was so bad that I struggle with how to even describe for you what she wanted to be, which means I'm left with no other choice. I will have to show you.
Exhibit A

Moms, can you see my dilema here? How does one go about creating a Sackperson and have it actually resemble a Sackperson?

I had visions of my daughter going crazy over the comments she would recieve about her 'scarecrow' costume with each door she knocked on, but I had to at least try.

Bit by bit ideas would come to me for both the girls (can I mention here how thankful I am that my three youngest had no opinion about costumes and such?) and with some duct tape, a $2.00 emergency parka (that we fashioned into a raincoat), a little burlap, and a helmet that the two-year old suddenly "couln't find", we actually did it. And it was fun. And I was so proud...

OUR CORALINE

THE EVER SO FEISTY SACK GIRL

Isn't being a parent at times like this such a blast?

Marriage By Suess

2009-10-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

"One Day, making tracks

In the Prarie of Prax,

Came a North-Going Zax

And a South Going-Zax.

And it happened that both of them came to a place where they bumped..."

My husband LOVES music. In our early days I used to tell him that I married him for his CD collection. His taste in music is so varried that a girl couldn't possibly appreciate everything from his musical library the way he does. On occassion this has caused us to come to a place where we bump. Today was one of those days.

You see, my Steven is such an even-keeled kinda guy emotionaly (Yes, it does amuse me that this is so, and that his name is Steven) that he uses his music as a way to feel. When he listens to music it is never in the background. It truly becomes what you are doing until the song ends thirty minutes from now. He loves to close his eyes and allow the song's story in. He can do this at any moment, no matter what else is going on in his environment.

I, on the other hand, may not act on my emotions or display them all the time for everyone to see, but they are there. I am pensive. You might even say that I am noisy inside. I do not need anything external to create turbulence - it's already there! I have no problem accessing it, and if anything, I have to work very hard to quiet it. On top of this, my surroundings can be so clamorous moment by moment that I CRAVE those rare times of silence.

So what do you do when things are chaotic, your routine is lost because one member of your family or another has been sick every day for weeks AND you have allowed way too much business into your life? What do you do when you feel stuck and behind, and are trying your hardest to become unstuck (with a smile), and your husband picks just that time to saturate the air with music that reminds you of a feverish sleep; a strange dream that goes around and around and that you just can't wake up from? Why, by all means, if you are me, you stand there with him "Foot to foot. Face to face" and you say something like this:

"Look here, now!" the North Going Zax said. "I say! You are blocking my path. You are right in my way. I'm a North-Going Zax and I always go north. Get out of my way, now, and let me go forth!"

And what do you do if you are the husband of said North-Going Zax and are sick on the couch, just trying to escape the fact that after a couple of days now, you still aren't feeling well? You could snap:

"Who's in whose way?"

You could say:

"I always go south, making south-going tracks. So you're in MY way! And I ask you to move and let me go south in my south-going GROOVE."

You could say this but this would simply cause your "North-Going Zax wife to puff her chest up with pride." She would just say something about HER needs-her desire for 'happy music' (if any music at all), and then things would get really ugly with both of you declaring your unwillingness to budge, "Not an inch to the west! Not an inch to the east!"

You could respond this way, but you are a smart Zax husband and you know that this would only threaten to cause "the whole household to stand still."

So instead you really make your wife mad. You build a bridge over her! You just smile at her and put on this:

This too was a repost. I am getting ready to import my old blog over to this site and came across this entry. In light of how much darn time the hubby has had to spend with me during his past ten months of unemployement, I thought it was fitting. Not to mention the fact that it makes me chuckle when I think about it, which we all can admit is way better than the alternative.

We Are (THAT) Family...

2009-10-22T01:49:00.000-07:00

Oh Boy! Prizes and blog fodder, two-in-one. I have made it a point to post this week and while searching for inspiration, I came across We Are That Family's Blogoversary. Imediately, I had a vision:

Followed by a memory: I'm pretty sure that when I found those PJ's in the toilet and inquired exactly how this scenario had come about, the then four-year-old-in-question replied by informing me that she 'thought that's where they went!?!"

A special moment had just occured.

A connection made...

Oh Yes, we are THAT family too.

So, in honor of this new fellowship, and to further illustrate the point, I offer you something from the archives.

Please don't hold it against me...

Saturday the girls spent the morning outside bug hunting while my husband tried to get our backyard ready for fertalizing (we had to find it first). An hour before class began, I remembered that the girls had ballet. We thought my youngest daughter might be coming down with something so we opted to have her stay with her daddy, just in case, while I went with Asher to her class. For some reason the attendance was really low and at one point the teacher asked if a couple of the moms wouldn't mind being 'bodies' to provide a reference point for the dance that was being done. It never occured to me that she would even be considering me when making this request. Did the fact that I'm eight months pregnant and look much more like a belly with legs, than a bellerina somehow escape her notice? As I looked around though, I realized that there were only two moms present and that her request had been in the plural. Ha! She did mean me! Was I permitted to say 'no'? It's not something I typically have a hard time doing, but somehow I found myself dutifully standing at my post holding flowers like the rest of the children.

When my daughter smiled over at me from her posistion I relaxed a bit and thought, "Oh, this could be fun,' but then she started correcting my positioning and directing me to hold my flowers 'like so'! I hadn't know how serious she was about her ballet until then. She suddenly seemed very concerned, and it occured to me that I might be wittnessing the first documented moment of my daughter worrying about how bad I was going to embarass her. Could I really have come to that place in life already? I wanted to say, "Hey kid, you have to remember, this was not my idea. I know tutus and pregnant ladies don't mix!", then instruct her to go talk to her teacher, but instead I thought it might be best to just do what I was told.

Some momements later, the need to convince every one of what a poor idea combining uncoordinated pregnant ladies and ballet was,faded. I figured why use words when I can just demonstrate. I am not only pregnant, but I am also short and my pants never do fit me very well length wise. So, even though I was bare foot and should have had traction on the wood floors, I didn't. When the teacher had us skipping around, ring-around-the-rosie style I seized the opportunity to wow them with a few moves of my own. My pants got caught underfoot and I lost my balance. Everything went into slow motion as I saw the horrified looks on the faces of the ladies who had their arms outstretched to steady me. They looked scared and all I could do was laugh. "Oh no, the pregnant lady is going DOWN!"

I never did fall. I have weeble blood in me, I guess. I am almost certain that I won't be invited to dance for sometime, though. It looks like my clever little plan worked wonderfully.

Sometimes.

2009-10-21T08:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just have to put the little monster to bed...

Unwrapping Life

2009-10-20T23:57:00.000-07:00

Melissa over at A Familiar Path just happened to notice the time lapses in my posts around here. After close to two weeks had gone by in my last entry she gingerly mentioned that the post was now 'ancient', which in Blog-Time is probably pretty accurate. So this week, I am vowing to do better...unless of course I have to fight my minions away from the laptop to get my fingers on it...if that's the case, I can't promise that I won't just see it as a sign and go take a nap instead. Right now though, I think I have caught a glimmer of motivation, and I will seize it. Thanks Melissa.

...Oh yeah, and I'm going to copy you too.

I present to you my first ever Tuesdays Unwrapped...without the fancy logo, because I could not figure it out, and one can only start off so motivated. Slow and steady, you know.

God has been trying to teach me to focus on the beautiful, small details of life that are so easily swallowed up by The Tyranny of the Urgent...

I read somewhere in the scripture this week (I really need to find that, don't I?) where God's people were in a terribly difficult spot and He essentialy told them to keep doing all the things that make life rich anyway. He was not going to remove them from their less than perfect conditions; He was telling them to LIVE.

Right there.

Where they were.

As weird as it sounds, this surprised me. I have a hard time allowing myself to experience joy in serious times. I feel guilty about it and often don't know what to make of the juxtaposition of the two.

I'm learning that it is all about keeping you eyes fixed on what is eternal. If I take my eyes off of Jesus to stare at the waves, like Peter, or the destruction and rubble like people of Judah rebuilding the walls to their city in Nehemaih, I will be consumed.

Instead, I am practicing Philipeans 4:8

"Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things."

Considering the fact that I am surrounded, It really shouldn't be as hard as I make it out to be.

Lord, continue to help me unwrap this life.

Finite

2009-10-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

A good family friend of ours favors a particular T-shirt that has just recently caused me to think. He wears it in my presence just often enough that I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he hasn't been trying to tell me something all along. Sort of the 100% pre-shrunk cotton version of Ye-Faithful-Old-Sandwich-Board-Prophet; his message(if you will) posed in a question that I now know would be wise to ask myself more often...

"Why does every good idea I have get me into trouble?"

You see, I have had my share of 'Good ideas' this past year. And can you guess where they have all gotten me?

Yep, Trouble.

With all the things that have been happening I have been treading water just to keep from drowning. I have tried to meet every need and manage every problem we have been facing. I have stayed up late and gotten up early, I have been irritated that the only jobs in the paper are one's suited for me, not my husband; the one who is out of work. I have driven to apply for those jobs in an attempt to answer the financial questions, 'where will the money for (fill in the blank) come from?', and I have cried all the way there, knowing it was wrong. I have cried out to God for mercy...'I can't DO anymore...I am TIRED!'...and then I have tried to do more anyway.

But, then I paused long enough to hear those four little letters, and they got through.

S.T.O.P.

"STOP.

Retrace your steps-you were on to something there, what did you just say?

Oh, that's right... you can't do it anymore".

I have been trying to fight this fight on my own strength. I have been saying yes to things God has never called me to do because I don't trust Him to be and do what His word promises He will. I been living in a state of exhaustion instead of entering into His rest.

Despite the fact that it has been screaming at me, I have been forgetting the one fatal flaw in all my 'good ideas':

I am finite.

I have definite and definable limits.
I am limited in nature and existence.

What this means is that I can try all I want, but MY plans will never work.

As horribly depressing as that thought should be, I find it so liberating.

It is liberating because it points me back towards God, who is infinite.

Or in other words:

1 : extending indefinitely : endless
2 : immeasurably or inconceivably great or extensive : inexhaustible
3 : subject to no limitation or external determination.

Did you get the inexhaustible part? Don't say I didn't point it out to you.

He is SO not me.

We have access to a God who is incapable of being used up; He is incapable of being wearied or worn out.

It's the best idea yet...

Think it would fit on a T-shirt?

Notice of Intent

2009-09-08T22:49:00.000-07:00

I just stumbled across an article in the community section of our paper that featured several locals who were reminiscing about their first days of school. Isn't it amazing how the memory of certain experiences never diminish? I remember my first day of first grade so very well. It began the evening before with a new 'Tom and Jerry' book bag and a soda shared with my father. I remember feeling very grown up despite the fact my toes couldn't even touch the floor from the restaurant chair where I was sitting. I loved the sensation a swinging my legs back and forth as I paused from my excited chatter just long enough to sneak another peak at my new school supplies below. That night I was to stay at my neighbor's home because my father had to work. I did not mind a bit either, because my neighbor had promised to do my hair up nice in the morning. Dad was good a lots of stuff, but styling my long hair never topped the list.

I woke up the next day long before there was motion anywhere else in the house. I don't know how many times I was sent back to bed before I finally had the green light to throw off my covers. I was ready to go to school and I was ready to get those curlers off of my head. I had high expectations for the day and I wanted to waste no time.

My dad waited with me at the bus stop with the other kids' moms. Finally, the bus came and off I went. When I arrived at my class I was seated next to a girl named Teressa. Our desks were bumped together and placed smack dab in the center row, right in the middle of the classroom. Teressa did not say much, but kept looking at me funny. I was the one to break the silence. My first words to her were,"Don't worry, my hair doesn't always look like this." She remained a girl of few words. All she could come up with was,"Good!"

The rest of the school day is now a blur, but what I do recall is getting off the bus from the return trip and bolting as fast as I could back to where I knew Dad would be. When I swung open the door to our apartment I was crying and declared that I had no need to go back. After Dad did a bit of sleuthing he discovered that I was mostly upset because my teacher was a 'boy'. Up until that one devastating day I had not known that men could be teachers. It's interesting to note that this scene would be repeated on the last day of the school year after I discovered that this same teacher would not be mine for the Second Grade. It turned out that he was a GREAT teacher and I was going to miss his cartwheels during spelling. That day however, I just wanted to be home with my dad.

It is now twenty-six years later and tomorrow is the first day of school in our school district. I am absolutely convinced that homeschool is the right thing for our family, but it still causes me to pause when I think that I won't be gathering with other moms at the bus stop and that my daughter won't be entering a first grade classroom without me, even though she is now seven and has reached our state's age of mandatory enrollment. She won't learn what text books are, or about the need to look like everyone else. Tomorrow she will be home with Mom and Dad, her sister and her brothers. We will read about Mr. Popper and his penguins and we will cook. She will undoubtedly empty her jar of money onto the floor to be counted just as she does everyday, even though she has added nothing to the total since her last calculations.

Yes, I have learned a huge lesson since my very first day of school. Not only can 'boys' be instructors, but moms and dads can too. Tomorrow my husband and I will remain her teachers and life will be her classroom. We will do cartwheels out in the yard together and we might even wave at the school bus as it passes by our house.

THIS WAS A RE-POST FROM A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO. IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL IN OUR DISTRICT TODAY. WE WERE AT THE PARK... AND THE LIBRARY... AND THEN RED ROBIN (ENJOYING THE LACK OF CROWDS) SO THERE WAS LITTLE TIME TO COME UP WITH SOMETHING ORIGINAL. THIS POST'S SENTIMENT PRETTY MUCH SUMMED UP TODAY, ANYWAY. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED YOURSELVES TODAY TOO-IN WHATEVER FORM SCHOOLING TAKES AT YOUR HOUSE.

At Least She's Not Twelve

2009-09-02T00:59:00.000-07:00

Sarah over at Small World had a beautiful post about the significance of her daughter turning twelve this past week. Since my own daughter had a birthday on the 30th I have been thinking about her words a lot. I have wondered how on earth I could possibly have a nine-year-old already, and I have consoled myself repeatedly with this thought: 'at least it is not twelve..."

I'm not ready for twelve.

I keep asking her to stay eight a little longer. She just gives me a half smile and shakes her head from side to side, happy, I think, knowing that I can't keep her from moving forward.

I don't really want to stop her from moving on either; I like who she is becoming too much. I love the sophistication of her humor; her desire to learn. I enjoy seeing her budding interests and wondering how God will use her many talents. I love that some of my favorite things in life have become hers, even if it means that I have to be quicker-than-quick if I actually want to eat some of the glazed pecans that I bought 'especially for us' before they become 'especially for her'.

Happy Birthday sweet Asher! I love the young lady you are becoming, but please, promise me you won't be twelve anytime soon.

...Oh Yes, I Did

2009-08-27T23:37:00.000-07:00

Remember that haircut I described in my last post? How bad it was? Well, now I have proof.

I can't look at it without both laughing and cringing in intervals. I Think of it a little like the cliched 'baby's first haircut', but with a very unfortunate twist. Instead, it is 'mommy's first haircut', and in lieu of a swatch of hair and a cute little frame to commemorate, I get this.

The funny thing is that as bad as it was, I have not dared try again. How can you argue with a three year-old who, when you mention fixing his hair begs,"Please Mommy, not a haircut."

Look, even his little sister is cautious.

"Are you kidding? I saw what you did to this other guy!"

Blogging for Blogging's Sake, Not Pete's

2009-08-17T22:42:00.000-07:00

So if I am simply blogging for the sake of blogging, does that mean I really have nothing to say?

Don't answer that, please. It happens to be what I am doing right now.

I have been wanting to tell you all about my son's new haircut (cause it is a doozy!) but I am so photo dependent when I write that my husband hogging our memory card has simply thrown off my groove. At least that is what I keep telling myself, anyway.

The picture above?

A before.

I think maybe I am just embarrassed.

Afterall, this haircut-to-top-all-haircuts (also affectionately referred to in our home as "Another Victim Of The Current Economic Times") was my doing.

I didn't mean to.

I was trying to do the right thing by saving money.

Honest.

There was a point where I could have stopped and been okay; I crossed that point of no return. Now, even after two attempts at fixing my mistakes, it is still not right.

I did not even you know you could mess up a buzz cut. Funny that.

Bye-bye Young Master Si-Walker.

Your little brother wants to thank you for going first- he got a professional haircut and a sucker out of your pain.

I Did Not Know...

2009-08-12T22:43:00.000-07:00

I did not know when I found out that I was pregnant last year that I wanted another baby; in fact I would have insisted otherwise at the time. We thought our family was complete with three kids, and that was just my husband being nice. Then number four came along-proof that sometimes you really shouldn't go to bed angry lest you throw caution to the wind while making up. When my husband returned from his ten day camping trip that year I had quite the story for him! We were able to laugh because really, we had known better.

The fifth baby announcement that I made was a different story all together. It was followed by a very, very long silence and truly took us by surprise. I had just been told that my thyroid condition would likely make me infertile and since I had already lost a tube to an ectopic pregnancy a couple years back, we really thought our chubby-baby days were over. Things were tight financially (and this was before Steve lost his job) and both of us were well aware that the flood of unsolicited public opinion was not going to be kind; in fact it was fierce. Mean, mean things were said by people we love.

We were afraid and did not want to stand out and face additional scrutiny, knowing that some people do actually stand around and wait to watch you fall.

God reminded me of Nehemiah during that time. He told me to stop staring at the rubble and focus on Him. He also reminded me that he calls his disciples away from the crowd, out of the safety of the boat, into the storm.

I am so glad that he gives us the opportunity to obey Him.

I had no idea that I wanted another baby-girl to love. I can not express more fully how tender a gift she has been to our family. God knows us. He knows our needs even before we do. She was perfectly chosen for such a time as this. I am glad he knew then, what I didn't yet understand.

Wordless Wed: So Many Mouths to Feed

2009-07-29T14:31:00.000-07:00

Details

2009-07-24T23:22:00.000-07:00

I wish that my scanner was working properly because I would really like to show you the handy-work that has been adorning my walls for the past two days. It is not though, so I just had to come up with some way to illustrate what the designer of the original masterpiece was trying to convey:

LOST CAT

This is Otis.

He is 6 and a half.

He is black and has a white belly with a white tip on his tail.

He likes fish treats.

So if you find my cat call (made up phone number) and tell me where you live.

Arrow (flip page)

HE IS FAT

Well, Otis, you are not lost, but I am afraid that she got everything else right.

(Notice: Sleeping 3 year old added for sense of scale; not included in this offer.)

Tongue-Tied

2009-07-23T22:01:00.000-07:00

My blogging voice has been rather tongue-tied lately. Sometimes I talk myself out of writing because I don't want to come across as never having anything nice to say. I'm not a big fan of pretense so I find that lately silence has been the greater virtue. Don't get me wrong - I Know that I am blessed to be surrounded by laughter and many other good things, but my family is also in a period of long suffering right now and God has not revealed to us when relief will come.

I would be lying if I did not tell you that there have even been days that I have wondered if it ever will, this side of heaven.

I have had difficult seasons in my life but this one has surpassed them all because it has not been a sprint. I can't just hold my breath and be done. This is an endurance race that I have to learn to bear.

I don't like it one bit.

The trick is then, how to learn to live in it?

I have heard it said that if the Devil can't kill us he will take our life from us one moment at a time.

Isn't that so true?

There are so many things I don't know right now. I don't know when Daddy will have a job again-it does not look a bit promising. I don't know how long we will get to live where we are now; if we will be removed from our home-state, away from our extended family and friends; or what Christmas and Birthdays will look like this year.

What I do know is this. In between the unknown and the answers, there are moments:

Moments to laugh at a silly drawing.

Moments to thank God for the chance to get way as adults.

Moments to enjoy a new story.

Moments to teach my children.

Moments to invite family members into fellowship.

Moments to snuggle with my baby.

Moments to run my hands through my 9 year-old daughter's hair before other interests draw her away.

There are even moments for tears and for mourning what was lost.

Ordinary, mundane moments.

Moments to create a home that is a soft place to land, even if it isn't ours, because after all, it isn't...

This side of heaven is not our home, but these are our moments to live.

And those?

Well Devil, those are not up for grabs.

Does this blog make me look fat?

2009-07-16T10:36:00.000-07:00

What do you think of this one? I'm not sure if it fits right. I'm thinking it may just have to do for a couple days because I GET TO GO OUT OF TOWN TOMORROW... as in just my husband and I!

Hope you have a great weekend too.
Kathi

New (askew) Look

2009-07-16T02:37:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, I know. There is something WRONG with this template. It would be one thing to be secretly, strangely drawn to the dark humor of this illustration, but it is something different to actually act on the urge. Apparently I have no impulse control. It is either that or the fact that I find myself up at three in the morning playing with my template and have managed to both overcompensate for the 'lolly-pop and sunshine' look of the old one AND lost all my widgets in my zeal. Sorry, forgive me, I'm hoping it is just a phase. Maybe I will have outgrown it by daybreak.

Wordless Wed: Ackward

2009-07-15T06:05:00.000-07:00

Eating Worms

2009-07-06T00:11:00.000-07:00

It is past mid-night and I am hungry.

I was hungry at 11:00pm too, when I was out searching for a contact lens case and some multipurpose solution because after 1460.968796 straight hours of wearing my one-months'-supply of Day and Nights, my eyes were just screaming for a break.

I figured I could afford to let them off the hook for eight or so hours too- the baby is sleeping through the night now and my vision in my dreams has yet to be effected by my near-blindness. And since I was already doing my eyes a favor, my stomach wondered, maybe, because I was going out and all, if I would pick it up a Double-Decker from The Bell while I was at it.

Happy to maneuver the Suburban through the drive-thru.

Or at least I was until they told me it would be a twenty-minute wait.

Drat.

Like so many other things in life, getting into a situation can be so much easier than getting out. I'm just thankful there was no one behind me and my still-weighed-down-from-moving rig.

(Did I just say 'rig'?)

Ahhh, well. My stomach did not need fast food anyway.

As I pulled back into our parking lot I noticed my complex manager enjoying the coolness and peace of the Central Oregon air. I figured it could not last for long; that I might as well be the one to interrupt it.

Poor Gal.

What can I say? There was damage control that needed to be done. It turns out the neighbors below our household-of-seven don't really think we are all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips. Mixed nuts, maybe- but I think they may be allergic to nuts.

Would you believe that there have been four noise complaints (that we know of) against us since we moved in a little over three weeks ago? This is hard on the ego of a former apartment manager.

This particular night, I could have sworn we heard them banging on our floor where our TV sits.

We were celebrating Steve's Birthday and we had the audacity to watch a movie together, which meant we could not use our headphones as we have been doing, because we only have one pair. It appear our subtitles were a bit too loud for them.

We know we can be a boysterous bunch and have intentionally been trying to do things to accommodate them. After the first noise complaint Steve pulled out the headphones and has since been taking in his evening movie or video game almost intravenously. I try to put a floor between my kids and our neighbors after dinnertime. Every night after we eat I send them upstairs to play, but good golly, every once in a while the noise of daily life is just going to travel. Sometimes children fall off chairs or decide for no-good-reason that NOW (while mommy is mopping up a mess) is a good time to run circles around the living room, ya know? I'll get to them, just let me clean up the spilled milk first, thank you.

It is strange having a strained relationship with someone you don't even know, and it is strange feeling like you can't really *live* in your home.

I am thankful that our manager has been very understanding, even at 11:00 PM, thought I think she may reconsider making herself visible to me during non-office hours.

This has been a hard year.

I have grown very aware that my response to some of life's' punches has been on display for the world to see. A coworker of mine called me 'inspirational' the other day, but that is only because they do not live with me. My children and my husband could tell them the true story. I have been tried and found lacking.

I have been trying to do things in my own strength and we all know where that gets us.

My kids see me grumble. My husband sees me become obsessive over seemingly insignificant things because it is one of the few things I can control right now.
A week or so ago, it finally crept out into my other circles too. I was at work after spending the previous night laboring at our old house until past 4:00 am. One of our students was going to need more care than I could give them. It was going to require that I be up again all night and I was so tired already the thought of having to push on was too much. I cried and then went home.

I wish for things to be normal again. I crave routine; Husband to work, mom homeschooling kids. But I know that God is faithful to care for us and I am recommitting to live my life as if I believed He is who He says He is.

He promises me rest during storms, but I have to lean on him.

The thought has occurred to me too, that the season we are going through is not just for my husband and I. It is also for our children- a strange thought to think of this experience as a gift.

They are watching us. Are we modeling a life of faith? Will we let them see God through this or will we try and manage everything on our own and become frustrated? Will we act humbly when we are wrong?

This is the real lesson. Remembering that makes it easier to deal with a mortgage company who calls repeatedly because we have failed on our end of a contract; when I have to re-tell our story over and over again because people with late payments are robo-called. Can I still be nice even if the person on the other end isn't this time?

Will I teach my children to be respectful of our neighbors even if we think they are being unreasonable-even if they don't like us.

God does always know what we need.
Sometimes He gives us manna; sometimes He gives us worms.

Orphan Boy

2009-06-22T22:12:00.000-07:00

Doesn't this child look like he needs a home? A mommy to love and bathe him? I thought so too- then I realised he's already mine.

And When Your Up, You're Up...

2009-06-17T22:29:00.000-07:00

Thirty Four.

That's

how
many
stairs
there
are
in
our
new
home.

The first flight takes you from our front door into our actual living space, the second, to where all the bedrooms are. Tonight I put the boys to bed (their room is ALL the way up the stairs AND at the very end of the hall-or in other words, as far from the front door as humanly possible).

I gathered the boys and climbed.

Seventeen up.

At which point I remembered that all the diapers where located below me.

Seventeen down,
aaaand
up again.

The little guys were both stinky. This meant the diapers needed to go out before the neighbors complained, which meant RIGHT NOW - it was that bad.

Are you with me here? Thirty-four down (where is that dumpster?) and, because I forgot the one-year-old's pacifier, thirty four up again.

I should have just slid down on my bottom for the final return trip but, as with all else, I lacked the foresight.

I am beginning to see that thinking things through might have merit.

Perhaps a pulley system could be put into effect? We could even let the cats (two, not SEVEN) out this way; It would certainly ensure that they did not change their mind once I got to the bottom of the stairs to open the door. Hey, they have nine lives and always land on their feet; if they hesitated, we could just sort of just 'pour' them out.

Most likely, no.

The Young-Childless-Couple-Who-Had-The-Building-To-Themselves-Before-the-Family-With-Five-Kids-Went-and-Ruined-Their-Honey-Moon-Phase might complain.

Poor them, living below us.

Sincerely.

I'm thinking that going up and down all the time will help with the postpartum thing. Shape me right up.

Would it be too much to hope it does the same thing for my attitude and my emotions?

I am just like those stairs.

Up.

Down.

Uhhhhp.

Way Down.

There is still sooo much to be done with the old house. Caring-for-my-mom-stuff and being-mom-stuff too.

I go back and forth between REALLY (dare I say it?) liking our new home and fear.

If I admit that I like it, will I curse everything, and end up losing this place too? Still no job, ya know.

I hate fear.

Maybe I will mock it-

Where did I leave my hammer and nails? I have pictures to hang.

That's the spirit!

Oh, no wait, it's past ten already...Quiet time.

Guess I'll be a conqueror tomorrow, right now I have to be a good neighbor.

Play Before Reading

2009-06-03T03:25:00.000-07:00

Errrrr....uhhhh...make that the blog post you'll be reading. Some of you may recognize this clip as Lemony Snicket's opening in A Series of Unfortunate Events... a series of unfortunate events; that is what this post is about.

Like the narrator goes on to say, 'If you wish to see a film about a happy little elf, I'm sure there is still plenty of seating in theatre number two.' Consider yourself warned.

Without trying to sound too fatalistic or overly dramatic, this past year has just been One. Thing. After. Another.

Seriously, I itemized the last 12 months at work on Friday night, and it looked something like this:

Close relative 'A' makes poor choice which causes close relative 'B' their marriage, their job, and ultimately their home, just weeks after having major surgery.

Close relative 'B', still not recovered from surgery, is forced to find new home; not once, but twice.

After two full weeks of on-the-job training as a Residential Property Manager, said relative is notified on the eve of move-in, that it is 'just not going to work out.' Cancel moving truck. Rescind moving notice. Locate panic button.

Said relative moves in with family. Yeah, that would be us.

Three bedrooms.
Three adults.
Four children.
SEVEN cats.
Two birds.
One baby on the way.

No Partridge.
No Pear-Tree.

Several months.
Winter.
Cabin Fever.

Three foot long hole in the carpet from 5/7Th's of cats, who are pesumably angry that they were not allowed into the rest of the house. I gave them my room, what more could they ask!?

More Surgery.
Infections.

Husband's employer's company starts shrinking...50,40,30,20,12?
You can stop now.
Husband receives pink-slip.
Make that 11.

Baby girl is born-good thing she is accustomed to close quarters.

Relative finds job/housing.
Daughters move out of kitchen/family/dining/bedroom/homeschool-room-thingy into what used to be The Parent's room.

Baby is now almost four months old-still no job.
Shrinking savings.
Relative 'B' is overwhelmed by her new job; almost 60-year-old body is not what it used to be.

Mix all this with holidays, birthdays, suicide talk, suicide attempts (relative B), people pretending to have cancer (remember relative A at the top of the list? Yeah, who does that!?!), homeschooling and just-plain-old-trying-to-put-my-home-and-routine-back-together, and I realize why I find myself holding my breath as often as I do.

It is a lot.

It has felt like a lot for a long time now.

Despite this, I still have to smile at my kids and fix them meals. Not to mention the 120 finger and toe nails that need grooming, including my own. Those pesky things are as bad as the weeds threatening my yard.

I remember that God promises to make a way out for us; He says that he will not give us more than we can bear. I feel like I am at the tipping point. It does feel like I'm at my limit. I'm tired. I'm looking for that promise to make my path straight.

Remember the game Mercy? Well mercy, already.

This Friday my husband and I did the math and recognized that we can not possibly hold on to our house any longer. Even if we were to modify our mortgage we would still have too many utility costs. There are doctor bills from the baby to pay because we are living off of what was suppose to cover them. Staying here would mean that when my husband does return to work, it would have to be at the same pay scale, and with unemployment at 16% in our county, our expectations need to be realistic. He may have to change fields completely which means going back to school.

Part of me does want to move because every day that I am in this place I feel as if I am sinking into quicksand. I'm irritated that after seven years here we still have not been able to make it what we wanted it to be. I'm sad to let it go. I had one baby when we first moved in, now we have five. All the trees that are planted, we put into the earth. I feel like a failure.

How can you hate and love a place both at the same time?

I just want a fresh start. I don't feel like we could ever recover here.

On Saturday I stopped by some apartments not more than a block away from our home. They were intended to be condos until all building came to a halt last fall; two weeks ago they started renting them.

We have just enough money right now that we could pay move in costs and leave our home in respectable condition. If we don't act, we will begin falling behind on our mortgage, the rest of our bills, and then will have spent anything we might possibly be able to put towards relocating. What do we do about our home obligations though? It does not seem right for Christians to bail out on things they have committed to.

Oi. Where is Miracle Max when you need him? There are castles to be stormed and laundry to be washed.

I was surprised to find the rental office open on the weekend. I took the tour and was very honest with them about the spot we are in. The units are GORGEOUS and would save us about $500-$600 per month, if not more with late fees considered. Our application was approved and if we sign a 15 month lease, we would receive two months free rent. Is this the right thing? Is this the next little piece God is giving us?

I don't like being here at all. Please pray that we would find favor in speaking with our mortgage company, whatever that is suppose to look like. So much to do,and just now I feel paralyzed.

Here is to hoping for beauty from ashes.

Eat, Clean, Repeat.

2009-05-30T18:40:00.000-07:00

When you walk into the kitchen and see this, it can be assumed that they are trying to tell you something.

I should be on the brink of insanity more often.

2009-05-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know why no one in my immediate circle has commented on the tire marks running across by back yet; I am sure they are there. At least they should be there- I feel like I was broadsided by a Mac Truck this past week. Does someone want to pass me a mirror so that I can check?

There have been things going on with my extended family that even I would almost not believe if I read them in print. This, and the feeling that this whole unemployment thing that my guy (oh,and about 15.9% of all other Central Oregonians) has going on is getting old-enough-already, have left me talking gibberish and staring down walls.

Okay, not really, but close.

What it has done is thrown me into this crazy, crazy creative streak where suddenly all those little things that, for years, have never had a place in my home (beyond the rubbermaid in the garage)just suddenly 'fit'. I married a man with a crafty (in the best sense of the word) mother and she always gives me cool stuff that I have no idea what to do with. This week some of it started to piece itself together in a non-cluttery kind of way; Pure magic. It has been a decoupage and scrapbook paper transformation, and it has been the only thing I have wanted to do at times. At my place of employment, this would be called 'distress tolerence,' where you pick an activity and become hyper-focused on it so that you can survive the immediate period of stress on the short-term without going bonkers. I'm happy to report that it is serving me well. Instead of my kids thinking mommy is a basket case, my kids actually think I'm fun, and like a wise Suess once said, fun is good. Besides, they'll figure out the basket case part of me soon enough, I'm going to shine while I still can.

I have been staying up till 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning cutting and pasting away. I do not have a finished product yet because, well, because I have five kids who are constantly asking to eat and such, so I am taking little bites, just like a good girl should. And yes, if any of you are Shel Silverstein fans, you know that just like Tiny Melinda Mae, in eighty-nine years I'll eat this whale, just like I said I would.

Above is a before of our Homeschool Room/ Dining/Kitchen/Family Room. After typing that it is no wonder I have NEVER, in the almost seven years we have owned this house, been able to figure out this space. Those are some serious identity issues, no? This is Eilidh, giving a sneak peak at the improvements. My favorite part of the room so far is this cabinet. Please, pay no attention to the white board behind it, I just don't know where to put the silly thing yet. Knowing me, it will still be there when my baby turns six. Sometimes a girl just needs a little more color in her life.

Cat Nap

2009-05-25T12:06:00.000-07:00

Can anyone tell me what is wrong with this picture? That is either one spoiled cat, or one humble little boy.

7 Things That I Can Not Get to Link.

2009-05-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

I have decided to participate in '7 Quick Takes Friday' because the thought of doing something quickly has appeal; I can do quick. Quick is good.

1. After several nights of full-nighted sleep I was awakened last night at 2:00, 2:40, 4:00, 4:30 and finally at 6:00. My husband was not home so there was no pretending not to hear the interruptions. I really love full nights of sleep but really, when you have five kids, I guess you are just kind of asking for it.

Besides that, if Early Bird had not woken me up to watch 'Cars' this morning I would not be able to include my second and third thing for the morning.

2. Garbage Day! I almost missed it. I forget to take it to the curb last night. If I had not been pulled out of bed before I was ready, my house would have been passed by and I would not have been awake to see...

3. The other professional team of garbage collectors on their bikes rummage through mine and my neighbors refuse. HELLO. That's mine, even if it is trash.

Thank heaven I have an Early Bird, I suppose, or I would have overlooked it, and that could have made for a very long week around here garbage-wise.

4. Last night, through the (mixed) miracle that is Grandma, and friends who offer you their free tickets, my husband and I boldy got to go where no man has gone before; I highly recomend it! Highly.

5. Sunshine. We are suppose to be smiled upon all weekend. How I love me some sunshine. I can smell the 'Broad Spectrum UVA/UVB Protection' already. MMMMMM...did I mention I love sunshine?

6. Dr. Pepper! I am going to drink a lot of it today because my friend Cammie told me I can, and she already knows my Number Seven, so it is okay.

7. It is my Birthday. I am somewhere close to the middle of my thirties, and that is all I am going to say about that. I will tell you though, that I get to have my favorite food with my favorite people today, and that I will be showered with home made birthday cards. What a Lucky, if not older, Duck am I?

Puppy Dog Tails

2009-05-02T15:03:00.000-07:00

It is different having boys in the house after being dominated with girl stuff for almost ten years . Sure, our first little guy is going to be four in December and I should be accustomed to it by now, but every time I get smacked with a flying hot wheel or rammed in the shin by an industrial sized Tonka truck (because our house is shrinking and I am not nearly as nimble as Jack; always failing to jump out of the way of oncoming traffic) you could say that the reality of life with boys hits me.

I have a hyperactive, hyperpokey-prody girl too (who gives her brothers a run for their money) but it simply is not the same. My girls pick at, climb on, and wrestle with their dad. For the longest time I thought I was safe. During my first seven or so years of motherhood my days were relatively quiet until Dad came home, and I was fine with that, figuring it was just 'dad play.' But then my first cub became mobile, and then we added another. Soon I realized that they did not see Mommy as off-limits (in the climbing-wall sense of the word) as their sisters had. How could they not know that mommies are not meant for body slamming!?!

Thankfully, they try and make up for it in other ways. My oldest lives to serve. I have mentioned before that he seems to think I am helpless without him and does not see any need to inconvenience me for anything he thinks he can do himself. I look forward to the day when this does not involve pouring himself milk while standing in the middle of my living room, or having to wonder when a concerned citizen will dutifully contact the authorities because of 'suspicious' bumps or bruises received while scaling the highest tower to rescue the toy that mommy 'couldn't find' earlier in the day. "Look! Si Guy found it, Mommy!"

There is good reason the boy was in a crib up until last week.

And then there is his brother who can accessorize in a way that would make any mother proud. He won't always leave my heels in the middle of the floor for me to trip on; someday he may learn to put them back after he has borrowed them.

Until they grow into their gifts though, I will continue to just lick my wounds. I will try to hold back my tears when I discover that the unnatural combination of milk and Moon Sand were the reason my son did not wake me too early in the morning. I will smile when I hear my son's voice soften as he scoops in on his elbows to get a better look at his baby sister. I will enjoy my one-year-old's sheer bulk when he wiggles his way into my lap and decides to stay for a while.

Most of all, I will continue to wonder: When was it exactly, that I started looking at boys who are taller than I am affectionately; hoping that they have a Mom at home who has been as much changed for the better by their sons lives as I have mine?

Quick...A Thesaurus, Please!

2009-04-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

I would say that I tend to get bored somewhat easily. I would say it, but can't because of the slim chance that someday my progeny may read this. If that time came, then they would remember (and surely point out) with indignation that 'bored' was not even a word they were permitted to say. They might even hear my voice in a fashion similar to that of Charlie Brown's teacher, stressing how uncreative a word 'bored' is; How it does not really describe what is going on with them, anyway. If they are restless, can't think of anything to do, or just need a change of scenery, then tell me THOSE things. Those things sound fixable, unlike 'Bored' which just seems so... untouchable.

Since I can't be bored, I must stretch my brain a little to describe my current state.

'Wa wa wah wah wahn..' That was Chucks' teacher's voice inside my head again.

I think I've got it now:

I'm AM NOT bored.

I DO just need a change of scenery- that is why I am moving my blogging ambitions from 'Some Assembly Required' at Homeschool Blogger, here. I have not written with any consitency in almost a year and now when I see my old page I think, 'stuck'. There is such a gap between entries and I, fixated as I can be, feel compelled to try and fill it in and that is just crazy. It was one live-in mother (plus her FIVE cats), one lay off, and an entire child ago, afterall. It can't be done.

If you want to consider me a traitor for making the move, I'm okay with that. Just stand still for a minute while I kick you in the knee-cap, then we can make up. You can visit me, I'll visit you-it will be like it never happened.

It never happened.

Never.