Anyway, so there’s the normal shuffle to get Phonics and reading going and that runs pretty smoothly. Then math comes around and I find that we’re suposed to make Apple Jack Cookies for math, working on measurements and reading a recipe. Okay, I was planning on this when I bought my groceries, so we should be good. However, the day before when I was juicing I got a little carried away and used up all the apples. So here we are, with no math lesson and no apples and it simply wouldn’t do for me to move on to the next lesson. Besides, I don’t think I could have endured the pouting throughout the lesson if we’d done that.

We can’t go to the store because vehicle #2 is out of commission and the husband has vehicle #1, so we pull ourselves together and walk down to the We Willis where they almost always have some fruit (albeit questionable looking, but I figure I’m cooking it, so it can’t be THAT bad).  It’s a beautiful day for a walk. This can’t be January we’re in the middle of. We get there and . . . no apples. Brown bananas and onions (because I often remember my need for an onion when I’m pumping gas), but no apples.

Of course, I’ve already promised to get them tic tacs, so we have to do that. Looks like this:

“I want orange!”

“Liiiiiiiiiiiaaaaammmmm! I was gonna get orange!!!!”

“Uh, you can both get orange.”

“They don’t have orange.”

“But it has to be orange!”

“Mom! please can we get Mentos instead.”

“No, we said tic tacs!”

“I want Mentos TOO!!!!!”

“Uh, well, sure I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Wait! Can we get chocolate then?

“NO!”

Dejectedly we trudge back down the street to stand at my neighbor’s door like little beggars asking for an apple. She doesn’t have any, but she’s golden and offers to stop at Walmart to grab us a couple on her way home from picking up her kids from school. Yes! Math will still happen.

In the mean time, it’s back to the marble run that we started building the day before. Inspired by Looledoo, this started as a science project, but it’s sort of morphed into a science/art/physics/environmental awareness/resourcefulness/attention retention lesson. I LOVE it when we stumble into a project that can teach so many things at one time!

After a couple of hours of that, the neighbor boy comes over with the apples and wants to stay to help make cookies. I probably got the bigger lesson trying to stay patient with the eight eager hands all reaching for baking ingredients at the same time. Not to mention all the “can I have a cookie” questions I’m going to have to deal with. That’s why I rarely bake cookies–I get tired of telling them they can’t have any. No, I’m not as mean as I sound. Gillian will ask for a cookie literally every ten minutes, so she gets some, but a mom’s got to draw the line somewhere.

Light bulb!

Taking dinner to some friends tonight! Dessert!

As andy walks in the door to find dinner coming out of the oven and the kids quietly reading on the couches he shakes his head in wonder at me and tells me I’m his hero. Not because they’re quiet and dinner’s ready, but because he knows I’ve been distractedly attempting to assemble that dinner for over two hours and he knows that five minutes prior to the quiet reading it was them running, screaming, whining, arguing, mommy loosing it and joining the screaming, kids crying, mommy apologizing then banishing them to the couches.

Ah, but it’s over and although it was exhausting, it was seriously a fun day with the kidlets and so fulfilling. That’s the biggest gift–the peace that comes in knowing this is where we’re supposed to be, me and my little monsters.

I’m kind of a nerd, in case anyone has missed that.

I’ve boasted about having three ideas though, so at least one of them has to take shape soon.

This morning Eliot decided he didn’t want his banana and breakfast bar cut up. He was perfectly content to eat those things, but for some reason, cutting them up defiled them in his mind and he’d have nothing to do with it. When he realized it was that or nothing, he broke down into hysterics. Not just the forced, dry eyed whine, but genuine, face soaking, snot running, wailing. His little heart broken over such a silly matter. What’s the deal? What’s the difference? He’s still getting what he needs. He’s still being fed. The flavor isn’t even going to change. The end is still the same. He will still be filled and fed. As I stand over him, listening to his keening I shake my head in disbelief and wonder at him.

That’s the first mistake! I’ve learned that I shouldn’t wonder, shouldn’t ponder, shouldn’t even think really about my children’s behavior if I don’t want to be convicted. Conviction follows my little monsters everywhere they go.

Anyway, as I wondered why in the world he had to freak out over a cut up breakfast bar, I couldn’t help but think about me and Andy right now. We’re not getting what we want. Not in the way we want it at least. We know were getting the best, we know the larger story is being written by a good Dad that we can trust, but we’re stuck looking at a cut up breakfast when we wanted the whole thing in our hands–our way.

And I don’t know where to go from there, because we’re stuck in that for a while. Not sure how long. Hope it’s not too long. It’s not the happiest of places. Just trying to rest in Him while we’re here, be in His presence and accept that HE is our promised land, not his stuff, not his easy gifts. That’s not always easy to remember, but it helps when I see Eliot, smiling face, full tummy, the trauma of his mutilated breakfast forgotten.

Oh, and there’s a pretty good chance that if this happens, you will spit orange juice out your nose.

1. Daily Bread-or in most mornings cases, a daily morsel. Just a 3-5 minute snippet of truth that’s going to set your mind for the morning. It would be nice to get more, you know, 30-45 minutes of Bible reading, 15-20 minutes of prayer time, followed up with 10-15 glorious moments of journaling while sipping hot tea and listening to some relaxing classical guitar strumming out old hymns on a CD that you found for $9.99 at on of those Target stations where your kids are always begging to press the buttons. Yeah, that would be nice, but face it, you slept in too late, because you stayed up too late because you let the kids stay up too late doing some science project with Dad. I’m onto you.

Seriously, some of my favorites that are short but packed with awesome little grace nuggets are Comforts from the Cross, by Elyse Fitzpatrick; 31 Days of Praise by Ruth Meyers, and Whiter than Snow by Paul Tripp. Seriously, these dont take but a minute–that minute that you may have to lock yourself in the bathroom because the kids are mounting a riot if they don’t get their breakfast. You can do it.

2. Brush your teeth. This may seem like a no-brainer, but it’s amazing how easy it is to find yourself cleaning up from lunch and realizing you’ve left out this important step in your daily humanity.  Because seriously,  five year olds have NO tact and it’s a huge bummer when your kid tells you your breath stinks right in the middle of a really exciting grammar lesson–so disappointing–totally throws off your groove. You’re going strong with one of your best dialects, thinking you’re the most engaging and entertaining teacher ever and she’s like, ‘mommy, you’re stinky!”You can’t really recover from that.

3. Put on a bra. I’m not joking, and before you start crying “TMI!” think about it for a minute. It’s easy to think, “hey, if I can teach in my pjs, why bother?” and there’s some truth to that, but it’s gonna have a spectacular impact on your day. You wouldn’t think that one single article of clothing would make such a difference, but when things start dragging you down, it really helps to have that little lift, and honestly, the more kids you have, the more things need lifting.  If I were a better writer I could have really developed that metaphorically, but I think we’ll just take it at face value and leave it at that.

Obviously, getting up at 5:30am, working out, doing devotions, taking a shower, getting ready and fixing breakfast all before the wee ones are out of bed would probably make me feel like a million dollars, but we all know that’s not going to happen.

EVER.

Additionally obviously (that’s my new favorite phrase that I just made up), if you don’t stay at home with your kids all day you’re thinking, “well duh! Get up and get dressed like the rest of the world.” The thing is, for some of us, we home school just so that we DON’T have to get up and get dressed like the rest of the world. What I’m describing here is the fine line that separates blessedly casual and productive from dragging depressedly through the day.

Every day.

After every confrontation, every disappointment, every moment in which the world around her got just a little too big for her to understand. When the hours grew too late or strange faces grew too many, it was there. Her comfort, her solace, her retreat.

Until thirteen days ago.

We’ve been trying for about a year and a half to break the habit. Nasty polish, “big girls vs. babies” talk, “you’re teeth will stick out” talk, gentle reminders, stern looks, treats, threats, all the tricks. I thought about trying silly products like THIS (ugh) and THIS (weird). No use.

Until Thirteen days ago.

Thirteen days ago we went to the dentist and Gillian had her first cleaning. No cavities and a great report. “We can tell which kid has the sweet tooth and it’s not this one” they said. Yay Gilly! But that thumb had those sweet dental hygienists in an uproar. They didn’t really say anything we hadn’t said, and the promise of getting to come back and get a prize wasn’t a something we hadn’t already offered, but something clicked. Something spoke to her. Don’t ask me what.

And she quit.

Cold Turkey.

We put Mavala on her thumb the first two nights, but on the second day she declared that she wasn’t even tempted and didn’t need it. She’s faithfully marked each night now for twelve nights and hasn’t been seen once with that thumb in her mouth. Unbelievable.

Where did she get that kind of will power? Certainly not from me, and Andy’d be the first to tell you that he didn’t pass that on to her. I don’t know whether to be horrified or giving thanks for such a gift. I wonder in fright at ways in which this will manifest itself as she gets older. To be able to just say, “I think I’m done with that” and to be done! A-ma-zing. To be rock solid on something for reasons only she understands. Terrifying.

Will it last? Is she really done? We will see. And am I crazy to imagine that I’m going to miss it a little?

BEST. DAY.  EVER!!!!

(contented) Sigh.

Little kids can be awesome. Umbrellas are just a bonus.

Speaking of freaking, which we were, sort of . . . well, not really at all, but I did use that word . . . . um, ANYWAY, Gillian said the other day “Eliot is soooo freaking cute!”After which I immediately said, “let’s not say freaking, Gill, it’s not a nice word.” Thankfully, she didn’t follow up with a “but you say it!” I don’t think I say that around her. Who knows though! This mommy brain is only half way functional these days, and even at that mostly on auto pilot–there’s no telling what I’ve said! In the mean time I’m trying to formulate the correct answer to whichever of them first ask why some words are okay for grown ups but not for little kids.

Where was I? I don’t even remember. I think I’m gonna go medicate on some sugar cookies because making a big mess in my kitchen is just what I need right now.

” . . . as the pinchanzees were swinging from the trees . . . “

” . . . no, really, it was hee-larious!”

”  . . . and mom says that when Harry Potter’s arm broke, he went to a musician to fix it . . .”

” . . . we have a whole tray of pomagramets at our house . . .”

Then they started clapping to the Christmas music in this sweet, innocent way and I had to just hold on to these moments because soon they’ll be too cool to clap to Christmas music and too articulate to make silly pronunciation mistakes. And I just have to say, that moments like that these days are precious because most of my moments with the kidlets lately have been less than sweet, less than patient, less than grateful. Not for any particular reason, just because I’m home all day with a 7 year old, a 5 year old and a 19 month old, and, as every stranger is so quick to tell me, “I’ve got my hands full.”

As to the garland, now I’m thinking winter nothing, this baby’s staying up year round! It’s really not all that wintery looking. The lace isn’t even ivory anymore, it’s more of a beach sand or wheat color. Of course, it’s got a handfull of my antique buttons and it’s just simple and sweet. Next year I may hang it on the Christmas tree, but not sure. I also may divide it into two and put one at the mantle, and one over the “window” that separates the kitchen from the dining room. I’d love ideas for a place to put it. I do wish the pictures were better, but my house is dark, these days are gloomy, etc., etc. It is what it is.

Enjoy your holidays friends! Hope you’re all making and buying hand made as much as you can!