During the day-time hours, I wittle my numbers some.  Between 8am and 2pm, I have 2 children home with me.  Well, that is when Emma is not in pre-school.  So, Monday/Tuesday and Wednesday mornings I have only Will home. 

Only Will is sort of like saying: Only an elephant.

Will is formerly: patient.   Kind.  Easy-going.  But presently: totally rotten.  I claim full ownership of this problem, as it has come to my attention on more than one occasion that I may be the source of his recent personality-distortions.  Where once laid infant-innocence there now exists evil so deep, so thick I am faint in its face.

This evil causes my son to wriggle out of each and every seat-belt he encounters.  So far, the 5-point harness he has not bested, but really- it’s a matter of time.  He’s a temperamental, balding little Houdini master-mind.

This evil encourages him to shriek and roar as we roam the aisles of Kroger, looking for food to feed the starving children at home. 

This evil makes him want to jump head-long from the shopping-cart.  From the stroller.  From the top of the bed. 

This evil makes him yell when angry: “Mama-ma-ma-ma” over and over and over.  It makes him tug on my pants and hold his sticky hands up to be held.  Always held, with my boys.  Never happy til up near my face and tucked under my chin.

Emma drew me the letter E again today.  It looks like a ladder with endless extensions.  I clapped and cheered for her and the leggy-E. 

 She wanted to watch a movie and I did not want her to watch anything.  This one would couch-potato her days away if I allowed it.  I try and not allow it.

“Let’s play restaurant, Emma”, I said.  She cooked for me.

She gave me a huge handful of change for the cash register, then took it all away and left me penniless.

She filled my grocery bags with beautiful plastic fruit, and lost herself in a fun and imaginary game.

Will crashed and banged on his dishes.  Eating whatever he could find.

And his instruments.  He loves his instruments, beating to death the xylophone.

Our play-room becomes whatever we need it to be that day. 

It is a : market, a school-room, a restaurant, a cafe, a book-store.  The use switches according to the imagination.

And I am just along for the ride.

Is it too early to start setting up for Fall? 

The temperature beyond the walls is in the upper-90’s and my body is being boiled and steamed by this heat.  I simply dislike stepping foot outside after 6:30 am.  I have been plotting Fall recipes and Fall candle-choices.  And yet, it is extraordinarily Summer-hot still.  I seem to ALWAYS forget how Georgia-Summer does not even show itself until August.

Emma’s school year kicked off this week.  So, Fall IS coming.  She has been asking me for a full month-each day- when she will finally head out to her new class.  “Soon”, was always my answer.  Until Monday, when I told her excitedly, “Tomorrow!”  I let her pick out a new dress, and she so adorably thought that if she wore it immediately, school would begin.

  She tried it on and said: “Oooh, Da-Da’s gonna love dis one on me”. 

And he did.  She chose something all purple-y.

Will was not sure whether to be happy or sad that his sister was heading off into the real world.  I think he prefers her departure, as it solidifies his status as an only child- which he mistakenly believes he is at times.

Emma was very proud to wear her name-tag with a bear on it.  She also accessorized with a pearl bracelet and a Tinkerbell lip-gloss necklace. 

She was wanting toes painted, but we ran fresh out of time, and ended up saving pedicures for the second day of school.  She spirited some of Anna’s glitter-polish out of her bathroom- and I thought about when the cat’s away, or so the saying goes.

And on my agenda these next few weeks: Get my devotions done more regularly.  Keep on top of our finances.  Keep our meals healthful and balanced.  Maintain uncluttered closets and living spaces. 

 Stay ahead of homework and music and AWANA.  Stay home-based more afternoons than not, so we can speak and relate and know one another well.  And so that we get in the habit of work before play.  I am pounding the words: Do not be a quitter, into the kids’ heads this year.  If there is a choice for a B, or the option of an A, choose to spend 15 extra minutes and claim the A.  Realize that homework is merely setting you up for a lifetime of work, and learning how to cope in a work/home world of hard, daily labor is a very important lesson.  Work not only glorifies God, but it provides opportunity and reward. 

Kids who work hard are simply open to greater possibilities.

But as any parent knows, it takes hard work to make kids work hard.  Training their minds to be willing, training their hearts to see its importance and value.  These are all long-term goals we have, and kids are short-sighted.  I have found that by being home more, we are more relaxed.  We are better-invested in our tasks.  And we are doing it! 

Day-by day-by day.

22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; [1]
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

My Emmy is going through a “spell” right now.  She is afraid of many things.  I believe this latest fear-factor began when Pat discovered a black-widow in his kayak.  The spider had nested and begun raising a family in the boat, and he and my brother-in-law found it and promptly dismantled its home.

Well.  We had to research the spider, talk about the spider, look outdoors for the spider, and generally breathe spider for a time, until Widow’s memory was forgotten.  It took a couple of weeks.

 Emma was terrified of Black-Widow, and mentioned its name often.  If I pottied, or went upstairs to fetch the baby.  If I vacuumed or snuck off to fold a pile of laundry- I would hear “Mama?”  And then the crashing of fast-paced foot-traffic, as she spied the house looking for me.  “I scared of the spider”.

Eventually, Widow was left in the past, and I was thankful.

Until 2 weeks ago when Fear-Factor began again in earnest.  Fear to be alone in a room, specifically.  I have not pottied solo for approximately 8 years, so this has been a milestone I have been anticipating greatly.  Emma’s fear of being alone anywhere- this sudden, urgent fear- has changed my goals somewhat.

Two days ago, Emma was playing dolls upstairs and I snuck quietly down to the kitchen, a moment to mop the smudgy floors. 

“Mama?  Where are you?  I scared!”  And there she was.  I held the mop and was just plain frustrated.  It is a challenge to get the house cleaned!  She- oblivious to my feelings- sat at the table and started singing:

So whether you eat, or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.  This from our Seeds collection.

The kids speak truth to me many times.  God really uses them to encourage me and to set me straight, through their candid observations and honesty.  My frustration was diffused -first because of her lispy singing, and she sang that song over and over.  But also because she was RIGHT. 

Whatever I do should glorify God.  Whether I mop or not.  Whether I am shadowed or not.  Whether I can accomplish tasks or not.  God does not tell us to glorify him only when we feel success, and we FEEL like we have glorified Him.  But also when we have not done anything profound and the day has been a wash and we don’t FEEL that much of anything has been heroic or successful. 

Whatever I do: glorify God.  My homework- that a 3 year-old has helped me get a start on.

Big Brother, Little Brother

One year ago this moment, I was cuddling an hours-old baby in a heated, flannel hospital blanket.

Resting

I was exhausted, but running high on adrenalin and pride: because the waddling for 9 months and the aching and the “I think I can” of the ninth month had all run together and made this beautiful moment, where it was just Pat and Will and I.  And we were high on a birth-story-gone-well.

We had created this person and meeting him was the excitement that only lines up with new life.  The sense of anticipation which comes with knowing you are about to greet a part of you.  A real, whole person has lived inside and is now ready to be met and blended into family.

Happy Baby

I was so sleepy in the hospital.  I remember being barely able to visit with anyone, almost-unable to keep my eyes and ears alert to anything but watching my baby and resting.

The kids had waited and waited for Will for so long.  Days are infinite to children, so there is no way to know how long this 9 months seemed to them…except to say that they were ready.

This son of ours has not disappointed.  I have disappointed myself many moments, with how I have adjusted with immaturity and impatience to the needs of another person.

Curious

But he…has been so easy to love.  And loved he is.

This morning the kids could not wait to watch Will open his gifts.  So they had Pat wake the sleeping baby up, so they could celebrate with him before school.  He was kissed and loved and he smiled and wriggled.

 He especially liked his blocks from Mimi.

Ooh, Blocks!

Moments after opening gifts, he slithered out of his seat-belt in the booster seat, stood up and turned around backwards….and toppled the chair over onto the hardwood.

Ka-Boom

And now, he has a birthday-egg on his forehead.

Will, I thank God for you daily.  I am grateful for your life for many reasons: because you have made Josh a brother. 

 You have taught your sisters better how to nurture.  You have bonded us all, as we spend countless hours admiring and enjoying you. 

Birthday Grins

You have encouraged us all in service and selflessness.  You should never have ego-issues, with the way you are adored.  In fact, so solidified is your position in this house, that your siblings call you “The King”.  You are especially fond of your Dad these days, and every evening around 6, you listen for his voice and wail and holler when the door closes.

Da-Da

 Because you know that Da-Da is way fun, and his magic-carpet rides on the sofa-pillows are the best.  You are pretty tight with your “Mama-Ma” and love nothing more than to sink back against me and talk about what bunnies do: you wrinkle your nose and sniff really hard.  We love you dearly, little guy.  You have turned our worlds upside-down in the way that small people do…

….But it’s upside-down for the better.

I have decided that it is not God’s will for me to have a clean house.  Part of that is my fault.  Who allowed a Bunny into the roost, and even encouraged the idea?  Right.  And who willingly succumbed to 4 pregnancies, knowing that upon birth I would welcome another critter who joyfully upside-down’s my home?

Right.  It was me.  It is me. I chose this life- this rich and messy life!

Will is the latest tornado to strike.  He is never happier than when I naively leave a drawer open. 

Caught red-handed

Sometimes in the utter excitment of putting away laundry, I leave a drawer or closet door cracked.  And then the turbulent wind of Will crawling at break-neck speeds alerts me to the fact that he has noticed.  Darn it.  He has noticed my mistake.

And he has found a place called home.  Emptying the diaper-drawer is a new favorite.  Stacks after stack of Pampers tossed around makes him feel very proud and fulfilled. 

Project 101

 I like to imagine him an intrepeneur- engaged in thinking outside the box.  How can I make something of these pieces?  But the naked truth is: I just have another boy on my hands. 

He smiles at me.  “Look Mom.  See what I have accomplished in your honor.  Cheers!”

Then he crawls off, quick and sneaky-like, looking for his next project.  Only his projects always require disassembly, instead of the usual assembly.

Off to the next thing!

His room is almost complete- minus a few cosmetic changes to make still.   I took a few photos of his new room.  Our closet as it was, is no more.  We switched all kinds of storage around, and have a system going now that works well for our shoes and clothing.

View from the Bathroom

But I was too lazy to really make it look spiffy. 

My dresser from childhood

 Lots of color.

Corner where wire shelving used to be

Lots of books.

Old Office Mail Sorter for his books

Every morning, Will greets the day by swatting this wooden toy Pat brought home from Italy years go.

Dangling toy-of-joy

I found these plastic crates by the side of the road:), and numbered lables for them.  Our shoes are stored in here.

Crates for Storage

After a day of destruction, sleep is needed!

Good-night, Mess-Maker!

Just to prove that my mind has flown the coop…

…here is a little nugget of proof.  I called Josh’s friend Trey to the refrigerator.  “Trey, look where I found my sunglasses!” He ran home soon after I proposed snacks, probably fearful of what a mother who stores sun-glasses with the milk- could possibly offer him.

I generally blame the kids for lost items.  And who could blame me?  When I find Emma’s hair-bows in my vase, used Pull-Up’s squished under the bureau, the hand-weights that are supposed to give me a bikini-body ferreted into Josh’s bed, I start to expect the worst.  It’s one thing to be promised a bikini-body and to find you were lied to by your Exercise TV friend, Stephanie Vitorino.  It is quite another to have your only means of booty-licious buns stolen away by your son, who wants said hand-weights to play roller-derby with Lego-men.

Who can blame me for my woebegone state?

My worldy goods are dwindling by the hour, left to the fate of an elf who lives with us, who goes by the name It- wasn’t- me.   My painting crashed to the floor two weeks ago.  It- wasn’t- me.

My clock two weeks before that.  It- Wasn’t- me.

These paintings perhaps a month previous.  It- Wasn’t- me. 

But I know who did it.  And it wasn’t It-wasn’t-me.  I realize none of these photos look overly dramatic, but just take into consideration that all 6 of these home-decor commodities included glass coverings at some point.

No more my friends.  No more.  It-wasn’t-me leads a very active criminal life.  I have swept up more glass shards in the past month than I can possibly count.

As if to give wings to my story of spirited-away items, Emma looked up furtively at me from the laundry room.  “Emma, what are you doing?” 

“I’m just playing hide and seek with Anna’s trophies”.  Yes she was.

Between their haphazard carelessness and my dementia, I hope it all works out in the end.

My cousin, Jo- a 28 year-old mother of 5 young children – found herself in an interesting, heart-sobering conversation this week.  A stranger, a warm and kind stranger, asking her which of her 5 little ones is her favorite.  Go and read about it here.  My Mom commented quickly with: “As for me, I have 5 favorites”.

That is my mother.  I cannot recall a day ever, ever not feeling like a favorite. Even with occasional times of struggle to agree, still there was a constant assurance: you are loved… for you.

As for me:

Anna- She lends the passion to our family.  There is no one who leads the group on Family Nights like her.  No one who persuades and motivates to the same degree. 

She chirps and calls orders and feeds the exuberance and excitement, until all are sharing her feelings.  Christmas and most holidays would be…less…without her.  She is the heart-beat, the passionate one.  She cries for others and celebrates with others.  She is happy in who she is – I have heard her speak jealously at times of the possessions others have that she would like, but she does not want to BE anyone else.  I love that about her, and I hope she stays content in who she is, growing in and toward God.  She is my big girl and little girl all-in-one. 

Josh- Slow and steady.  Our oldest son in birth-order and in personality. 

 He lends a stability to our home.  He is most-times thorough and responsible.  He sets his back-pack down after school and opens his folder to his homework and plows away.  He is diligent.  Pat and I see strains of quiet leadership developing in him, and it makes us so thankful to see his heart forming in the wisdom and knowledge of God.  He enjoys working side-by-side with his Dad, and is willing to take on new tasks if asked.  We pray him into mature manliness, and we hope more than anything that he will one day be able to lead his own family with skill and love.

Emma- She is the first of our two babies.  And the humor of our home. 

Emma is quick on the up-swing and quick-witted.  She is expressive verbally, and a sassy-lassy who needs much discipline.  She is fiercely independent, always telling me “Mama, I do it!”  She decided last summer that tricycles were for babies and that because she is a big girl she can only ride a big-girl bike.  She is unstoppable.  And so my correction of her is constant too.  She sees life with ultra-practicality.  She has great discernment with people and can recall all sorts of opinions about adults that one would not expect to hear from such a tiny thing.  She is bossy, very bossy.  She still gets quite a few spankings, but God is working obedience slowly and steadily into her heart. 

Will- The second of our two babies.  The Ultra-Baby.  Spoiled.  Loved on.  Served. 

 His personality is becoming more pronounced, and unless my guess is off, I think he is going to be an all-round physical boy.  Josh is middle-ground physical, balancing force with ability to sit still and concentrate easily.  Will is more intensely physical than Josh was at this age, already throwing things, and breaking them.  Determined, but with a pleasant personality over-all.  We shall see what God makes him. We pray that we will have the energy to parent our finale-baby!

FAVORITE: HOW?

I’ll go back to my Mom’s quote of disbelief, something she repeated to us often growing up:

YOU ARE ALL MY FAVORITES! 

Sometime I make lists of what I love about each child.  On paper or just in my head.  But I simply think: there could not ever be a favorite.  Each is so irreplaceable.  Love for kids multiplies.  It is not less with each child, but more.  God grows the ability to love bigger. Each baby attacks ego:) and that opens up more room for sacrificial love.  So that you can truly, rightly tell each child:

You are my favorite.  Forever and ever.

If you knew that I called Will “Lambie”, would you make fun of me?

Isn’t that a terrible thing to inflict on a son?  The name Lambie.  Of all the terrible, horrible curses.  No man is bound to leave home before the age of 40, if his mother calls him Lambie.  And that same man is bound to live forever in the basement of his parents, rising each morning and going to bed each night with kissies and huggies for Mommy.

Poor little Will.  What started out as thinking of him as sweet lamb, somehow twisted and turned itself into the name of Lambie.  An animal- a poor,  intellectually-challenged animal.

Pray for us, and please pray for Will’s future, which I have clearly interrupted and led in a wrong direction.

Lambie does not have a room.  This is where Lambie sleeps.  Yes.  A towel on the window to block out the light.  The same mother who places a lamp in her laundry room….

Don't Judge, part 1

….makes her son sleep amongst dress shirts and shoes, with a bath towel for a window dressing.

Don't Judge, part II

But no more!  Lambie is getting a brand-new home.  No, DFACS has not come to claim him.   I am clearing out our huge, over-sized closet and making it a room. I was fearful to ask Pat to take on this project of my imagination- but he has been nothing but sweet, supportive and helpful.

Don't Judge, part III

Here is where we started. An enormous space, one that does not match our clothing consumption.   Much of my effort was expended in sorting: I- like most women- tend to wear my favorite items of clothing over and over.  I purged a few things, although my closet was recently purged, resulting in a full-size garbage bag-full of clothes I had worn through/did not fit, etc.  It is so helpful to pare down:

WE ALL NEED FAR LESS THAN WE THINK WE DO.

Here are a ver few of the inspirational items for Will’s room.

I do not prefer matching crib sets, so this room is going to be bright, fun, modern colors, with vintage elements.  I want his room to be young, but boy-ish nonetheless.  And I specifically do NOT want the bedding to match the lamp to match the rug to match the curtains….!  This means a little more hunting, but I am enjoying the hunt….

….to be continued.

Impassioned Anna: Pizza should reflect love

Last week I mentioned my plans to make pizza for dinner.  Anna immediately asked: Can we order Papa John’s?  Josh said: Oh, not your home-made pizza!  Emma fled the room, as she always does when faced with the thought of eating something that is not chocolate pudding: I hate dinner!

The general boo’s and hisses can sometimes tire me.  When will these little ones learn gratitude?  God, excavate their hearts!

Practical Josh: Pizza is supposed to be circular

I don’t like the kids to complain about dinner.  It bugs me inside and out.  How ungrateful on so many levels!  There are times when I can preach it and they listen.  They really listen.  But other times, they are listening but unhearing. 

So, fine!  You can make your own dinner.  You can see what goes into dinner and what comes out.  You will eat it, so best make it something you like.

Pat and I do not need heart-shaped Dinners

And they did.  Did they love it?  Not necessarily.  But you know what?  They didn’t complain.  Because they had created the thing they didn’t like.  It was out of my hands and into theirs.  It took 30 minutes or so to roll and bake the object of dinner: and they held their tongues much more, because they were proud of what they had accomplished….

…and aware of what went into creating what they did not care for. 

There was grudging respect, because it was their sweat-equity.  Although I am still recovering myself from the mountains of patience it took to allow Emma to liberally sprinkle herself and her siblings and my hardwood floors in cheese, object lessons are helpful.

Working life with my kids is revealing: I am frustrated with them for not noticing what I do.  And while it is needful to target their selfishness, it also allows me to speak with them about human nature: I -their mother- do not appreciate God enough.  There are so many things I do not thank Him for.  So many invisibles to me, that are noticeable and intentional on His end.  I am always, always learning.

Seeing our Father in everything makes life one long thanksgiving and gives rest of the heart.

- Hannah Whithall-Smith-

My middle-sister – Susanna- and her husband Rick, welcomed another baby- Amelia Grace Rose this weekend.

Baby is a pip-squeak, only 5 lb. 5 oz. 

This is the 11th grand-baby for my parents, and they could not be prouder.  My Dad was staying with us the night Baby was born, woken up out of sleep- but he had a happy smile on his face in the morning, because really- what can compare with another life?

I LOVE what my brother-in-law wrote about their enlarged family:

We’ve been given a beautiful little girl to look after and take care of. But she doesn’t belong to us, she belongs to our Father in heaven who planned the events of her arrival before the first spark of light began. We saw His hand throughout the birth. We are humbled He has chosen to bless us with 3. Children are a blessing, and now we’re out-numbered with blessings!

Out-numbered in blessings.  God is good, so infinitely good to give us precious children to raise and love.  If interested, you can read Rick’s complete post here.

We love you Rose family!