Notebook Writers

I can't write long this morning. It's Library Day, and I'm the crazy momma in charge. What that means is I have to be early instead of late, I need to bring some supplies and have my own 3 kiddos fed, dressed and pulled together enough that we don't have a massive collapse during the 2 hours of Library Day. I expect it will be a most wonderful presentation. It's being given by a woman I think is just beyond measure who will talk about her culture and heritage.

I've been finding that having a blog is a strange and wonderful blessing. Mostly I write to keep sane. It's a place to put a thought to "paper" and get a little feedback. It's a place to feed my fantasy of being a writer "when I grow up." It's also a throw back to a day I'd almost forgotten about.

Last night as The Mr. and I talked over our day, he reminded me of the notebook years.

Ah, the notebooks. How could I have possible let those slip from my mind? I suppose they're in a box in the basement, covered in dust and spiders.

The Mr. and I met in high school. Yup, that long ago. We started dating and I discovered something about him. He will not talk on the phone. Talking on the phone was a major form of girl communication in high school. How could I possibly date this guy who wouldn't talk on the phone.

He was a few years ahead of me and our conversations went a lot like this.

Hey, Mr. How was your day?

Fine.

Uh, what are you doing tonight?

Homework.

Hmm, well, I guess you're not in the mood to talk.

Silence.

OK, well, I guess I'll see you at school tommorow.

OK, bye.

I found I often hung up the phone, sat there and looked at it thinking "what was that about?".

He just wasn't, and still isn't, a phone talker. It wasn't that he didn't have big thoughts or feelings. It wasn't that nothing was going on or that he was upset with me, it was just the phone.

And so the notebooks were born. I started by writing a note to him in a notebook. Then when I would see him in the hallway, I would pass it to him. He would take it, read it and write his own note. It wasn't long before the notebook was full, and then another and another.

We wrote to each other until he graduated and went off to college. Then, we wrote letters. Everyday. We sent letters--yeah, snail mail version, back and forth every day until we were finally at college together.

You know what? Most of those notes and letters were just plain about nothing. No big crisis or revelations, but lots of sharing of the little stuff. It gave us the familliarity of each other. We learned a lot of the nuances of each other through the written word.

I think in the end, those were some really valuable years. We grew to know each other in a way that others couldn't touch. The words might even be a part of what saved us when our marriage was in the rocky years.

There is power in words, my friends, great unbounded power.

Love letters and friendship notes go a long, long way.

Lost

My appology for yesterday's post. The Mr. said it makes our life sound sort of, well, less than wonderful. I was really just posting that our life is regular and plain jane like everyone else's.

This morning I was thinking I'd write about a Bible study I'm doing with the teen's. It's a great study. Proverbs. I love Proverbs. They are insightful, instructive and convicting. Especially this morning. This week is about words and speaking and listening.

I have issues with all three. I love words for more reasons than I really care to write about. Then there is speaking. I don't produce the sort of verbal fruit I'd like to. Far too often the words that come from my mouth are anything but encouraging. Move on from that to listening. I do listen, it's just that I often stop listening part way through. It's work to force myself to listen to a person all the way to the end. Along the way, while they are speaking to me, my mind latches on to something they've said, and then it hitches there. I want to, and often do, interrupt at the point my brain got hung up on. It's an awful habit.

Before I write though, I usually read. This morning I was reading at Quiet Life and there was an interesting set of questions. I thought I might just take a crack at them over here. You can get to Quiet Life on the side bar.

One of her readers asked about marriage, specifically, "How do you make it work?" and "How do you not get lost behind your husband and kids?" Some pretty big questions.

I think Donna's answer for how to make it work is spot on. My own marriage improved a lot after I came to know that it wasn't The Mr.'s job to make me happy. And, it wasn't my job to make him happy. I also found the book The Power of a Praying Wife to be very helpful. It was great for getting my focus. I was making way to much of myself in the marriage and focusing on all the things I thought we wrong instead of all the ways God was using this part of my life.

I think the harder question might be, "How do you not get lost behind your husband and kids?" I think it's harder because in a certain way, you should be lost behind them.

What?

I know, it doesn't seem to make sense, especially in our me first society. I think, though, that it might be one of the keys to peace and happiness. You don't want to be so "lost" as to feel you have no worth, no friends, no life, etc., but I don't think that you should be the focal point of the family either. What I mean is, when someone from outside your family looks in and observes you, are they seeing a whole family unit working together smoothly or are the seeing a group of individuals? We all have our areas where we stand out, everyone does, but what I mean is do you have one person in the family overshadowing everyone else?

I don't think that's God's plan for wives and moms. I'm not saying that we shouldn't have our own interests and nurture those, but our main role as a wife and mom is support and service. We're given a servant role and there should be a way to enjoy that, to love it, to thrive in it. We are the person standing in the shadows, the spine, the organizers. We are the ones that keep all the balls in the air and keep things going relatively smoothly for whole groups of people--our families. That is the way that God uses us to bless them. Through us, our families feel security and love. They learn trust and loyality because we model it.

It can be hard. Don't think I'm all polly-anna over here and going to tell you how perfect my family and marriage are, not a chance. I spend plenty of time in conversation with the Lord about bitterness of the heart. My heart. It's really easy to get caught up in the lists of things to do for everyone else and feel really, awfully bitter about doing all that stuff for everyone else. Especially if it's a season of life when there is lots and lots of serving on your part and it seems as though you are being left out. It can seem like you are invisible within the family, like no one is serving you or even willing to serve you. It can sometimes seem like even though you are knocking yourself out serving them, they are unhappy, ungrateful, greedy and needy.

We know those feelings. As wives and moms, we've all been there. Even when it's really good, we know that it will come back again.

These are the spots we get trapped in. If we aren't able to look outside ourselves, to place our focus on anything but ourselves, we're lost in a bad way. It's good to be lost behind the hubby and kiddos when you are able to see what you do as acts of pure love for them or love for God. Even if your act of love is shampooing vomit from the carpet at 2:AM. It's a trap when all you can see is how you're being used or taken advantage of. It's a long, deep dark hole to be in and a real hard one to climb out of, but God can lift you out if you let Him.

I suppose this is about as clear as mud this morning, but that's ok. To some of you, it will make perfect sense. In the end, it's pretty simple. The best position to be in for marriage and motherhood, is on your knees.

And no, I did have to learn it the hard way. And yes, I need a refresher course daily.

Just A Ramble

I live in a house characterized by activity. It's always in motion, a state of stuff in flux.

This morning the kids have helped themselves to the contents of the craft closet. It's a peaceful chaos downstairs. I just checked in a few minutes ago and found the kitchen table covered in painted cotton balls, puddles of glue and paint splotches. There are paper bits and coffee filters and yarn all about. Markers, google eyes and paper bags. Plenty of cardboard. It's all wrapped together with little boys.

It's messy, but they're being good to each other, so I'll wipe it all down later.

We have the regular sort of messy life stuff too. The front door sticks and squeeks when it's really cold. Most of our toilets need their handles jiggled on a regular basis. There is toothpaste on the counter every day and a lost napkin under the chair in the living room. There are socks on the floor in every room of the house. There is always at least one load of dirty laundry needing to be done and one needing to be folded. Night lights get left on. The coffee is almost always cold when I want to drink it. When I walk through the house, all the lights are on either at noon or 2AM.

Each room has great piles of books. Ones read, ones part read and others waiting patiently to be read. There are dog toys and dog hair. Our vacumn needs a new belt. Again. Those things just aren't very durable. There are sticks and rocks and little people on the kitchen counter. Barney is in the dishwasher. The dishwasher is running again and the phone keeps ringing. More math work sheets need to be copied and my carpet seems to have a nice covering of staples. Our screens and windows have fingerprints, nose prints and crayon drawings. Things are always taped to the walls. Our fridge has magnets, pictures, photos and stickers. Lots of stickers.

One shoe is always missing. So is one glove, mitten and sock. The favorite shirt is always waiting to be washed and the hand towels have hand prints.

But.

The smell is often dinner cooking or muffins baking or brownies cooling. The sound is kids. They're yelling, chasing, teasing, reading to each other and playing music. They are shouting and laughing. They are playing and saying Hey Mom. There are puppets and monsters. Hugs that are so strong they are painful.

These are the kinds of lists of nothings that don't seem to count for anything, but in reality, are everything. Life is made up of the nothings. It's the leaf sprouting on the kitchen counter, the cookie shared, a sticker stuck and not removed, a hug given just because, puppet shows put on together and frogs in the laundry room that count. Songs sung at the dinner table, indoor squirt gun fights in winter and the freedom of live a life are the things that make the memories of our lives.

One Step At A Time

Yesterday we were in court, hoping to get a clue. Life with Little Girl can be pretty interesting. Mostly what we did yesterday was waste our time, but in the end, I think it's ok. We learned pretty much nothing about our case that we didn't already know and found out we're still in the same spot we were in at the start.

Wait. Parent this child and wait to see what happens next. So, that's what's next. Waiting. At least 6 more months.

So we'll keep doing what we do over here. We'll keep teaching her to talk and run, to share and pray. We'll keep making sure her teeth get brushed and her hair is washed. We'll get her to bed on time and read to her too. She'll get her share of hugs and time outs and we'll watch holidays and birthdays go by.

We'll sit with her on our laps and rock her to sleep. We'll lay her in bed at night, pull up the covers and close the door. We'll stand on the other side with our foreheads pressed to the door and wonder.

What next, Lord? We'll watch the news at night and fret about the life she will go home too. We'll look at each other and marvel that God asked this of us.

And we'll walk in faith.

Creeping Crud & Madi-Phili-Cago

Not much to tell around here. The 3 kids and I have been down for a while with the creeping crud. Same cycle I've mentioned before. Snow storm, sickness, Artic Freeze. Repeat until May. We're getting good at it.

The is The Mr.'s week away. He's seeing Madi-Phili-Cago. I'm sure you've seen the ad. So, I'm hoping we stick with Artic temps and sinus crud until he gets back. Otherwise, I'll be out shoveling with tissues stuck up my nose.

We've tried in the past few weeks to keep up the school schedule while being under the weather, but Sunday did me in. It was my day of the year where I just couldn't even get out of bed in a positive way until late in the afternoon.

That meant yesterday the kids got the TV and I took some naps. Today, we're continuing to give in. We're heading to the store to stock up. One humidifier is not enough when 4 people have sinus colds and hacking coughs. We'll be picking up other important stuff too, like Vicks and more tissues, Tylenol for all age groups and saline nose sprays. We generally don't do cold medications or any medications for that matter, so we'll be sticking with our vitamins and chicken soups, hot tea and honey. Maybe we'll get some frozen fruit to soothe those sore throats.

Politics

The Littlest Mr. is more tuned in to the world around him than I gave him credit for. He's 5 1/2.

A day or two ago he came racing into the kitchen, because that is the only speed he comes in, racing, and asks a question.

"Mom, who's Rock-Ya-Mama?"

My first response was to quiz him on which TV channel he had been watching!

"They said on TV he's going to be the next president, Rock-Ya-Mama."

Ah, life through the ears and eyes of The Little Men.

It's an adventure every minute.

Valentine's--A Double Edged Day

Valentine's Day leaves me with mixed feelings.

On one hand it is indeed a treat to be treated and told you are loved and special to someone. On the other hand, I think it's a big old pain in the butt.

I had kids this week who, thanks to TV, felt the Valentine hype and in turn then their failure. See, TV told them they needed special cards and gifts to tell special people they were loved. They also started to wonder, what will come my way on Valentine's Day.

I think that's where it becomes a big pain. It is a holiday that creates hurt feelings in so many. There are people who feel unloved and left out because they don't receive a Valentine. There are kids who get a start at being cynical with the classroom policy that everyone gets a Valentine from everyone. It's politically correct, but really shallow. What are we teaching there?? Lie to spare someone's feelings? Just for this one hour of Valentine Party you have to like everyone in your class? Everyone in the class already knows whose Valentine Box would have been empty except for the policy, even the kid whose box it would have been. There are the people whose Valentine's Day gift expectations are not met. The spouse that blows it off, the sweetheart that gets a gas station gift, the one who doesn't get the ring, the one who gets pizza instead of romance. Then there are all the people who get caught up in the hype of romance and do things they later regret.

See what I mean? I'm not really a cynical kill-joy, well, maybe I am. I guess I just think we ought to be able to tell the people we love that we love them without using our charge card on a designated day. Isn't it much more romantic to get a surprise treat from your lover on Monday in March just simply because you are loved and it's Monday in March? Shouldn't we send cards and love letters and flowers just because they are fun to share?

Ah, well. It is what it is. And today, I'll play along. I'll admit to loving the cards from the kids, all markers and stickers on copy paper. I'll confess to the joy of seeing all the happy faces this morning when everyone found their treats from me. I'll even share with you a picture of the treat I got for The Mr.

And one last whine, can anyone tell me why spell check doesn't work on blogger anymore? Am I having a stupid moment? OK, so now I can't add a photo either. Grr. Check Filkr for the photo called Wisconsin Manly-tine.

Do You Really Believe?

It seems to have changed in the blink of an eye. Or the beat of a heart.

Or maybe the whisper of God in my ear.

More likely the clear spoken words of The Mr.

He's known to be like that.

Lately, it's been brought forward, that perhaps I'm not fully trusting God.

With Everything.

The study last night said, if you really believe, and I believe I do, than the words are true. The verse was Ph 4:13, I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. I always seem to pair it in my head with Luke 1:37, For nothing is impossible with God.

But, I think I was reading it wrong. Or maybe just limited in my thinking. See, I always thought of those verses as encouragement that we'd have the strength, physical or mental to do the things we were needing to do.

Sometime between then and now, it has occurred to me, that perhaps it is also the things we dream of doing.

The question last night was this: if you really belive those words, what will you try to do this week? We talked a little about another question: What are you actively not pursuing even though it's a dream of yours simply because you "know" it won't happen. Why do you think God isn't big enough for your dream? Why are you stopping God, by not even trying to see if that's the plan God has for you?

All said, it left me with a lighter heart. A new sense of amusement at myself. I really don't know if I've been busy thwarting God's plans for me for years on end, but it's worth finding out.

The Grinding Cycle of Winter Continues

Wait, it's Monday. Can you guess what I'm going to say?

The weekend was busy. Check.

People were feeling ill. Check.

It is so bitter cold the mail freezes to the inside of the mailbox. Check.

More of The Little Miss's visits are cancelled. Check.

Laundry mountain exists again. Check.

The Little Mr. is vomiting. Check.

4 - 8 more inches of snow predicted for today and tomorrow. Check.

Oh, yeah. I love this stuff. Winter. Wisconsin. Mommy-hood.

It's all good, kids. All good.

I'm fondly recalling some trips to Texas right about now. Especially one in March when I thought I couldn't stand yet another moment in the ick we call winter and spring around here.

There may not be enough coffee and bleach to get through the day. Seems the vomit virus is back. Again.

It's been busy around my house and so I haven't been around here.

I know. Busy? My house? You're shocked, aren't you?

Anyway.

What it means is that I haven't had a lot of time to sort thoughts or turn them into any written words.

A few jumbled up thoughts to tide you over.

I'm always disappointed when people choose to be or keep quiet.

I'm enjoying watching a friendship grow.

I'm waiting for an opportunity to come before me.

I'm waiting for something to resolve itself.

I'm in a season of feeling other people's feelings deeply.

I am finding joy and delight and peace filtering in like winter sunlight in my everydays.

I am physically tired of this winter.

Snow

Well, it just got deeper.

Yesterday was yet another snow day. 16 inches. The Mr. only had to run the snow thrower 4 times.

The men in our neighborhood used their snow throwers last night to "plow" our court circle where we live. Good thing they did. It's 7:AM and no sign of a plow anytime too soon. We had a plow come through just once yesterday afternoon about half way through the great dumping from the sky.

It was a snow day for most of the state I think. A real snow day. Even the malls shut down.

I think at this point, in a winter like this one, they have to have some snow days for the adults too. Otherwise we'd loose our minds.

We filled up our day as ususal. The Mr. worked at home. Ah, technology. The Little Men played outside. A lot. The Little Miss napped in my arms. We read. We watched TV, had a fire and had some peanut butter brownies.

The forcast? Friday flurries.

Oh yeah, I heard the beach in California is beautiful these days. Enjoy it girl friend, you deserve it.

I've just had a plow sighting. These aren't any old snow plows either. These are the jumbo, shouldn't that thing be on a construction site? kind of plows. I expect it will be another hour at least before he turns that thing onto our little circle.

It's A Deep Winter

This is one of those winters. You have the feeling it will drag on and on and you'll never quite get rested and get ahead of it all.

Over here at our place we've alternated between huge snow falls and sickness. About the time we get shoveled out, the warm temperatures come, the stuff melts, the neighbor's basements all flood, and we catch another round of the creeping crud virus. Spring will come, it always does, but some years you just look forward to it more than others.

We're awaiting yet another snow fall. Perfect timing as we've just gotten over the vomit virus in our house. They're hyping it to 10 inches. It will probably be close. Lucky us.

There was an interesting chart in the paper this morning. It was a list of the winters with the top 10 snow fall amounts. I realized that I've lived through 4 or 5 of the top 10. This year is moving right along, but no where near the top 10. We're currently just over 50 inches of snow this winter, adding another 10 inches might bring us near the top 20 or so on this list, but it's just a plain ordinary winter.

That means we're going to do what we always do. Put gas in the snow blower, make more soup, keep the place stocked with disinfectant and detergent, make sure the kids snow pants and mittens are dry each night and burn up the last of the firewood. We'll take turns shoveling and driving, scrubbing and bundling. We'll make the most of it and heartily look forward to spring.

As a complete side note, forgive my spelling errors and typo's. It seems as though spell check is not working well lately.

It's The Last 15 Minutes That Kill You

Or at least that's how it is in my family.

The last 15 minutes of anything with the kids is 15 mintues past when it should have ended. I'll give you a few examples.

The last 15 minutes of any car ride is 15 minutes too long. Those are the minutes filled with whining, fighting, crying, bathroom stops, vomiting and throwing toys.

The last 15 minutes of any medical or dental appointment is 15 mintues t00 many. Those are the minutes where the kids dismantle an entire medical office, set off alarms, wander down hallways opening doors and shut down whole computer systems.

The last 15 minutes of shopping is 15 minutes of insanity. This is the time you want to pretend that those are someone else's kids. The ones running down the isles tossing items into the cart, or the child lying on the bottom moaning, or maybe the child collecting multiple copies of every coupon from those little blinky things on the shelves. Those really aren't your kids. I know, they aren't mine either.

The last 15 minutes of all craft projects are 15 minutes that can lead to remodeling your home if you aren't careful. Those are the minutes that involve spills. Glue, paint, glitter, google eyes, confetti, sand, pebbles, pom-poms and fake snow. Dust busters are not an all purpose cleaning appliance and not everything that says it's washable is.

The last 15 minutes at the library can involve screaming, tears, lost cards, coats and torn pages. The last 15 minutes of story time always involves a fight or argument. The last 15 minutes of math means the child forgets every math fact he's ever learned including how to write his numbers. The last 15 minutes of any meal or snack means spills and treats for the dog. The last 15 minutes in the bathroom means call a plummer. The last 15 minutes of quiet time, sleeping or napping, means be as loud as humanly possible. The last 15 minutes of getting ready to leave the house means a child isn't or won't get dressed, can't find a shoe and "doesn't know we're going".

The last 15 minutes of my day is the 15 minutes I try to remember how precious it all is. I try to find the joy in it. I try to see them as the amazing critters they are. I try to take a deep breath and set my heart on loving them more the next 15.