The Downside Proof of being a Stay At Home Mom

I'm a stay at home mom. And when someone is a stay at home person, they basically stay home all the time. That's like their degree and what they do best at.

Myself included.

I do get out every once in awhile. You know, to put gas in the van. Or buy milk. Or maybe I'll be really wicked and go shopping. But basically, my driver's license only comes in handy when there's no one else on the block to rush my bleeding and dying child to the hospital and I have to be the brave hero that responsibly transports the innocent child to the local ER. Actually, that's never happened so I'm really not sure why I have my driver's license...

Anyway, on a certain day of a certain week recently, my charming husband was busy working on our basement project. Unfortunately, the incompetent delivery men truck from a few days earlier had not supplied us with the ingredients we had ordered that we needed in order to progress in our project. We were lacking in the "installation kit" to the drop ceiling Toby was installing in the basement. And if you don't have the installation kit, basically you can't install the drop ceiling.

So, being the virtuous wife that I aim to be occasionally everyday, I offered to go pick up the TWO installation kits that had not been delivered.

(This entailed a trip to Menards.)

My dear husband took me up on the offer and was relieved when I also offered to take our screaming youngest child with me. That enabled him to accomplish more work without having to care for our screaming littlest child.

As I headed out the door, Toby handed me the 3 foot long receipt I needed for proof that the installation kits were already paid for and also included the delivery report that the incompetent delivery guys had given us when they delivered all most of our stuff.

On a side note, he had written a few more supplies that I could pick up since I was going to Menards anyway. While on my way into town, he added a few more things to the list via my handy cell phone. And while I was shopping at Menards he called a few more times to add a couple other grab-while-you're-there-anyway items.

The list included (but was not limited to) the following:

24" right swing pre-hung door (6' long)
Black door knob
2- door stops
2- light fixtures
4- 8' long medium grade 1x4's

As I went into town patting myself on the back for being such a flexible person that was able to drop everything and just run into town for 2 installation kits so my husband could finish a project, our screaming youngest child sat in his car seat as quiet as a mouse. I was noticing that and commented to myself (quietly, mind you) that the child seemed quite out of the ordinarily quiet. I had to look in the rear-view mirror to make sure I hadn't left him on the side of the driveway. There he was sitting there perfectly quiet. What a nice surprise.

Suddenly, my passenger yelled:

"MOM!"

I responded meekly with, "What?"

He said, "MOM!"

I said, "What?"

He repeated, "MOM!"

I said, "What Alex?"

To which he contemplated for a second and then said, "MOM! MOM!"

I decided to be quiet since responding wasn't helping him get his point across.

He said, "MOOOOOM!!!"

Not being able to figure out what this code word was, I glanced back at him and noticed he was adamantly pointing his finger at something in the front of the van. I could see my purse, a plastic bag, some paper and a box of Kleenex.

"What do you want, Alex?"

Getting more excited he said, "MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!"

I finally turned on the CD player, thinking maybe that's what he needed.

There was no resounding "mom."

And then Alex started singing and looking out the window, content that his request was finally fulfilled.

I mentally filed away that now the word "mom" means:

"Mom" (literally, as in one's mother)
"More"
"Janae took something away from me"
"Milk"
"I'm done in the tub"
"Get me out of my high chair"
"Put me down now"
and... "Turn on the CD"

I have an idea the list will be added to as his definition for "mom" continues to expand.

So, we get to Menards and I find a parking spot and take my singing child into the store. Unbeknownst to me, the van door gets left open but that is due in part to a) me forgetting to shut the door or b) the electric door deciding to reopen while I walked away. At least I did remember to lock the van while standing IN the store about 15 minutes later. Like my remote key pad can work 100' away, I know, BUT at least I remembered I hadn't locked it. Hey, I can't help it-- I'm a stay at home mom. Don't expect me to make logical non-stay-at-home decisions in a busy parking lot.

I zig zagged around the store going from the service counter to the electric counter to the painting counter to the windows and door counter and finally, up the lumber rack with a baby on my hip in order to get 4 boards.

Now, if you have ever gotten wood at Menards, you know the usual routine:

Locate type of lumber you need (in my case, I needed pine.)
Find correct width (in my case, 1x4)
Scan racks for desired length (in my case, 8')
Look around store for assistance.
Call husband to see if he really needs the wood.
Look around store again for assistance.
Shoulder your purse, put baby on hip and mount stairs to the second level of the lumber racks.
While shouldering purse, and balancing baby on hip, pull out random pieces of lumber.
Look around store to make sure no one is watching.
Pretend you can recognize a bad piece of lumber as you eye down the length of the board.
Put wood back since both ends warp in opposite directions.
Listen to baby whine because you put the wood back (like he really wanted that piece anyway.)
Continue pulling out nicked pieces of wood and putting them back.
Conclude they're all nicked and just look for unwarped pieces.
Decide that they all must be slightly warped.
Narrow down 4 boards that are less warped than the others.
Carry baby and 2 boards down to the cart.
Lock baby in cart and position 2 boards on side of cart.
Relieve shoulder of purse since it would look bad that you kept your purse with you but left the baby in cart.
Climb steps for last 2 boards and position them on opposite side of cart.
Walk to front of store with 5' of wood on both sides flaming behind your cart like a race car.
Ignore stares and the natural impulse to speed.

Thankfully, the Windows-and-Doors-counter-guy had been capable of putting my 24" right swing prehung door on a cart and pushing it to the front of the store. It was waiting for me with ample room for my 4 - 8' long boards.

I had to finish up at the electrical counter and then on to the service desk before I could check out. Funny thing is, the installation kits I originally came in for were out of stock. How convenient!

A kind wall-coverings lady helped me improvise on the needed ingredients and I was soon set to go. I ended up saving about half the money we had spent on the original installation kits since we improvised and ended up with something more cost effective. That at least paid for my gas to make a special trip into town, thanks to the incompetant delivery guys and I felt like the classic Proverbs 31 women, like one of my friends who always seems capable of being since she knows how to shop at CVS.

Anyway, I paid for my purchases and watched a capable young man load my van with a large door and 4 long pieces of lumber. I couldn't see out half of my windows or out the rear-view mirror but at least my tail gate could close. And I could sit in my seat without bumping my head on large wooden objects.

Since it was long past supper time and Alex's shouts for "mom" were taking on a I'm-hungry-and-starving-and-near-death sound, I picked up a snack for him. He commenced to fake choking on it most of the way home. At least he wasn't screaming for food though, for which I was relieved.

My industrious husband made my effort worth it. By the time we went to bed at 2 am that night, the door had been hung, the installation kits had been implemented and the van had been unloaded. Plus, the room he was working in had all the trim installed that the four-year-old had painted earlier. It was a productive day.

And I felt right at home when within 30 minutes of resuming my stay-at-home position, my daring darling daughter had crushed egg shells on the kitchen floor because she liked the way they felt in her hands and she had also broken glass from a candle holder on the livingroom floor because she had scooped up a whole selection of such candles into a snow shovel and then dumped them, resulting into shards of broken glass.

There's nothing like sweeping and vacuuming your house and planning and making supper all within a 30 minute period. Since I can witness handle all three events at such short notice, I must indeed be a stay at home mom.

The Overpriced Sunflower Seed

After several false attempts at starting this blog, I have decided to just jump right in. I'm not sure why it's so hard for me to talk right now since I usually am capable of talking whether I have anything to talk about or not whether I want to or not. Sometimes I think I just try to act like I'm bashful. Sometimes I can hope I am becoming a more shy person. I guess admitting that proves I really am not shy and probably never will be.

So, here I am.

I am not sure what to blog about. I could blog about our cat and how she screamed and cried and tried to bite us when she had the first 2 of her 4 kittens today. That's pretty much all the information I have on the cat though so that would be the end of this blog if I decided to blog about the cat.

I could blog about the weather but that isn't very interesting... it's only in the 40's. I could blog about my kids but other than eating, drinking and occasionally not getting along being little angels, we don't have much new to report on the home front.

Unless I go back to last year.

And by last year, I mean just last week, December 29, 2008.

Yeah, I think I'll blog about that fateful day.

It was a fair evening and after a week of subzero temps, a fair evening was a special event. The weather was mild, probably in the twenties (balmy, let me tell you) and the day's events were just wrapping up to a nice end with warm biscuits and hot soup for supper. We were on our Christmas Vacation trip and staying with my parents. And when you're on "vacation" everything is supposed to be fun and nothing is supposed to go wrong. Or, we supposedly think anyway.

I had been gone all day and upon arriving "home," I naturally assumed that my baby would be glad to see me. And he was. I could tell. Even though he was irritated and fussy. He kept poking at his face and crying and not acting very comfortable. But he was still happy to see me, I'm just sure of it.

He had that I-just-put-something-in-my-nose look and knowing his habit and addiction of doing so, I instinctively looked up his nose. Sure enough. An unknown foreign object lodge where it wasn't supposed to be.

Okay, just so you know, Alex puts stuff in his nose like most people put stuff in their mailbox. Sometimes every day, sometimes he might skip a day and sometimes a lot of stuff goes in on one day. It just all depends.

We have a system down where we tell him to blow, he blows, everyone cheers, and odd colored objects slime out one of his little nostrils. It's that simple.

If he won't blow, then we bribe him by giving him a whole Kleenex to hold under his nose himself and then we all take our own Kleenex and everyone gets to blow at once. It's great family fun. The problem with involving the Kleenex is that as soon as you look away, Alex will immediately shred his own personal Kleenex and eat it like cotton candy. The problem with that is then the object in the nose can be quickly forgotten while everyone tries to get the remaining Kleenex away from Alex as he viciously chews the pieces in his mouth. I know, he's an odd child.

The following list is a compilation of items based on memory of what has been inserted in his nose or insertion was at least attempted:

Vitamins
French Fries
Cereal
A Tiny Bell (those are easy to detect: you just shake the child.)
Crackers
Sunflower Seed Shells
Crumbs
Noodles
Anything Found On Highchair Tray
Anything Small Enough To Fit In Nostril
etc.
Misc.

So, upon realizing we had another Object in Nose Epidemic on our hands, we did the usual system. Alex blew hard, nothing escaped, Alex got a Kleenex, nothing escaped, everyone got a Kleenex, Alex blew hard, nothing escaped, etc. Finally, Toby got a bright flash light and tweezers and went on an intensive recovery mission.

The only thing we concluded was that it was an item of the Sunflower Seed family and it was firmly lodged in his nose.

We waited a bit to see if it would work down. It didn't. So we went to the Emergency Room. Yeah, the ER.

It was funny how we got lost on our way there because Alex's mom thought she knew a short cut. That's embarrassing because she grew up in that area.

Even funnier was that Alex sang the whole way. And he had never really sang before and definitely not in the car. Alex usually cries in the car so to sing was really out of character for him. We made sure he was really our kid before we were admitted to the ER. To have to pay an ER bill for a kid that's not our own would not be something we'd necessarily feel compelled to do. But of course, he was indeed our son.

Alex got quite the treatment. He was weighed. Had his pulse checked. Flirted with the nurses. Listened to mommy answer a million-and-one questions. And then Alex waited. And so did his parents.

What is it with ER's requiring making people wait so long? It's as if people get there, could be half dying and then they just sit in a tiny room and wait. And wait. And wait. It's almost as if the waiting part is the processional to the doctor's exam and treatment. His treatment just might not work if you don't spend a good period of time waiting before hand. Maybe they want to make sure you are good and sick/dying before they attempt a treatment.

And their timing is always off. The nurse said to wait a minute. We waited for several minutes... like as in at least a half hour.

Once the doctor told us just to wait 45 seconds. It was at least 5 minutes before our wait was up.

It's like these people don't know how to tell time. Seriously. If they said, "Wait about 45 minutes to an hour and then the doctor will be in" it would be easier to cope with the anticipation of every noise potentially being the doctor coming in. But they don't. They give you false hope that you will be out of there in no time.

But I won't complain. Even if they can't tell time, at least they know medicine.

Anyway, the doctor came in, gave us a few options of what he'd try to use to pull out the foreign object but admitted that our best bet would probably be with a Ear Nose and Throat doctor. Of course at 9:00pm that wasn't really an option.

The ER doctor tried a couple of his instruments in hopes of getting the 'object in nose' out. Alex screamed and screamed. Nothing was productive. Except for Alex's lungs producing lots of air that helped sustain a nice, steady wail. He disliked the restrain -- the instruments in his nose were painless since the doctor really couldn't get too deep with them anyway. Alex screams like that in a car seat and I know a car seat is entirely painless but very restraining.

After making a few phone calls, the doctor gave us our last option: "Drive 20 minutes to the next hospital where the regional ENT doctor will meet you." I wanted to laugh. The hospital he was talking about was at LEAST 30-45 minutes away. But, that didn't matter... even though he did say 20 minutes. We agreed to go.

So, before we left the first hospital, we gave our address to the front desk so the nice people in that ER who never helped us could send us a nice, generous hospital bill. And then we drove to another hospital and gave them our contract contact information so they too could get a donation from us.

A weight, pulse, background check, etc. was all required here as well but we told them we had already verified all that at the last hospital. We were able to skip out on some of the requirements, thankfully. I think every time they pick up a pen or use an electronic item, you're charged another $50. Seriously, the kid has an object IN his nose -- does it really matter if the kid is up to date on his shots?

The wait began in another ER room but this one didn't last long. A kind, country-style doctor came in with frayed hemmed jeans, a wrinkled doctor's gown and a soft smile. He apologized for his attire as he explained he had just came from a movie theatre and was dressed for that occasion, not for medical purposes. He said all that while he waited for his microscopic glasses to unfog that he had just carried in from his car in a rustic, wooden box. He didn't make us feel like we had invaded on his evening and when we thanked him, he seemed too humble to even admit that he was doing anything worth thanking him for.

Now, this doctor was smart. He took one look at Alex and immediately called for a male CNA. He had Toby hold Alex, the male nurse restrain him and I (the soft hearted mother) stood on the perimeter and just watched.

7 seconds later a WHOLE sunflower seed popped out of Alex's right nostril. Seriously. The doctor just pulled it out with his long pick. Alex immediately stopped crying once he was no longer restrained and then he just looked at all the men in the room as if he was embarrassed that he had shed tears in such a masculine environment.

The doctor wrapped up his things and the CNA dropped the seed in the trash. We said thanks and goodbye and then a nurse came in and discharged us. Okay, that took a little bit since we hadn't filled our wait quota yet. But it was only a half hour 'minute'.

Our discharge papers had follow-up care which simply stated that we should "teach child not to put objects in nose." We entirely agree with the logic but have to conclude that it's slightly idealistic.

I can assure you we are doing our best to practice the hospital recommended follow-up care and when we get a double ER bill in the mail in a couple days, we'll be tempted to tie Alex's hands together so he can't put anything in his nose sue the sunflower seed company in hopes for enough money to cover the bill. Actually, we'll probably sell one of the kids just pay it and hope we never have to again.

The worst part about it is that we paid for that sunflower seed three times and ended up just throwing it away. And in our any economy, that's a pretty inefficient budgeting system.

When Reality Hits

I have never entered a new year with so much foreboding. So much holding on to the old year. So much trepidation. Even fear. And lots of uncertainty.

Yeah, the economy is bad, the war is sad and the change in presidency could inflict a lot of change in our world, etc. But the biggest reason for the unwillingness to go into the new year is because my brother and brother-in-law are leaving for a whole year and going to Iraq. They won't even be home for next Christmas.

That is sad. Because Christmas time always promises the gathering of families. Or so we like to think.

Have you ever stopped to think about what a whole year can bring? I was the other day. It dawned quite obviously on me that 12 months have a lot of potential to bring a vast experience of excitement, grief, change, burdens, hopes and dreams fulfilled. It's such a huge variety of what life holds that to look ahead to a year that already gives a glimmer of sadness, makes it even more foreboding to head into it.

On the lighter side, a child can go from barely wiggling to walking in a year's time. Another child can go from not knowing their alphabet to learning how to read in a year's time. And conceivably speaking (pun not intended), a child can go from conception to pregnancy to birth to 3 months old in a year's time. Even a woman can go from one pregnancy to another in a year's time. (not that it's ever happened to me before...)

A job can be lost, a house can be sold, a trip around the world can be taken, a move can be made, etc, all within a year's time.

And what about hard change. Like death. Or misunderstandings. Or sickness. It can all happen in a years time.

Reality can be hard to grasp. Even harder to accept. But, sometimes whether you're ready or not, reality hits and life goes on. I admire the courage of my brothers and their ability to embrace the reality of a year of war. But, a year of worry for me doesn't sound too thrilling.

The perspective of my reality versus their reality is enough to sober me into a year of prayer. Why worry when you can pray, right? And that's what I intend to do for the next 13 months.

Pray with me please.

Procrastinators Unite

I won't even try to capture a nostalgic committed-to-change New Years Resolution spirit right now. I know it's the first post on my blog this year and the unwritten rule is that all first posts in the New Year must emphasis the importance of what will change in the new year, etc. I am resisting the trend.

Honestly folks, since when are NYR's (figure that out) anything to talk about? All we do is TALK about them. What's the point of talking about something you only talk about? Why not discuss the things you actually DO.

It dawned on me today that people who wait until January 1 of whatever respective year they're in to "start over" or make a fresh start on something, are really procrastinators. That's the hard core truth, I know. (And it takes one to know one.)

Not to totally desert you in your defeated state of mind as you attempt to grasp the truth of what I just said, I have hope: you CAN start over today, tomorrow, the next day or even next week. It doesn't HAVE to be the beginning of a new year. I know, isn't that amazing news?

So, go get on that diet you've been talking of trying for the last several months. Start that hobby you've been threatening your loved ones with. Make a change in your coffee drinking habits. Whatever it is you want to start over or begin with or make an end to, do it now. Don't wait until next year.

OH, and if you get it down pat but fail tomorrow, don't worry: each morning is a fresh start. A new beginning. You don't have to wait until January 1 2010 to attempt it again.

If you insist on making me admit that I have a NYR, then fine. Here it is: I'm taking on God's perspective in 2009. He starts over every morning. He gives a new beginning. A new abundance of mercy.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness..."

Lamentations 3:22-23

A fresh beginning on January 1 is always fun. But it doesn't usually last long into the week month year. I'm taking all my new endeavors one day at a time. That's what God does with me and I think He has the right idea.

Since God relentlessly does that for me, than I will always have hope to start that new menu. That efficient laundry schedule. That coupon clipping craze. That better-use-of-her-time planner. That love-her-crazy-adorable-kids more. That be a better wife idea.

My goal this year is that in everything I set out to do (that I end up failing in), the next day will bring all the hope I need to start over. I won't have to wait until the next January 1st.

And that's my New Years Resolution.

The Evil Weatherman And How He Corrupts

We had a nice Christmas. A real, nice, Christmas. All the family was home too. Though not for long.

We are petitioning the general public to actively pursue the opportunity to sue the Weatherman. Yes, the evil, lying, deceiving Weatherman. HE wrecked what could've been a perfect Christmas. He corrupted our celebration. Our family time. He left a dark shadow on what was supposed to be a perfect evening.

See, we had certain family members that had to travel the day after Christmas. The Weatherman (like the devil) wanted to interfere in our goodness in life and in the blessing of family and in the close togetherness that Christmas is intended to produce. He was like Santa Clause -- you know how Santa distracts from the real meaning of Christmas? Well, the Weatherman did that as well.

He slammed the weather site that certain family members visited with an evil scary looking weather alert. Snow, ice, rain, cold, etc. Pretty much everything but a tornado. Although, had it been summertime he probably would've used a tornado warning instead.

So, he alerts the area with a Winter Storm Advisory all the way from our house to the front door of the home the certain family members needed to get to, 3 1/2 hours away. As if that wasn't a sign right there. I mean, how often does weather effect the ENTIRE width of one state? Not often. Unless the Weatherman is up to his evil deeds in twisting his tactics into a close family's Christmas.

Instead of saying goodbye the day after Christmas, we said goodbye to the certain family members the day OF Christmas. How sad. Christmas is not the time to say goodbyes. Especially not to one family member we won't see until after his tour to Iraq for a whole year. We bid them a Merry Christmas and watched a few flakes of snow fall from the sky.

The Weatherman was happy. He had deceived us thoroughly. But, the snow and ice and rain and cold only lasted long enough until right after they left. evil Weatherman.

Anyway, not to complain after having such a sweet Christmas but seriously, if it's not the devil, it's the Weatherman. The evil, conspiring, jealous Weatherman.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas (unless you're the evil Weatherman) and are looking forward to a New Year ahead. Oh and in case you're wondering, we're not just dreaming about a white Christmas; we are walking in a winter wonderland around here.

On Jogging Babies, A Pregnant Cat and Christmastime

I really should not be blogging. My kids are sleeping, the house is quiet, the phone is not ringing and the sun is shining. This is a bad time for blogging: I really should be doing laundry. Or cleaning. Or packing. Or something productive.

But, since the Christmas season is heavily upon us (though our home has been decluttered of Christmas decor as of last Saturday), I assumed I should do my best to create a festive ado to the old year and prepare with diligence for the new year. At least on my blog.

Christmas season is over at our house because 1) we celebrated it twice already here and 2) we will be gone the entire Christmas week while celebrating with family else where. So, not to give myself more to get done in the New Year, I put all our stuff away already. It seems strange to plan for Christmas but yet already have the stockings taken down, the candles put away and the trees undecorated.

We are in the midst of the FUN part of our basement remodel. Janae's room has been heavily decorated with flowers, butterflies and clouds and has caused a spirit of covetousness in her older brother's heart. He really wants pink and purple and yellow flowers and butterflies in his room. If he only knew what was in store for his new room, he'd not waste time on frivolous matters of dreaming of butterflies. (hint: it involves a train.)

Alex has evolved into a creature of insanity and impulsive, irreparable cranial discoveries unbelievable climbing performance. If it's above the floor, out of his reach and right where he wants to go, he'll get there. No matter how high. He has sustained a goodly amount of cuts, bumps and bruises and even some possible spine misalignment. But, all that to say that his favorite place to go for a jog is around and around the top of the dining room table. While I make supper.

I am secretly coveting cultures where the family sits on the floor while they eat -- a table is unheard of. Oh, and the people that eat with their fingers... my kids would feel right at home. Just think of the ease life would be. That whole dining-room-table-less-culture means I could seriously cook supper without rescuing my baby off the top of the table 5 times while I attempt to put whipped topping on the dessert. (not that it's ever happened or anything...)

Janae is doing well. She is convinced the real name for Christmas is "April 5th" since that is her birthday. This gift giving and celebration with family and friends is all too confusing and synonymous with her birthday. We have told the Christmas story several times to the kids and never took time to mention that Jesus was probably born in April or March, according to history. Nonetheless, Janae calls it April 5th and maybe someday she'll realize that Christmas and Birthdays are two very different holidays, even though her and Jesus just might share the same birthday. The bundle of energy, giggles and tears that Janae is continues to prove over and over that she is definitely all girl.

Landon. He's a boy. He shovels snow. And shovels snow. And shovels snow. Then, he comes inside with his new shovel and washes it in the sink to get all the dirty snow and mud off. Every time too. Weird kid. I wish he was as particular about his room. The Christmas story has him perplexed: "Why did that lady have her baby in a barn?" Makes me realize that the "Christmas story" really was more than just a story; it was reality for that lonely baby and his rejected mother. Do we really understand the Christmas story the way a child can???

Toby is well. All the teeth left in his head from the last dentist assignment appointment are also well. When it rains it pours so we are happily supporting the financial fund for our dentist. A pocket of infection left Toby looking like half a chipmunk on his face but he endured it happily and painted the kids' new rooms while healing from the ordeal his teeth gave him for 3 days. Since then, he's been enjoying life at home since our subzero weather has shut most construction workers up for awhile. Bookwork and remodeling keep him busy and when he gets ornery, he'll just come upstairs and shoot rubber bands at his wife or make fun of the way she complains about her sore knee.

Rasputia (our cat) is about to give birth at pretty much any given moment. We are hoping she waits until after Christmas so we can be home to enjoy the new kittens and watch with amazement at the wonderment of our house becoming infested with cats.

We built a redneck-looking-hay-igloo outside for the dog. Any of you wondering about how she's fairing in this subzero weather, don't worry. The only thing she lacks is a kerosene heater and Christmas lights around her "house." But we thought that would be more dangerous than helpful so she just gets food and water everyday.

Oh and the guinea pig is still out on her foreign exchange student trip. She is residing for part of the school year at a local grade 6-12 school house. We are enjoying not having guinea pig poop to sweep up but think when she comes home, she'll like the basement better than when she left. The added cats to our home will also help in making her feel comfortable here as well.

As for me, I'm really supposed to be doing laundry, packing and getting ready for the trip. I'm trying to size down the number of items we bring take (properly expressed grammer) but since Wisconsin has so much more cold and so much more snow and so much more ice than we do, it's hard to eliminate layers when you really should be adding more. Not to mention all the gifts and items that we usually haul up there.

While I get back to my day here and make a better mess of the pile of laundry and junk waiting to be packed, I hope you all have a very, Merry Christmas!

When Life Dictates Your Blog

So I haven't posted in a week and a half. I know. You try raising 3 kids during the Christmas season and keeping up on laundry while you remodel your basement at the same time and then let me know how much time you have for blogging.

Seriously though, in all factual honesty, the basement has little to do with my life right now. Except for the pile of paint samples sitting in the van I mean hanging in a Menards bag actually they're now stacked on the piano bench oh, I guess they're on the table. (My kids keep moving them around, in case you couldn't tell.)

The phase of work we're on right now with our basement has been hired out to a professional. Judging by the "technique" my husband, Mr. Roofer, naturally has for mudding and taping, our drywall would've ended up looking like something between stucco and a earth quake survival test. So, we changed our budget to accommodate a more professional wall finish and skipped the kitchen remodel altogether. For now.

And that's fine with me actually because the kitchen was supposed to be remodeled a year ago so if I can wait all this time and still be content, who cares if it's another 10 years before the kitchen gets a little extra counter space? If we can have a basement finished in the meantime, I'll take that offer gladly, Mr. Roofer. Anything is better than nothing.

Oh, and not to expound on all the exciting details of my life, Mr. Drywall-guy guarantees that he'll have the mudding and taping and sanding done in four days. That's FOUR literal, 24 hour days. I seriously can NOT believe that.

Mr. Drywall assured me he was not that impressive. He said that if he tried roofing his house, it would take a whole year. I know a Mr. Roofer who could probably get it done in a day. So yeah. Mr. Drywall really isn't as good as I thought in the first place... or so I say in order to not become delusional into thinking that he must work magic in order to complete a drywall job in 4 days.

Honestly folks, do you know how long Mr. Roofer would've ended up taking drywalling our basement because his method is so much more lengthy? Yeah. We won't even go there right now.

Not to change topics or anything but since a mighty eighteen-month-old is playing catch with me and seeming to soundly hit my computer with everything he tosses at me, I'm going to have to rapidly move on to other topics in order to actually finish this post tonight before my computer screen becomes punctured by flying objects being hurled in the air by a fat baby and then my computer will have to go back to Best Buy where the Geek Squad will take 3 months in order to finally write on our repair list that the screen on this computer was punctured but is now fixed.

They say honesty is the best policy so I'm shooting for the best policy right now and going to be blunt and straight to the point: I have not felt like blogging. at. all. How's that for an excuse?

Let's just say that nothing in my life or brain have been conducive for a mentally sound blog post. I am not a mental person at least I don't want you to think I am and I know that's hard to believe but I do know when and how to keep my mouth shut. Seriously, I do. Just look at the history of posts on this blog in the last week.

And if I had blogged, it would've been chaotic too. Kinda like the football that keeps hitting my arm as I type right now. (It's that eighteen-month-old harassing me again.)

So, as I focus on the Christmas season and the reality that my offspring have woken up to the wonders this season brings, I am reminded at the brevity of life. (And a small plastic plate is hurled up at the computer while I try to re-live the Christmas spirit. I love that eighteen-month old.)

To think that for only a few more short years, my kids will understand Christmas the way they do now. The wonder of a baby born in a barn. The irony that angels came to earth. The mystery of the wise men riding "wumps" to see the baby Jesus. (Thank you Dr. Suess for permanently altering my child's ability to recognize a camel.)

As I hurl the football into the other room in order to give me a few lines of peace and quiet while that eighteen-month-old runs for the ball, I am gathering my thoughts quickly in order to remember where my train of thought was originally headed.

Bummer. The football wasn't as interesting as the foam dry eraser he has now decided to entertain my life with. The bad thing about that is no matter how hard I throw this little piece of foam, it doesn't go nearly as far as that football did. So basically, he picks it up and throws it back and pants and squeals in anticipation for me to throw it back to him.

Before I put my arm out of socket from wildly swinging futilely throwing a small foam object 27" from my foot, I should just say that with all due respect, I am not dead, dying, sick or gone. I am just not in a blogging mood. Actually, I was sick and even went to the doctor but that probably has something to do with the fact that when I merely enter the bathroom, my children's small world falls apart. Literally, I shut the door and it seems like the Gestapo is beating down the door demanding to enter the premises in order to search for illegal documents in the bathroom. And all I'm doing is trying to... oh, never mind.

So, I avoid that tiny cubicle like the plague since it tends to cause my children to re-in act Gestapo raids catastrophe where civilization inhabits. Did you know that not going to the bathroom when you need to, you know, go will actually make your UTI worse? Yeah, it's a proven fact. But, some people seem to forget that.

Maybe I am mental?

Random Trip Update

It's that day-after-trip-day. Everything is in limbo.

The kids are napping off schedule which is never fun. The baby got up just before the older kids laid down. The baby was fussy so went back to bed when the older kids laid down. The oldest kid is now singing in his bed. The middle kid is sleeping (I think) and the youngest kid is playing (I think) or else sleeping. Oops, now he's crying.

Grandma is in town for 10 days.

Suitcases sit in a stack in the dining room but hey, at least they're empty.

Supper needs to be made.

Everyone is tired.

Daddy is working in the frigid cold.

But, we had a wonderful time in Colorado and enjoyed every minute. Being with friends, mountains and food all at the same time was an experience beyond what Nebraska has -- I mean, those mountains really make the experience monumental. Just kidding.

Seriously, I was reminded again that having a good time is not contingent on surroundings or familiarity; it's on God's love being shared mutually by friends. And we definitely had that. It was a very encouraging trip and the fun and blessings we had couldn't have been any greater.

It was fun to be at the place where "it" all began. And by "it" I mean our relationship. A lot of things have changed in 6 years and "it" definitely has changed since then. Adding 3 kids and lots of love is a sure way to change "it" in 6 years time. Instead of saying, "It sure was nice to meet you," as Toby walked away from the table that fateful sweet day, he sits at the table that I serve everyday now. We both think that's nice.

The front step of the Church also has sweet memories. That was the place I made the decision to follow Christ. The place I made the first stake in my walk with God. I was glad to see that with all that's changed in 8 years, that step hasn't changed at all. It was a stark reminder to me that just like my heart has stayed in close communion with God, that step still sits rooted, and grounded into the entrance of the Church. For some reason I found the similarity profound.

Our traveling was uneventful, which we were thankful for. We heard of several friends and family members traveling yesterday that were stranded in motels because of weather. We were fortunate to travel safely and quickly... except for all the tumbleweeds that hit our van. Thankfully, they don't do much damage except make your vehicle look like you drove through a dried flower factory.

We were glad to come home and know our dear Grandma was coming into town on a brief visit. The kids were sad to leave Colorado but when we told them Grandma would be in Nebraska, they readily got in the van. I'm sure we'll have several fun days ahead until she heads back to her home in a couple weeks.

Now to get back into the swing of things, enjoy some family time, gear up for our Wisconsin Christmas Trip in a few weeks and settle into December weather.

The Tale of the Grapes and Trucks

My kids are starting a raisin factory. And it's all my fault. Here is what you can do to insure that you never have this happen at your home:

Do not serve grapes at the same time that you give your kids small semi trucks and trailers.

You don't think that would happen at your house? Don't fool yourself: I thought the same thing until it happened to me. You know, it's one of those things that you think always happens to the other guy. And then it happens to you and you understand at last what it feels like to be the "other guy."

One delightful day, I found two of the cutest little matchbox semi trucks at a thrift store. I decided to buy them and use them as a prize for the kids.

After helping and obeying cheerfully while preparing for supper and picking up the house, I set the little trucks next to the kids' plates. Within inches of their plates sat a bowl of juicy, purple grapes.

Landon and Janae both were tickled pink: the trucks were a big hit. So were the grapes -- my kids LOVE grapes and we seem to rarely have them.

Unfortunately, over the next few days, the semi trailers were opened and the contents were revealed. Each trailer could fit about 3-4 grapes comfortably but I can imagine that if the grape paid well, they could fit close to 9 or 10 fugitive refugee grapes.

These foreign little grapes were then trucked all over the house and examined and ate at random times in random places. The rest of the grapes... well, I have yet to find those.

The funny thing is: my kids have always disliked raisins. Why they embarked on their own entrepreneur raisin factory, is beyond me.

The moral of the story: do a content check on all small vehicles, all closed compartments and tally all food coming into your home. And never say, "that couldn't happen to me."

Keeping Perspective on Motherhood

So much of my day, my life, my world, revolves around mundane busy-ness. Like unfinished laundry, messy house, smelly messes, naughty kids, tiredness, unfinished projects, etc.

But, when I think about the family who's blog I visited that had just lost their second child a few months ago and are now close to losing their first daughter due to pregnancy complications, I really don't have it bad. I mean, I'm living the dream that expecting mom has: to be a busy wife and happy mother of children.

I read stories about families who have genetic problems. All their future children are at a high risk of developing health problems that will likely not allow them to survive infancy. I know that mom would give anything to have toys strewn all over her house, thanks to the fact that she has a house full of healthy children. Instead, she brings flowers to a grave while I bring a hungry baby to a high chair.

What about the mom just down the street that lost her son a couple months ago to a tragic car accident? She worked hard to bring him through infancy and then childhood and he was just working on getting his driver's license. Now he's dead. She would give anything to have extra laundry, a full school schedule and the opportunity to wrap her entire existence around her boy. But, it's over because he's gone.

Does it really matter that I have a never ending pile of laundry? That my house never stays clean? That I no longer get one meal done and it's time to plan another? That I have lists of shopping to do but no way to get out of the house because of my kids? No. It doesn't matter. As long as I keep my perspective and remember that I will experience this season in my life and my children's lives for a very short time.

And then it'll be over and I'd give all the world to have them little again. To have that messy house again. To wash the dirty jeans of that kid who was told to stay out of the mud. To wash the sticky face of the girl that was told to stay out of the candy. To vacuum handfuls of cracker crumbs from the van. To comfort that wailing baby. I'll wonder how I ever lost perspective while living the life I always dreamed of living.

But, it's not over. I am living that life. And I'm going to enjoy the reality of each one of those dreams. Crumbs, mud and tears will never daunt me. They are only the dross of the gold hidden deep within each one of the children I call my own.

And those are little things compared to the reality of the dream I'm living called, motherhood. When I look back in time, I don't want to see the distractions of life; I want to see a happy child, a joyful mom and a loving home. Yet in the busy-ness of life, I never want to lose focus on the fact that we're making those memories today.

"Time doth softly sweetly glide, when there's love at home!"

An Engaging Story

Once again, it is that time of year. Our engagement anniversary is tomorrow and since I tend to be a remember-significant-dates type of person, tomorrow is a significant date I remember.

A couple years ago, I collected our thoughts and "story" here. Since it all has stayed the same, I guess I figured utilizing the hyperlink system on blogger is probably the most efficient. Plus, none of those details have changed. Our story is timeless, of course.

Adding to the nostalgia this time of year brings, we just happen to be heading (for Thankgiving) to the place where we met. Loveland, Colorado is definitely the place to be when you fall in love.

Questions I Should Probaby Only Ask My Therapist

Please take notes while reading the following post. I need all the advice I can get.

I understand that children typically survive childhood but do their moms survive it too?

How do moms with more than one child learn how to take individual time with just one child at a time and not cause sibling rivalry?

Sometimes, we have a girls go with girls policy and a boys go with boys (just ask Janae). But, doing a little bit of mixing takes creativity and effort that sometimes is lost and forgotten in the shuffle of car seats, diaper bags, potty stops and crying. How do you learn how to manage bonding times better without going crazy?

Is it normal for moms to distract their kids and then sneak to the bathroom for 20 seconds?

Is it normal to run into the bathroom like a mad man is chasing you and then lock it fast behind you? Of course it's only 6 little feet trying to catch your apron strings but still, am I a bad mom?

Can the world really fall apart in the 20 seconds Mom is using the bathroom?

If a child is happy with the yogurt he is smearing in his hair, on his face, in his clothes, on the wall and all over the high chair, is it safe to let him do that for as long as he's happy? Not that it ever happens or anything, I was just wondering.

When kids won't stop fighting and the baby is crying and dad is late coming home from work, is it commendable defensible excusable ideal okay to put them in the van, strap them in their car seats and drive around your itty bitty small town for like an hour? (I do realize you'd have to go down some of the same streets twice in order to drive for a whole hour but really, there's nothing illegal strange about that, is there?)

Even though my dream has always been to have lots of cute kids and a warm house in which to raise them, why do I feel like I'm going crazy now that I have both?

If your kids have it in their heads that they must go outside and play and they honestly have no desire to put on a coat even though it is 40 degrees out, is it okay for them to do that? I would hate to see this happen at our house but in case it does, I just want to know if it's okay. Will my kids survive?

What if you see your little girl digging dog poop out of her sandal and she's using her finger. Should I de-worm her? Disinfect her? Or is washing hands with hand soap enough to get rid of any toxic waste?

What about wearing underwear for more than one day. Is my child going to catch a weird illness if I realize that his favorite pair of underwear have been worn, re-worn and worn again without washings in between? I've heard of kids doing this and I just wonder if it's okay.

When my child seems to enjoy the taste of baking powder, should I assume she has an aluminum deficiency?

How do you teach your kids not to assume that every time they see a police officer, the COP is not about ready to pull his gun out and shoot? What if your daughter is anxiously waiting for the shoot out? Should I give her a warm bath, read to her some gentle bed time stories and have her sip chamomile tea until she forgets about how badly she wanted to see the COP pull a gun out and start shooting? I mean, she is only 3. Is this normal?

If you look outside on a cold, autumn day and you see your children playing with the hose and spraying water on the dog, themselves and each other, should I just call the vet or should I contact our pediatrician too? Is it that easy to contract pneumonia?

Is it ever my husband's fault that my kids are so naughty are so cute?

Should I assume that having reoccurring bladder infections just might be related to the fact that I put off going to the bathroom because everything falls apart when I'm in the bathroom? Is this perhaps a health issue I should address above and beyond the risk it might be to my child to climb the pantry shelves while I'm in the bathroom?

Is my voice really that quiet that I must repeat things several times in order to be heard?

How normal is it to put a kid in the bathtub just so you can load the dishwasher without them taking everything out that you just put in?

Why do kids always find everything you hide? Is their sense of smell that great?

If your 3-year-old daughter catches crickets and gently plays with them, does that bother you? Does it bother you when she smears their guts with her own fingers 20 minutes later simply because she was "done playing with them?"

What about a 4-year-old that slices the couch open with a utility knife. Should he be expected and required to go out and get a job in order to replace the couch? If a kid thinks he's big enough to play with a knife, isn't he big enough to have a job then?

Not all of these questions are hyperbole and yet not all of them are serious either. Unfortunately, all have happened at least once several times. If you have had experience in any way, shape or form, you are qualified to give advice.

Please use the comment box and feel free to give personal experience. Our moderator is waiting to moderate your unmoderated comments involving a blog post lacking in moderation.

The Technicalization of Civilization

I'm beginning to think that with all the mumble jumble computer talk, my toddlers really aren't that far off from reaching the success of having learned the English language.

Take Google for instance. What a funny name. It's like what you say to a baby, "Goo-goo-ga-ga..." (or maybe that's supposed to be what they say to you.)

Or a nano. I don't have one of these. I have never downloaded one of these. I don't listen to one of these. I have never seen one of these. What is a nano?

Or Blog, even. When I first heard the word 'blog' I thought it referred to some marshy styled website that computer savvy people had.

Or Widget. That is so far from anything English, I can't compare it's sound to anything familiar. Except for a witch crossed with a gadget maybe.

Or Digsby. What a name. And how do you pronounce it? Dig-z-by or Dig-z-bee?? And how on earth does it's name indicate at all what it's definition might be?

Or Digg This. What is this?? Some universal gang-banger-street-talk-made-trendy because a guy in a suit and tie certified the term 'digg it' and made it into a universal hyperlink found on pretty much every web page. If you say it fast, it sounds like a bad word. I just don't dig 'digg it.'

Then there's the iPod. The problem I see with the iPod is that it's spelled funny. When I was a kid in school, we were taught to capitalize the FIRST letter of every word, not the second letter. It should really be spelled Ipod. There.

Or Facebook??? The very thing I teach my kids NOT to do... "Don't throw that book in your brother's face!" But Mom! YOU have a 'Facebook.' (Okay, that was lame...)

Really, Facebook has more weird terms than a person could ever come up with. It's like they must've taken a whole basket full of goodies to a little kid and said, "Kiddo, what do you call this thing?" and then the first sounds that came out of the kid's mouth, were made into Facebook lingo.

Okay, so you can 'poke' people. You can throw sheep at them. You can wrap them in bubble wrap. You can send them 'flair.' You can 'tag' them in pictures. You can comment on their status message. Try explaining to someone that doesn't have Facebook what a status message is and why anyone would need to comment on it. Getting updates on your news feed (on Facebook, of course) that your friends who had a wedding 10 years ago are "now married" is a huge relief. I guess because Facebook makes it look "official" after all these years, it's somewhat of a comic relief.

And the best thing about Facebook is that you can even write on people's wall. It's like a whole society committing themselves to the greatest form of illegal communication: graffiti. But, it's all legal of course.

Moving out of the topic of Facebook, the internet (and just the computer in general) still has tons of things to consider. Even simple things like 'docking a page.' Is that the same as docking a boat? Or are they referring to a medical type of thing as in "doctoring?" Or maybe it's something entirely different.

And does anybody know what AIM actually stands for? Even though I can't remember what it stands for, the letters AIM automatically make me think of "aiming" an instant message at a friend. And of course that is the purpose of AIM: instant messaging people. But the acronyms I don't know their definition for sure. Does the "A" stand for "automated," the "I" for "instant" and the "M" for "message?"

Oh and 'Google Talk' does not mean you sit and talk googly. It's a phone system connected via internet and you use your computer's built in speakers and microphone in which to communicate with people. It's like a computer based speaker phone system. And you can talk about whatever you want, not just goo-goo-ga-ga stuff.

Same goes for 'Google Chat' but of course you must not forget that in the twenty-first-century, "chat" indicates a type of communication done with typing, not an audible voice type of communication. Thankfully, you CAN chat about anything, not just goo-goo stuff... though I know the name is confusing: Google Chat.

Blogger has it's own unique terms as well. Does anybody know what all a blogger "Dashboard" is capable of? One little tip: it does not have a steering wheel so don't be disappointed when you can't find one.

Then there's blogger "Feeds" but don't expect it to ever have chili. Or anything else pertaining to physical sustenance.

About the time you think you have a basic grasp on modern internet lingo, terminology and other such technical details, don't get too comfy: in our day and age, a thing like a tinyurl can definitely shorten a link but man, how on earth does that make sense? What is the point?

I think there can come a point where we technicalize (how's that for a techy-made-up word?) everything to the point that we must simplify in order to retain pertinent information. But then when we do that, it only complicates the situation even more because ultimately, we must add more information in order to keep what we have and yet change it to something more "simple."

Seriously, I shouldn't be talking. Do you know how many times I have had to look up my blog address just to make sure I was spelling "Coeur d' Court" right?

Yeah, all I can say is that I'm thankful for my favorites list and a hard drive that works as long as my computer is on.

Oh, and the reason I'm not replacing my new made up word "technicalize" to something more technically accurate in spelling is because the following words were also not accepted by my spell check:

Nano.
Disby.
Digg.
Facebook.
iPod.
Tiny Url.
Coeur.
internet.

How pathetic is it when my internet based spell check doesn't even know it's own component's correct spelling? So, maybe technicalize really IS a word...?

Poisionous Barbs, Asthma and Honeymoons

So far, the Otterson girls have a 100% guarantee that they will become unusually and extraordinarily ill or injured on their honeymoons. Brittney had 24 barbs jabbed into her foot by some cranky sea creature and Courtney had an asthma attack.

That was Britt's first dip into the ocean and Court's first experience with asthma.

Britt's new husband spent 3 hours poking and pulling 2 of the barbs out -- hours they were supposed to be spending snorkeling.

Court's new husband spent 3 hours bent over a gasping, dying woman he had just pledged his life to 4 days earlier.

I'm not sure if men just have that effect on these girls or if it has to do with being on a honeymoon. Either way, I'm thinking that any man that attempts marriage with the other 2 sisters, should be forewarned of the impending tradition that the Ott girls follow for their honeymoons.

It's like they like to live their vows to the hilt ... "In sickness and in health..." and they get that 'in sickness' part over with right up front so we all know for sure the guy is in this for the long haul.

And so far, the guys are sticking with them and proving they're committed to this whole marriage thing for life not only in sickness but also in health. That's a really good thing.

It's also quite reassuring because life always has a pretty even balance of both sickness and health. And sickness and health is seen simply as the salt and pepper of marriage: it adds spice and flavor.

I guess it shouldn't ever be a surprise when marrying the one you love, usually leads to loving the one you marry. And ironically enough, that is what happened when these two couples fell in love: they got married.

Now they live happily ever after enjoying sickness and health over and over and over.

When a Bathroom Lock Is All You Need

Some people need a vacation. Or a walk in the park. Or even a cruise. Just give me a bathroom door lock and I'll be good for the rest of the day.

It only takes 2 minutes too. Or even less if catastrophe happens on the other side of the Lock and Door but truly, the mere seconds to breath without talking is like breathing a breath of fresh air.

There's the times too when you're taking a shower and while the children sit at the breakfast table, you hear a screech that you can't quite decipher. It was either, "The house is on fire." Or it's, "Alex has a pacifier."

And then when you ask for clarification, you find out the real question was, "Are there more muffins than this?" and you know that life is never quite as serious as a 4-year-old makes it out to be.

Certainly, it can be intimidating to be in a bathroom and have the door locked only to hear picking and prying on the other side. Seriously guys, your mom is only "gone" for two minutes, what emergency can't wait two minutes?

But, when you go out the door you learn quite quickly that the only thing the child needed was to have his tool pouch tied back on to his waist. And you wonder as you tie it what it must be like to have the whole world revolved around you, your life, your tools and your tool pouch now wrapped snugly around your waist.

As you go about your day and chase kids, make meals and wash laundry, a quick dash to the RESTroom is always a welcomed reprieve. Unless of course, the kids jam every piece of metal imaginable into the door lock and your bathroom doorknob takes on an "antique" look.

But hey, at least they haven't learned how to actually pick the lock, release the spring that keeps you sane and enter into the habitation of your brief oasis.

Of course when you come out all of two minutes later, don't be surprised if you find the kids got into the hidden Christmas gifts, laid a large mirror on the top of your bed and then walked on your feet with cowboy boots as you intervened in their exploration of a new discovery.

I'm not saying that ever happened or anything, just thought I'd warn you because I have a pretty good idea it could happen.

When Desperation Overtakes Dignity

You know your having a chaotic day busy day when your 4-year-old tries out your new hammer on the edge of the kitchen counter while your 17-month-old runs out of the kitchen with your knife he just grabbed off of the out-of-reach counter and your 3-year-old is dumping rearranging combining organizing her entire collection of shoes all over her bedroom floor that is supposed to be clean.

And then one of the kids attempts to lock themselves in the fridge while the baby dumps most of the contents of a kitchen drawer all over the freshly swept kitchen floor.

To top it off, a child that is rather hesitant resistant stubborn disliking the idea of cleaning their room, has become perpetually disturbed about a sibling that was helping them clean their room. So, being the fair and generous mother I am and not wanting to give a vengeful child opportunity to avenge wrath upon a sibling that was kindly and thoughtfully assisting in a task that was not their own, I removed the kind child from the angry child's room. The angry child suddenly became quite upset lonely.

And then the home became a habitation of distress and alarm, thanks to a pile of toys on the floor that simply needed to be put in the toy box.

About that time, somebody used the bathroom, left the lid up and forgot to shut the bathroom door. I came around the corner just in time to see the baby shaking pee off his hands, thanks to a negligent bathroom participant.

Reality is, I was only trying to make lunch and then chaos ensued. Seriously, it was just left overs too. Nothing fancy. I mean, my family has to eat, right? So making lunch is entirely necessary, right? But, considering how it seemed to change the entire course of the day as soon as I was in the kitchen long enough to put left overs in a pan, maybe lunch IS a bad idea.

I think a time of fasting, sack cloth and ashes will eliminate meal preparation chaos, over abundance of laundry and the eternal fighting over who has to clean up a mealtime/playtime mess.

Don't worry; I won't impart upon the children of my youth an Old Testament practice used to bring about repentance and change but I think I finally understand why it was used so often. And if I ever succumb to such a ritual, you'll know why.

A Monster in the House

So it's that time of year month week to do the unthinkable. To just get it done. To write it on a list and cross it off. To just set your mind to it and do it. Even if you don't feel like it. Even if it just doesn't seem right. Even if you want to do something else instead but you don't know what that something else is. Still, it's time to just do it.

I'm not talking about blogging either. Although, that is something that needs to get done soon. *goes to jot that down on imaginary to-do list.*

As I was saying, it was time to do it.

And it looked like it too. Although, I think a few more weeks days hours probably would've been okay to wait, it was likely to not be okay. That risk was too great to take.

See, I was noticing a huge monster growing in the middle of my house. And my house is much too small to allow growing monsters to inhabit it. The brainy-let's-figure-out-how-to-resolve-this-issue-me came up with a great idea: I stuffed the monster in an out-of-site-out-of-mind place. Brilliant plan, wouldn't you say?

Unfortunately, that place soon had begun to expand since the monster continued to grow. So, I opened the top, allowing for more space. Eventually the opened top was not helping at all helping minimally so I began a pyramid technique that Egyptians used eons ago. Basically, you start it out wide at the bottom and peak it at the top. Kinda like a triangle. Gradually I was shaping my monster like an ancient Egyptian used to shape things. I felt adventurous, ancient and arrogant able bodied.

I was envisioning selling tickets so people could see my Pyramid Monster and thought getting a parka would be a good way to help advertise for my monster.

Unfortunately, floor space allowed for minimal width at the base so our monster had assumed a rather freaky tower shape. And by freaky it looked like it was liable to tumble at the slightest vibration. So much for the pyramid.

I then became desperate virtuous and came up with an ingenious plan of Disectation (is that a word?) of the Monster. But, not wanting to have Monster entrails all over my house, I knew I had to get rid of the kids first. So, I stuffed some of them away, put some others up on shelves and gave the rest away put them to bed. Then, I got to work.

Slowly the Monster took shape of something entirely different and my eyes were completely opened to a whole new concept. The concept I speak of is quite disturbing: I had laundry that when stacked and piled just right, was taller than me. A monster in my house bigger than me.

As I sit here blogging instead of laundering I must ask myself the question that I know you all must be asking: If I have laundry so bad why am I blogging?

The only answer I can come up with that makes a lot of sense is that I must be scared of monsters.

(Shhhh, don't tell my kids.)

When a 'Working Sign' Would Be Nice

Yesterday I was driving down a vacant gravel road and while going through a vacant gravel intersection, I noticed down another vacant gravel road, a sign.

Yes, a sign.

It wasn't a sign from God either but an actual, literal sign.

I saw no people. Or trucks. Or any other signs. Basically, that vacant gravel road seemed every bit as empty as vacant can be and every bit as gravelly as gravel can be.

But the sign indicated otherwise.

The sign said: Men Working.

Now, I never know what to do when I see a sign like that.

Instinctively I look to see what kind of work the men are doing. And then when I look beyond the sign and see men working, I want to say, "Well duh, even a woman can see he's working without the sign informing her of that."

Then I look at the sign and wonder if I'm supposed to stand reverently, put my hand over my heart and sing the National Anthem.

Or do I say a prayer?

Do I stop my vehicle and observe a moment of silence?

Do I tread reverently past the working men with a look of admiration on my face?

Am I supposed to honk and cheer and wave out my open window while praising the working men.... "Good job! Keep it up! It's lookin' great!!"

Maybe the sign is actually printed in braille as well so that blind people driving by that can't see the men working, will know they actually are because the sign will tell them that.

Or maybe the sign is indicating that the men are indeed working and summarizes this message:

In case there is any doubt in any one person's mind about the piles of dirt, large construction equipment, and the dirty orange hard hats bobbing around the vicinity of the construction site, these men are in deed and in fact WORKING; they aren't just playing with dirt.

Or better yet, maybe it's because men have such a one track mind that they can't work AND watch for traffic at the same time. So basically a "Men Working" sign is similar to a "Children at Play" sign. It's your responsibility not to run over any of the Men Working.

Perhaps because the men took so long to get to the job, they put the sign up so that anyone that was pressuring them to get the job done will see they don't need to say anymore. The Men are Working. Finally. And the sign says that.

Maybe yesterday was actually an indication that the men were working on getting the work done but hadn't shown up yet. Kinda like a yeah-we'll-be-right-on-it-so-here's-a-sign-to-prove-that and then you can quit bugging them and wondering if that road will ever be completed.

And then I had to count how many times I've seen a "Women Working" sign. I couldn't even use one finger and I had 10 waiting to be counted. Is it because women never work? That men are doing all the work? That would be pathetic to make the men do all our work, even if they did get to use a sign while they worked.

It suddenly dawned on me that women work too. It's not that they work harder than men or that men work harder then the women either. They both just do their jobs.

So, I decided to patten a "Women Working" sign for all the hard working women I know. Next time you wash dishes, do laundry, clean your house, sweep the front porch, paint a room, make a meal or fill the van with gas, you can set out your sign.

Because I mean really, men are supposed to build roads and do their work; women are supposed to do all their jobs too. But, why don't women get any signs?

If you tell me it's because men use dangerous equipment and powerful tools, I'll ask * you what a women does that isn't dangerous.

To prove my point, the little * above indicates the exact time that my baby dropped a stack of Corelle bowls on his bare little feet and had shattered glass spread in a vicinity 5 feet around him. His mother (a woman) bravely dove barefoot into the midst of the shards and rescued the curious little boy from the slivers of pain intending to inject their sharpness into the fatness of his tender feet.

Tell me what isn't dangerous about that.

And the worse part is, the whole time that mother cleaned up the mess and used loud equipment to suck up the barbed needles embedded in the carpet, she also made sure the other children were safe. Not only was she doing a disaster relief project but she was also protecting the citizens in the destruction zone. While enforcing the law, she also defended the innocent that had actually caused the predicament of the day.

And, of course, there were no signs. No tangible pieces of proof that decreed loud and clear that "Women Working" was going on.

Then again, women are usually too busy and too distracted too responsible to make a point to get a sign out, set it up and let everyone read it while they work. They usually just get the job done and wish they had a sign that proved they were working and actually don't even think about a sign. Because, in the time it would take to get a sign out and set it up where everyone could read it, she'd first have to teach the kids what the letters "W-o-m-e-n-W-o-r-k-i-n-g" sounds like and how to read it and give the proper definition of what it means. By the time that was done, it would be time to clean up another disaster start another project.

So, if men have time to set up "Men Working" signs, then maybe they aren't quite as busy as women? And maybe they know that but they don't want the women to feel unequal with them so they compensate for the uneven balance by putting up a sign.

Then again, maybe OSHA mandates it and the reason they don't mandate it in my house is because this still is the land of the free and the home of the brave mothers who walk on shards of glass in order to rescue innocent children.

But, I'm still thinking of making that sign...

How Big Is Your God?

You know, it's hard sometimes to hit those points in life where it feels like every where you look, go and see, you are surrounded by leaves. And I'm not talking about Autumn or literally as in "tree leaves" but figuratively speaking, of course. (I am waxing quite poetic here... bear with me.)

The truth is, they are actually more real and more life impacting than the maple leaves laying in my backyard tonight that should be raked and stuffed into a scare crow sometime tomorrow since the weather is supposed to be nice.

Despite trying to ignore these leaves, I feel like each one is being turned over and a new side is showing. Some turn with grief. Others with practical change. Still others with joy.

Yet in the past few months, I have been so amazed at the ways God has answered prayers. Prayers I never thought could ever have answers. It's almost as if I hope to pray about something but don't know how to really ask God or tell God or convey to God any of what I'm thinking, and then He hears my heart and then answers... as in, literally answering an impossible prayer!

Even down to the exact words. Like tonight I was thinking about a situation Toby and I are facing. "Lord, I really want to get in touch with my husband," I prayed honestly in desperation. (If you think I'm honest and open on my blog, I'm even more honest and open with God. If you don't believe me, just ask God.) Not 20 minutes later, my husband came to me and through the course of conversation said, "Honey, we just really need to get in touch again." (deja vu anyone?) And not only did he say it but he laid out a practical way to actually make that idea more than just a "oh that's a nice thing to say to your spouse" kind of thing.

The first plan of action? We set a coffee date. And coffee dates always makes us both talk, not just the one of us.

Dealing with parenting 3 toddlers and running a business that often keeps Toby gone 14 hours a day and then feeling the need to have friends and socialize on top of the effort we as a couple make to keep our marriage strong, is a juggling act more complicated than any circus act you'll see.

(Even writing that is complicated: I just spent 10 minutes trying to figure out how to word the above paragraph so it wouldn't look entirely confusing and then I'd be admitted to a mental institution because of the concern of my dear readers here that you'd have to spend the next 10 minutes trying to figure out what I meant by describing a 4 piece juggling act called 'my life.')

Okay, if that doesn't make sense, you are now qualified expected to move on to the next paragraph, please.

Knowing that the God who ordained the universe in a set motion and plan that was meant to incorporate even the craziest of my days, is an awesome comprehension... especially when your prayers are answered, your storms are ceased and your anxiety melts to peace.

And that same God who controls the universe, sees fit to lay on your husband's heart a prayer you just prayed not an hour before, all makes you wonder if you really know how big your God is.

It could all end right there and I'd still be impressed. But it's just like God to compile the most ironic bonus package when I least expect it, and He followed the prayer up by an unexpected early morning coffee date all uninfluenced by me.

No wonder I can't sleep tonight.

She Perceiveth That Her Merchandise is Good

Part of the mid-life crisis era I'm in right now, has influenced an idea called: "Save Money." Ever heard of it? I had heard of it but I thought it was for people that were setting aside money to buy something expensive. Or people with big families and lots of mouths to feed. Or people that *liked* clipping coupons. I guess I didn't know that saving money was an option everyone should think about. And choose.

Toby had mentioned a couple times that we needed a budget. Being the wife that I'm striving to be, I agreed. "Oh yes honey, a budget is what we need." Although in the back of my mind I was thinking, what in the world is a budget for??? What is a budget???

So, as I thought about saving money, I thought it was great idea. I mean, who doesn't like to put more money in their savings account, right? But I just kept grocery shopping like the food was going out of style. The only improvement I made was I quit shopping weekly and started only grocery shopping twice a month. I also cut back on my "run to Lincoln and go shopping" sprints. But, nothing was really helping.

Until a friend mentioned in passing she was going into town to get some awesome sales at a grocery store in Lincoln. And then I remembered what "saving money" meant.

It was the last day of the sale so I quickly wrapped up everything I was going to do for the day but hadn't done yet and jumped in the van and ran into town. Thankfully it was a rain day (Toby was home) and thankfully I left at nap time so I was alone, by myself. My brain was not functioning on high that day though because I was extremely tired and the rain on my windshield was droning my thoughts. If I would've been sharper, I may have made better sale choices at the store but even with my gray-and-cloudy-thanks-to-the-rain brain, I still got some amazing deals.

Before I got married, I did most of my family's grocery shopping. The method I aimed for and actually was pretty good at keeping was 'only buy what's on sale and stock up.' Then I got married. And I didn't have much storage for food. And I was still learning what Toby's favorite dishes were. And what foods he didn't like. And I was realizing that buying for 9 people and buying for 2 was a huge difference in your budget. And then I forgot what "saving money" meant when it comes to food.

Until the other day. Finding dirt cheap prices on chicken breasts, canned foods, flour and frozen veggies amazed me. I was so excited to be buying all that stuff and not spending THAT much! I am officially addicted to sale prices now.

Not to mention the fact that on the same trip (which means I was saving fuel as well), I was able to sell a few baby items to a baby store and I made the exact amount of money on them that I had tried to make on them at my garage sale. Another amazing-money-saving-money-making-deal was that I had bought one item for $4 at Goodwill. We used it for as long as we needed to and then I sold it to this store for $8 because Goodwill had way underpriced it. The cool thing is, I didn't set the price either; the store owner looks over the merchandise and then prints up what she'll give you for each item. I was stoked.

The same friend who told me about the grocery sales is also a CVS shopper, which is something I've wanted to get into for a long time but didn't know anyone personally in my area that was doing it. The whole ECB point thing and coupon clipping made NO sense to me but I grilled my friend on what to do, where to start and what not to do. The only thing I felt guilty for when we were done talking was the fact that I had thrown out the Sunday newspaper coupons that week. (Actually, I've done that for a long time...) Seeing the way the system really is, made me realize how fun it would be to shop this way and how much it made sense.

So, I guess I'm getting into a "frugal knack" which is something I've always admired in many of the blogs I read but I didn't know where to start. I'm really aiming for the whole Proverbs 31 Woman thing and think it's amazing how God has brought people into my life that are exactly the encouragement and influence I need to have wisdom in knowing how to LIVE the P31 way. My next plan is to write up a detailed menu, stay up to date on sale flyer's and even store food in rubber maid bins in my basement if that's the only place I have to put my good deals.

Unless it's frozen or refrigerated... "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life..." Proverbs 31:11-12

Just think of how clean my fridge will have to get to be now. Nice.