A crash....and a picking up

Today (now yesterday) started out with promise.

I've been trying harder to start school by 8:30 a.m., so that even when there are unexpected glitches in the day, we can still finish well before dinner.  Progress in this area has lifted my spirits lately.

So the day went along fairly well.  I was feeling rather smug.  I'm getting the hang of this four-children thing, I told myself.

And then, CRASH!

Things went south rather quickly.

And I confess that my attitude followed suit.

Paul brought his Mouse Trap game into the playroom during a school break, which coincided with the girls' naps.  When my Beth awoke, I changed her and brought her into the playroom, only to find the game pieces all over the floor.  What's more, I was told that the steel ball was lost.  Paul had thrown it over his shoulder, and the boys hadn't bothered to really look for it.

I was very, very, very, very bothered by this situation.  Is that enough emphasis to convey that I was fuming mad a fire-breathing dragon?  Their habit of getting out games and spreading them all over, instead of taking them to the dining-room table, has caused considerable annoyance lately.

The steel balls can't be anywhere near Beth and Mary--or any of the other game parts, either--so the boys and my husband and myself had to thoroughly go through each toy bin, looking for the tiny, marble-sized ball.  School had to be put on hold, as Beth needed to be able to use the playroom.  Her play area was previously the living room, but that area lost its appeal.

Adjust, adjust, adjust.  Schooling with little ones around means constant adjusting.

We never found the ball, and the searching and rearranging of the room took two hours.  While we were at it, we decided to remove some toy bins and toy bin holders, so that there was less potential for Beth to make a disastrous mess every hour.

Are you getting the idea that this fiasco wasn't just a simple glitch in our day?

Making matters worse, Paul and Peter were in bad moods over all the extra cleaning required of them.  You might imagine that under the circumstances, their attitudes didn't elevate my mood one bit.

By midday, it also become clear that I had a cluster of clogged milk ducts that would have to be dealt with.  They are painful, and if you can't clear them using home remedies within a couple days, a breast infection becomes a risk--meaning a doctor visit.  Since we still don't have insurance, I dreaded another emergency-room visit.  They are more expensive, and taxpayer money is used to help foot the bill.  I don't actually have a family doctor; all my Ohio office visits have been to an OBGYN, due to Mary and Beth's pregnancies.  There is this inconvenient rule that to acquire a new doctor, you have to go in for a well visit first.  Not to mention that without insurance, they want money up front.

Anyhow, three months of pay stubs must be sent in, and then depending on what percentage of the poverty level a family is at, all or most of the bill is paid through Care Assurance programs.  Since getting to a doctor is now so problematic, I allowed myself to get depressed and irritated about the clogged ducts.

In an effort to calm down and regroup, I read a few quick blog posts.  Instead of inspiring, or helping, they further knocked down my spirits.  One was the At The Well post about being a crown for your husband.  It was well done--don't get me wrong--but it made me feel like I had to be perfect.  Our crisis living situation (unemployment) makes trying to be godly or perfect all that much harder.

Then I read a post on Like a Warm Cup of Coffee about expecting obedience the first time, every time, with a cheerful attitude (the blog author quoted a Charlotte Mason book).  According to Charlotte Mason, if the parent fails in this regard even once, obedience becomes something that must be won through the use of authority, rather than through a mother's cheerful, expectant manner. It also emphasized that we must be careful of what we say, so that follow-through becomes a sure thing.

As an ex-teacher, I know all that stuff.  Except that now as a mom, I'm doing a lot more with kids than just teaching them academics, and I'm never getting 50-minute lunch breaks, or relaxing sans kids after 5:00 p.m. There's extra potential for me to feel like I'm going insane.  So insane, in fact, that I say things like, "I'm going to the bedroom to nurse the baby and put her down.  If you get rambunctious and loud and wake her up, I'm going to take the upcoming playdate away."  (Daddy had worked all night long and was sleeping, so he couldn't pick up any slack while I nursed Beth).

A totally stupid statement.  I know.  Dealing with four young children brings out my inner stupid sometimes--what can I say?

Later, I realized that canceling a play date wasn't fair to our homeschooling friends.  The boys didn't wake up the baby, but if they had, I would have been in a difficult situation.  Follow through meant potentially upsetting another family's plans.

To an ADHD child, my statement sounded like a dare.  They are strong-willed, impulsive, easily-angered, and they often feel defeated by too much correction.  Going for the dare seems like the thing to do.  It's taken me most of the last year to realize that things won't go well for anybody if I use phrases that sound like dares.  Moreover, I am coming to the conclusion that taking things away is ineffective with my crew--even if it's as simple as dessert.  Diapers, messes, schooling, etc. make it too easy for me to forget that so and so doesn't get any dessert.

I'm even thinking that doing any behavior-related forewarning at all is backfiring (if you do such and such...this will happen).

And, I know I need to say very little, and choose my words wisely.  Attempting to teach proper behavior in an irritated, preachy voice, is earning me less respect--not more.

And finally, I read a post on the Love Lasts a Lifetime blog about buying a Christmas nightie for my husband to open every year.  We don't have a cent for Christmas.  We haven't been able to buy each other gifts since our first child was born--when I quit my full-time teaching job.  I hate to reveal this on the Internet, but I haven't had a cent to buy any type of pajama--for years.

It turns out that reading a few blog posts was the wrong thing today--or the right thing at the wrong time.  They left me feeling less capable...less worthy of raising these children up to love and obey the Lord...less capable of loving and encouraging my husband with a godly attitude and kind deeds.

The three posts were good ones.  Very good ones.  But I made the mistake of thinking I had to follow their advice in my own strength.  I quickly forgot that I can do nothing without Christ who strengthens me.  The first thing I must do when I read a good exhorting post, is to go to Father and ask for help in implementing it.  Otherwise, it isn't worth much.

Oh, sure, when life is routine, we can do pretty well on our own.  We can deceive ourselves and begin to feel smug.

But then clogged ducts get thrown into the mix, or a lost job, or a major illness, or a missing steel ball, or a special-needs child is born, or .......

All these things serve to remind us...


That without Him, we are nothing.

daily blessings - Wednesday

The fabulous four (fabulously rambunctious) are tucked into bed, safe and sound.  My husband just left for one of his part-time jobs.  Time to relax and count some blessings.

- Mary running around the playroom, acting out The Gingerbread Man, as I read it this evening.  The boys were at church for Christmas play practice, kids' choir, and AWANA, so it was just the ladies for storytime.

-  Beth, nearly twelve months old, beside herself with giggles, every time I said, "Run, run, fast as you can!  You can't catch me!  I'm the gingerbread man!"  She got so excited over the story that she started running after Mary.  This week is the first time we've seen her run.  She's been walking well since 9.5 months, so I knew this was coming.  Cute, but nerve wracking, too.

- Peter, giving me a kiss on my cheek, and saying, "Thank you for teaching me," as I looked over his English paper about command, telling, exclamation, and questioning sentences.  Yeah, homeschooling is a hassle sometimes, but more often, it is a huge blessing.  Huge.

- Mary, praying at every meal, after Daddy or Momma have already prayed.  She goes on and on thanking God for all the people she loves.  The boys can't wait, and after she names the sixth person or so, they give up and start eating--although they're amused.  Momma and Daddy are mesmerized by her sweetness, so we listen for as long as she goes on.  And we look into each other's eyes, wondering how we got so blessed with our little Mary.

- Beth, nursing at naptime this morning, while making these sweet sounds, as though she wanted to converse, but was too tired and too relaxed by the milk.

- Beth, mostly asleep this afternoon, and reaching out to touch my shirt, to make sure I was still there.

- My husband working nights (it has disadvantages too), and home most days, so I can take my time and enjoy Beth during her two naps.   The bulk of my prayer time occurs in the first thirty minutes of her naps. There's a whole lot to pray about, and her schedule gives me the quiet time I need.  My husband, although he's usually studying, doesn't complain about my absence, and checks that the boys are doing their assignments.

- Pumpkin pie

- Pumpkin soup

- Folding socks and finding no strays

- Being almost frightened by the size of Peter's pants, as I hung them today.  How did my baby grow to be THAT big?  Surely those pants don't belong in MY house?  And then I took a deep breath, remembering that God has a plan for my empty-nest years.  He won't let them be all about a longing for the past.   So I think Peter will continue to get larger pants, as needed.  I'll allow it.

- The feel of Paul's soft cheek, as I cuddled with him this morning.  He's never lost his baby face, or his baby-soft skin.  He isn't the incessant talker that his ADHD brother is.  We never have long or very detailed conversations.  But his hugs speak volumes to me, and mine to him.  His brother needs my conversation, and he needs my loving arms.

- Beth, smiling so wide, and running into my arms, every time I sit down on the floor.  She loves to wrestle and have her neck nuzzled.

- Beth, carefully touching each of my front teeth, and studying them with the seriousness of a dentist.  She's my only baby who's had this weird dental interest.

Some Writing Help (not that you need it)

Do you click on Bonnie Trenga's blog,  The Sentence Sleuth,  very often?  I just love learning about grammar and other writing rules! Kind of nerdy, I know.

She has a new column here, written in her trademark, quick-witted style.  After putting my kids to bed, I read four of her articles.  I'll have to read her other articles tomorrow--dishes, laundry, and sweeping are calling.

I had to register using my name, postal address, and e-mail address to start a free account on the Writer Mag site.  Doing so enables you to read her entire column.   Use the site's search window and just type in her name--Bonnie Trenga.  You do not have to buy a subscription!  Really, it's worth it!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do a bit of editing before signing off tonight.  I think I used the word "awhile" in a post earlier today, instead of "a while".  I'm not sure if it's legal to combine them.

One thing Bonnie advises is to proof your work by reading your sentences aloud, in a monotone voice. You pick up more errors that way.

Happy writing!

to inspire--Mozambique

As I drove to an errand today, I was listening to our local Christian radio station.  They were discussing a charity drive to rescue children in Mozambique.  I was blown away by the story of a sixteen-year-old boy who suffered burns on 90% of his body.  His father had put kerosene on him, and then set him on fire.

The boy went to a local hospital and waited outside the building for three days.  When American doctors arrived for their duty, they asked the boy, among other things, how he had survived.  The boy said he had accepted Christ prior to the burning, and that he prayed.

And do you know what else he said, just days after being burned by his own father?

"I have forgiven my father."

That is what the power of the Holy Spirit can do in a human heart.  Incredible.

Thank you, Lord, for your work in our hearts.  May we always be open to your truth.....to your correction.  And may we not fail in praying that your love, truth, and salvation come into the hearts of those in our extended families, our neighborhoods, our stores, our banks.  The lost are everywhere....not just in remote third-world villages.  May we not forget them.  May we not forget the gift we were given...the gift we didn't deserve.


In your name, Amen.

fancy cupcakes

My Mary saw me making corn muffins the other day and said, "Cupcakes!  I love cupcakes!"

She then began helping me fill the dessert cups with the muffin batter.  I told her they were dinner cupcakes, rather than dessert cupcakes, and that we call them muffins.  We hadn't had them in a while--I am just now starting in on fall soups, chili, and stews.

Later, during dinner, I sliced her muffin and put a pat of margarine on it and put it on her plate.  She eagerly picked it up, and proceeded to take a few bites.

It didn't take her long to make a determination.  Pushing her plate away, she announced, "I only like fancy cupcakes.  Fancy cupcakes are delectable!"