Home Is Where My Heart Is.

Well, so much for my career as a lunch lady! When one goes through cancer, one experiences a lot of different feelings and thought streams. I would guess that I am not the only woman to have cancer and think, "What if I die? What will happen to my children?"

For awhile I danced with the idea that my homeschool friends would take them in for school, and help them make it through. I have no doubt that many of them would be willing to do it. I'm pretty sure I even pleaded with my husband to not ever put them in school. I'm pretty sure he had moments of panic about the whole thing too.

Then I came to the idea that putting them in school might be okay, so that if something did ever happen, they would at least know the drill, be able to "swim" and better to do it while I am here to help them get accustomed, right? So that's what we did.

#1 was already in public high school by this time. She wasn't crazy about it, but God proved Himself faithful in her situation, many times. I thought #2 should go for 6th grade, so she could join band, and sports or whatever interested her. And little #3 begged me to see her local school, since her sisters were "getting to go". So we visited and she liked it a lot. It helped that it is a lovely new suburban school with primary-colored ramps and banners from the ceiling, and it was recently named the #2 elementary school in our state! I felt so much better.

So they went. And, I immediately decided I should get a job while they're gone, so I can bring in money to help remodel this place. So I did. And it was fun. I got a job in the main kitchen at a large high school in the city next door. The pay rate was great, the fellowship was nice and the work was strenuous, but invigorating.

That was last year.

This year, after #2 and #3 had gotten to hear every single cuss word ever invented, on the school bus and beyond, we prepared to do it all over again. Only I went back to work 2 weeks before they went back to school. My mom was in town, so we muddled through, sans kitchen and everything.

Then the middle school notified me that #2 had scored poorly on a statewide test, in math. And their plan to rectify this was to remove her from art (her special talent which I have paid extra to indulge, for years), and put her in a second period of math wherein she would do an online math program that would help her solidify her math foundation.

When she continued to struggle and the regular math class teacher started spending a portion of the class teaching an individual who did not speak english, I met with the guidance counselor to see what my options were. He thought she would be able to get out of this lower-level class, away from the poorly-behaved, unmotivated students, to get into a better environment for learning. When I contacted the math teacher directly, she disagreed. She said #2 should stay in her class, and perhaps stay after school also, for homework club.

So I had her stay. #2 explained to me that homework club involved sitting in the library (sorry, media center), where the math teacher gave her flash cards. This after spending two hours during the day, in math classes.

Something had to give. The homeschooler in me reared her American-born, mother-bear head and said, "Not with my child, you're not." So the lunch-lady career careened into the ditch, and we made major life decisions.

Thank heavens for choice in education! We have friends who have been attending a charter school that is 60% online, 40% brick and mortar, for several years. This year, that same school opened at 100% virtual option, using curriculum I had already admired, developed by the man who wrote The Book of Virtues.

We applied at Thanksgiving and got in for second semester. I went ahead and transferred #3 also. I had spent many years homeschooling #1, and felt like I was missing out on that time with #3. She liked school, but like most children, loves being at home.

Is it perfect? No. Is it easy? It's not HARD. It is a terrific hybrid of homeschooling and accountability/diligence/tutor-type education. We can be online live with the teachers every day if we want or need to. We can motor along on our own, following their pacing guides to make sure we make adequate progress. It is an amazing option that I actually enjoy.

The most wonderful thing about this type of program is that the student doesn't move forward until they exhibit "mastery" of a subject by scoring 80% or above on an assessment. These assessments are frequent and immediately scored by the program. There are oodles of optional activities to assist you when you struggle, and you may retake the assessments as many times as you need.

Isn't that the way education should be? Last year, #2 got left behind when she had trouble with fractions. The class had to move on. Essentially, her can was kicked down the road for next year's teacher to deal with it. If she didn't get it in the time alloted for this year's class, too bad--movin' on. ACK! How many others are being rolled to the side of the road by this type of program?!

Next thing you know, she's giving up on herself and any hope of post-high school education. No one cares WHEN you learn fractions. No one ever asks that. You just need to learn them. If it takes you one month to get them down pat, rather than 2 weeks, no one cares, EVER. But you do have to get them down. This system handles this rather large dilemma wonderfully.

Do I wish I had all my time to myself, to clean house, or read books or post on my blogs? Absolutely. But the confirmation of my decision became clear last week, when #2 told me she wasn't smart enough to attend a college-prep, charter high school I am considering for her. --What?!

She was sure that since she had been relegated to that math class, and its various entities, she would not be able to cut it in a college-prep program. Only halfway through seventh grade and the label is firmly ensconced on her self-esteem. Ugh. I knew right then I had made the right choice, not waiting until the end of this school year.

Change is always hard. My parents moved me in the middle of 7th grade. It was HORRIBLE. Honestly, I think it damaged my academic progress permanently. I thought about that a lot when I was deciding what to do with my daughter. I wish I had never sent her to public school. But what's done is done. And the experience there will teach her many things I cannot.

Thank you, State Legislature, for allowing us to have charter schools. Thank you, Mr. Bill Bennett for developing the K12 curriculum. Thank you, Sally N., for telling me to go home to my children.

Tumble Dry now set to low

Another gigantic change at Netherfield...mom will be home 3 days a week now! Happy dance!

We went from homeschooling 3, to breast cancer, to public school for one and free-range/homeschooling for 2, to public school for 3--mom working 5 morning hours/5days week, for a year. Then I had the summer off, along with 4H 2 nights/week. Then we gutted the kitchen, and the master bath, and invited the contractor in to do major work. Then I went back to work 2 weeks before the kids went back to school. Then the kids went back to school. Then #1 had 5 weeks of studying Islam, with a project on Islam. Then #2 had a unit on Islam, along with a paper OR a children's book on the 5 Pillars of Islam, to be donated to the local elementary school (!). Then the kitchen never made any progress because Handyman is never here and #3 cried one night that she missed the kitchen. Then I got a letter from the IRS saying I forgot to pay last year's quarterly payment.

Then I decided I had reached my limit...and that's a good thing.

Top 10 List

Year's End

I love New Year's...it's a great big way to wipe the slate clean and go at it once again. Like Mondays, only a lot more fun and with great snacks! I got to go to lunch with BFF today, cleaned my stalls this morning and wear my way-cool purple shiny silk shirt from GW again. So it's already been a good New Year's Eve afternoon.

But to succinctly wrap it up, I'll give you my Top 10 Lists for 2010.

Top 10 Things for which I Am Grateful:

1. A personal relationship with the one, true God, through the person of His only Son, Jesus Christ. This has to come first, not because it should but because it is the filter through which I try to live, really. That doesn't make me better than anyone, or smarter or more spiritual. I am the chief among sinners, but thankfully, I am "on the line" and appreciate each time the Lord reels me in for a little one-on-one with the Holy Spirit, reminding me of the stupidity of "going it alone". I tell my children, the only hope we have is through Jesus. Hope for the future of our country, hope for our lives, hope for the dreams that are in each of us.

2. Loving, kind, well-mannered, funny parents. Yep, they're all that and more. I am thankful for their raising of me and their continued relationship which has evolved into a wonderful friendship, where I get all their best stuff! As I have posted here many times, my poor dad is still barn-building for me after all these years! And my mother will soon begin sleeping more peacefully, knowing that my kitchen/laundry/dog kennel/storage room will soon be completely demolished and replaced with something akin to a...kitchen!

3. Of course, HANDYMAN! I am what I yam because of him. Really. My parents got the first couple decades, but I grew up a lot when I met Handyman, because I wanted him to like me. I paid attention to what was important to him and I morphed! I gave up some of the goofy, girly nonsense and got serious about being a grown-up. I also read Debi Pearl's "Created to be a Help Meet" and learned how Biblical truths will always, always, always work--duh! And then of course, I read 17 years worth of This Old House magazine, so I can converse intelligently about moulding, spray-on insulation foam, underlayment, fiber cement siding and drip edge. ;)

4. My Bratinellas--all three of 'em. Because, well because I like them better than I like anyone else's bratinellas! They know me. They know my bark is worse than my bite and they know that I am trying to teach them things it took me awhile too long to learn...like picking up after oneself. They know Mommy loves Daddy the most and she's gonna do what he wants first. And they forgive me...thank heavens!

5. My awesome estate. Some might disagree with me, but it's wonderful in the summer, and terrific on dark, starry nights and pretty in the fall and wonderful in spring and even pretty in winter. It continues to evolve into something more terrific each year. And this year will be the biggie: New kitchen, back room stops being a storage unit and will become living space, with NEW back staircase, new laundry room, new mudroom. And I'm gonna make Handyman build a riding ring, pour concrete on the barn porch and frame up the tack room, so I can really ride horses again. (My dad better get back soon. There's work afoot.)

6. My critters. Goes without saying. Even on the most bitter winter mornings, IN THE DARK, once I get out there, I am so glad to be with them and feed them and rub their long, shiny winter coats. They give me something to get out of bed for...durn it! And the ones in the house are even better with that non-stop flow of love. Poor Handyman, didn't know what he was getting into. I promised him, once the kids left, I would be a crazy cat lady, who cleans the litter boxes. Next up, baby goats and bees!

7. I have this amazing, small circle of friends who are as faithful and loyal as anything I could have hoped for. When you're in high school, you think your friends are so deep and true and life-long and nothing could be further from the truth! You don't even know what life is about or what hard really is. When your friendships aren't about what any of you are wearing or doing, but about slogging on through devastating personal crisis or illness or significant loss and you keep linking your arms together and pulling forward and laughing whenever possible and taking care and not calling as much as you should...this is friendship. And I have been the beneficiary of some beautiful friends over the last decade or so. Women who I should get together with MUCH more than I do...who have been the sisters that I never had to grow up with!

8. In-Laws--I sure lucked out in this department. When I hear the stories from others, I almost can't believe the grief other women suffer. My in-laws have given me about 2 hours total of trouble in 20 years. Maybe less. In return, I have eaten at their table and opened their gifts and dumped off the bratinellas many, many times. My FIL is gone now, but I remember that a long time ago he told Handyman to get on with marrying me or he would do it himself!

9. My health. Of course there is no order to the things on this list. They're all about equal for me. But this would fall pretty high. Having walked through cancer, I feel stronger and surer and much, much more focused and I am glad for that experience. I recognize moments now and am more willing to sit and soak them up. I can just enjoy time for what it is. I regained a sense of wonder about much that was being swallowed up in the inanity of everyday American existence.

I am THANKFUL for the "broken" American healthcare system that allowed me to pick my doctors, and organize my treatment program according to what I wanted and needed. I didn't require the approval of anyone or anything. We pay our own health insurance, and for the majority of our medical needs, we pay for those too. My insurance company didn't give me one minute's trouble about anything I needed and I was NOT booted out. I didn't ask anyone else to pay for me and I'll be the first to join the group of "folks who don't want to pay for others' healthcare".

10. I'll be a little flippant and just say, that I love the internet. I love shopping on it. I love reading other blogs. I love reading the news on it. I love emailing my kids' teachers. I love skyping with my parents. I love watching old tv shows and movies, INSTANTLY. I love watching horse-for-sale ads on youtube. Okay, I love the White Knuckles dog video on YouTube. I even like Facebook, a little. The internet is awesome, and I hope the government keeps its grimy, greedy big paws off of it!

Leave me your list, if you wish!

Could we all just agree...

...to not dress our daughters like hookers?! Or not allow them the dress themselves that way? Or at least give them a good look-over before they head out the door?!

Due to my new career as a lunch-lady, I see about 16 million high school students each day. Only 3 of them use the phrase "May I have blah blah blah?" The remainder grunt, point or say "Can I have mine without gravy?" To which I reply, "Yes, you may. YOU'RE WELCOME." and smile.

But I digress...I also see more bra straps and black lace than Tom Brady and Harry Connick Jr. (They married Victoria's Secret models.) And then there are the painted-on "skinny jeans". Boy do these look awful, especially on boys. And there's pajamas, yep, cleavage that makes me blush and T-I-G-H-T shirts, short skirts and those sweats with words across the bum.

And I don't buy the whole "that's all there is out there," or "she won't wear anything else" baloney...I keep wanting to pull these girls aside and say, "Do you realize what message you're sending??"

C'mon moms, do young women really need more complications in their lives nowadays? And do you really want them to be "wanted" or treated like harlots? Remember their sweet little voices and faces? Don't sell them out and don't let them give themselves away...

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Yeah, yeah, yeah. My one fan (ccw) told me to my face the other night, that he was bummed that I wasn't blogging. Frankly, I'm bummed that I'm not blogging. I think about blogging every day. Then I think I must be pretty vain to think that my life is so entirely interesting that I qualify for daily blogger status. I mean how many times can you blog about where you have found socks? Or how many types of manure you handle in one day? (Bet I'd win.)

But really, the world is turning here at Netherfield. On Valentine's Day, Handyman's dad went into the hospital, and stayed for a long time. They tried to send him to a rehab a couple of times, but he got bounced back and then after yelling in my face that he wanted to die, he up and did just that.

It was my first up-close experience with death of a close loved one. I got to experience every single step of it, even the final end. I don't know how people go through this stuff without knowing Christ personally. What a bulwark it was for me to have God to rely on in all the various stages, with all the people I needed to help, in all the ways I was called upon to help.

All these decades of reading Dear Ann Landers and Carolyn Hax, and Billy Graham and all those columns in the magazines about life, have really helped. I was able to walk through those weeks without regret, saying what I needed to say and thanks to my dad, peeking during an altar call, I was able to reassure a lot of people that Grandpa knew Christ. And that was the ultimate peace for me and Handyman. We could say goodbye.

It was the first funeral I went to as a representative, rather than an attendee. And our friends came out of the woodwork--and what a blessing that was. You know how you never want to go to a funeral and you wonder if it's even worth your time...well it is. We were so blessed by the friends who toiled through an insane traffic jam to see us, just briefly--who bought us food because the stupid funeral home didn't even have a coffee pot that worked, who put on lunches for a huge entourage after the way-out-of-town burial--who colored with our kids in the funeral home kitchen so we could keep shaking hands. Note to self: remember how many ways you can be the body of Christ.

I actually stood at someone's bedside as they passed into eternity and I had absolutely no fear in my heart because I had said goodbye, days before, face to face, when he knew what I was saying AND because I knew he had asked Christ into his heart. Honestly, I always wondered if he remembered that he did that, and I probably should have talked more about it with him, but "that peace that passes all understanding" thing? It's real.

I could walk my kids through this first major loss of their lives with confidence in God and offer them peace for their broken little hearts.

Spring is coming now, I think. We have chicks in our attic room, with their mothers. We have contractors bidding on some alterations to our roof that are LONG overdue. My new horse is in training and I also have the opportunity to ride some other nice horses, to get legged up. #1 thinks she might get her drivers license this summer and #2 and #3 are going to school in the fall. Should be an interesting summer.

I have about 295 blogs in my head regarding the switch from homeschooling to public school, that I will be happy to unload at some point, but we're wrapping up some strep throat, orthodontia and raccoon attacks, so I really have to get out of this chair. Oh, and I didn't get pictures of the big crawdad I caught in the pasture this morning, complete with tail full of caviar, I mean eggs. I did release her into the creek and boy was she happy...

Confession

I realize that it is risky to confess on an international stage--(yikes, someone from Turkey has read this blog). However, I have to come clean...in a manner of speaking.

My children are pigs. Completely, without hesitation, porcine in nature and behavior. When I look at buying a car, I consider the ability to power-wash the interior as a big plus. I have seen pens at the State Fair that look more hospitable than my living room on a Friday night. My car has greasy footprints on the windshield. Honestly, I think I would have a better chance being a housekeeper for a group of Vikings.

As I make my continuous rounds through the house, I regularly pick up about 20 hair rubber bands per day, most with hair wrapped around them. Then there are the socks. Handyman and I are constantly finding socks, EVERYWHERE. In the yard, on the tramp, on the driveway, on the porch, in the car, in the hall, in the treehouse, in the barn (not kidding) under the table, on the couch. And why don't I throw them away, you might ask...because then Handyman would have to cough up some of his hard-earned cash to buy more. That whole Arnold Schwarzneggar method of, "if it's not put away, I throw it away", works fine if your bank account is in Switzerland. Mine is a little less self-sustaining.

Plus the efforts keep my back limber, the bending and stooping to pick up the 57 paper napkins under the dining room table each day. I have never seen napkins reproduce like this. I know that no one uses them. I hand them out, they put them in their laps and they brush them onto the floor and we start over...and I've seen that floor up close and personal. There is no re-use going on after that. (I had to train the firefighter's kids not to eat anything that hits the floor here. No 5-second rule, kids. These boots have been in the chicken yard.)

When my jeans hit the floor at night, the left pocket is grossly swollen with teeny pink legos (yes, they make them), Polly Pocket attire to outfit a small city, several Puffs Plus (they don't come apart in the wash!), crochet hooks, safety pins, marbles (no one ever plays with them), dog kibble (to reward those who come--dogs not kids!), apple cores, old band-aids, drill bits (found in the washer) and the occasional odd change.

Fortunately, I am gifted with the indomitable spirit of the insane--optimism. Each day I tell myself, "Today, the bathroom sinktop will stay clean until Handyman gets home." or, "Today I will look for the bathroom sinktop." or "Today, I will go into their bathroom and use a lightsaber on the dried toothpaste foam coating the sink top." or my favorite, "Today, #1 will want to clean/shovel her room out to make herself feel better.

But expect them to A)close the bandaid box or pick up the band aid wrappers; B)rinse their spit from the sink; C)pick up the open shampoo bottle lying on the floor or C)get more toilet paper for the next person...??? That is indeed to set oneself up for disappointment.

#2 and #3 are still small enough that I can make them clean their room. And I am so thankful to have hardwood floor, so we can sweep all the bits into a pile and sort through the dog hair and dirty socks to pick out the princess jewels and (more) Polly clothes.

Christmas is coming, so I sense more toys in the future. I've asked Mimi to take the youngers so I can rummage through their current posessions and clear out. I know we have too much stuff, and that's most of the problem. But these kids would step over me if I was spurting blood on the dining room floor, just to avoid having to help with the mess.

The rule is, if you find the cat barf, you clean the cat barf. So, the inverse is, if you do not "notice" the cat barf, Mom will eventually find it when it is dehydrated and shriveled and we've stepped over it for a week. Also, if we stuff bowls of popcorn at the back of our loft beds, Mom won't venture in this far and we can hoard it. When I do climb the bed ladders to retrieve all my kitchen ware, there are cups with home-grown yogurt going full-steam ahead and candy wrappers by the bushel.

I know they will eventually have their own domiciles and I cannot wait. Just last week, my BFF related how her oldest was complaining about his new roommates leaving the milk sitting out and all the lights on when they were gone. She was ecstatic. Then he bought some whole wheat bread, because one of his roommates said it was better for you. She jerked the cart to a halt in the store aisle and retorted, "Oh, just because I told you that for 18 years, doesn't matter?!"

Amazing how parents get smarter as kids get older...

'Tis the Season

...for the 4H Fair! Wooo hooo! We entered fine art this year, which is really, really appropriate for us, since our entire house is papered with home-grown, fine art. Really. I finally convinced them that some of this needed to be displayed elsewhere. Last summer I walked them through the display hall saying, "See, you can do this. Yours is this good--you need to enter." I'm such a non-competitive, easy-going mom.

So when #1 exited her school building this spring with a spectacular 20x20 charcoal portrait, as soon as I could lift my jaw out of my lap I said, "There's your 4H fair exhibit!" It is a great, great picture.

Well, #2 is no slacker in the art department. She has a big fat notebook full of fashion drawings, no joke. This girl is Vera Wang in saddle shoes. So she draws a really sweet pencil drawing--on copy paper. Wouldn't have been my first choice, but she did it without my input and it's done. So, I head off to Michael's to find a frame for it. Fortunately she left a lot of blank space at the bottom, so I could trim it to fit an 8x10 frame. (Didn't know there was an aisle with 8.5x11" document frames--that comes later.)

So I trim the picture and we get it into Frame #1 (this will be important). The 4H handbook says all frames must have wire to hang them. But since I just give the book the cursory one-sweeping glance, I fail to note that the wire has to be screwed into the frame itself. This becomes critical...

My 85 year old grandma is here to visit and watch the dog shows. I don't talk to her much because she is always bent over sweeping up dog hair or loading the dishwasher...poor woman. She babysits, cleans up, teaches embroidery and expresses great interest in trampolining, garden beetles, chicken activity and evening foot scrubbing.

So, I load up 5 children (babysitting for the fireman down the street who lost his wife last year to BC). So I have them for 24 hrs. every third day. Sweet little boy and girl, between #2 and #3. We're all in the car, except Grandma, who is sweeping up dog hair. (I'm thinking she's looking forward to 1 hour of silence as we go to fairgrounds to drop off art.) #1 is in front seat putting wire on brackets of #2's picture frame.

#1 pulls just the wrong way on the wire of the frame and breaks glass as I am climbing into car with five children and two large framed artworks. (#1 did a watercolor at a class at the library as well as the charcoal.)

No problem! We can just hit Michael's on our way to 4H fairgrounds. We must be there by 7 pm to drop off and it's only 5 pm. So off we go. #1 stays in car with #3 and NB (neighbor boy), while I go in with #2 and NG (neighbor girl). I now find the aisle with the document frames (wouldn't have had to cut picture!!), which I now buy. #2 and NG convince me to buy $1 calendars for them all to color while we are driving...

Back into the car, #1 goes at the framing thing with vigor (a little less vigor perhaps, to protect glass in frame #2). Frame #2 is a document frame, MADE FOR 8.5x11, so now the picture has been trimmed a little too much. TOO BAD! It's going in. White space be darned!

Off we go. We arrive at the fairgrounds with the approximately 200,000 other county residents who are hauling in artwork, furniture, and any other non-living project you can imagine. I bring my five little chicks in with me and we proceed to fill out our little cards (Mom, how do you spell charcoal?)

4H Fine Art Steward approachs us almost immediately to let us know that our wire hangars are not correct on two of the three projects. Thankfully, they have provided a table with screw-eyes, wire and tools to correct such malformaties as must be pretty prevalent, since there is a waiting line for the work table.

#1 gets her watercolor frame re-rigged quickly. That girl is handy. Then we go to work on Frame #2 while the other chicks hit the water fountain. (Stay together little chicks. Don't hang on the ropes that divide the lines little chicks. Stand still you little cretins!)

We realize that Frame #2 is not made of wood. It's not even made of a natural material, unless compressed cardboard counts as a natural material. Our fingers begin to show the strain of twisting little bitty screw-eyes...we give up and whine for special treatment.

We are taken to the Matron of Fine Art, who shows a teensy bit of leniency in allowing us some extra time TO GO TO WAL-MART AND GET ANOTHER FRAME! She said it--GO TO WAL-MART AND GET A WOOD FRAME.

Little chicks, get your little hineys back in the car, no you cannot go through the tents, no you cannot have a snack, put your eyes on those calendars!!! True, Wal-mart is just around the corner, but it's Super Walmart, so that means the parking lot is akin to Disney World and I'll need a map to find picture frames.

This time I take #3 (the loose cannon with a piercing whine) with me and everyone else stays with #1 in the car. What would I do without #1??? We find the picture frames and I pick one that says in bold letters "Solid Wood". But we're in Wal-mart for cryin' out loud. What are the odds that I will leave with one, singular item in my hand???

We pass the back-to-school displays and there are crayons for 20 cents--now can anyone pass that up?! And they go with the $1 calendars I bought at Michaels, right? And we're trapped in the car for another drive--I wonder if Dave Ramsey sees it this way?? So four boxes of crayons go into the bag, forgive me #1, and we're off.

Back to the fairgrounds. The entire tribe piles out and I hand them off to #1 to take through all the empty fairground tents, while I head back to the dungeon, I mean fine art area to begin my labor for Rumplestiltskin...did I mention how helpful #1 is?

Back to the table, it is now 6:30. There are a paltry few little screw eyes left and still the parents surround the table, twisting and hammering. I begin on frame #3 in earnest and believing that since I am lawfully joined to the handiest man on the planet, this should be a breeze. After all, my proximity to him for almost two decades should have rubbed off a little.

Sure enough, the first screw eye is seated in a reasonable amount of time, what with having to share the one little hammer with three other sets of parents, on a plastic banquet table. I did take the precaution of removing the glass and the picture from the frame while I droned away.

Screw-eye #2 was not to be done. Indeed, I did not see one shred of evidence that frame #3 was made of anything different from frame #2 once we delved beneath the paint...it still looked like powdered something or other. I fussed. I spun the frame around the eye. I tapped the eye with the hammer. I pressed and turned and spat. Well, not really.

Finally, some kind soul at the other end of the table took pity on me--it must've been my hair--and came to my rescue. And she did use a teeny, weeny nail to make a starter hole for the stupid screw eye. (Handyman would have thought of this.) Let me say that the nail was so teeny that I had to hold it with needle-nose pliers while the other lady whacked at it. I kept expecting the glass to somehow slide off the table to the floor, but it held. And suddenly, she was finished. She did it.

Then I realized there was no wire left on the table, so I dispatched #2 (who had by this time come in to check on me) back to the car to retrieve the wire off frame #2. She returned with a wire barely long enough to make, but there was no stopping me now. I pulled the wire through and put those needle-nose pliers back to work pinching the wire around itself to close it.

Meanwhile, Frau Blucher the steward (not really--she was extremely patient and helpful), was bringing in some coated fence wire from her truck (I am not kidding about this) for the parents who were still there trying to get little Suzie's pictures corrected appointed.

Let me summarize: At this point I have paid about $20 to frame a pencil drawing on copy paper. This is one expensive little ribbon--she'd better win.

On to the dog show--bring your own baggies!

This has never happened to me before...

All my children are taking naps and so is my husband. There is a sinister reason for this...THEY ALL HAVE STREP THROAT! Well, except for Handyman, who is sleeping with Lysol in a holster on his side. He has three night shoots coming up.

My children have never had strep throat and they've never all been sick with something all at the same time. As a matter of fact, my children are hardly ever sick. In fact, #3 has never had a sick office call to the doctor, in her entire life.

I guess this is part of what you get when you send your child to public school.
:*(

#1 came home on Thursday, feeling rotten and tired. I let her stay home on Friday, even though she had a social studies test, and she continued to have on-and-off fever throughout the day. Meanwhile #3 had two playdates on Friday, both of them here. #2 went and spent the day at a friend's house, hitching a ride with Playdate #2's mom, in her van--with her 3 other kids.

Then last night, as #3 was getting ready to leave and spend the night with my parents, who had the flu last week, #2 was being dropped off by the family she'd been visiting ALL DAY. That mom is a nurse, and suggested that #1 might go for a strep test today.

Did I mention that #1 was supposed to be at the living history museum today for returning interpreter day? She went to Minute Clinic instead. But before we could get that accomplished, #2 came upstairs with a fever at 7am. (She's the one who rode in the van with 3 other children and then spent the day with 4 other children.) She missed the playdate scheduled for today. (We homeschoolers have trouble with socialization.)

So #1 is positive and #2 should go get tested tomorrow. Oh, and my parents thought #3 was cranky this morning because "she didn't go to bed until 10 last night." I'm thinking--#3 has been up until 10 MANY times before. Mom and Dad put her down for a nap. #3 hasn't had a nap for, oh, 3.5 years! (That's what happens when your sisters are home with you all day.)

Then at 2 pm, Mom and Dad call to say that #3 has a fever of 102. (No wonder she's cranky.)

To be fair, #1 could easily have gotten this at Awana. She leads a table of snotty little Kindergarteners. It's possible. In the meantime, I've got to go fumigate the bathroom and all the phones and doorknobs and car door handles. No rest for the wicked, I mean, well.

It's over, it's over, it's oh-oh-over!

Yeehaa! Today it will climb over the 22 degree mark and not be back for at least four days! Yeah! The snow on the barn roof will melt into the water tank. The horse doots will thaw enough to be picked up without the fork splaying into useless forms! The chicken heat lamp will be turned off and the chickens will get to enjoy darkness while they sleep for the first time in two weeks. I will begin paying down my electric bill--if ANY money arrives in my mail box. The horses will not have frost on their whiskers and ears. I will be able to feel my pinkies and not have to chop ice every morning. I will be able to wash my fleece-lined jeans (both pairs), that now stand in the corner at night, and the frozen snot on the backs of the thumbs on my gloves will now thaw and have to be washed out. Ewwwwwwwwww.

MOM ALERT: Here's a great website when looking for good reading material:

Teen Lit Review: Real reviews for the Christian Parent

I love it already!

Oop! Ack! (Shameless Christmas endorsement ahead!)

As my old friend, Bill the Cat used to say so effectively.

I have been remiss in not reminding everyone to get out their editions of "The Autobiography of Santa Claus". In fact, now we/you're several weeks in the hole! Aaahh, just do like us and read a chapter at breakfast!

This terrific book covers all the bases! It smooths the link between Jesus and Santa in an inspired way; it covers the Santa's age issue, it covers the time travel issue, it covers the presents around the world thing and throws in great figures from history to boot. It even tells you what un-expected food you SHOULD be leaving on the mantel this year--hint: it involves caprines.

I didn't plan to like the book. I didn't even buy it for myself. I found in in my dad's pile a few years ago and wanted to see how they approached the whole Jesus thing. I was cynical and prepared to toss it back under the tree with disgust...

Didn't happen. I took it home, kept it and bought about 5 copies last year for a song on Amazon. I had a ball giving them away to friends. Wish I could find that same deal this year, but alas, no.

Get it. Read it. Love it. Not smarmy. Not trite. Interesting, sweet and worth reading each year.

Parenting for $100

Ah, 5 year-olds. You think they are so grown up, sometimes. Today we are trying to hurriedly clean up the landfill that is #2 and #3's room so they can go to a friends' house to play. #3 is found with her hand faaaaaaaaar down the back of her jeans. She says "eewww." That's enough to put me over the edge and I say, "Go to the bathroom and take care of whatever is going on. And wash your hands, WITH soap."

She heads off to the bathroom. Frankly, I don't even want to know what it was all about, even though I probably should. Next time I come down the stairs, she's calling from the bathroom, something about why she's not in her room cleaning.

I don't really listen all that closely. I'm sure it's some ploy to avoid cleaning. Then I hear, "I'm trying to get the marble out of my tights."

My thoughts go back to the first incident. Then I wonder, how long has the marble been down her tights? How far down her tights is it? What made her think that was a good idea? Whatever....

Just get in here and clean up this room!

Time marches on

My 93 yr.-old grandma passed away this week, in a nursing home, in Ohio. It had not been a good situation for quite awhile and we were all sort of relieved. The service, done by my uncle, was really great. He spoke specifically to each of his brothers and sisters about how their mother felt about them and then he allowed people to come up at will and speak about "Gammie" and what she meant to us. That was so joyous and bittersweet for everyone. My own fine mother got up with yellowed recipe cards that had been written for her by Gammy many moons ago. As my mom read off the titles on the recipe cards, people were oohing and aahing aloud.

I came away thinking that I pretty much suck as a mother...I know that's an exaggeration and I know that Gammie's kids probably drove her nuts, but her life was distilled down to its most important impacts and they were all about how she made everyone feel special and she loved everyone, all the time, from their high moments to their bottom-dragging choices, she was all about love and support and more love and good food.

I'm about nagging and being disappointed and mad and frustrated. I'm about being a drill sergeant because nothing seems to work. My kids sneak off during the day to avoid me, because they say all I want to do is work. Where's the balance? #1 wants to spend time with just me, but she complains that she doesn't want to do it while I'm doing laundry...

Meanwhile every room, including the hallways and the cars, are piled with stuff and clothes and I get frustrated everywhere I turn. How can I be about love and good food, when I have trouble finding a horizontal surface to set a dish on? Why can't these darn kids do one thing they've been told to do over 487 times?? Is this just me?

Maybe I just need to wait for grandkids...

Another one bites the dust!

Now Home Depot doesn't want to use that inflammatory phrase: "Merry Christmas" in any of its "holiday" decorating. Give me a break! Why don't we just become the land of Cream of Wheat--the country of blah-neutralism?? Our flag should be changed to a solid of beige--two-toned stripes being too divisive. No colors, no differences.

I can honestly say that if I were to ever visit India or China and I saw places or phrases celebrating their religious traditions, it would never cross my mind to be offended, in any way. I may not choose to participate in it; I may not agree with it; but it is THEIR way and THEIR country.

Does the left really think that we can create a world where there is never opposing opinions or views, really? Are there people who are OFFENDED by the words "Merry Christmas"? In what way does this phrase infringe in them? How can it? It's a statement.

I have never been offended by the words Happy Hannukah--wouldn't even cross my mind to be riled by that. Why should it? It's a phrase of celebration about something that I don't celebrate--sort of like Happy Halloween or Happy Kwanzaa. I don't celebrate either of those, but I'm happy to accomodate, in this tiny way, people who do.

It takes an expanse of consideration for others, not introspection and consideration only of one's self. We're losing the battle of putting others first in this country. It's been going for a long time. Parents, are unfortunately, on the frontlines of this battle and have been caving for far too long.

Yeah, yeah...still here...

I know, I know. It's just another thing that I haven't been able to accomplish. Not that I haven't thought about it. I have fodder for blogging going on every day, every minute, and I even recognize it when it happens.

Like day before yesterday..."Mom?" says #3. "Yes," I answer dutifully. (This is question 894 for the day.) "Do fish hold hands?" (I am dead-serious on this.) "No!" (Sarcastically, like, surely you know this #3.) Undeterred, "Do they hold fins?"

Emphatic "No." (Of course not--I think this is a little much, don't you?)

Pause.

"They do in Finding Nemo," with sincerity and trust and sweetness that pierces my heart and convicts my evil-mommy harshness to a sodden black lump in my chest.

"You're absolutely right, you little peanut! But it's a movie made by an artist, who can draw anything, just like you, little punky punk."

I'd love to write more, but I have a biology test to administer, my MIL's yard to finish mowing before she dies of a heart attack, a dinner party to clean up from and two horses that are begging to be ridden. Plus, I am now Awana Kindergarten room leader, and I have to get prepared for Menu Plan Monday and decide if I should rent a van with DVD players for Thanksgiving, and start some Christmas crafts, and....

I know, I know...

the summer is waning. Every day, a few more minutes "lost". I have pretended for several months now that I am not a homeschooler. Sure, I had these great intentions to do math and spelling and handwriting all summer. But, I quickly decided to forget it. I don't even remember the specific reasons. I'm sure I could dredge them up if I needed to, but I don't.

I believe the kids needed a break from me and I needed a break from them "educationally". So, for the summer, I've been a horse owner, a small business manager, a housekeeper, a 4H volunteer, a really bad gardener and a wife and mom. That's it.

In the back of my mind though, I knew it was coming around...so, here's a great post from a blog I found that resonates with me:

The Ten Habits of a Happy Homeschool

I wish this lady was my next door neighbor!

Oh and P.S. Got to visit another ER today! #3 crashed off the couch onto Handyman's cool new coffee table (an old hand truck covered with plexiglass) and gashed open her forehead, just two days before her birthday. I want some of that glue stuff they use, just to have around. So now all three girls have facial scars; what a heritage!

Some firsts...

I put $92 worth of gasoline in my evil SUV yesterday. I am sure that's the first time I've ever put $92 worth of gas in anything! I was very thankful to be able to put $92 of gas into my heinous, destructive ride, but shocked nonetheless. I wanted to yell to the guy across from me, who was pulling a trailer of mowers--"You can't pull a horse trailer with a Prius!" I am sick of being demonized by the liberal wackos because I drive an SUV. When there are natural disasters, what kind of vehicles do rescuers tend to drive??? Do hybrids rescue people or deliver medical care to the trapped? Probably not.

I paid $27 for a smallish-bottle of special shampoo for Reno--the free horse with dermatological issues. I didn't tell Handyman the cost, especially since I had paid $18 for a bottle of iodine shampoo at Tractor Supply. He would cork, quietly of course, as is his way. I simply decided that that was my clothing allowance for the summer...

#3 came through surgery very well. We had two really nice visits from leaders at our new church, also balloons and treats. She was the best patient on her floor. All her nurses and aides loved her because she was so sweet. She loved the computer on the articulating arm that could hang over her bed where she could play fairy games on the internet all day. I enjoyed the articulating arm computer so I could lay on my couch/bed and watch Dancing with the Stars while she slept. She is having understandable pain when going potty, but that will continue to diminish. We didn't go to church today because I didn't want someone else to have to take her to the bathroom and now she's sleeping on my bed, so it was a good decision. Although I am missing the sermon on Colossians. Also, last week the Pastor pointed out that Mother's Day is falling on the same day as Passover so we would be having a "Spirit-filled Mother" contest...which mom could get to church without sinning!! :) He said the prize would be a big Pharisee badge! LOL!

My parents went to see my grandma for Mother's Day, so they are gone to WVA. I want to know if they are going to ask her who she's voting for in the WVA primary. My grandma votes Democrat. If Satan were a Democrat, she'd vote for him. I'm thinking she'll go for Hillary, the whole scorned wife thing perhaps. My grandma was a scorned wife once too. But who knows...it's not the issues with her. She is motivated by promises that her favorite grandchild (male, age 23) won't ever be drafted and that FDR saved the world, so we have to stay loyal to the party.

I have been frustrated with my children lately...they just don't seem to try to do a good job at things. They are not motivated when it comes to household chores and are more than happy to do a sloppy job and get called back 3 and 4 times. I am tired of trying to think up logical consequences for all this stuff. I just want it to get done and move on. I am too task oriented, I know. But when I am muttering to myself about what's the matter with them, I think that's about what God must be saying about me. "I have explained this before. Does she never learn? Why doesn't she get it? Why doesn't she believe me/trust me? I have told her this over and over and she doesn't listen." You get the picture.

I like to read the obituaries. I know that's weird. Mostly I enjoy the loving mother ones. You read about their accomplishments, usually during times that were less than perfect in this country. You read about what their children remember about them and what they were known for. It helps motivate me to see the big picture and to choose what I want to prioritize around our house. We need more laughing, more hugging, more sparkling eyes...how can I get that and still have a clean house?? My dilemma....less sleep perhaps...

I am crossing a line in my life that will be thrown up at me for many years to come, I'm sure...I'm going to make my own laundry detergent. What with all the money going out to wacky causes (special dermatological shampoo for horses and cat bite ER charges), I've been looking into other ways to save money. I already shop at Goodwill and Ebay. I forego eating out and movies at the theater (my faves!) I yearn for Starbucks but never indulge. But I checked in at Biblical Womanhood on her Frugal Friday posts and was reading through the linky and saw the gal who loves her homemade laundry soap. So I checked it out. I actually like doing laundry, just not putting it away. But I am getting much better with that part. Anyway, I found this gal and read her story and her links as well. It sounds easy-peasy and they had all the ingredients at Kroger, so we'll find out!

The reason this is so memorable for me and will become fodder for all my future harrassment is that at one point in my mother's "return to earthy living" phase, she made her own toothpowder. I don't know if it was to save money or just to be healthier or what, but it was the worst! I mean, the absolute worst! My dad snuck toothpaste into the grocery cart to save us from it. We, of course, being the loving family that we are, have never let her forget it. So, I'm sure, this will be my Waterloo. I hope, however, that this will actually work. Whereas tooth powder just made me avoid brushing altogether!

Happy Mother's Day Mom! What goes around comes around, eh?! :)

Stream of consciousness

I'm winning the battle of creepin' crud. Reno wants his belly itched, and he wants it now! The shedding blade isn't even tough enough for him. If I stop itching and walk away, he trots after me and gets in front of me and swings himself around, just in case I can't remember which spot it is he needs scratched.

Our trees are in bloom and my walk to the barn is beautiful and sweet-smelling. I need to stay on top of Princess' fair nose. She sunburns easily with that bald face. I have to get my desk under control this weekend before I am gone to the hospital for several days with #3.

The lame chicken is now walking and scratching! Today will be 3 weeks since Handyman splinted her leg and she was scratching in the dirt of the flower bed last night! We were so pleased. How we'll ever move her back to the flock, I don't know. John would be so lonely.

Piano recitals are done. Awana has wrapped up. 4H is getting into full swing and the girls have already slept in the tent in the front yard. Sure seems like summer already.

Re: parenting...I want to give praise to the Lord for growing me through the most recent issues which involve my ability to "shut my yap" when I have amazingly cruel sarcasm on the tip of my tongue and to turn away from invitations to go at it. I have asked for strength and received it. I have asked for patience and have had many opportunities to grow it and I have asked for reasons to not bail out and they have shown themselves readily. The Lord does provide. He does know best. He does speak if I will hear. He is faithful. The question is, as told to me by Clarence Thomas in his book--who learned it from Bobby Knight in his book (in rough paraphrase): Am I willing to do what it takes to win, not just willing to win. Everyone wants to win. But winners are willing to do all that mundane, routine sloggery; to cover the details that others want to skip, in order to succeed.

Parenting teens--it's not for wimps. I saw a Mother's Day shirt that I want. It said, Mom is Wow, upside down!

Tonight we are celebrating my mom's 65th birthday. She was 48 when i got married. That is 3 years older than I am right now. I have one child who would just be going into Kindergarten at the same age as my mother was marrying off her only child. Hmmmmmmm...I hope I live to be 100 or I'll never get it all done.

Don't have pasture seeded--the rental seeder broke--don't have garden planted yet. I've got to get a strawberry bed going. Don't have a riding ring yet. But, it's not cold anymore.