Random

Thanks to InsectLover I now have to reveal 6 random things about myself. ;-) Actually, I don't mind one bit. Randomness suits me quite well. Ask anyone who knows me, and I bet their summation of me would probably be pretty close to the definition of "random"!

Random thing #1: I don't like to touch the cotton balls that come in the top of tylenol bottles.This is completely true. I bet you didn't even know anyone cared about such things, but I, for one, do.

Random thing #2: I am terrified of winding mountain roads. I added this one because I recently admitted to my best friend that I walk up part of a mountain rather than ride with my family because I can't handle the crush of my own fear. She found this so hilarious that I realized I must be a total freak. ;-) Anyhow, too many years of riding through hollers in the bed of a pickup while trying to keep the stick of my fudgsicle from poking through the roof of my mouth have cemented this terror for me, and there's no going back!

Random thing #3: I like old houses. The older the better, actually. You know how Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a mansion for us? Well, since He knows my heart, I'm expecting an American Folk Victorian from about 1900. And a clawfoot bathtub.

Random thing #4: I am contemplating using an inverted Burger King crown as a template for a stencil on my downstairs walls. I saw it in a library book on decorating. It looked really nice, actually. The problem here is that the idea of going into a Burger King makes me slightly queasy, so I'm not sure how I'll collect the crowns. Or how I'll get my husband to go for the idea.

Random thing #5: My daughter's middle name is not my maiden name, as most people assume. It's the surname of a poet dh and I adored in college. The problem? I now find her work decidedly yuck, thanks to the lenses Christ has given me in discerning things of that nature. But, alas, we are stuck with it.

Random thing #6: In high school and college, I wore an ankle bracelet of bells at all times. For no other reason than the fact that I liked the sound.

O.k., now for my tags: karlyle, AmoScribo, Mama Mary, grace4gayle, zeph317 & teena6. I have no idea how to link to them, so you'll have to hit the "Friends" bar to the left!

Misconceptions

We had the chance to put to rest a few misconceptions about homeschooling recently. Not sure we won any converts, but at least we were able to explode some of the myths that a few acquaintances have somehow absorbed through their limited--or nonexistent--exposure to homeschoolers.

1. All families who homeschool do so because they are religious "overachievers." We actually started homeschooling before dh was Christian, and before I was fully surrendered to Him. We now feel that an education based on honoring the Lord is our central goal, but we didn't start out that way. The truth is, anyone can homeschool. (And I personally have seen Him use homeschooling to bring many families closer to His Son!)

2. The only people who homeschool are those whose children are really, really smart. My kids happen to be pretty bright. I honestly hesitate to talk about that fact with non-homeschooling moms sometimes for the fear of reinforcing this myth. Honestly, if you believe that God gave you your children because He knew what He was doing, then why wouldn't you believe that He will equip you to deal with their minds, be they brilliant, average or what the school system would label as "Special Needs"?

3. Homeschoolers have big families. I have three kids. To some people, that's a big family. I know a family with 8 children who do not homeschool. I know families of onlies who do. In this case, size most assuredly does not matter.

4. You can only teach subjects you yourself are an expert in. Oh, my. If this were the case, the public school system would be at even more of a loss for teachers than it already is. Thanks to the blessing of almost too many curriculum choices, homeschoolers can teach and learn right alongside their children. Add to this the option of friends tutoring in their own areas of expertise, the variety of co-op and museum classes available, and books (!!!) and I think anyone will see the folly in this argument.

5. You can't be a mom and a teacher at the same time. Really? How do you explain that to the new mother carefully sounding out words for her toddler? Don't let her know how much she's confusing her child by teaching and mothering at the same time!

6. Children who are homeschooled just don't fit in. Praise God for this one! The assumption here is that it's good for kids to fit in with their peers. Personally, I hold to a different standard.

7. If you homeschool your older children, their younger siblings sit in a room by themselves all day. O.k., the person who told me this one doesn't have children, so she can be forgiven for assuming that it's possible to consign a toddler to a defined space and expect him to respect the banishment. I think we all know that this is a joke!

8. You can homeschool because you have a college education. Yes, I do. But I know others who don't, and I can't say my kids are any better off than theirs. What they have in common is a set of parents who are committed to their education. They don't teach any courses on that in universities, as far as I know.

9. Homeschooling takes up a lot of time. It can, no doubt. I have days where I am "on" from 6:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. But I also have days where we are relaxed and just loving a lifestyle of learning. Both are o.k. Both are normal.

I haven't even touched on the "s" word or any of its subcategories here! I am amazed that in this day and age, all of these misconceptions still surround homeschooling. I'm sure my list is far from complete. Anyone care to share the things they've come up against?

"I love you"

I was completely and utterly blessed by this moment today and had to share.

My boys were sitting in front of the computer doing a lesson on Headsprout.com (a recommended phonics resource, by the way). The lesson involved the special sound "ack." Ds5 had to say the word that appeared on the screen, click on it and then find it again in a sentence.

It just so happens that little brother (ds3) is named "_ack." And it also just so happens that his name popped up as a word continually in the story they were working on.

Here's where the blessing comes in.

As I was wiping down the bathroom sink, I kept hearing ds5 saying, "I love you." I thought it was part of the story and paid little attention. Then I realized he was saying it an awful lot for a little story exercise. I mean, I know those things are repetitive, but come on!

I peeked around the corner and got the real story. The name "_ack" kept coming up to be read aloud and clicked on. And every single time he saw it, ds5 would say, "_ack, I love you" and click. Ds3 would then peck his big brother's cheek in a kiss.

Can I admit to tearing up? O.k.. ... can I admit to slinking back into the bathroom, crying softly and praising God for my kids, my life and two boys who adore each other enough to spontaneously revel in their love?

I love these moments, these priceless tidbits of time showered upon us by our Maker. And I am SO glad I took two seconds to drop that sponge and take a closer look at the scene in front of the computer this morning.

Firsts and Lasts

I really don't like talking with people who don't enjoy their children. I find the constant focus on how and when to get rid of the "little dears" aggravating, to say the least. I'm an optimist at heart--I make every effort to turn those conversations around, giving the mother the chance to make the inevitable retraction that usually sounds like this: "Oh, I love my kids, but I just could never spend so much time with them ...."

Please don't think I'm talking about the occasional conversation that happens on a bad day. You know--when you happen to catch someone on the day their two year-old flushed a Matchbox car down the toilet as they were trying to convince a seven year-old that they really did have to learn to read at some point. Those days happen--to all of us! But the difference is that for some people, those days without joy in our position as caretakers of children are few and far between, while for others, it is a constant state.

The truth is, I can't imagine not spending so much time with my children. I'm keenly aware at all times that God has measured this time that I have with them. In his infinite wisdom, He has divided my life into seasons. Right now, I am thankful to be in the season of having beautiful children growing around me, soaking in knowledge and relishing their relatively carefree days. I am blessed to be watching my children's springtime and, in effect, it has been springtime for me as well.

I've been painfully aware lately that for all I know, the season of physical fruitfulness has, for me, ended. While I have many, many more years of mothering ahead of me, I have no guarantee that my desire for more children will ever be answered in the form of a little one in my arms. As my youngest turns four this month, I'm aware that I'm slipping into summer ... whether I am prepared to leave behind spring's blossoms, or not.

I have personally witnessed each of my children accomplish most of the "firsts" of early childhood. First words, first steps, first haircut, first drawing, losing that first tooth, writing their name for the first time. These moments will always, for me, be the epitome of this springtime: the hours I have been able to spend with each child, relishing their small strides in becoming the little person God has created them to be. I will never forget the blessing of the joys and the heartbreaks of these times. The bitterness at discovering my daughter's vision problems. The delight in my first son's bright red hair at birth. The concerns over my youngest's speech. The whoops of sheer joy as my daughter learned to ride her bike. The tears as I shaved my oldest son's head after a bout with play-doh scissors. The smiles I have had to hide from my "baby" as he crinkles his brow in seriousness. These are the gifts of spring.

And now ... now I'm leaving it. I have no idea what summer holds, only that it, too was designed by God, so it, too must be good.

Today, as I sat down with my youngest when he insisted on "my school time, Mom!" I was slightly sad, as I always am, to watch him piece and patch letters into sounds, sounds into words. Believe it or not, this has felt for me more the "the last first time" for months. His reading has felt inevitable, something I have been resigned to more than enthralled by. Why? Because this may very well be the last time I see that light come one in a child's eyes as the world opens up around them. And, over the years, I have come to love this small act of teaching more than anything else in parenting. To watch it unfold for possibly the last time ... I can't describe how my heart has cried.

Maybe it was the sunshine, which woke me this morning and has lit up my house all day. Maybe it was the fact that ds5 had just tackled his first "big kid" book ("The Boxcar Children") on his own. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the scripture I read this morning, which reminded me that all good and perfect things come from above. ;-) Whatever the case was, as I watched my little boy carefully sound out "hit" and "hot" and show me the picture that matched each word, my heart leaped. I was suddenly--finally--back in that moment, thinking not about the long years that stretched ahead of me and the empty arms I'd have, but of the beautiful gift of a moment I had right there on the couch with my son.

God's plan may very well be for these to be my final days in actively mothering three little ones. But I know He has plans for me. More "firsts" are surely around the corner, even as I celebrate the "lasts." And as I spend my days in ALL of these seasons, I will continue to choose joy.

Rollercoaster

I'm riding a rollercoaster. I don't want to be on it. In fact, I promised myself I wouldn't even get on it. And yet here I am ... buckled in, bracing for the break-neck speed and the stomach-churning drop.

I'm talking about trying to conceive. Honestly, I'm not good at trying. And really, I don't want to be trying. I want to be "Let Go And Let God" ... but it isn't working.

My first child was actually conceived while I was on the pill. When she turned 2, it felt like it was time for another, so we stopped using bc. Boom! Pregnant. Number three was conceived while trying to avoid pregnancy. So really ... I haven't ever tried. Babies have always just come ... with or without my consent.

Well, now the Lord has gotten my full consent. I'm not resigned to more children---I long for them. But I want them to be His gifts, in His time. I want to wait patiently on Him. I want to be an open vessel. I want to be the good, godly woman. I want to be the obedient servant.

But I just can't manage it.

Ever since losing Gloria, I have found myself plotting, counting, calculating and figuring. If we try on *this* day ... Maybe *today* ... Is this????

Ugh. It's a terrible feeling, and I don't want it. Stop the ride ... I wanna get off!

But I just can't. I'm in the thick of it again right now. I can't remove the biological information from my brain. I knew the dates, we ...uh .... tried to conceive. And now I am stuck waiting, and wondering. Second guessing every twinge, every bubble, every possible symptom.

Again.

I did this last month. And the month before. I'm starting to get good at the anxiety. Hey, I don't even need the on-line calculators anymore!

If anyone's been here and managed to jump from the moving train, let me know. It just doesn't feel like waiting on God. It feels more like whining at Him. And I just don't want to be here.

Sadness

Well, I made quite a fool out of myself Saturday evening. My husband says I pulled it off pretty well, but I still say I made a fool out of myself. At a friend's house, I ended up in a perfectly normal conversation about nursing. The conversation actually centered on the less-desirable aspects of breastfeeding--namely, biting. One second I was explaining that I'd never really experienced anything beyond the accidental bite from my three ... The next minute, I felt a huge wave of sorrow. Before I knew it, my lip was quivering, and I was just unable to talk. I managed to fight it down, but I knew that I couldn't hold back the flood forever. I HAD to get out of there and have the breakdown that was coming! I manged to find my DH and tell him I had to leave. This was news to him, since we were supposed to stay late and play games while the kids bedded down in sleeping bags in an extra room. This was news to our hostess, too ... who I couldn't even explain my sudden change of plans to without the fear of falling to pieces. I went home and cried in my bathroom while DH put the kids to bed. I had to be alone ... couldn't even flush all the emotions with my precious husband. It had to be just me. I cleaned up the mess of my breakdown--talking to DH, calling my friend the next mornings, etc. And honestly, I feel better. I was even approached by three people at church on Sunday with much-belated congrats on our pregnancy and shared the news of the loss without too much heartbreak. I guess this is something that will just continue to pass over me in waves.

Coming clean

Last night as I was spritzing bleach water on my kitchen table after getting the rest of the house in "going to bed" order (dd has a cold and I WILL nip that in the bud!) I relished a bit of the fruits of my recent reorganizational order. Aside from a pesky pile of papers and books that refuses to quit multiplying by my phone, I have to say, I've been pleased at how I no longer have that "putting out fires" feeling all day. The laundry--which once seemed like an entity to itself-- is actually under control. The floor has as litle dog hair as possible with a bear-sized canine shedding on it all day. The shelves are dust-free. The pillows are actually *on* the couch. I go to bed every night with the satisfaction of knowing that I'll be greeted by a clean house in the morning.

So why, I wondered, do I still feel a niggling sense of not-quite-good-enough?

Then it ran through my head: the same conversation I've heard dozens of times in the past few months. Without getting long winded (because I'm only *mostly* long winded, you know!) the gist of the comments was that my good friend, who moved from our street to a new neighborhood last year, had left because of me. Or rather, because of not wanting to *be like me*.

When I say "be like me" I mean our living situation: we have five people (and said hairy dog) in our 1,500-and-some-odd-square-foot townhouse. We have three bedrooms. We don't have a backyard of our own--we live on an open common area. We are actually quite happy with our house; I am not a big house person. If I could split it from the adjoining home and fence a bit of yard, I'd have what I'd consider the perfect family home for us. Clearly I can't do that, so I'll just bloom where God has planted me.

But it's pretty clear that most people don't think or feel that way. And the conversation I mentioned illustrates that. While I honestly (at the time) thought I had dismissed the nasty words, it became clear after a bit that they had stuck in my heart. The speaker had insinuated that our "cramped" conditions were a bit frightening for my friend, who was hoping for more children and just couldn't see staying in her own house of the same size after hanging around our place. The final comments made me feel like I was a somehow lazy, neglectful parent and just plain less-than-great person.

But did I dismiss the voice when it popped up again? No. And did I go to my good friend and ask if she had said those things or how she felt? Nope.

Instead, I have chosen to walk around for the past seven months or so wondering if that's what someone who claims to be my best friend really thinks (and says) about me.

Shades of junior high, huh?

The result, I realized last night, was that I have pulled away from my friend. Sure, there are other issues (her oldest is the age of my youngest, which makes for mismatched playdates... she doesn't yet have a homeschool schedule to keep up with, or bigger-kid activities...they're not six houses down anymore...) but underlying all of them is the fact that I have doubted that she sees me as an equal or values me beyond the stuff I own (or don't).

After all those months of keeping it inside, I decided to admit my hurt to my friend and apologize for bottling up what I was fairly certain was a lie anyhow. Do you remember the feeling of asking someone new to spend the night at your house for the first time when you were in third grade? Just that pit-of-your-stomach fear of rejection and sweaty-palmed anticipation? Well, I revisited that anxiety when I picked up the phone.

No surprises, but my friend knew that there was something brewing in my head and my heart (there's a reason we're such good friends, right?). It was obvious to her that I had been holding back. When I finally got it all out, she was respectful and loving and kind and actually racked her brain trying to figure out how any conversation she had had at that time could have been taken to mean that she disapproved of me.

In the end I felt forgiven for hiding something so damaging in my heart. And I tell you, there's a reason that it says in the Bible that when light is thrown on evil, it tries to hide. I went to bed last night not only with a clean house but with a clean heart ... and new determination to carve out precious time in a full schedule to walk alongside the friend that God has so clearly given me.