Sacrifice of Praise on Thanksgiving

Heading into the holiday season this year, my kids have been a bit melancholy. Grandparents and aunties are all out of town for Thanksgiving, and many will be gone for Christmas, too. They are feeling lonely, missing family and friends we won't see during this special time. And it is hard. Ours is a very close-knit family, sharing life very intimately. So, when people aren't around, their absence is keenly felt. Adding to the disappointment is our diet...Thanksgiving just isn't the same on the GAPS diet...no mashed potatoes, no flaky pie crust, no jellied cranberry sauce, no fluffy stuffing, no fresh-from-the-oven bread...you get the idea.

And, our house won't be bursting at the seams with people. It isn't unusual to have groups of over twenty crowding around our dining room table, filling our home with laughter and gaiety. This year, however, we'll only have five guests (that's still fifteen people, but only five don't live at our house), and that is making folks feel kind of lonely.

Because of the GAPS diet, we won't be going Black Friday shopping, either. We simply don't have the money. That is disappointing...very disappointing.

As I was visiting with one particular child, however, we both remembered family and friends who are missing loved ones, and this is the first time to celebrate birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas without their precious husband, father, sister, or brother. That gave us a little bit of perspective.

Then we thought about families who are separated because of the ongoing war on terror. Military families can visit via Skype or Apple FaceTime, which is better than nothing, but they are still separated by thousands of miles. And, they have no guarantee that their loved one will be alive for their next scheduled visit. That gave us even more perspective.

And we've been loving on a family who is homeless, with virtually nothing but the clothes on their backs. They won't be going Black Friday shopping, either. They barely have the money to pay for gas. Without the generosity of strangers, they won't have any gifts for Christmas, either. Even more perspective...

Those healthy doses of perspective adjusted our thinking a bit. Though we won't be enjoying the sweet fellowship of parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, we have the hope of celebrating with them again in the near future. And though our situation isn't what we'd prefer, it is definitely worth being thankful for!

Hebrews 13:15 describes bringing a sacrifice of praise to God continually. To a people very familiar with the sacrificial system, the picture would have been very clear...praise isn't always easy. It isn't always simple. It isn't always a result of feelings. Sometimes, praise is a sacrifice! Habakkuk 3:17-18 says, 

"Even though the fig trees have no blossoms,
and there are no grapes on the vines;
even though the olive crop fails,
and the fields lie empty and barren;
even though the flocks die in the fields,
and the cattle barns are empty,  

yet I will rejoice in the LORD!
I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!" NLT

That is most definitely a sacrifice of praise. And it comes from focusing on something beyond our circumstances. It comes from focusing on the God of our salvation. And truly, nothing is more praise-worthy, nothing is more precious, nothing is more worth celebrating than the God of our salvation!

So, on this day before Thanksgiving, I am choosing to offer a sacrifice of praise to the God of my salvation, thanking Him for my family, even though my parents, sister, and only niece are miles and miles away. I thank God for the guests who will surround our table, even if we have just a few. I will thank God for the privilege of celebrating such a precious holiday without fear of reprisal or attack, and I will thank God for those who are standing in harm's way so that I can. I will thank God for the blessings we enjoy, and for the special treats we'll have on our table tomorrow, even though ours is a very different holiday. In the end, I choose to offer a sacrifice of praise, because I have so very much to be thankful for.

Sensory Sunday

Getting sensory kids dressed is never simple or easy. But when you are trying to get kids ready for church, it somehow makes everything more complicated. This morning was slightly easier than Friday, but today I wanted to get somewhere by a certain time. Not a good situation. 

My youngest son usually has trouble with pants; the waistband bothers his tummy. So, he is very picky about what goes around his belly. Today, after convincing him to wear clothes (as opposed to pajamas) to church, the pants went on easily. It was the shirt that didn't work. Once I buttoned the sleeves, he couldn't stand the sensation of the cuffs on his wrists. So, we tried a few different shirts before finding one he could tolerate. 

My youngest daughter usually struggles with shoes. And she was true to form today. Her shoes didn't fit. They were shoes she picked out. So, she decided she didn't want to go to church. I gave her the option of wearing shoes or going barefoot. She didn't have the option of staying home. So, she found shoes that DID fit. They were fluorescent orange, with bright pink buckles; not exactly a good color match with a red and black dress. But, I figured shoes were better than nothing. We headed off to church. 

Barely out of the car, my sweet girl began to meltdown, because of her shoes. Again, she demanded to go home. Again, I gave her the option of going barefoot. Her daddy offered to carry her. She refused. All she could think about was the discomfort of her shoes. Panic, induced by the overwhelming input from her uncomfortable shoes, brought on tears (in the girl, not the parent). Finally, we were able to get her inside. Finally, both kids went to their classes and we went to church, albeit thirty minutes late and rather frazzled. But we made it. 

Some days, I don't have the energy for such challenges. Some days, I simply want to get kids up, get them dressed without difficulty, to be able to walk out the door when it's time to leave, and not have to think twice about sensory issues. That is not my life. My children will always be "sensory kids." We can help them in some way. We can provide them with a rich daily sensory diet, we can help them learn to accommodate their most challenging sensory issues, we can help them achieve a high level of function in a world that can so often be overwhelming. But it is tiring, emotionally and mentally. And some days I just don't want to do it anymore.  

Another Adventure

I am beginning a new blog. It will describe our journey with the GAPS diet, developed by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride. You can check out my first post here.

Don't worry...I'm not leaving; just adding a page where you can share my adventures, if you so choose, through the ups and downs of eating a very different (and ultra-strict) diet than most Americans. This will continue to be my soapbox, and I will continue to wax eloquent, even if nobody is listening.

Hopefully you will drop in from time to time, to check my progress. I'd definitely love to have you share the journey.

Woo Hoo!!! Mama's Doing a Happy Dance - Kids Got It (at least once!)

I've been parenting toddlers for a long time; about seventeen years, to be (a bit more) precise. And over that time, a few things have become clear. Young children don't share well, they don't play nice, and they have to be taught how to say simple things like "I'm sorry, please forgive me," and "I forgive you." It can require a tremendous amount of time to get them to understand those simple concepts. 

One of the blessings of a large family, however, is sheer numbers; if more people speak politely than not, lessons can be learned more quickly. Such seems to be the case with my two youngest, which is the reason for my happy dance.

Earlier this evening, my youngest took a direct hit from his sister's left hand, because of some less-than-desirable action. As I gently corrected both children, an amazing thing took place; my son apologized to his sister, and she apologized to him! Then, they both forgave each other!!!! 

And no, I didn't make them. 

Doesn't she look angelic?

I could hardly believe it. We've tried diligently to teach all of our children to treat others they way they want to be treated. Patiently, I've walked step-by-step through the process, confronting the wrong behavior, asking the offender if they'd like to be treated that way, and if they'd been treated that way, what they'd want the other person to do. Sometimes, to be quite honest, I wondered if it was ever going to sink in?! 

Doesn't he look sweet?

Then, my two youngest, who have both experienced the conversation AND seen siblings experience it, got it, at least once!! Woo Hoo!! HAPPY DANCE! 

I wish this meant I'd never have to walk through that process ever again; never have to have that conversation; never have to walk through those steps. But, I know better, in spite of how darling they are. I'll probably have to do it hundreds of times, with the two I'm bragging about right now. Who cares. For one moment in time, they both got it. And I'm going to celebrate as long as I can.

Keep Your Crown On

Women wear many hats. Some of us are wives. Some are mothers. We are all daughters, and many of us are sisters. We work in hospitals, board rooms, and bathrooms. Some of the time we soar like eagles. Other times, we fall flat on our faces.

And when we do, the world is quick to put a dunce cap on our heads.

The cap may say different things. One time it may say “Failure.” Another time it may say “Loser,” or “Stupid,” or “Worthless.” But ultimately the world is telling us that what we do is more important than who we are. And, even if we don’t admit it to anyone, much of the time, we believe that lie.

But God has a completely different hat for those who have been adopted into His family.

Ephesians 2:11-19 (NAS) reads (in part), “Therefore, remember that at one time you Gentiles (italics added)…remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. (bold and italics added). But now, in Christ Jesus, you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace, who has…broken down the…dividing wall of hostility…so making peace, that He might r4econcile us both (Israelites and Gentiles) to God in one body through the cross…for through Him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God. (bold and italics added)

For those of us who have been adopted into God’s family, as members of God’s household, we are princesses! The world can no longer define us based on our performance. God defines us by His!

But, when the world pulls out the dunce cap, it still fits. The choice then becomes, which hat are we going to wear? Which reality are we going to live in? What are we going to choose to embrace?

So much of the time, it seems, we choose to accept that dunce cap! I definitely do - far more often than I’d like to admit. Actually, as I type this, I’m wearing a cheap imitation tiara because I’m really struggling with the dunce cap labeled “Failure.” I feel like one. People I love have been disappointed in me, so “Disappointment” is blazoned across that cap, too. And, in my kitchen, the dirty dishes are breeding faster than I can wash them (of course, I’m not washing them right now…I’m typing on the computer, lol). It is easy to accept the hat the world wants to force on our heads. That is a choice I face every single day.

The truth is, though, no matter what else happens, no matter what hat the world tries to force on my head, that tiara is still there! It is always there. And it isn’t perched on my head because I deserve it. It has been placed there by the very Creator of the universe.

What I do with that knowledge can change everything.

And, the question becomes, will I keep my crown on, or not? 

Having put that cheap, plastic imitation tiara on my head has helped. My focus is not on my failings, but on my true identity. And as I focus on that, everything comes into perspective. I disappointed someone; I’m not a disappointment. I failed someone; I’m not a failure. I am so much more than a composite of my performances. I am a daughter of the One True King, and that says it all.

Worst Mother's Day. Ever.

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and I'm pretty sure it was my worst Mother's Day, ever. A number of factors came together in a kind of "perfect storm" to make the day less than I'd hoped for or expected. And my family tried; they really did. But, it was still a pretty bummer of a day; or at least it felt that way to me.

Having returned late the evening before from an amazing "mountain top" experience, the day started too early; I was exhausted. And having dropped several NOT subtle hints about what I wanted for Mother's Day (even buying some of the materials and leaving them conveniently located on the table), I had some expectations about what I would be receiving. According to more than one reputable source, expectations are premeditated disappointments. Yes. I was disappointed.

As we headed to church (late, even for the "late" service), the cloak of disappointment hung heavy on my shoulders. And, with little notice from my family, tears slowly slipped down my cheeks.

Barely able to exchange simple greetings with fellow church members, I couldn't participate in worship; tears were too close to spilling again.

Then God reminded me of what I'd shared at a ladies' tea just the day before; "Keep your crown on." It was a reference to the idea that we all wear hats of various shapes and colors. The world tries to force us to wear hats that God never intended; dunce caps with words like "failure" and "disappointment" blazoned across them. But, for those of us who have been adopted in to God's family (Eph 2:11-19), no matter what hat the world tries to force us to wear, we are princes and princesses, and we wear a crown. It is our choice whether to keep that crown on when life tries to cram one of those dunce hats on our heads, or not. And yesterday, I was wearing the wrong hat.


So, in the midst of the worship service, surrounded by dozens of people, tears once again spilled over (I hate to cry in front of people!!) as I realized how desperately I needed to take my own advice.

I wish I could say the day suddenly and magically improved; it didn't. I still struggled with my attitude. I was still disappointed that the box of supplies I'd purchased sat unopened on the basement table. I still didn't really want to celebrate Mother's Day, with its blatant reminders of my failures as a mom. Honestly, more than anything, I wanted to run away from home! But, as my family rallied around me, and later, as my husband cared for our young son so I could get some desperately needed sleep (which was probably the biggest reason for my struggles yesterday), I was reminded of all the reasons I have to be thankful. No, it wasn't the perfect Mother's Day. No, I didn't get what I wanted (not even that coveted picture with my children nestled around me - I got this, instead), 

or even what I'd asked for (which was this). Instead, I was given a really powerful opportunity to practice what I'd been preaching (just the day before), and the humbling reminder of how desperately I need a savior.

Matthew West has a song out right now that has really been ministering to my heart as I struggle with keeping my crown on. Check it out here. 

If you do visit Matthew West's site, I'd love to hear from you; please come back and post your thoughts.

Unconventional Appreciation

As the mother of eight, two with very challenging (though "hidden") special-needs, several people have asked us if we are planning to have more kids.So, we've (once again) been contemplating the whole birth-control question. And it's had me thinking; what if my husband had gotten a vasectomy when we planned to, two babies ago?

If my husband had gotten that vasectomy, we would never have been blessed with our two youngest children. In a culture that doesn't value life (pre-born life, the elderly, or those with questionable "quality of life"), it is easy to look at our two youngest and think perhaps we made a mistake. Life would have been so much simpler without them.

Then I realized how much I would have missed if these two blessings had never come into our family; the joy, the lessons, the appreciation for what I've always taken for granted.

Psalm 139:14-16 (ESV) says, "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them."

God didn't make a mistake when He created the man who penned those words, and He didn't make a mistake when He formed my precious son, or my sweet little girl, either. They are both "fearfully and wonderfully made," not just in spite of their challenges, but because of them. 

Exodus 4:11 says, "Who has made man's mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the LORD?"

Perhaps you don't know God the way I do; you don't trust His sovereignty or see His goodness. In which case you won't appreciate the above verses as I do. But, for me, that passage in Exodus brings peace, comfort, and hope. God made Moses "slow of speech." Perhaps he had a stutter or he got his tongue wrapped around his eye teeth, so he couldn't see what he was saying. Whatever it was, suffice it to say Moses was not eloquent. Yet he was God's spokesman to Pharaoh and he led hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of people through the wilderness, forging a new nation in the process. Pretty amazing feat for a man who couldn't really talk.

Knowing how God uses people who are broken to accomplish great things, I wonder what He has planned for my two precious blessings. And I'm incredibly thankful I didn't refuse the gifts.Would life have been easier? Yes, and less expensive, too. But I'm not interested in easy, or in amassing (much) worldly wealth. The joy I experience watching my boy who has struggled to walk toddle towards me with his arms open is more valuable than anything money can buy. The pleasure of hearing the day's events from my precious daughter who has struggled to talk fills my heart fuller than Donald Trump's bank account.

So, I want to pose a question; is easy necessarily better? Why or why not?

Yes; we did that on purpose...

Little man has discovered the toilet paper. Even with close supervision, he will somehow figure out how to grab the end of the toilet roll and run (in his halting little gait), toilet paper trailing behind him. I'd say our consumption of toilet paper has doubled greatly increased!

So, I decided to take drastic measures; I took the roll of toilet paper of the toilet paper roller! But, I forgot to tell all my children. They have been trained put the roll of toilet paper back ON the roller. Oops.

As my children have begun to understand my plan, the consumption of toilet paper decreased slightly. It has only decreased slightly because well-meaning guests continue to put the toilet paper back on the roller! I think I'm going to tape a sign just above the empty toilet paper holder, saying "Yes; we did this on purpose. Please do not replace the toilet paper roll." At this point, I'm not sure if we should go on to explain why, or simply leave it to their imagination. Or, perhaps I should post a photo of the little man making his get-away instead.

Renewing My Strength

Weary; someone used that word recently to describe how they were feeling. Not "tired;" they said they were weary. I can relate. Though my situation has improved greatly over the last few months (meaning I am doing more than simply surviving), I have by no means recovered from the struggles or stress of the last eighteen months.

According to the free online Merriam-Webster dictionary, weary means "exhausted in strength, endurance, vigor, or freshness" or "having one's patience, tolerance, or pleasure exhausted." However you define it, the indication is you are plain worn out.

That word describes how I feel; worn out.

The cries and struggles of my two youngest have drained me dryer than I imagined one could be drained. Simple tasks can feel overwhelming; sorting folded clothes for kids to put away or planning a menu (which I've done for years) is almost too much. I hate feeling like this. But, I do.

So, when a verse came to mind earlier this evening, I was very excited. It isn't a solution, per se, but rather an refreshing new perspective of a passage I've known for a very long time.

Isaiah 40:28 says God does not faint or grow weary. Instead, "He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might, He increases strength." (Isaiah 40:29 ESV) Isaiah goes on to say, "Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted, but those who wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength..." (Isaiah 40:31a  ESV).

It hit me; this verse isn't just (or primarily) about overcoming, like I've always thought. It is much more complex and precious. Though God doesn't grow weary, He understands that I do. Waiting on Him means my strength can be renewed. Why do I need my strength renewed if it isn't ebbing? This is written to people who are weary. I am weary. I can relate. And, God can help. What a comfort.

Streams in the Desert

Isaiah 35:4-7 is a familiar passage. I have heard it before, probably many times. But for some reason it leapt off the page at me when I read it a few days ago. In the English Standard Version, it reads "Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Your God will come...He will come and save you...For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water..."


It is kind of funny; I don't usually picture streams in deserts. They are dry, dusty places, without much rain (the qualification as a "desert" is based on rainfall, or the lack of it) and long distances between pools. Oases exist, but they are not common. And God is speaking to a people who understand deserts. The picture He paints is very clear, and powerful; God will save His people, and the desert in which they find themselves will be transformed. Wow; what an amazing picture!!

For me, the even more amazing part is that I've been experiencing it lately. God has not left me alone in this desert sojourn. Many wonderful people have come alongside me, through prayer, and other more practical methods (thank you Erica and Cynde). A dear friend, who does prayer counseling, spent an afternoon with me recently, and it was incredibly powerful. Since that time, my experience has been more like walking by the streams of living water than stumbling through a dry, dusty desert.

The funny part is, my life hasn't really changed. In addition to my two special-needs kids, one of my girls recently broke her ankle, for the second time in six months ( just weeks after corrective surgery!) and has some serious dietary deficiencies (she may also need major surgery on both her ankles), I spent the night (literally) in the ER with my five year old, and my oldest daughter apparently needs surgery to correct hip dysplasia. The saga with our youngest continues; a possible immune deficiency and allergies to common foods (dairy and eggs) have further complicated an already challenging situation. Yet, God is providing me with streams in this desert!

Don't get me wrong; my days are not full of beautiful scenes fit to inspire Norman Rockwell paintings. Laundry still piles up along the streams in my desert, and I get so tired of kids crying. Dinner still has to be set on the table (which requires making it, ahead of time), toilets still need to be cleaned, and mildew still grows in my shower. But, God is caring for me in the midst of this crazy time. He is tending my heart, bringing encouragement, and helping me see that I'm not alone, even when it feels like I am. This journey is still lonely, but I realize that the trail God has set before me parallels a stream, His stream, and from it I can draw refreshment, take courage, and journey for another day.

Yes, They Are All Mine

For years, I've admired the little stick figure stickers you see on the backs of vehicles. You know, the little sandals, or sea turtles; those kind of cute little stick figure drawings that tell you how many people are in the family. They are so cute and fun, proudly proclaiming to the world how many blessings you have in your family.



And, for years, I've wanted those cute stickers.




But, they are quite frivolous, and (to someone who is very practical) completely unnecessary. So, I have admired those stickers, but haven't been willing to invest in them. My girls noticed my interest, and conspired to bless me for Mother's Day.

Applying the stickers, of course, was a family affair.

First, we started with Mom and Dad...

Then we had to decide what order the rest of the family should go in. Since we had five girls before we had any boys, I didn't want people to be confused about multiples. So, we settled on alternating young kids with big kids, like this...

Finally, everyone was in their rightful place, with a little room to spare, prompting one of the girls to proclaim, "Look, Mom. We have room for more kids."

If you look closely, you'll notice the cat's tail is short and the dog is missing one leg; the girls wanted to be as authentic as possible.

Oh my goodness, you should see the looks we've gotten on the interstate! People starring as they go by, craning their necks around to get a clear view of the person driving, as though perhaps they would see something other than a human being. One woman, so I've been told, mouthed the words, "Wow" as she drove by. It has been quite entertaining, actually. We have enjoyed quite a bit of comic relief, laughing out loud on more than one occasion, thoroughly enjoying the "notoriety" our little stick figure stickers are bringing.

Now, to answer the obvious question; a sticker that says, "Yes, they are all mine." 

Taking the Next Step (through the desert)

Someone asked me recently how my day was going. The question caught me unprepared; I honestly didn't know. But, the question got me thinking; how was my day going? So, I stopped to think about it. Kids were crying, but only one at a time. My son was asleep (and he doesn't sleep well at all), I'd started a load of laundry, dressed and changed two kids, put out a fire (literally), and fed my kids. Plus, my hubby was coming home that night, and I had recovered from being sick. So, at that point, it had been a good day.  Unfortunately, things went downhill at that point.

Though it isn't worth detailing, I was discouraged and downtrodden, beat down by the daily battle to raise eight children (two with developmental delays), manage a busy home, and keep my mind. The lure to just stop was very tempting, though all my attempts to submit a resignation have been futile; God doesn't work that way.

So, I got back on my feet and took one more step. Taking that step was huge; my situation didn't change, but my attitude did. And, I could again look back over the day and focus on the highlights, realizing that even with the challenges and difficulties, the highlights outweighed the low points, and I really did have a good day.

Sometimes the hardest part of parenting, or life, is to take that next step, the one that comes after falling down AGAIN! Instead of focusing on the failures and falls, choosing to focus on the successes, no matter how small they may seem. So, I'm choosing to celebrate the successes (kids got three meals, some laundry did get done, and everyone got dressed before the day was over) in spite of what seems like overwhelming failures. According to some wise person (on a card I once read), Success is "getting up once oftener than you fall down." At least for now, by that definition, I'm choosing success.

A Life Worth Celebrating

I really believe life is precious; worth celebrating. Whether big or small, young or old, neuro-typical or not, life is worth celebrating. So are milestones. You know, like birthdays and anniversaries and major accomplishments.

But, on the eve of a very significant milestone, I find myself ill-prepared, not ready to celebrate. My son turns one today. One year ago right now, I was in the hospital, working very diligently to bring this boy into the world. He didn't arrive for another twenty hours, but who is counting (besides me)?

It has been a very difficult year. Instead of being amazed at how quickly the last year has gone, we have made very slow progress; each month marked not by celebration and milestones, but by survival and sickness.

Admittedly, baby J isn't as sick as some. But I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted by his needs. The energy and effort required to mount a celebration is simply not there. And that makes me sad.

Baby J will not pass this milestone uncelebrated, however. His big sisters worked on a cake, and his grandma is coming to visit in the afternoon. We won't make his favorite dinner (a long-honored family tradition), because he can't tell us what he wants. But he will eat cake and blow out candles to the tune of "Happy Birthday."

And I will have a choice; to focus on celebrating my sons first year, or on the fact that I am too tired to throw him a party. Honestly, I feel like a terrible mom for not doing a better job with birthdays in general. Instead of letting I ruin my day, however, I am going to make the most of what I've got. My son is a gift. His life is a precious treasure. And though the last year has been incredibly challenging, his is a life worth celebrating.

Learning Curve

My eleven month old son loves to climb stairs. Unfortunately, he is not very coordinated, so he is as likely to go down the stairs involuntarily as he is to go up. Consequently, we usually sit beside him as he crawls. Some of the time, however, we really don't have time to sit on the stairs while a not quite one year old practices his climbing skills. So, we push a stand-alone baby gate in the way.

This technique has worked quite well for several weeks. Today, however, our eleven month old made a discovery; the gate moves! So, he deftly pushed it out of the way and began to ascend the stairs without an escort. Life as we've known it is about to change; bummer!

On the bright side, our little guy, who has been plagued by so many struggles in his short life, is no dummy! I guess the change is good, in the end. I certainly don't want him stuck behind gates his whole life. I'll follow Ann VosKamp's lead and choose my son's mobility and ingenuity as something I can celebrate today.

Babies DON'T keep!!

Many mamas are familiar with the poem, "Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hubert Hamilton, but I've pasted it in below because I needed the reminder. Babies can not and do not wait. Days may be long, with diapers to change, laundry to wash (and dry, fold, And put away), meals to cook (and clean up), and much, much more. But the years are very, VERY short. One day you are holding a tiny baby. The next, you are staring in the face of an adult! What is the more important investment; your house or the future adult in your arms?!

Social pressures weigh heavy. We think everyone else keeps an immaculate home, and if we are good mamas, we will, too. Medical wisdom pushes us to parent for convenience, with the goal to as quickly as possible have our babies sleep through the night, on their own.

After 16 years of parenting, and lots of baby rocking (with eight kids, I've had plenty of opportunity), I know that dust and dishes will definitely keep; mine have! Babies don't. Even if you rock them all the time (like I have with my youngest, due to severe reflux and sensory issues), babies don't stay babies. It is hard, because the tasks are so obvious and absolutely necessary, but Ruth Hubert Hamilton was right, babies do not keep. Here is the poem, in its entirety. Enjoy...

"Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,

Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

Hang out the washing and butter the bread,

Sew on a button and make up the bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,

(Lullaby, Rockaby, lullaby, loo.)

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,

(Pat-a-Cake, darling and peek, peekaboo).

And out in the yard there is hullabaloo.

But I'm playing kanga and this is my Roo.

Look aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(Lullaby, Rockaby, lullaby loo)

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep,

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

The Difference Between Boys and Girls

I have a four year old boy. Yes, they are an entity unto themselves; if you've had one, you know what I mean.

Earlier today I was in my son's bedroom (one that he must share, since we have twice as many kids as bedrooms), helping him clean up his clothes. Over the last several months, I've done a poor job training my son to put his clothes away correctly so they spend most of their time on his floor. It's had something to do with homeschooling, pregnancy with all it's particular joys, and now the added pleasure and excitement of a "gerdling" whom, with his frequent episodes of silently refluxing and gagging/coughing/choking when not in an upright position, requires most of everyone's time. But, I digress.

We were picking clothes up off the floor, trying to determine if they needed to be washed or folded (except for the clothes on the floor that WERE folded - those were easy to deal with) so I asked my son to sniff a couple of items. He sniffed, then he sniffed again. We're talking serious sniffs, too. After which he announced, without a grimace or a frown, "This needs to go in the laundry. It stinks!" Well, OK then.

Can you imagine a girl sniffing stinky anything more than once? Can you imagine a girl responding to a frontal assault on her olfactory nerve WITHOUT grimacing and making sure everyone knew how assaulted she really was? But for boys, it seems not to be a problem. I'm not sure if that is a good thing... But, it is a clear demonstration of the difference between boys and girls. I'm really glad I have mostly girls.

The Joys and Challenges of a Cool Mist Humidifier

My son is battling yet another infection that plugs him up and makes breathing difficult, because of his reflux. So, I have spent yet another night parked under the cool mist humidifier with him in my arms. Because of how congested he is, I have the humidifier going full bore.

Of course, this means that a significant amount of humidity is in the air for both of us to breath. Consequently, I have stumbled onto a slightly ticklish situation: as I breath the humidity, it condenses on the little hairs in my nose! Oh my goodness, it tickles.

I haven't figured out a solution to this situation, but since JJ has a stuffy, goopy nose, I have tissue close by and can wipe both our noses as often as necessary. If I wasn't so tired, maybe I could come up with a creative design to prevent the problem. Since I'm exhausted, maybe I'll just buy stock in Kleenex instead.

Is It Too Late?

The last few months have been quite difficult, primarily due to the severe reflux plaguing our youngest son. Today was one of those days when life was just crazy. So, I pondered the question, "Is it too late to rethink this whole large family thing?"

I sent a text with that question to my sweet sister and a dear friend, both of whom I knew would enjoy my twisted humor. The texts read,

"Is it 2 late 2 rethink the whole large family thing? I am going to LOSE. MY. MIND!!! Ahhhh. Try'n 2 do school & NOBODY. IS. LISTENING. Either the baby needs 2 eat or a diaper change or the toddler needs 2 sit on the potty or she missed and we have a mess 2 clean up or somebody is fighting or b'n rude. Ahhhh!!"

The reply was, of course, that it is most definitely WAY too late to rethink this whole thing. I'm committed. Or maybe I should be committed. Regardless, I am committed to finishing the race God has set before me. Sometimes I can't see the great cloud of witnesses through the piles of laundry, dust bunnies, and waves of spit up flowing down my shirt, but I know they are cheering me on because the Bible tells me so.

Days like today, so full of futility and frustration, are why I have chosen Galatians 6:9 as my life verse. The Marchauna Revised version says, "And do not grow weary in parenting, for in due time you will reap a harvest (of grown, well-adjusted, contributing members of society) if you do not lose heart." The key words are, "do not lose heart." I experienced great frustration today, but by God's grace and because of the love of two dear people, I did not lose heart. Maybe they are part of that great cloud of witnesses described in Hebrews.

It is most definitely too late to rethink this whole large family thing. But, the more I think about it, now that my large family is all quiet, asleep in their beds, I wouldn't trade my life for anything. It isn't an easy life, but it is my life and I really do love it, most of the time.

Calgon....

I may be showing my age, but I remember Calgon commericals. After showing a crazy situation featuring an overworked and overwhelmed mom, the mom would look at the camera and say, "Calgon, take me away." Suddenly, this overworked and overwhelmed mom would find herself in a bathtub full of bubbles (Calgon bubbles) in an oasis of peace and quiet. So, my joke, when life is a little crazy, is to look at my husband and say something about Calgon.

Well, today really is a Calgon day!!

• Our water is off, for the second day, as a crew of guys works to connect us with the city sewer system.


• Three of my eight children were running fevers of 102+ through the night.


• We awoke to the sound of jackhammers.


• A kid dumped water down the sink (after the pipes had been cut) and flooded our basement.


• One of my girls broke her finger.


• My seven week old son had an upper GI at a hospital 25 minutes away and he screams in his car seat.


• When I got in the car to buckle him in, I discovered the car seat wasn't buckled in to the car, then I discovered that my two year old's car seat wasn't buckled into the car!


• When we got to the hospital, about 10 minutes after we were supposed to check in, parking was a zoo, and my son was screaming in his car seat. I called to say we were going to be late and found out that we were on the wrong side of the hospital complex.


• By the time we actually got in to where we were supposed to be, we were 20 minutes late for the x-ray!

I was on the verge of tears. So, I did what any self-respecting 40+ year old mother of eight would do. I called my mommy. And like the wonderful mother she is, she met me at the hospital, hugged me, prayed for me, and took my kids, then bought all of us lunch.

When I got home, I discovered that we still don't have water, but I'd forgotten to store water, so we don't have any water for things like washing hands, or rinsing dishes, or refilling humidifiers to help sick kids breath easier. This really is a Calgon day!!

I wonder if I volunteered to make a commercial if the people at Calgon would whisk me away to a deserted bathroom lit by candles with a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. Probably not, but just imaging the setting has me feeling better already.

Big Boy Toys

Our house was built before the sewer came through our part of town, so we've been operating with a septic system since moving in two and a half years ago. Just over a year ago, we received a letter from the local county health department that we had to connect to the sewer. That process began today.

Because we educate our children at home, we have the privilege of making the most of different opportunities, like when a huge backhoe pulls into your yard and starts digging a 12 foot hole! The mother of a four year old boy, I expected he would be enthralled. What I didn't expect was how my daughters would respond. Three of my daughters lined up on the couch along with my son, captivated by each step of the process of connecting our home to the sewer lines. They watched until the pile of dirt in our front yard obscured their view of the backhoe and workmen. But, they were back at the window again watching as the men returned all the dirt back to its proper location.

I've heard it said that the only difference between men and boys is the price they pay for their toys. I don't know that I completely agree with that perspective, but my little boy (and his big sisters) really like those big toys!