fourteen months and poems to treasure

She's asleep now of course.  I so want to kiss those jellied cheeks.  I've been giving her plain bread for the longest time, and then it dawned on me that she might like something on her bread. Duh.  Now she eats more wholesome whole grains.  

She is fourteen months today.

She climbed the safety gate and fell off the top of it.

There is no relaxing.....ever.

A new forehead bruise appears every week.

Our main rooms are mostly devoid of decor.  Everything within her reach is gone, except for books.

I can't keep up with the re-shelving of books.  I now gather those she has dispersed and put them in a laundry basket--to deal with in my spare time. 

Now the basket is overflowing with books, and we saw her climb the "mountain" today.

She dumps tubs and baskets and uses them as stools.

If the boys or Daddy forget to close the bathroom door, she notices it first thing and runs in there, hoping to find the toilet open, or toilet paper within her reach.  I can't buy any toilet safety gadgets right now, so I lecture the boys in desperation.  Since she climbs the gate now, it's more imperative that they remember.

When she's in my arms and we're walking down the hall, she stretches out her hands, reaching for wall pictures.

I love every inch of her.  Every pore.  I don't even want her to grow up.  She's my biggest blessing--an unexpected, delightful gift from God.

But she's. driving. me. CRAZY!

Now she's pulling it.  Next she'll turn it on its side and use it to stand on.  All wobbly and proud atop it, she displays no fear.

Our side yard.  No foot steps yet.  Fresh snow reminds me of new beginnings.  We ate our breakfast in wonder, looking out this window.  What you can't see is the way the early sun shown on this blanket, making it glisten.  Breathtaking.

Guess what my boys said when they saw these beans?  "She bought us craft supplies!"  Uh, no.  The only dried beans I usually buy are navy beans and legumes.  Peter was excited about the prospect of new recipes! That boy is destined to be a chef.  Cooking and baking are cures for any behavior problem he throws our way.  Just keep that boy busy!  Give him something to chop, something to mix, something to add spices to....whatever.  He lives for it!  

Over the weekend I ran across a post on Apples of Gold about a delightful poetry book, The Path to Home, by Edgar Guest (how do you underline in new blogger editor?).  It happens to be out of print, but the poems can be found on this website.  Tear jerker mom poems, to be sure.  Get the kleenex.  Thank you to Holly, for posting about this gem of a book!

Below you'll find one that fits my post today.


THE TOY-STREWN HOME--Edgar Guest
Give me the house where the toys are strewn,
Where the dolls are asleep in the chairs,
Where the building blocks and the toy balloon
And the soldiers guard the stairs.
Let me step in a house where the tiny cart
With the horses rules the floor,
And rest comes into my weary heart,
For I am at home once more.
Give me the house with the toys about,
With the battered old train of cars,
The box of paints and the books left out,
And the ship with her broken spars.
Let me step in a house at the close of day
That is littered with children’s toys,
And dwell once more in the haunts of play,
With the echoes of by-gone noise.
Give me the house where the toys are seen,
The house where the children romp,
And I’ll happier be than man has been
‘Neath the gilded dome of pomp.
Let me see the litter of bright-eyed play
Strewn over the parlor floor,
And the joys I knew in a far-off day
Will gladden my heart once more.
Whoever has lived in a toy-strewn home.
Though feeble he be and gray,
Will yearn, no matter how far he roam,
For the glorious disarray
Of the little home with its littered floor
That was his in the by-gone days ;
And his heart will throb as it throbbed before,
When he rests where a baby plays.

homemaking

When the whole family succumbs to illness, certainly prudent adult behavior would include going to bed early.  You would think so.  But is that what I did last night, given that my throat and head clearly screamed the need for rest?  NO!  Not me.  I seem incapable of such self-control, and had to eat humble pie about yesterday's fruit of the spirit post (self-control being a huge part of that Scripture).

No, I didn't speak harshly or behave poorly today.  But I'm sicker now, for the lack of sleep. Baby Beth tossed and turned in misery for a couple hours, right after I turned in at 1:30 a.m., mostly because Tylenol (generic)--all I had for infants--is a poor fever reducer.  I feel physically drained and horribly foolish.

Reminds me of the Scripture about Paul doing what he does not want to do.


 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.  
My husband tells me there is disagreement among theologians regarding this Scripture.  Some feel Paul is talking about the struggles of a Christian, while others feel Paul is referring to his own struggles before becoming a Christian. (Romans 7:15)

Anyhow, after working with the kids all day, going to bed is the last thing on my mind.  It has always been that way with me.  Having down time and doing things I can't do during the day--like read or write or follow the news--becomes powerfully tempting, no matter what my physical state.

Sarah Palin is to speak at the Tea Party Convention, and I have no TV reception (remember that lofty idea?).  I thought the Almighty Internet might have live news available, but not true, so far as I can tell.  Just quick clips after the fact.

So I wasted a lot of time last night trying to find coverage.  The blog remake went surprisingly fast, in comparison

But that isn't what I wanted to share tonight.

Lately, a passion for authentic homemaking--cooking from scratch, eating whole foods, etc.--consumes my thoughts.  I read this post about the lost art of homemaking, and I kept nodding my head.  That's me!  I wasn't taught anything about keeping a home.  For example, I need training in the following:

sewing
cooking
canning
freezing
knitting
mending
crafting
pie making
bread making
baking from-scratch cakes
wallpapering, painting
organization
making laundry detergent, diaper wipes

I really WANT to do all those things.  Not so I can fulfill some ideal picture of womanhood.  No, I've come to really value those things.  They aren't just tasks, in my mind.  I see them as part of the "nurturing package" that is homemaking.

When the rhythm of home life stems from these things, and from loving and schooling children, a simple existence results.  For these things take time and planning, and one can't be galavanting about town, with the family dispersed hither and yon.  The natural result of this rhythm is that the family is in the world, but not of the world.

I was raised with the notion that a woman should get an education so she won't have to rely on a man--not so much a practical teaching, as a "liberated", man-hating one (I think an education is wonderful).  Caring for children and a home was never put forth as a lofty ideal, or even as an option.  Different times, the sixties.  My parents--with the best of intentions--were products of the popular culture.  Without God as their foundation, I don't know how they could have become anything but that.  I'm not finding fault.

Nevertheless, I regret I didn't learn these homemaking skills before the children came.  Now, I'm busy and adding new skills presents a challenge.  But I'll learn some of them, and teach them to my children.  They can choose whatever they want for their lives.  I just don't want them to lack the building blocks of family cohesiveness.  Homemaking tasks are the building blocks, in my mind.

Small increments of progress.  That's my goal.  I will start with preparing my own beans, rather than using canned beans for chili and tacos.

I don't have canning supplies or the know how to prepare my own tomatoes right now, but I can make my own spaghetti sauce, rather than doctor up some Ragu. 

I can make my own taco seasoning.

I can make mac n' cheese from scratch, rather than rely on Kraft (real stuff doesn't appeal to kids as much, but they'll get used to it.)

I can make my own corn bread using corn meal, rather than purchase a Jiffy mix box.

I'll freeze berries and peaches this summer.

Then on some future day, maybe I'll learn to make my own whole-grain bread, and whole-grain tortillas, and whole-grain chips and pasta.

Sound good?  

Or are you rolling your eyes?

new decor

Amy at Raising Arrows advertised this week that The Cutest Blog on the Block provides free backgrounds and banners, so here we are....back to sunflowers!  I clicked over there wanting something pretty and feminine, but then I saw this!  Sunflowers allure me.  They woo me.  To be surrounded by a field of them! Oh, what bliss.

I'll try pretty and feminine next month, perhaps.  This makes me feel like my dream--living on a farm--has come true.  Let's stay here a spell, shall we?

I did save that beautiful photo of the mountain...just in case.   It's magnificent and I might miss it.

resting and drinking

Galatians 5:22
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

After six weeks of wellness, a cold virus attacked--just in time for the homeschooler Valentine party occurring on the 10th.  Little hearts here ache to attend, especially since illness hit last Christmas as well, causing us to miss that party.

"Bedrest and fluids!  You have to do them if you want to go!" we implore.

While we could take them sick, it wouldn't teach sacrificial love toward others--instead it would teach selfishness.  I grant you it's different when the outing is mandatory, like public school or a job.  But a party?  Different rules.  We can't skip life for half the winter, but during the worst of the coughing, sneezing and drainage, I try to keep them confined.

It takes so much self-control for them to rest and drink!  And similarly, it takes self-control for us to remain firm but compassionate throughout.  After all, we're over-tired, sick and miserable ourselves, during these outbreaks.

I used to dread waves of illness and felt cursed by them.

But suddenly, I see opportunity!

They present a key time for parents to display the spiritual fruit spoken of in Galatians 5:22.  Children won't remember specific illnesses, but they'll remember the extra love--making it second nature for them to behave similarly when people are in need.

God wants us to display the fruits of the spirit each and every day, of course.  But in times of trial, even more so.  It's more of a testimony of God's grace.

rescued

Paul's brunch prayer:

Dear Lord,


Thank you for my family.  Thank you for all you provide.  Thank you for everything in the world.  Thank you for the food.  Thank you for the little bit of money.  Thank you for the sunshine.  May we get more money.


Amen.

Oh, how I needed this prayer--funny though it was!  The baby woke me early after a rough night of molar teething.  I foolishly went to bed at 1:30 a.m., even while anticipating a poor night of sleep.  Anyhow, I did three hours of housework, which has become my standard routine--starting school at 9:00 or 10:00 a.m., after doing laundry and floors and decluttering from the day before.  The children play, color, read books, watch a library video, or do crafts during this time.  Daddy is usually sleeping in due to late nights of working and studying.  The baby stays happily engaged with her siblings.

Peter is off any ADHD medicine, so at times he talks incessantly, not having any social sense about giving people space.  After two solid hours of him following me around, talking non-stop, asking questions, it was all I could do to avoid primal screaming.  In my mind, I begged the Lord to release me from a very bad mood.

And then the Lord gave Paul this brunch prayer.  And my heart?  It melted and I discreetly wept my thankfulness.

Bad mood gone.  Gratitude back.  Heart repentant.

He is SO faithful!