An Important and (often) Forgotten Date

I know it's far from November 24th but I thought it would be good to remember that day as we approach the date of our wedding anniversary. And what better day to do that than on Valentines day.

Let me explain.

In the early hours of the evening of November 24th, 2002, I heard the sweetest thing anybody had ever said to me.

"I want you to know that I do love you," I heard from the driver's side of the Ford Ranger I was in.

"And I want you to be my wife," the words went on to say for the first time in my life.

"Will you marry me, Courtney?"

I said yes. I married him. And I am glad.

Months later, we laughed about this proposal; it was so short and to the point. I assured Toby that I thought it was sweet. Plus, he is not the get-down-on-one-knee kind of guy so I really didn't mind that he simply asked me to be his wife without including a bunch of fanfare. I like originality too and since no man had ever asked me to be his wife or told me he loved me before, whatever way Toby did it would've been meaningful and original.

Plus, I've never heard a couple say they were engaged in a Ford Ranger pick-up truck while making a quick trip home from Church. That just seems orginal to me.

We still drive down that dusty gravel road where he asked me to marry him. And I think it will forever invoke a flair of nostaligia everytime we make the turn where he slowed to a crawl and told me he loved me for the first time.

I've learned through marriage that a happy woman doesn't need things to make her happy. She doesn't even need a thoughtful husband who thinks of any way he can to surprise her and impress her with his ability to demonstrate love. Her only need is to be loved. Simply loved. And to know she is needed and wanted.

And Toby is good at loving me and showing me that I am needed and wanted in his life. I am content. Helplessly content.

Although he's dashingly thoughtful in so many ways and can remember what I wore the day we met and that the dress had a tiny wrinkle down by the hem, I still marvel over the fact that he never can remember the exact date of our engagement. It's been this way since before we were married -- and we were married 3 1/2 months after this proposal. To this day, he needs me to remind him that, Yes dear, it was indeed the 24th that you proposed to me on.

But, that's okay. I like to feel needed in such an important way in his life. Plus, he hasn't ever forgotten that I am his wife and that I did indeed say yes. So, it's alright.

The Occupation You Can't Get A Degree For

I love that store in the mall, Motherhood Maternity. You walk in and the clerk greets you with, "Welcome to Motherhood." It always takes me back and makes me smile. How theatrical it would've been to hear someone say that the day I stepped into the real life of motherhood. But nobody needed to say anything; reality was screaming it and has been every since.

I thought I was ready to get married and start a family when Toby asked my dad if he could court me. I thought I was. In many ways I was. I was good at what I did and compared to a lot of girls my age, I was more than good: I was experienced.

I could cook. I could cook without a recipe. I could cook meals and put them in the freezer. I could plan menus. I could by food in bulk. I knew the best prices. I could can the food I cooked. I loved cooking and baking.

I could clean. I could clean fast. I could organize and clean. I could disinfect and clean. I could bleach without getting it on my clothes. I could clean charred ovens by hand. I could clean toilets and loved it. I could clean grimy sinks and loved it. My two favorite things to clean were (and still are) toilets and sinks.

I could do laundry. I could run a top loader with a sud saver. I could run a top loader without a sud saver. I could run a front loader. I could do 14 loads of laundry a week in a wringer wash machine and then hang it by hand in the basement. I could make laundry soap. I could be frugal about laundry.

I could babysit. I could babysit for days on end by myself with no adults around. I could take care of kids without flinching. I was a natural with small children.

I could change diapers. I could change disposable diapers and cloth diapers. I could make home made wet wipes and use them. I could change diapers for years on end without thinking twice about it.

I could give bottles. Take temperatures. Administer breathing treatments. Look for good color in a baby's skin. Feed children. Garden. Farm. Milk goats. Sew. Quilt. Organize. Run a household. etc.

And then I got married. And had a baby. And I found I was a novice. Completely unprepared. I had no idea motherhood was as heavy a load as it is. Not that it doesn't have it's joys and blessings (it has more than I thought possible) but it is the hardest occupation anyone can pursue.

I had this comment in my comment box recently from a reader who's daughter-in-law is in the throes of motherhood right now....

"She had a problematic day yesterday. All was going well, and in 5 minutes everything fell apart. Is there a high school class for this profession?"

I couldn't agree more. There should be a class for it. Or an entire school. Or at least some time in a boot camp. Seriously.

If a man is going to cut into your brain, he will first go to school for it. If a woman is going to draw blood from your arm, she will first go to school for it. If a man is going to fly to the moon, he will first go to school for it. If a woman is going to teach your kids their ABC's, she will first go to school for it. If a man joins the army, he will first spend weeks of intense training before going into battle. If a woman is going to decorate your house, she will first go to school for it. If a man cooks you a meal at a fancy restaurant, he will first go to school for it. All these occupations require training, learning and provide the student with much information. They also usually guarantee some type of retirement so that in the end, you're prepared to live off your past income.

But, if you decide to spend the next 25 years of your life working night and day, everyday of the week putting on band aids, enduring pregnancy and labor, explaining to your 3 year old why the moon can't sit in the back yard, cooking three meals a day, taking care of your house, saving the life of your 2 year old five times a day and staying up most of the night with your baby, you're on your own. There is no school for you honey. If you can't figure something out, sorry. Just keep trying; you'll get it at some point. Whether you succeed or fail, you won't be paid with money either.

Though motherhood is not a job you can get a degree for beforehand, it's definitely a school within itself; the School of Learning. And we all know we can never graduate from Learning. From what I've learned though, it's the most rewarding job a mom can have. I'd have to admit that though Motherhood is hard and can be unsuspecting at times, it's highly under rated. You have no idea the joy at the end of the day when you look at the day behind you and see what all it held. "Her works shall praise her," is enough of a reward for me.

The Definition of a Normal Day

I looked downstairs in time to see a child spilling laundry softener all over a table. If I thought that was bad enough, I should've held my breath for what came next.

I told the child to let it go and leave it alone.

The child then stepped back and explained they were catching the spilled softener through a crack in the table. And what should he be collecting it in but an upside-down toilet plunger.

As if to add to the excitement, the baby was screaming, the cat was in heat and letting the whole neighborhood know and my hair still wasn't fixed at 10:30 am. UGH.

Then, Janae came upstairs with dirt caked boots and Landon begged to play with "cabinets." (they're actually "sticky rocks" or magnets but he gets his words mixed up sometimes.) By begged, I mean he insistently pleaded. While the baby cried. While the cat meowed. While Janae vigorously kicked her boots off all over the kitchen floor.

The worst part about it isn't that my child was holding a germ coated toilet plunger. Or that I am about ready to kill the cat. Or that Janae's boots meant dirt all over the floor. Or that Alex's crying is at about 257 decibles. The worst thing about this situation is that I used that laundry softener when I was pregnant with Alex. I vowed to never smell the stuff again. Ever. Again. That smell always puts me right back to those sick, pregnant days. I get sick just thinking about that smell.

And now because my child is running all over this house with it coating his shirt sleeves, I can't get away from the smell. I feel pregnant now. And sick. I almost think I need to take a pregnancy test. Seriously. That smell is that bad.

Some days are just like this: you never know what will happen next. I have learned that if it's not a normal day, everything goes the way you expect it to. Today must be a normal day.

Thanks...

...to all you who commented! It is always great fun to see some of who is peeking in here on a regular basis. (I say some, because not all of you commented... you know who you are. :) )

It was nice to see some of our family that commented as well. Not only do I know you but we're related! (I hope you don't mind... :) )

As has been mentioned before, my blog is an outlet for me. Where I express opinion, thoughts and a bit of my perspective on life. I want to remember some of these mundane details of daily life with three kids, three and under. It always surprises and blesses me when I get comments of other people who are reading here and finding what I write to be worth reading. I enjoy hearing what you think. So, thanks again for your comments.

Now we return to "regular" posting. A few things on the calender this week range from home improvement to a special anniversary. Hopefully, it will be worth you staying tuned.

Knock, knock... Who's there?

There is no special reason to do this again except for the fact that we did it a year ago. So I guess that would be one special reason. (We could make this National Blog Delurking Month.)

I am shy to do this though. The proof is in the fact that I've had this post in my drafts bin since last week. I hate pressuring people but here goes...

I am not a "comment on every post" kind of blog reader so I won't make you feel obligated to do that either. I understand your hesitency to even comment now incase you feel pressured to make a steady habit of doing so. I'm not asking for your allegiance. I'm not asking for money either. Or for a donation. Or for your commenting habit.

All I want is just a tinsy winsy tiny comment. That's all. Just one little comment on this post that you are reading now. Don't leave your bank number or your credit card number or even social security number. I don't need that (I can hardly keep track of my own the way it is.) Just a name and blog address (where applicable) would be nice.

And I promise, you won't have to do this again until the next time I ask. Seriously.

Kid Klips

Know-it-all Brother
Explaining to Janae that the bag of chocolate chips she wanted to open was not for snacking, Landon "read" the back of the package.... "For making cookies and pancakes..."

He's Had Enough
I told Landon to clean up his room quickly. He informed me in desperation, "I already cleaned my room plenty of times... plenty of times I cleaned my room, Mom."

A Good Excuse Not to Nap
Not wanting to take a nap one day, Landon listlessly layed in his bed, stared up at the ceiling and said mournfully, "Mom, I am starting to die."

Why We Dress Warm
(before going outside) Landon: Jea, put your pants on or your knees will get cold.

The Gift of Today

Oh man. Some days are just strange. Like today for instance. I had all the ingredients for a good day -- 3 healthy children, full health myself, productivety, good marriage, tons of laundry (not that tons of laundry is actually a "good" thing but it does indicate that we are a healthy, bustling family that is alive and well), a borrowed afternoon housemaid, warm house, etc. misc. etc. -- but it was just not one of those top-of-the-list good days.

It probably had something to do with yesterday. Yesterday was supposed to be the best day of the year (so far) or at least the most relaxing or the most get-in-touch-with-yourself I've had in a long time days or basically, the most kid-less day I've had since having kids 3 years ago. But I wrecked it by (get this) spoiling the opportunity to be productive by spending my energies on a dress pattern. A stupid, no good, dress pattern. I have about decided to make a vow before a great congregation to never again touch a sewing machine, piece of fabric or a dress pattern again. In my life. Ever. Again. I will file for restraining order that will forever hereafter forbid me from entering a fabric store again. In my life. Ever. Again.

I really should do that because this morbid depression has wrecked one entire day of my life. All because of a dress pattern, two precious days of my life were wrecked. FOR NO GOOD REASON.

So. That day was shot and it should've been a good day. But actually, in truth, it really was a good day. I could sit in quiet and just think. I could sew without interuption. I could contemplate my surroundings. I could listen to preaching. And I could find out that yet another dress pattern in my pattern bin does not work. So, that's good. Never make the same mistake twice on a pattern when you spend all day working on it.

Then today came. Yes, today. Today was just "one of those days." I did not look forward to today before it even started. I guess that set the tone. I should know better than to do that but really, I guess I forgot. Dumb reason, I know. My attitude wore off on the kids and that is not good. Everything was a downhill battle. Eat your food (and it wasn't). Go to bed (and they cried). Clean your room (and she bit him). Don't go outside (and the dog came in and peed on the floor.) Play with your toys (and he got busy playing with a knife). Etc. Stuff like that all day long wore me out.

Now it's evening. The kids are tucked in bed ALL THREE SLEEPING and looking the perfect pictures of innocence. I have my computer in my lap for the first time in a long time (it should feel honored that I didn't just throw it out in the snow bank) and I'm relaxing in a nice, big, soft recliner. I'm uncomfortable though and can't sit still. Toby would be going nuts if he was next to me right now..."Can't you just sit still?" He would say lovingly. And I would say, "No, I can't. I tried." And he would say, "Geeez, just hold still for 2 minutes." And I would say, "I can't; I must have that Restless Leg Syndrom." And he would say, "Just don't move your legs then." And I would say, "It's impossible; I can't get comfortable." And he would say, "You're worse than a little kid." And I would say, "I know." And he would say something I'm sure because he always says something and I would probably say something then since I always say something and we would be having this conversation not getting anywhere but feeling content that we were making important and valid points to one another.

But instead, I sit out here alone. With my unfaithful computer. Tossing and turning in this chair. Reclining and sitting up. Kicking my feet. Holding my feet still. My lap is too hot from this computer. My feet are too hot (they always get hot when I sit in this chair for some reason) My heel is cracked and throbbing. My toe itches (I hate that). My eyes are tired.

And tomorrow is another new day. Another day to be a mom. To be a wife. To run a house. To set the tone. To remember the better part.

To only remember that the better part is often in the most hidden places. The places that I overlook when a pile of dishes threatens an avalanche. The places that I can't see beyond that mountain of laundry. The places that hide underneath those mischevious eyes. The places that disappear when I lose patience. Yet I can easily find those special places when I remember the Source. And that I am a mom yes, but I am first His child.

Gone But Not Forgotten

It is time to commemorate a moment of solemn silence. A moment in which we reflect on what once was and now has passed on. A time in which we acknowledge our personal depravity. A moment to dedicate to a precious memory; the fragile fragment left of what we once cherished.

Basically, it is a time to regret as well. Regret our own stupidity. Our own habit of procrastination. A time to stifle the desire to shoot ourselves in the foot in order to help numb the pain of regret. The reality that we are here and that is gone and why why why? To squelch the mantra of whys.

Bad news always has good news and unbelievably, there is good news as we commemorate what was good and now is bad. The good news is my computer is fixed. The bad news (if you are standing, sit down now).... I lost all (are you sitting?) ALL our pictures (yes, brace yourselves folks) from our Christmas celebration this last year (please, someone shoot me.) The bad news is also that I had plenty of time to back them up but didn't. (I deserve a just and harsh punishment... at least send me nasty emails to make me feel better.)

I have more bad news (and this involves you dear folks -- not that you are bad news but let me get to my point). I lost my favorites list. The blog addresses of many dear friends (both the ones I have met and the ones I haven't met... only in the twenty-first centruy can you have friends that you haven't met). So, if you would be so kind to comment on this post and leave your addresses, I would be able to update my desolate blog list in my empty favorites bin.

The good news I mentioned above is hardly good to me. I don't even want my computer anymore. I don't even like it. I don't even want it to have an inkling of a clue that I may have possibly missed it in it's week-long absence. And I don't even want to upload any pictures to it. Ever. Again. It has been like an unfaithful, back stabbing, friend. Hardly the latter, actually.

With that, we conclude the morbid addition to our posting and resume normal topics... such as what's brewing for an upcoming anniversary... or, life with three kids three and under three hundred hours a day three thousand days a week... or, remodeling your kitchen with a three year old... or, tips to keep your hair while pulling it out (actually, I don't have any information on that one but I am researching how people pull that off... pardon the pun)... or, whatever else it is we normally blog about here when computers aren't the issue.

I just really have to get over that unfaithful computer that lost all those precious, priceless pictures.

Kid Klips

God And The Bible
Landon: Dad, does God have a Bible?


The Way To A Man's Stomach
I had just given Landon some prune juice. After he gulped down a few swallows he came over to me. "Hey Mom, look in my stomach," Landon said as he opened his mouth wide, "See my prune juice?"


One Thing God Can't Do
Landon: If Landon died, God could just make another one.


Landon's interpretations:
Train cars = hooks
Magnadoodle = write thing
Seward Walmart = the funny walmart


Have A Good Time/See Ya Later
Landon: Have a good later!


The Universal Headache
"I have a headache," Landon moaned from his car seat after church one Sunday. "Where's your headache, Landon?" I asked him. His response? "In my 'froat.' "


This Is The Way We Count
One day Landon was playing with 2 cars and I asked him how many cars he had. "Two," was his response. And then he went on, "See.... two, four, nine, six!"


Landon Millan
Brittney looked outside just in time to see the dog chewing on Landon's favorite shoes. "Landon, quick! get your shoe from Elly," she said, sending Landon out the door. Instead of taking the shoe and coming into the house which is what we assumed he'd do, he surprised us with something else. Just the night before, Landon had watched some brief video clips of Cesar Millan training dogs. It turns out that Landon had compiled his own technique on the matter. He implemented a few of them on are dense basset pup and then left his shoe on the deck. The dog never touched the shoe again.

If only he could get the dog to quit chewing on Janae!

On Technology and Trying Times

I have been unable to keep up with my "regular" posting for one reason: my computer blitzed. Or crashed. Or broke down. Or the hard drive went bad. Or technically failed. Or basically, in simple english, it won't turn on all the way. I have so many "save draft" posts that I can finally blame on something... even though I haven't been in blogger since my computer froze up or broke or whatever it did and all those drafts were saved before this trauma came to my life in the form of a faulty computer. Who knows how many of those "save draft" posts I would've published had my computer been working.

So, I have been doing other things. Like, laundry, cleaning mud and snow and dirt, cooking and getting sick. For such an abrupt hiatus from the world wide web, I should be able to speak of getting more done in my life. You know, those projects we always talk about getting done the day we happen to have extra time? Well, I've had that extra time but I haven't really gotten much extra done. The day after my computer took sick, I took sick too and had myself a nice dose of the flu. That kind of effects one's overall productivity for the day: I was lucky to get dressed one day... let alone do the list of stuff I had planned to do that day.

Anyway, I said all that to say life has taken an unexpected sabbatical from life as I knew it since my computer crashed or broke or whatever it did so, if you don't see me on here much, you'll know why. We are working on resolving the computer issue... hopefully soon.

The reason I can blog today is because my husband (bless his heart) is working in the frigid cold of the midwest prairie on a high, steep roof (bless his heart) clearing almost feet of snow in order to save a home from perpetual leakage by replacing the roof (bless his heart) and with numbed, frozen fingers, he will personally place all of the shingles he himself installs on that roof (bless his heart) and of all the houses in that neighborhood, those folks will have the best roof... and the only roof without snow on it all because of my husband (bless his heart) is working so dilligently in the cold today. I said all that to say that if he was not out working today, I would not be on this computer; he tends to not be so generous with his computer when he's home (bless his heart).

As for the kids these days, they are well. Alex enjoys the night time schedule of getting up every 2-3 hours and getting some one-on-one time with his mother. I was so tired one night, I unexpectedly fell asleep and then woke right after he unexpectedly fell out of bed. I was hoping that somehow that unexpected miss-hap would help him understand that his bed is truly the best bed to be in at night but, nope... he resumed his schedule 3 hours later. And yes, he was fine and showed not a mark from the unexpected tumble.

Janae is good. Busy as ever. All female. The wheel that keeps her brothers running... sometimes literally. (You'd run too if she bit you.) She is such a charmer at the same time. It's like having two extremes in one package; it's hard to seperate the equasion. The other day I found a little khaki A-line skirt I had stored away for her when she got a little taller. Well, the day came when she got a little taller so I had her try it on. It fit perfect. And she was as pleased as ever to get to wear it. Landon called her "Hannah Wissmann" for the rest of the day. I guess they both were pretty impressed with the "new look."

Landon is good too. He got to help Toby and some friends slaughter a cow/beef the other day. I was glad to stay home and thought I'd (fortunately) miss out on the excitement at the butcher shop. I should've known that Landon was going to be like a sponge soaking up each detail when he got up that morning and informed his dad that he was "ready to go shoot some cows." He has told me every detail, both little and big, about the whole process of slaughtering cows. And he's full of questions. Why do they have blood? Why didn't the gun have fire? Did the cow want to live?

Toby is also doing good. After his own computer gave him some issues to deal with, he is back on track with his internet work and the other computer work he has to get done in order to manage their business. The homeshow is looming ahead of us and promises a lot of excitement for the rest of the week. Toby usually manages the prep for the homeshow and his brother usually manages the actual homeshow itself. It works out well for them since the they can keep the regular business work running before and during the homeshow and yet still complete the necessary set-up and mantainance for the homeshow. I have always been impressed with how those two brothers seems to have unwritten rules and ways of automatically doing things.

For those of you that have called our house recently and got a strange recording of high decible UFO flying by, do not panic: it is just our fax machine kicking in uninvited before the friendly answering machine. We are working on resolving the issue. What I mean by "working on" is that I have told Toby about it for the past 2 months and he agrees he needs to change the fax setting. So, it should be resolved in the next month. Or two. Maybe.

The caller ID still works... except when we are already on the phone. If you call while I am in the middle of another call, I will not be able to see your name so therefore, may likely ignore your call due to the increased number of salesmen that call us on a daily basis. I think they got our number off the Do Not Call list. Seriously.

And, if you call at mealtime while we're on the phone, I will automatically assume you are a salesman so will usually 100% of the time ignore your call. So don't call at mealtime like our salesmen seem to do. Ever since the internet threatened to take leave from our house earlier this week, and even after having the technician come out twice, not 24 hours apart, this issue began with the phone. We will work on resolving this technical problem as well.

In a nutshell, we are all doing fine, it's just all these technically advanced components of our household seem to be experiencing a set back. I echo the words of my wise husband: "I hate technology." There, that feels better to get that out.

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As if to prove my point of technilogical errors, the spell check will not function on this post. I apologize for any misspellings and I assure you we are working on resolving this issue... hopefully soon.

What A Beautiful Morning...

I get up in the morning and the sound track begins to play. Actually, it usually starts to play before I get up...

"Waaa, Waaa, Waaaa, Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

Eventually, two wet-pull-up kids meander out to the land of the living. I direct them in the ways of proper hygiene: discard pull-up and put on underwear/clean pull-up. (depending on the child's personal bladder success.) When I step on a squishy, wet, gross peed-in-all-night-pull-up later that morning, I realize an act of disobedience was committed. I am considering taping a small trash can to my kid's bottom so that they will remember to THROW THE STINKIN' PULL-UP AWAY.

Yawn. Where's the coffee?

"Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom."

It's amazing to me that with most kids, any dislikes they may be experiencing when they wake up in the morning can be calmed by food. So, I usually nurse first thing in my day and then feed the other kids. Then the tune of my sound track changes...

"We were going to have hot cocoa! You said last night that when it's light out we could have hot cocoa! I want hot cocoaooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"I need a kleenex," said by a high-chair-confined-snot-nose-dripping kid.

"Waaa. Waaa. Waaa. Waaa. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..." etc.

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

"Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom, can I go downstairs and ride my bike?"

(this repetitious Mom. Mom. Mom. stuff has got to stop.)

Said by Mom in about 2 seconds:

"Child number 1, get off the baby."

"Child number 2, get off the dishwasher. "

Sigh.

"Hey Mom, do babies fart?"

Yes.

"Hey Mom, do ducks fly?"

Yes.

"Mom, do ducks FLY?"

Yes.

"Mom, do ducks FFFLLLYYY?"

Um, yes.

"No Mom, do ducks FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?"

Yes Landon, they fly.

"They do?"

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

Cat runs through house just then. Confiscate her quick before the leather recliner sports any new holes.

Baby bumps head. Pat his bottom for comfort.

Get Janae off dishwasher. Again. She is putting dishes away.

Duck flies past my head... "Hey Mom, he's flying!"

(it's about time.)

Blocks begin spilling all over living room floor: clean living room, may I add. House stinks like poop/dirty diaper. Cat runs through house again. Baby cries.

Child puts on sandals and heads out the back door to play in the barely-above-zero weather. The non-house dog walking in the kitchen alerts me to the fact that a door was open, a child probably left and the possibility that the dog already peed on the floor is pretty great.

"Mom, I'm going outside and I won't freeze that bad though."

Baby cries.

"Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom."

What?

"Can we have hot cocoa now? You said when it was light out, we could have hot cocoa."

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

Janae, keep the cat down stairs.

"Mom, dis my babeeee!" she tells me with the fur ball cradled in her arms.

"I'm really firsty!"

Get a drink.

I look up in time to see a kid precariously teetering on the edge of the sink, crawling from one side of the sink to the other.

MEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. (live sound effect of live cat being caught by live two year old.)

3 year old wrestles with baby. He tells me he did this when he was big and had his own kid. (Not sure where this reincarnation philosophy is coming from.)

"That's NICE!" I hear Janae saying from kitchen as he admires her cup of water. She needed a "rink" too.

3 year old attempts to steal cup from 2 year old.

"MINE!"

"Can we eat hot chocolate now?"

No, not yet.

"UH! that's what you said...."

Yes, I know... when it's light out we can have hot cocoa.

Children began digging in tool drawer. A paint brush flies across the living room. A screw driver attempts to take the door of a china cabinet off. A chisel scrapes across a piece of furniture. Baby blows bubbles on the kitchen floor and officially scoots himself for first time from one dirty spot on the floor to another dirty spot. Baby bumps head. Kids go down stairs to play.

"MOM! There's a boogy man in the basement so I need to get a gun!" (he heads for some of the vacuuming cleaner hoses.)

"MOM! Boogy man!" A wide eyed blue eyed girl explains with shock on her face.

Not the vacuum cleaner. Do not touch the vacuum cleaner.

"I'm going buh-bye," Janae informs me.

You're leaving?

"Yeah, she's going buh-bye," Landon explains.

I smirk.

Water spills. Landon wrestles the baby again. Baby cries. Cat tries to get upstairs. Again. Janae wants to get dressed. She's leaving, remember?

The sound track starts the next track. Kids play with toys nicely. Baby quits bumping his head. The phone isn't ringing. Cat stays down stairs. A lit candle takes care of that poop smell. What a picture perfect morning!

Is anybody ready for hot cocoa yet?

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This account is based on a true story. All names, dates, places and occurrences are not author's imagination. Any link to persons known or unknown is not coincidental. Use discretion if under 3: asking your mom for hot cocoa a million times a day just because she said you could have it the night before, does not warrant a good enough reason to drink the stuff at the crack of dawn. And saying Mom. Mom. Mom. (rinse, lather, repeat...) is an unkind act in an attempt to destroy a loved one's sanity.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Just Hope Your House isn't One of Them... or your husband's computer

It's funny how you can have plans for a day, make arrangements, prepare, perspire and even pray about an event and then have everything change.

That's what happened today.

We were scheduled to have a major event take place in our basement aka: The Water Hole. We were getting a high class drain tile system put in so that we could use our basement and keep our socks dry. Not only to keep our socks dry but also to store a few kids down there.

This was our list before the basement people came:

1. Clean garage
2. Clean out basement and put everything in pre-cleaned garage
3. Dig 2 large holes next to exeterior basement wall
4. Cut 2 large holes in basement wall
5. Install 2 large windows in the holes in basement wall
6. Sweep up the entire mess
7. Repeat sweeping
8. Do all laundry
9. Move washer, dryer, freezer, non-garaged storage items to center of basement
10. Make plans to leave for the day
11. Resign to having a house full of dust upon arrival home
12. Surrender to vacuuming, sweeping, dusting dust for several weeks from the basement
13. Dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, dust...... etc.

All the above was completed so everything was in order, right? Wrong. Little did we know about the predicament of a very important little thing: the structure that made up the footings, walls and floor of our home. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Toby planned to run errands today in preparation for the upcoming home show. Now, the home show is a big event for us. We advertise our business there and have done so 4 out of the 5 years we've been married. I have a little animosity for the home show. Yes, it helps my husband bring home the bacon and all that good stuff but the home show and I are competing for the same affection: Toby.

You see, we were married February 15, a mere week after that first home show Toby and his brother participated their business in. I was not aware this would be a yearly affair. I was a gullible, young, girlfriend that thought getting married was simply picking a date and establishing a wedding that would transpire into a marriage. I forgot about the anniversaries that always follow a wedding.

So, I said all that to say that every year, the home show falls right before, on or after our anniversary. EVERY SINGLE YEAR. The home show people and I must have been thinking the same dates when we both planned for our big events.

As Toby planned the errands he had to run, I looked forward to cruising around Lincoln with him in a loud, big truck. How romantic! Especially with 3 screaming kids. Well, make that 2 kids and 1 screaming kid.

We woke up this morning to a Nebraska Prairie Blizzard. After the almost 50 degree weather we had the two days before, 8 degrees above zero was pretty cold. (at least we were still above zero though). Toby said his plans had changed because of the weather and he would just stay home and do book work. Fine with me since I knew we'd still all be together like one big happy family.

Then the basement people got here and got right to work. I could here machines running, guys talking and real work going on down there. I ran to the grocery store to get coffee and milk and braved the frigid weather and bad roads.

Arriving home I could hear nothing but Alex screaming loudly in the highchair. He was saying something about being left alone, everyone leaving and wondering why everyone hated him. Tears were literally spraying off his face.

I could hear no work. No people talking. No machines. The silence sounded interesting. I made coffee, consoled Alex and put groceries away while Landon and Janae ransacked the packaged groceries. A ripped package of beef caused by a child's finger and another child wanting to open up a cake mix because he promised he wouldn't eat it was making my day a tad stressful.

And then Toby came up and broke the news to me. I couldn't understand all the logistics but it had something to do with the fact that our basement was originally constructed wrong. The footings were not being used like they should and the floor was in the wrong place. They couldn't install the drain tile. Bummer, especially when you can't just move the floor like you can move a wall.

The crew was waiting on a supervisor to get here before arriving to a verdict and Toby wallowed in a big pool of What Are We Going To Do Now. It sounded bad. This cute little bungalow we bought last year was a lemon. And when you want a house and get a lemon, that is not a good thing. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade but how do you make lemonade out of a lemon house? We figured we'd just have to do that by tearing the entire basement out and starting from scratch. But, how could we do that? We couldn't afford that. So much for new bedrooms. So much for a new kitchen. Poor wasted egress windows already installed in the basement.

The head honcho guy got here and had a few solemn talks on his cell phone outside in the frigid wind and snow. The guys downs stairs started hauling their tools and machines and noise outside back to the truck. Toby looked like he was preparing for a long swim in his What Are We Going To Do Now pool. (that look is similar to what most people would look like when they prepare to attend the funeral of a loved one.) I was trying to find a recipe for lemonade but I had none of the ingredients except for one big fat ugly lemon.

Finally, a verdict was made. The supervisor head honcho guy became the hero. Superhero. He explained the situation of our walls and that there was a product available that would be used in situations like ours. And the best thing was this: the new product (though it cost a tad more) was installed via Epoxy on the existing floor! No jack hammering out the perimeter of the basement floor! No dust! No waiting a week for 18" of cement to dry on the perimeter of the basement before we could build rooms! No more lemons!

Never before have I felt like worshipping something other than God but a part of me wanted to utter reverent praises to Thrasher Basement Systems. They truly saved the day and our house. The only draw back was the fact that they couldn't get here to do that installment until the middle of February. But, what's the big deal? I mused... we already have the home show then, our anniversary and Valentines day... why not add another historical event to that week?

Shortly after, the sun came out. The landscape was covered in a fresh blanket of white snow. The blizzard stopped. It was so pretty. Toby got back to work on his book work. Just then, his computer froze and began to flash really weird. It then wouldn't turn on. Another lemon. Why the computer? Why Toby's computer? He needs his computer for book work just like you need money to pay your bills. He needs his computer for work. For that home show. He doesn't just need a computer; he needs it to work. So, he made plans to take it in and get it looked at.

He went to our reliable, steady van only to crank the key and hear nothing but a dead battery. He decided to try my computer and began to transfer files from his portable hard drive. Word shut down unexpectedly. He had gotten none of his bookwork done all day and it was now 1:30 pm.

Finally, the van battery got charged and Toby left for town. I told him I still wanted to be a wife by the end of the day so please, stay safe and don't have anything else bad happen. He couldn't promise anything and mumbled something about being jinxed.

So, with that, I kissed him goodbye, found a cup of coffee and sat down and blogged. That's my way of making lemonade when life gives me lemons. Aren't you glad?

----------------------

Just for the record and because of the context of this blog, I almost posted this twice to Toby's blog because I didn't see that he was signed in on this computer and not me. I signed out and signed back in twice before it worked. It is a miracle that with all the copying and pasting, this post actually survived it's traumatizing journey to the wide web world.

Trying to Describe the Indescribable

There is something indescribably glorious about living in your home while remodeling. It's not the transformation taking place before your eyes. Or the divine before and after pictures. Or the transforming beauty that can come of dirt, dust and debris. Nor is it the thrill of getting something new.

No. Those are not the indescribably glorious reasons. Those are obviously glorious reasons but that fact that I described them indicates they do not fall in the "indescribably" category.

The indescribably glorious thing about living in your home while remodeling is the feeling of "I can do this" that overtakes you at the end of everyday, and at the dawn of every morning. The feeling of "I am actually surviving" that you feel when you walk through a haze of thick dust just to get to the shower that night. The feeling of "If this doesn't pass soon, I will lose my mind" that you feel on a gloomy day only to have everything feel right that night when your husband comes home and completes the current phase of your project. And that horrible feeling you get in the midst of a long day when you think it all will never end.

The experience of living in a mess. The experience of eating dust. The experience of bathing your kids twice a day because of the dust cloud in your house. The experience of feeling dirty all the time. The experience of not getting enough sleep and working too hard. The experience of insanity.

But, the crux of this indescribably glorious reason about remodeling your home while living in it, is the experience of experiencing all of the above and actually thriving in your survival. I see now why people devote their entire blogs to their latest in home house remodel. It's like running a marathon and winning. The new kitchen, the new basement, the bigger floor plan, those are all secondary. The bliss of it all is looking back and saying, "I did it. I did it. I actually did it."

Potty Training: Does It Ever End?

WHY do kids go through a stage where they HAVE to tell you that they need to go to the bathroom? And it's not just a, "hey mom, if you're wondering where I am, I'll be on the pot" kind of a thing. It's a an alert. A life and death warning. A if-you-don't-know-I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom-now-this-might-be-the-last-time-we-see-each-other-on-earth kind of notification. Same idea as when the Tax Man audits you. That gut wrenching, heart breaking information.

I have seen kids walk past the bathroom while having to go really bad. Where are they going that is more important than just going? Let me guess... they are on their way to tell their mom they have to go to the bathroom.

It sure would be nice if kids did that about other things. Like say for example, eating dog food. They walk past the dog food to ask if they can eat the dog food. And then you can know they are wanting to eat dog food and are able to stop them in time from contaminating themselves with dead meat in the dog food.

Or why not ask if they can bite their brother? When they suddenly feel the urge to bite their brother, they could ask you instead. Wouldn't that be nice? Just think of all the quarrels you could prevent, let alone the human mouth shaped teeth marks on your son's arm you could stop. That would be nice.

But, no. They only ask about the bathroom. Why is it an universal thing too? I have seen kids all over the country, the world, from many different homes, from many different nations ask their mom if they could use the bathroom.

I had thought for awhile we had evaded this stage of parenting/childhood with Landon but it looks now like we haven't. He is exactly almost 4 years old. I wonder if that's the normal age to start this stage or not?

I am thinking the next time Landon asks me if he can go to the bathroom, I will just say no. Absolutely not. "I am so glad you asked me if you could go because I had been meaning to tell you that today, you are not allowed to pee...." OF COURSE YOU CAN USE THE BATHROOM!

I have wondered if kids just want a personal escort to take them to the bathroom. Or if they were afraid of the darkness of some windowless bathrooms. Or if they needed to know that somebody cared about them. Or if they were afraid they'd sit on the big open expanse of the pot and out of the blue fall in and disappear forever down that cold, dark hole. Or if they are just testing our patience as time after time we point out the obvious... "For Pete's sake the bathroom is right there behind you and it has your name written all over it."

There are so many reasons that could be why kids have to notify their mom about their need to use the home's toilet facilities. I am just not sure if we know of all those possible reasons yet.

So, I scheduled an interview...

Me: Landon why do you tell Mommy when you have to go to the bathroom?

Landon: 'Cause... So when I poop you can know when you should come and do me. (by "do me," he means wipe.)

Me: Is that all?

Landon: No.

Me: What are the other reasons?

Landon: Because then you know how I'm done. And when I get off the potty chair, that's disobeying.

Me: Why is that disobeying? (I am wondering where this is going and where it came from.)

Landon: Because then you're gonna get a spanking. I'm serious. My dad used to be older (he means younger) and he got off the potty chair. When he was a little boy, I was big. I wasn't the little boy, Daddy was.

Me: What does Daddy being on the potty chair have to do with why you tell Mommy you have to go to the bathroom?

Landon: (he began to tell me about the UPS man (the SRP truck, as he calls him). I get him back on the subject at hand...) I don't know because... then you will come and wipe me. You have to come in about 3 minutes. Like today we went all potty in my potty chair... 2 of them. (he means he went twice but I'm not sure about the "we" part).

Me: Why do you tell Mommy when you just have to pee?

L: Hey Mom, let's talk about the monkey that peed...

Me: No, let's talk about why you ask Mommy everytime you have to pee.

L: Because.

Me: When you have to go potty, why do you tell mommy?

L: Because then I don't know what I have to say.

Me: Do you have to go potty right now?

L: No. I'm writing. (he was addressing his mail.)

Me: Well, Landon when you have to pee in a little bit, are you going to tell Mommy?

L: No. When I'm older then I'll go poop. (he then got up to get the stamps.)

Me: Landon, Mommy needs to talk to you about something... just like I talk to Daddy about things sometimes... why do have to tell Mommy that you're going to the bathroom?

L: Because then I won't understand you. And I'll talk to you... "Mommy I'm done." (he means he sits in the bathroom and says, "Mommy I'm done.)

I ask him again.

L: Because then I won't understand you and you won't come and I'll have to keep asking and asking. And you won't come because you're not...

Me: (a little King James speech there... "because she was not.") Okay, but why when you just pee?

L: Becaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaause... the monkey peed.

Me: (okay, if you want to talk about the monkey, we'll talk about him...) Did he tell his mom?

L: Um, or his daddy. Or his friend.

Me: Really? So is that why you tell mommy?

L: Ummmmm. Uh-huh.

Me: When you ask me again if you can go to the bathroom, I'm gonna say no. Then what will you do?

L: Spank you.

Getting a little weary, I repeat my question one last time.

L: Because then...(his voice trailed off)... I don't know.

So, there's our proof. These kids really don't know. It's not some irrational fear that makes them tell us they have to go to the bathroom. It's not the dark. It's not the cold toilet seat. It's not their fear of forever being gone from us and getting flushed right down the toilet with their pee. It's not that they need permission.

The reason is because.... well, they don't know either.

On Insanity and Innocence

I enjoy learning a fresh perspective on our family. I especially enjoy it when it comes through Toby's eyes. This poem he shared with me yesterday morning was a good way to start my day. Read it if you really want to know a rhyming summary of our family.

Some Things I am Learning

-- The busiest times of my life seem to make it even easier to blog. Or maybe it's just that life is more interesting and I can say, "hey, that's one thing I've never blogged about before..."

-- Newer kitchens these days seem to be getting away from themes. Like, gone is the 90's trend when every room was defined by a theme. Especially kitchens.

-- The cottage look is in.

-- Updated houses are avoiding wall paper.

-- And doubly avoiding boarder.

-- A second sink in a kitchen is nice.

-- A second sink in a kitchen that's lower than standard is really nice. When you have kids.

-- A really scheduled baby is a really happy baby.

-- Wall cupboards are often hung at different heights. I wonder if this is just a trend or if it will stick like antiques do. They never go out of style.

-- I am really digging the 50's look. Polka dots and pastels all the way.

-- You can actually change/adjust/rearrange your kitchen lay out because of a 5" high window that you can't even see out of.

-- You can also consider buying a new stove for $1,000 just to fit it below the 5" high window that you can't even see out of.

-- You can have a 5" high window (that's about 4 feet long) in your kitchen that you can't see out of and that you are constructing your plan around, spending extra money on in order to incorporate it in your new kitchen plan and not even know exactly what to call that window. I call it a "barn window" because all the Wisconsin dairy barns have these 5" square glass block windows in the cement part of the walls. Where I come from, these glass blocks are widely known as Barn Windows. Toby asked me one day what in the world I had just called that window.

-- You can have an argument with your spouse and not even disagree on the topic.

-- You can debate with your spouse and not even disagree on the topic.

-- You can give the silent treatment over a topic you argued and debated but didn't disagree on.

-- The silent treatment doesn't always mean that you are quiet and avoiding your spouse. It could also mean that you just let them talk and explain them self better.

-- Just because it sounds like an argument doesn't mean it is one.

-- A scheduled baby is a happy baby. (did I already say that?)

-- A happy scheduled baby means a happy house.

-- A happy house means a happy spouse. (that goes for both the husband and wife.)

-- I just found out our house does have a mouse. Or two. It eats all the dog food.

-- A young cat can create a million tiny holes in a corner of your new leather recliner in just one millisecond. And ten minutes later it can match the contrasting corner with the same design of claw prints. Bad kitty.

-- A centipede that you can hear is a big centipede.

-- 4" of snow in Wisconsin is not a bad thing; 4" of snow in Nebraska is not a good thing.

-- Having the baby move out of our room never sounded so good. Or, so possible.

-- A 3-year-old with a screw driver can take his toy box apart. He really can.

-- And he can do it while you're blogging. Seriously.

-- Quiet children are a bad sign.

-- It means they are probably losing the screws they took out of the toy box.

-- I'd advise that you should probably more than likely end your blog so you can inspect the unfortunate toy box. And the busy children. And find the screws.

Wow. A Published Post

There should be a law against more than 5 saved drafts in your blogger post list. There really should. Because, if there were a law, I would be guilty and would go to jail and that's not such a bad idea because no one would stop me from finally getting a nap.

No seriously. This is ridiculous. I have so many "save now" blogs that I am getting tired of blogging anymore because my blog moments last about 3 paragraphs and then they're gone. It's like getting to the punch line of a joke and forgetting the punch line.

Or, if I do still have the thought running in my head, the baby is ready to be fed, or the phone rings, or the cat scratches Janae, or my husband comes home, or Landon cuts his finger with a razor blade and comes upstairs with blood running all over his hand, or it's suppertime and the food is burning, or it's time for bed, or the kids wake up from naps, or I unexpectedly go offline for no good reason, or I run out of coffee in my cup. Constantly, there are things pulling me from my blog.

Okay, where was I? Oh yeah...

So. I decided to not do that anymore. You know, do that. By that, I mean, well, what do I mean? Should I ignore the baby when he needs food? Should I run and hide in the bathroom when hubby comes home neglecting to kiss him... "just wait a sec honey, this blog moment is giving me a headache..." Or, should I just not start blogging ever? Or should I post everything I start even if it's not concluded?

I'm just not sure how to get around this one.

But, while we all think on this, I will say that my mind is very overwhelmingly filled with a whole new set of worms, so to speak. We are remodeling our doll house sized kitchen and completely doubling the space. If you've never set up an entire kitchen from start to finish, you should try it sometime in your spare time even if you don't have any spare time. Even if you don't have an old kitchen to remodel, you should still try it. As a Beginner Kitchen Planner Expert, I can assure you any thought you put into your imagined kitchen is well worth any sleep you lose over it now. Let me know how many drawers you decided to have in your kitchen and if you thought having your trash pull out in it's own separate drawer/cupboard/slide-out-thingy was the most awesome idea ever. Oh, and if you thought it should pull out towards the sink or the stove because you certainly couldn't have it pull towards both.

The reason we can actually change the kitchen is because we are changing everything else in our house except for the four outside walls and all the bed sheets. Actually, we are leaving the living room, a bedroom and the bathroom. Even the back door is moving and the basement steps. You can imagine all the plans, decisions and ideas we are concocting. And all within a budget, of course. We are gaining 2 bedrooms, losing one, building a closet and expanding the dining room one way and shrinking it another. We are also eliminating the leaky basement through proper water management which I am hoping will eliminate the snakes as well.

So, if I go on another unannounced blogging strike in the near future, you will understand that either I a) lost my train of thought or b) have absolutely nothing to blog about or c) am just too busy to blog or d) lost my computer in the mess that is sure to be our home for the next several months.

Okay, I think that was all I was going to say so I'll end here with, The End.

now to just find that button that puts this on the web and not my draft list....

Update of Fate and Snake Hate

I have a blog
I have a dog
I neglect my blog
and feed my dog
aren't you excited
my priorities are righted?

I have kids
they play with lids
they play with pans
they play with cans
they play with pots
they play a lots

I have a house
without a mouse
I like to bake
without a snake
my house you see
it has some snakes
and that is bad
oh, that is sad

It is such a pain
to hear the rain
it comes right in
and that is sin
the floor is wet
and the snakes they get
wet snake bellies
and eyes of wet jellies

We are taking the time
to spend a dime
to fix our home
and the snakes that roam
the water will leave
oh I can't believe
my house will be dry
the snakes go buh-bye!

With another dime
(I love this rhyme)
our kitchen so small
is expanding a wall
a bigger and better
(oh, I just love this letter)
is coming to us
such a happy fuss!

Without further adieu
let me say to you
that writer's block
it has a lock
where I like to think
and put to ink
the things I think
and the thoughts that dink

With a small fight
I broke the tight
block of lock
that block of mock
that kept me quiet
I hope you didn't buy it
that I wasn't busy
or perhaps even dizzy

And here I am
a blogging ma'am
coming to you
with a rhyme that's new
to tell you that
my work is fat
my work is full
my work not dull

My kitchen a mess
(the heart of this nest)
is getting some work
and I must not shirk
on making food
for my handsome dude
or watching my kids
play with my lids

So all that to say
that from this day
I will try to blog
(and feed the dog)
but I may not be
very frequently
updating this site
so go fly a kite!

A Give Away!

THIS has got to be the most cutest, prettiest, perfectest tote bag you'll ever sport on your shoulder! Enter the give away at my friend Cheri's site.

What I Expect in the New Year

Before I commence blogging in the New Year, I believe it is most necessary to bring to light a true and definite need. It's a burden I'm sure many of you faithful readers are not aware of. A burden that I carry daily.

If I could do anything to stop time, I would.

Why?

Because it's been 5 years since I walked down that aisle and out of singleness. And I left all but 2 friends behind me. And I'm already 5 years ahead of all my single friends. And when they do finally get married, we will hardly be able to be newlyweds together anymore!

And this is tragic. I mean, true friends stick by each other to the end and here I am enjoying marriage and kids and babies and child birth and labor and they sit there on the side waiting. Alone. With no one there beside them. I am not being a very good true friend.

So, I made one New Year's resolution this year. Yes, ONE. I decided to take one day a week to pray for a certain friend and her unknown prospective spouse. The next day, another friend, and so on and so forth. Seriously.

I know if I stop the time right now (even if I could) I would mess with God's plan... unless He had it in His plan to have me stop time but we all know that's probably not possible. But, if I support God's plan and pray for all you lassies out there, perhaps it will turn the heart of your prince and cause the wedding sun to shine on you.

We all know that marriage is not for everyone; some of us do never marry. But, a wise older man once told my husband (it happened to be in the week he met me) that most people do marry.

We all believe that singleness is a blessing. And we are single unless we marry, not until. (a little change of perspective there.) But, scripture also says that "he that finds a wife, finds a good thing and obtains favor of the Lord." (Proverbs 18:22)

It high is time for some young men out there to start obtaining favor of the Lord and for you girls to become "good things."

That is why I'm praying.

Be Ye Holy

I recently came upon 1Peter 1:16... "Be ye holy as I am holy." I've read that a thousand times and quoted it in countless situations. But it took my by surprise and I began to think to myself, Wow. God is telling me to be holy just like He is. Surely if God tells me to be like Him, He knows it is possible. How awesome is that!

So, not quite understanding exactly what "be ye holy" means in the context of that verse, I look it up and finds it means "most holy thing, a saint."

Great! That is simple.

Then I put in in practical terms... how I can be holy like God. I went on and read in Vines that this holiness is not a spiritual attainment but a complete and full sanctification daily. Something that is practiced daily. It gives me the hope that no matter where I am in my "holiness" I am free because I never do have to attain. That is not for me. It is God's grace in me doing that work. I never have to be judge on my holiness. I never have to be categorized. Of course, people can if they want, and I'm sure they do, but it doesn't matter. I am not judged by their rule of holiness; I am judged by Gods.

This sainthood is not an attainment, it is a state into which God in grace calls men; yet believers are called to sanctify themselves consistently with
their calling, cleansing themselves from all defilement, forsaking sin, living a
"holy" manner of life, and experiencing fellowship with God in His holiness.

And that gives me freedom and that gives me hope.

I love having that law of liberty take it's course in my soul and spread it's joy to the far corners of my heart.

But, like a pendulum swinging on a clock back and forth, I bounce back into reality and take a narrow straw that is my belief system and fickely place the narrow opening on this Biblical concept. And then the checklist begins. And then reality hits. And while walking in faith on the stormy sea of water that is called life, I began to sink in despair when I look to a preconceived concept of holiness and take my eyes off Jesus; my true example of holiness.

I am held back by a faithless grasp on God. I cannot attain that holiness. My heart can yearn for it, my spirit can take hold of it and my mind can even grasp it. But, in practical every day life, I am influenced by an interpretation of what holiness means. The straw I am looking down fills with a check list of what "holy" like God means and looks like.

And then come the doubts. And Satan whispering in my ear how "unholy" this is. Or that is... like he can really judge holiness anyway. And I look around me to gauge what holiness should be. Just like Peter looked around while walking on the water.

Oh to stay above the stormy water! To breath the air of Life created for freedom! To live The Abundant Life that Jesus promised!

And to remember that Peter didn't start sinking until he looked at the circumstances around him. Until he remembered another law. Until he questioned Christ's direction. Until he was unlike Christ.

That was when he sank. And that's when I will too.

And This Is Love

What I hope you remember this Christmas season...

God gave
His Best for the worst;
His Highest for the lowest;
His Greatest for the least.

Merry Christmas to all my dear readers!

This is the way we do... Family Get Togethers

My title depicts such a peaceful and calm event. You are probably immediately thrust into a world of reflective nostalgia just by reading my title. You may even feel a bit cozy and warm inside. If so, come to a Nelson Family Get Together and experience something you may not experience with any other family. Peaceful and calm are the definition of what's not at our gatherings.

It ALWAYS goes like this...

After months and even years of not seeing each other, new babies being born, going for weeks of only poor mail communication, rarely experiencing the togetherness of your entire family walking on the same continent at once and enduring months of sickness and trial while separated from the rest of the family, you'd think we'd all be gushy, warm and tickled pink. Not so.

The guys delve into hefty church topics, sort the world's problems and figure out what's wrong with their jobs and the ladies jump into wild shopping trips and unimaginable sewing flings. The kind of sewing that produces a new dress for every female family member by the following Sunday.

The kids? They are here and there and everywhere. Considering the Nelson family is doing a fine job repopulating the earth, we are in our 8th year of reproduction and so far have 11 children 8 and under. That includes 2 new uncles as well. What noise future children lack in now, the current bunch more than compensates for.

We are a colorful family that has members of Haitian, Mexican and Wisconsin ancestry. Plus the usual German and Norwegian here and there.

Eventually during a typical evening, a dad or two will be sprawled on the floor or a couch sound asleep, a grandpa on the computer, another dad reading a book and another dad wondering when his wife is ready to go home. A baby or two will be screaming, the 8 year olds will be trying to stay away from the 4 and 3 year olds and the 2 year olds will by crying for the toys the 8 year olds have. The 6 year old will come up with a gotta-do-it-right-now art project involving lots of paper, a pair of scissors and a handful of crayons. The 4, 3 and 2 year olds will be climbing on, over, under and around the table the 6 year old is designing art. The 8 year olds will suddenly race through the entire maze of children and out the front door to go watch the noisy train and suddenly the whole flock of children will stampede out the room, tripping, falling and pinching themselves through the door. The said dads will remain sleeping, the said grandpa will continue the computer and the other dad will scratch his head and look for his wife.

The wives will be discussing the family reunion. While coming from all parts of the earth (or so it seems), the art of planning the annual, First Ever Family Reunion is a task that should really only be expected from those who have received a degree in such matters. Combine all the criteria with the fact that it is rare, almost entirely completely unexpected that we'll all be on the same continent again in the near future. So, this needs to be a well planned reunion filled with quality time.

Did anyone see the two year old come out of the bathroom yet? And who's kid stinks this time?

So, I get the box of popsicles out while assuring all the sugar concerned parents that these popsicles indeed are made with natural juice and contain no sugar or dyes. Suddenly, I am swarmed by children like a hive is swarmed with bees. I come to find later that in the haste of reading the ingredients label, I miss the fourth ingredient which is composed of a sugar defining ingredient. But, for now, I am only trying to stay standing in the swarm of children at my feet.

He wants his popsicle to match his. She wants a popsicle that's yellow. He wants a popsicle just like hers. And she can't have one tonight since she didn't finish supper. A child that is not mine is pulling on my skirt saying, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy...." while his parents are yelling across the room that he is supposed to say please. 4 other kids are sitting around the table asking for their popsicle and a little 18mo. old is down by my feet signing "please" in an attempt to get his own popsicle. A dad is sitting across the room on a couch feeling dejected and wondering why I didn't give him one yet, as if I intentionally kept him from having one. "Can I have one please?" continues to circle around the table while I quickly rip open packages of popsicles before being completely stampeded by the flock of children. And bear in mind the box of popsicles has only been out of the freezer for 45 seconds.

Finally, all the children have their popsicles at last and as the noise dies down, a thoughtful aunt sitting in the living room offers to help me. She probably didn't offer to help until then because she knew I wouldn't be able to hear her anyway. That was so thoughtful of her but unfortunately, I had to turn her offer to help down considering the herd of kiddos was quietly and contentedly corralled with the popsicles.

When the rounds of "Can I have another one?" began, hails and shouts of "NO MORE!" came sailing from the living room back to the popsicle craving children. Being obedient children, they all rambunctiously jumped away from the table and dispersed to all ends of the house in a cloud of popsicle wrappers and sticks.

And so ended another Nelson Family Get Together night. The dads relaxed peacefully on couches until the time came to leave and the mothers despaired over another evening spent without concluding the plans for the upcoming family reunion.

I just remind myself in the hubbub of activity that 10 years from now, we'll have two 18 year olds, a 16 year old, a 14 year old, two 13 year olds, two 12 year olds, an 11 year old, two 10 year olds and a 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 year old and a baby or two, at least. And when we're on the same continent 10 years from now, it'll be a whole lot more interesting than an evening eating popsicles and figuring out family reunions; it'll be a busy evening spent conversing with children turned adults.

The innocence and simple excitement of youth is precious and one I hope none of the littles in our family grow out of. Then again, I think that the Nelson Family Get Togethers have enough excitement in them to keep even the oldest of us young.


If I do say so myself, we look like a normal and civilized family afterall! Even the little guy in the front knows how to do a picture in style.... or does he?

A Housewife in Training

I came into the kitchen (a couple weeks ago- notice no snow out the window) and found a busy little bee...


Wow, I didn't think it was this big of a job.It's a good thing dishwashers are easy to reach for short people.
Even if you do have to stand on the door to reach the cups.

Beware of Nebraska Snow

There's a lot of things Nebraska does that are good. Like, they grow corn. And they put "Bridges May Be Icy" signs up year round at the brink of every bridge. And they use gravel on country roads to save tax dollars. And they even keep the sides of the roads clear when it snows.

But, they do not know how to deal with the snow ON the roads. For instance, when it snows any amount of snow, the snow plow dude gets in his big orange, county truck and proceeds to move the snow on the streets in town. He simply moves snow on the streets. Let me repeat: he moves snow on the streets, not OFF the streets. All the snow is piled in the middle of the street, right down the yellow line. I'm not kidding. They give it a technical term too: Snow Row.

When that is done, he plows the sides of the highways and gets them cleared off.

Then, he'll go down side streets about three or four days after the last snow fall (usually around the time when it all starts to melt) and with his plow truck, he'll drive back and forth, neglecting his plow but sprinkling small amounts of gravel at each intersection. Never mind there is usually about two to three inches of snow packed on the road, at least the intersections have trace amounts of gravel to help you stop.

I am from the North where feet of snow can be cleared of roads within just hours of the end of a winter storm. I lived on a country road for years that only us and our few neighbors used. That road was cleared and graveled and salted well shortly after the storm ended. So, on this winter day as I prepared to head into a nearby town, I didn't even think twice when I prepared to go out one day about 4 days after the last snow fall. I mean, I wasn't heading down a vacant farm road or anything real primitive; I was heading into a busy town. I just automatically neglected the fact that snow-on-the-roads would still be an issue so long after the last snow storm. (And just so you know, the "snow storm" consisted of like two inches of snow. Seriously.)

I drove into town and was suddenly enlightened that even the well traveled roads still had snow on them. The only reason there were a few bare spots were because the good Lord had sent a couple hours of warm sunlight that melted a few bare spots in the road.

This is ridiculous! I thought to myself. I mean, it had been a few days since the last flake of snow had fallen and this bustling town acted like the whole arctic had moved to their spot on the prairie and ended life as they knew it. And they submitted as martyrs to it's elements. If only they knew how to use their snow plows, this arctic experience would immediately end.

While driving no more than 25mph down one sloping road, I hit the breaks and slid several feet before coming to a stop. I was tempted to stick my feet out and get the van to stop sooner but decided to wait and see how long it took to stop. This was a well traveled road, folks. It led to the only Christmas light display in the park of the town I had come to that wintry day. Ice skates would've proven safer than my airbag-outfitted-front-wheel-drive-mini-van.

I slowly and cautiously edged my way towards the edge of town where the highway was safely glazed with salt. And what should I find after leaving the snow covered roads of Seward, Nebraska but a huge grater truck clearing the sides of the road. Yes, sides of the roads. What do we do with the sides of the roads that's more important than what we do on the roads themselves?

I just don't get it.

Nebraska can grow corn well and caution all drivers about the bridges possibly being icy. But, when it comes to snow, they could take a few lessons from Wisconsin. I'm sorry for my racism or whatever it's called when you think one state is better than the other but that is just the honest truth.

Blessings and Burdens of Motherhood

I couldn't figure out why a level of frustration and despair had risen to a new level in our home recently. Was I losing my mind? Were the kids really that bad? Was I becoming the parent I never wanted to be? What was happening in the life I had always dreamed of having and actually had? Why wasn't motherhood manifested in more blessings than burdens? Why was I so weary?

These honest questions were on my mind as I woke up early one Monday morning. I determined to make this week better than the week previously had been.

So. I forsook my bed. I forsook the phone. I forsook the computer. I forsook all my preconceived plans and determined to just do what needed to be done to keep peace in my home. I forsook everything that, you know, busy mothers really shouldn't do when they have small children.

And then Janae got up. That was fine until the baby got up. Even that was fine until Landon got up. And then disaster struck.

Just so you know, I have a confession to make. I had taken a short shower. I know. That was bad and selfish of me. But, I guess I really just thought it was a good idea at the time. For a brief 10 minutes, I splurged in warm, clean water. I don't mean to be defensive or anything but while I was in the shower, I really tried not to be too selfish. I had Janae come in the bathroom and play on the floor with her toys. Landon wasn't yet up and the baby was secure in his swing. So, it should've been alright, right?

It wasn't. It was as if the walls of this house heard the shower as their cue and said, "Look at that girl run off to the bathroom like that! Let's get her before she has too much fun." That short shower was the only extra thing I did. Seriously. I had poured a cup of coffee earlier and didn't get to even sip it until 2 hours later.

At the dusk of my destructive shower, Alex began crying for his second breakfast and for his diaper to be changed. Landon woke up bawling because his groin area hurt from a fall he had sustained the night before in the bathroom while using the toilet. (don't ask... I have no idea how it happened.) Janae decided that right then was a good time to throw a fit.

I wasn't even dry let alone dressed yet. Who do I help first?

As I groped around for my clothes (read, house coat), I began to fill the tub for Landon to have a warm bath in hopes that would soothe his soreness. Janae wanted a bath too. Alex's diaper was oozing into the new outfit he had on. Landon didn't want a bath and declared that thoroughly through his tears. Janae wanted to watch Landon take a bath (read, get wet playing in water) and declared that thoroughly through tears. Alex needed his diaper changed and was starving and declared that thoroughly through tears.

Where do I start?

I quickly pulled my clothes on, stepping into my underwear while walking out the room. Couldn't waste anytime, you know. Nothing like killing two birds with one stone.

I finished the tub and got the boy in.

I changed Alex's diaper.

I washed the poopy clothes out in the bathroom sink.

I listened to Alex screaming in our room.

I listened to Janae throwing a fit because she couldn't have a bath.

I secured Janae in her room.

I found the baby and started to feed him.

For a few seconds, no body was crying! I couldn't believe it.

Meanwhile, the kitchen was a mess with dirty dishes stacked from the day before. I couldn't start breakfast until they were put in the dish washer. I couldn't put the dirty dishes in the dish washer until the clean dishes were unloaded from the dish washer and put away. And I couldn't do that until the baby was fed.

So, to all you people out there who think that motherhood is only baby lotion, cuddles and kisses and at it's worst, a few poopy diapers, I am sorry to burst into your dream and be the first to admit that it's actually a little different than that. If you don't understand, that's fine. Not even spellchecker knows about poopy diapers but "poopy" really is a word. Just so you know, I love being a mom. But, I am learning that loving it is a lot different than I thought it would be. I love things that I never even knew existed.

Like the joy of coming out to the kitchen and letting Janae empty the dish washer. She has so much fun that I have to stop her when it's empty; she'd reload and re-stack all day if I let her. Or the joy of kissing my little boy goodnight and having him ask me to stay in his room for a little bit so we can talk about the moon some more. Or, even the joy of getting up in the middle of the night to get a baby from his swing and tuck him in bed with me so he can nurse.

It did me good this morning to realize that having 3 little people living with me, all under my care and all age 3 and under is like living 3 lives at once. Plus living my life too. It just takes a lot of work and concentration. It's hard to think of everything that I must do in a day, let alone everything a 2 year old will try to get done. I am the kind of person that hates leaving things undone so it's hard to let one thing go just because I'm too busy to finish it. No wonder why I feel so weary.

A good friend asked me recently if I feel like I babysit all day long. Actually, I don't. I feel like I save lives all day long. I'm a Lifesaver, not a Babysitter. I couldn't count how many times I've walked in on somebody on the brink of killing themselves (unintentionally) or finding someone just seconds away from permanently brain damaging their brother.

And then there's the laundry that perpetually threatens to grow mold and mildew. Or the dishwasher that always needs to be emptied/loaded/emptied/etc. Or the dining room floor that must literally grow spots on the carpet. (carpeted dining rooms should be illegal). Or the sheets that always get peed on the morning after they were changed. Or the toilet that never-endingly needs to be cleaned. Or the meals that are almost forgotten to be made. Or.... you get my point.

I don't want to sound like I have answers or anything because I don't have any. The only thing I can conclude right now is that I need to sign off here and put my baby to bed before he starts bursting windows from the decibel of his voice. He was sitting here fine until I got to the end of that last paragraph. That's how mother hood is though... it never stays the same. As soon as you think you have the answers, it throws you for a loop.

Like just now, the baby got quiet and so did Janae. I caught her just in time before she bit the baby's toes. Just for the fun of it. She wasn't mad or anything. I guess his toes just looked too good to not eat.

For me, the hardest thing about motherhood is realizing the challenge that the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world. I'm rocking 3 cradles right now... what will this world come to?

Can You Hear Me Now?

Thanksgiving is over. Traveling is done. About 1400 miles on the road proved to be safe once again. And I am glad. God is good.

After arriving home safe and sound, we were hit from within. We got sick. Or, at least I did.

I am nursing a bad cold and cough that has paid me with a hefty dose of laryngitis. Or something like that. I cannot speak. I cannot speak sweet nothings to my hubby. I cannot speak babytalk to my baby. I cannot speak Toddler. I cannot even speak English. I call the homes of my family and my husband's family and all the kids want to get on the phone and hear me talk. Or make noise. Or whatever it is my voice is doing. They ask if I'm tired or sick or something. Or if my voice hurts. Or if I just got out of bed.

Actually, I feel almost fine. Except for a slight lingering cough. Oh, and for one other thing: no body hears me. My voice is so pathetic.

I tell my son to not touch the computer after I catch him chewing on it. He flips the "online" button to off.

I tell my daughter not to touch the cereal one more time. She takes the container and spills it all through the house, ending finally in her brother's room. I can't count how many times I've vacuumed Frosted Flakes in the last week.

I tell the baby when he's crying that everything is fine. He only cries louder.

I tell the dog to come. She runs the other way.

I tell my husband the garbage is full and would he please take it out. The garbage sits for another day in the corner of the kitchen.

And then I come to my computer to turn it on. And does that listen to me? Nope. Nothing. Zilch. Won't flicker. Won't do anything. So then you can't hear me either.

So what do I do? I get up and pick up cereal. Or hold a fussing baby. Or take the garbage out.

And then when I get really desperate, I smack the computer, punch the "power" button and the light flickers. Wow. Who knew that was a proven technical support method? Thanks to the good friend who told me to do that. (You know who you are.)

My computer is back! I can write again! I can speak without my voice! Finally, someone listens!

Alex Daniel

Look who was 5 months old the other day? Yeah, I'm always a day late and a dollar short but at least I'm a strong believer in better late than never.

And, oh yes! he is as fun in person as he looks on camera. Always ready for a smile, a hug, a cuddle and a little one-on-one time saying "ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!" For giving us such a hard time the first 4 months of his life, he has definitely made up for it now. A very happy and content baby but still loves to eat when he's hungry. (read, starving.) As you can tell from the pictures, he is never late for a meal.

Update in Pictures

Since I promised a certain grandma that I had a post already to put on here today of some certain grand children, the following blog is a fulfillment of that promise.

As a side note, a certain husband surprised his certain wife with a new camera! Our old one was despairing of life itself and making it sorely difficult to capture Kodak moments. I am enjoying our new Canon PowerShot SD750 and am realizing just how fun and easy it is to take pictures again. For those of you that have bemoaned the fact I hardly post pictures anymore, hopefully you'll see a few more around here than you have in the past. Now that I can actually take pictures and upload them without banging the camera or the computer just to get the "upload pictures" button to actually work or threatening to manually dismantle that thing we called a camera, I think you just might be able to finally see more picture updates.

Typical hair day.
Sisterly love.
Almost as big as my sister.
Hitching a ride.
True manhood. Camo pants. Cowboy boots. Biking.

Yes, she does sit still sometimes.
Celebrate Autumn! Make pumkin muffins!
Brothers for keeps.
Life is so serious.
But, I'm still cute.

That To-Do List... Again

Okay, so I remembered my to-do list again. This time, I decided to revise it and make it a little more like something the average person could get done in one day.

So it goes like this:

Get up (check)
Make lunch for Hubby and Son (check)
Find Son's only winter coat - it could be any where in house (check)
Remember forgotten spoons for the lunch box before Hubby drives off (check)
Drink coffee (check)
Check email (check)

Do you get my drift? This is actually a new version of a to-do list; more accurately, we could call it a "it's done" list. My long and endless and never getting-anything-checked-off-to-do list was really depressing me. So, instead of dealing with the depression, I dealt with the list.

No seriously. I mean, yes seriously.

But, in all honesty, my plans today include laundry (and all that entails) and painting the window trim in our dining room. After that, I will be a happy person for actually getting something finished. Done. Completed. Checked off.

Did you notice a very important aspect to my day? Above in my "it's done" list, I mentioned packing lunch for Hubby and Son. Of course, the "Son" part is singular and not plural and since I do have two sons, you will be wise to remember that it's only one son that is with his dad today. But still. Since the other son was up most of the night (don't ask why because I just honestly do not know and if I did, I would make sure that doesn't happen anytime soon again), I should have several hours filled with the prospect of work completed because that son is now finally catching up on a sleep. (Wouldn't that be nice to catch up on that?)

As for that girl who's arm falls out of socket, yes, she is here today. (Read previous post.) But, we are treating her carefully. I decided to put a "Fragile: Handle With Care" sign on her and maybe a couple "This Side Up" signs on her as well. I'll wrap her in "Caution" tape, bubble wrap her head (not her face) and give her some Sleepy Time Tea.

If only I could funnel her energy and use it on my own to-list.