one week.

One week from today, we will be on the road again. Before that I will have somehow caught up on the laundry, finished my MIL's birthday album, finished my Kidz Kamp album, taught a class at LSS, packed for 6 people to be gone for 2 weeks, had my hair cut and colored, and I am sure there is more. All this is in addition to "regular life."

I have asked my kids to wear the same clothes every day this week, not including underwear. I am not kidding. I have never done this, but they wear clothes faster than I can launder them! The kids help a lot with the laundry...but still...I am desperate.

I am going to experiment with including a picture in this blog. I took this picture of Jolie a few weeks ago. I love the light, but it was very windy!



Drink water.

going home.

I so want to go home. I'm not sure where home is anymore, though. There's a little problem for me.

When we moved "up north" from Texas to Indiana and then to Illinois, I cried for two years. Off and on, more "on" at first, then less and less. I asked God to change my heart, to help me to be content where he put me. That was so hard to ask for. I wanted to be homesick. I wanted to go home, I didn't want to be happy here. I clung to my misery for a long time.

Then I came to a place where I began to see God's hand in this unexpected location, this life I had never planned, this midwestern existence. I became accepting, then even content. I said so often, even when Doug still wanted to go back to Texas. I could see many reasons why God might want us to stay here.

So today we have been "gone" for almost seven years. A long time! And now we have a job opportunity in Texas. This has stirred up some of those homesick feelings. I am pretty sure that I want Doug to get this job. It won't be easy living in Texas again, but I want to go home. But is Texas "home" anymore? It will be different. Nothing stays the same. And I am not the same. In a way, I think I have become "homeless" in my heart.

When I was in grad school, I used to have this t-shirt that said:
This world is not my home
Although it seems to be.
My home is with my God,
in the place he's made for me.
He's coming back real soon,
the signs are very clear.
So when that trumpet sounds,
I'll be outta here!
(Yes, ALL of that was on the back of my shirt.)

This "homelessness" of my heart has made me think more about my heavenly home...my eternal home. This world is so temporary. I guess God really has changed my heart.

I asked for it.

sliver.

Here's more of a sliver than a slice:

Me: working on a project for summer scrap classes at LSS (all new Doodlebug Papers, I could eat it, it's so yummy)

Darby: Delightfully self-directed homeschooler doing her work (Language now), planning to try the coffeecake recipe that went awry yesterday (tasted delicious, looked suspicious)

Corey: Clinging, fussing, sucking fingers constantly, arching his back, holding my hair...very different for him. I do see a tooth emerging as we speak, could that be it? On our way to the Tylenol.

Cody: Outside :)

Jolie: Outside :)

Doug: Going to Wrigley field today for the first time to watch the Cubs play the Astros. (Yep, Houston Astros!!) Cool for him. And on a chartered bus, no driving! He has been told that buying a $7 hot dog and going to the men's room are not to be missed if he wants to experience Wrigley field in its historic entirety. (??????)

Ballet today. Scrapbooking. Watered the garden. Laundry. Laundry. Laundry. Ho-hum. Life is so comfy sometimes.

Come and see what God has done, how awesome his works in man's behalf! Psalm 66:5

cheerleader tryouts.

7th grade. Me and Mandy Peck. We were a team for cheerleader tryouts at George Junior High.

Our cheer, "Faaaaaan-tas-tic, That's right! Our team is Dy-no-MITE! Fannnnnnn-tas-tic, that's right!" Stupid cheer. I can't believe I can still remember it. I think the humiliation of that whole experience burned the words of that cheer into my brain. The humiliation being that I did a cartwheel and my shirt wasn't quite tucked in......you'd think that would have gotten me a few more votes.

I didn't make it and I am not SURE, but I don't think Mandy did either. She WAS voted Most Beautiful every single school year up until Senior year, though.

My efforts at entering these scrapbooking contests....not EXACTLY the same, but it does stir up memories of cheerleader tryouts.

I'll keep my shirt tucked in.

Don't throw the goldfish away. That's dangerous.

Kids say the cutest things, don't they?

FYI: We are talking about goldfish crackers here, for all you animal rights activists...

i found me some cool old stuff.

I went to my favorite thrift store this morning. Not really a great idea for someone who is purging and cleaning, but anyway. Cash only, piles everywhere, little old ladies in pink jackets bossing each other around, everything is twenty percent off today. Or is it just for senior citizens? No, it's 20% off everything for seniors, 20% off just clothes for us younger folk. This was confusing for the ladies in the pink jackets. I could see why.

So, what I found:
LIME GREEN burlap (really)
an old record to alter (I'm slow on this particular trend)
a ledger book from before 1950 (cool, very kitchy)
a wooden music box that plays a pretty song (let's see what I can do with this)
old dictionary (just love tearing out definitions for scrapbooks and cards)
very old (well, 1922) school song book for scrapbooking :)
a 1935 hymn book (love this)
red sequin flowers
a bag of metal circle thingies like washers but no holes in them (weighs like 6 pounds, paid 25 cents)
a falling-apart copy of The Little Red Hen (1958, the illustrations are so great)
1902 copy of Music for the Child World (I may not be able to tear this one up - it's awesome)

Each was 99 cents or less (most were less). I am thrilled. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Although I did go by my LSS and they have the new Wild Asparagus papers and stuff to go with it. That made me even more happy. :)

And did I say? 33% of my family is out doing something else today so it is quite peaceful in my home today. My ears are resting.

What a morning.

Who is he, this King of glory?
The Lord Almighty -
he is the King of Glory. Psalm 24:10

change is a good thing.

I think I need to make some changes. Starting with piano practice.

Every morning starts with breakfast and then Darby on the piano for 45 minutes. Then Jolie for 30 minutes. There's no volume on the piano. So for and hour and 15 minutes, I am hearing the piano in addition to other (sweet - infinitely precious) kids (retelling stories, singing a completely different song from what's being played on the piano, whining, asking for more juice, telling me cool things I need to know - i.e., Two-year-old Cody eating Cheerios: "Mama...mama.....mama...mama.....MAMA..........
What, Cody?
Mama, Anthony got kicked off, didn't he?), answering the phone, listening to the dog barking and barking and barking and barking, doing anything I do with piano in the background. Normal, sweet life turned slighty cacophony-ish (yes, I have mentioned this before...).

Loud. Not ugly, not even close. But hard to handle sometimes. I can see why they made that Calgon commercial the way they did.

For me, doing life during piano practice is like trying filter chicken noodle soup through a towel. Some gets through, but it's pretty frustrating and you know a whole lot of the good stuff didn't get to the other side.

I wish it didn't make me so tense, but it does. Is it the sign of some type of aging mama disorder? Overloaded Brain Can't Take Any More Noise Or Activity At This Moment Or I'll Spontaneously Combust Syndrome. That's it.

I'm thinking about working in my garden during piano practice. Quietly pulling weeds and building little rock barriers where the bunnies are digging holes under the fence. (All bunnies except the headless one Ben our dog was proudly and giddily - he was so, so, so happy - carrying all around the yard all day Friday - the decapitated prize bunny, covered in blood, dog slobber and flies. That one's not getting into the garden any more...)

And on that sunshiny note, I am off to escape piano practice.


Psalm 70:5
Yet I am poor and needy;
come quickly to me, O God.
You are my help and my deliverer;
O Lord, do not delay.

a haiku for pregnant sarah our cat.

you look gigantic
like you swallowed a football
waiting for kitties

hmmmmmm...
i love haikus but i really stink at them. it's the thought that counts! besides, she's a cat. she doesn't read. someone would have to read it to her.

lazy saturday stats

number of people at my house still in pj's at 1:45 in the afternoon: 1 (me)

number of people doing ballet in the yard getting sunburned because they are supposed to stay in the shade: 2

number of husbands home today: 0 (ISU graduation)

number of layouts completed in last 24 hours: 2

number of people I have fed lunch to: 1 (only because it was breast milk. basically no effort on my part)

number of unborn kitties in my scraproom: ? I don't know but the poor mama kitty is huge

number of checks received for scrapping this week: 1 (yay! does that make me a professional?)

number of emails received today: 2

number of people who will read this besides me: 1 or less

number of hairs on my head: ? I don't know, but God does and I am so thankful that He cares that much about little ole me


Matthew 10:30 And even the very hairs on your head are all numbered.

Waiting stinks.

I entered a contest. My first, with the exception of CK Hall of Fame in 1999. (ha!) I made a really, really cool album. They required 6 pages. I did 30 - I know, I'm an overachiever. I'm so proud of this book, mostly because it's one of the few I have ever actually completely finished. I'm very happy with it but I don't expect to win, truly I don't.

But then, if I truly do not expect to win, why did I stay up until 4am the night before the deadline finishing it? Why did I spend $28 overnighting it by Fed-Ex to Minnesota? Why did I spend so much time finding their not-very-widely-available papers and album? Why did I spend so much money buying the stuff once I did find it?

Okay... maybe I did think I had a chance at winning. I also had a huge fear that if I didn't finish the album by the contest deadline, it would become another one of those beautiful-but-half-finished projects that I already have enough of.

The winners were to be announced "on or about April 30." Today is May 10. Let's get this over with!

I am Rabbit.

My family agrees...I am Rabbit.

I don't think I want to be Rabbit. He walks around naked. And he's bossy. He is always yelling at (okay, correcting) Tigger, who is Mr. Popularity in the Hundred-Acre Wood. Constantly correcting doesn't make you very popular. So who would want to be Rabbit?

But Rabbit has an awesome garden (like I want). And his house is always in order (again, like I want). He might be a control freak, but at least he has order instead of chaos. I mean, where does Pooh go when he runs out of honey? Rabbit's house! Because Rabbit is on top of that stuff. He wouldn't let himself run out of anything as important as honey. And, really, even though Rabbit is a little tense, a little hyper-organized, maybe a little controlling, he is loved by all. He's a good neighbor, a true friend, and he can definitely be trusted. So what if he doesn't wear clothes? I think I could be Rabbit just fine.

"It was going to be one of Rabbit's busy days. As soon as he woke up he felt important, as if everything depended upon him. It was just the day for Organizing Something, or for Writing a Notice Signed Rabbit, or for Seeing What Everybody Else Thought About It...It was a Captainish sort of day, when everybody said, "Yes, Rabbit" and "No, Rabbit," and waited until he had told them." (A.A. Milne)

Yep, I'm Rabbit.

Practicing Procrastination. (Warning - boring blog....)

Doctors practice medicine. I practice procrastination. I really don't have to practice any more. I am so good at it. Procrastinate, procrastinate, procrastinate.

And I don't think it has very much to do with the fact that I have four children and we homeschool. It goes much deeper than that.

I have read a lot about procrastination. It seems that because I am such a perfectionist, I tend to put things off because I don't think I can do them perfectly. All or none, that's me. The more important the task, the more likely I am to put it off and then have to do it at the last minute with absolutely no hope of doing it well. It's such a strange phenomenon.

This morning, I mailed two Mother's Day gifts. Before Mother's Day. Three days before. My mother is likely to faint in the post office when she realizes what is in the box. My mother-in-law will also be quite surprised, I am sure. They'll wonder if it's a fluke. Or if I hired a service. Or if possibly Mother's Day was last month and they missed it. Because I can't remember the last time I mailed a gift on time.

I guess the one bad thing about this is that I don't know if they'll like what I sent...that bothers me, but I forced myself to just decide on a gift and MAIL IT. Victory for the all-or-none girl.

Thing is, I care very much about honoring them on Mother's Day. And birthdays are important to me. I mean, gift-giving is one of my top love languages! But I have this fear of not doing it well enough. Of giving a gift that will seem thoughtless or cheap or not just good enough. So then I procrastinate, miss the event, and after that, well, in my mind the gift has to be even better because it's late!

This translates to so many areas of my life. I really hate it. Here's a list of things I have been procrastinating:
1. Mailing 3 birthday presents, one from September, one from November, one from April (I consider that one right on time - for me.)
2. Thank you notes from when Corey was born in July.
3. Organizing my unscrapped photos.
4. Planning the rest of our school year. (We go all through the summer.)
5. I'm sure there's more.

Some things I do not want to procrastinate but have the potential to procrastinate are:
1. My MIL's birthday gift (in 2 weeks)
2. Planning my classes that I'm teaching at my LSS this month and this summer.
3. My MMM entry.
4. Jolie's birthday in June.
The list apparently goes on and on because I can't type fast enough to get it all down...

Cacophony

Cell phone ringing. Daddy's going to meet us at the pediatrician for an important appointment.

Spiderman in firetruck pajamas, a straw cowboy hat - a "real" one from Texas, with a big plastic red shovel. Over and over he loudly assures me that he is, "fine, okay, Mom." This is because he is running and "falling" a lot. Spiderman does this. The landings are loud in this million-year-old farmhouse over a million-year-old basement. The floor just can't take it.

Spidergirl is alternatingly chasing Spiderman or hiding from Spiderman. Chasing elicits squeals and giggles from Spiderman, hiding requires him to call out for her, wondering at the top of his high-pitched, two-year-old little voice where she could be. Spidergirl, by the way, has on a pink cowboy hat - also from Texas of course, and therefore "real."

Every two to three minutes, Spiderman does something unacceptable to Spidergirl and tattling presents itself to the Judge. That would be me. Ugh. Go away and stop annoying each other. Be perfect. Thank you.

All this is happening during piano practice for my more diligent child. At least for this morning, she wins the diligence award for doing anything-at-all productive. So the adventures of Spiderman and Spidergirl are happening to the tune of "Sunrise, Sunset" and practice scales. Over. And. Over. Just for three quarters of an hour.

Spiderbaby has been contained in the baby swing, which he is too big for. But he is determined to eat cat food. He must eat cat food, therefore he must be stopped. You would think cat food is chocolate. Maybe I should check that out. He's still making plenty of noise, though.

Now Spiderman and Spidergirl are loudly and laughingly getting married. Screeching, giggling, hugging. I wonder if this will help their relationship. I doubt it. Marriage is not a solution for people who have the comminucation problems that they do.

Cacophony. Sweet Cacophony.