Umm...

Do you see it?

I had this super-mega bottle of bubble solution for months before I noticed it.

Gotta' love the power of the brain. And someone on staff who reads English.

Prayer & Pom Poms

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Don't care who ya' are, ya' do, and I am no exception. Interestingly, some of the strengths that I really admire in other people just happen to be the things that I absolutely, completely, positively suck at.

Prayer is one of those things.

Not that I don't pray. I do it all the time. "Thanks for the green light. I really needed that, I'm almost out of gas." "Please help me find the van key because it's the only microchipped one we have." "Thank you for watching over Cora because she just woke up from a nap and pulled a penny out of her mouth." That sort of thing. Lots and lots of thoughts, emotions and requests sent heavenward.

It's the prayer prayer that I'm terrible at. Like the consistently-get-down-on-my-knees-pour-out-my-soul-leave-my-burdens-at-His-feet-and-let-Him-fill-me-back-up prayer. All too often I feel like my relationship with my Heavenly Father is like the dear friend I see very occasionally for a couple hours of good catching up, but otherwise just touch bases through facebook.

Nothing to be proud of. And I'm not.

Last weekend as I watched and listened to His word for me, I was lovingly nudged back to Him, and reminded that He wasn't the one who got lazy. So I've been thinking of ways to keep myself motivated and on track. I think I've found what will work for me until it becomes a habit:



Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's a reward jar. I figured if the kids can get stickers for using a potty, peanuts for quiet mornings or raffle tickets for positive behavior, I can work toward filling my own jar! To make it attainable, I'm using craft pom poms first, then beans later. (And yes, siblings of mine, that IS the smallest and last-remaining of the glass set of canisters that Mom had on her counter for years. I kept it. I have no idea why, but I did. And now it has a purpose.) It was a bit tricky coming up with a reward, because I can get a donut or quarter or new headband whenever I want. It's one of the glories of being a grown up. After a bit of thought, I decided that my reward would be a record of progress.

So this morning as I let my fingernail top-coat dry, I very carefully wrote my State of Being: where I am in all aspects of my life...physical, relationship, financial, spiritual, etc. (And then I prayed, earning me that first big, sparkly puffball. Not remotely coincidentally, the kids & I had one of the best house-cleaning days we've ever had for the most part. I was full of praise and patience, Lee didn't have a single time-out today & he behaved better than his older siblings!) When my retro jar is full of colorful puffiness, I'll record my State of Being at that time, and again when it's full of beans.

I look forward to looking back and seeing the distinct differences in pretty much all areas of my life, because this one thing touches everything in large and small ways. That will be such a great reward. So wish me luck.

Bag that. Just keep me in your prayers. You'll be in mine.

Kitchen Milestone

Waffles are an art.

Well, they are for my husband. When I make them, I make pretty much the same batter as I would for pancakes, but a little thinner & just throw it in the waffle iron. Riah, however, takes the time to separate the egg whites, beat them into a beautiful, soft-peaky froth and fold them gently into the rest of the batter. The work is worth it, because he makes the best waffles ever! They're light, fluffy, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Warm, butter, syrupy heaven.

The Waffle Master has taken on a young padawan, and today she passed her first Waffle Test.

Very often when the children are hungry and ask that eternal question, "What's for lunch?" we respond, "What are you making?" Another derivation is, "Can we have _____?" Typically we answer, "Sure! You makin' it?" They usually just react with mild exasperation or maybe to insist, "Mom! I don't know how! I'm not big enough!" (Our children will either grow to be incredibly sarcastic or able to not take themselves too seriously. I hope it's the latter.)

Today, however, when Abby reminded me that we had recently promised waffles in the near future and I countered with the "You doin' it?" question, she very matter-of-factly and responsibly replied, "Yes."

And she did.

She wanted no help, not even when Alex begged to crack the eggs. It was hard for me not to volunteer help or give tips. I stayed out of the kitchen so as not to interfere. (She did need a little help, as the recipe mix needed tripling, and multiplying fractions isn't something that this 4th grader has mastered yet. But other than that, she was good!) She measured, she beat, she mixed dry and wet in separate bowls, she cooked...she did everything! (She used a mix, not the from-scratch recipe that her dad does...that'll come in time.) Besides the occasional sandwich, she's never taken on a beginning-to-end kitchen project before.

She was quite proud of herself, and so are we.

And the other munchkins liked them, too.

Cora's was half eaten during the prayer.

I Yam what I Yam and that's all that I Yam.

I am...logical.
I am...pragmatic.
I am...creative.
I am not...Shauna.
I am...funny.
I am...witty.
I am not...the life of the party.
I am...young and vital.
I am not...the reflection in the mirror. Who IS that???
I am...accepting.
I am...forgiving.
I am...confident.
I am...insecure.
I am...34.
I am not...pushing middle-aged.
I am...frugal.
I am not...flamboyant.
I am...God-fearing.
I am not...God-fearing enough.
I am...smarter than your average bear.
I am...smarter than your average 34yo MWF.
I am not...a genius. But don't tell the kids.
I am...a party planner.
I am not...Aubrey.
I am...organized.
I am not...CDO (OCD, but put in alphabetical order, the way it should be).
I am...a mother.
I am...a daughter.
I am...a wife.
I am...a sister.
I am...an aunt.
I am...a friend.
I am...a Princess, as my Father is a King.
I am not...perfect.
I am...loved.

TYVM--Warning!! Yuck factor below...

I'm linking up to Kmama's blog, via Rachel's blog. Never done it before, so let's hope it works!



Thank You Very Much is a fun way to administer a bit of sarcastic self-therapy.


My Dearest Cora,

For not throwing a fit when I removed your sister's underwear out of your hands while I was sorting dirty clothes and being satisfied with the little princess pair that I pulled out of your own drawer...

...Thank You Very Much.


For waiting until I was out of the room to remove the rest of your clothes, including your diaper...

...Thank You Very Much.


For fussing nervously to alert me that your way was blocked and you couldn't get your naked self down from your sister's bunkbed...

...Thank You Very Much.


For pausing on the second rung up the ladder to attend to a certain natural process, leaving a ginormous pile of it on the ladder, unknowingly barricading yourself on Abby's bed...

...Thank You Very Much.


For leaving little poo spots all over the mattress and bedding (including big fluffy comforter) that I just washed...

...Thank You Very Much.


For putting your perfectly clean diaper in the garbage as you nakified yourself...

...Thank You Very Much.


For doing it again in the hallway mere hours later...

...NO Thank You Very Much!!!

What do YOU do in the summertime?

There is a song that I sang as a child at church. I could never remember all the words, because there are so many, and not necessarily linked together in any manner other than rhyming. It lists things that you do in the summertime, and it's a cute song. I've often wished that I knew the lyrics better so I could sing them at will.

A few weeks ago, our Primary music leader, Shauna, made the comment, "I wish someone would come up with new words to this song." That set my wheels a-turnin, and as soon as we got in the car, I challenged my kiddos to think of things that we do in the summertime. I set them to rhyme, emailed them to Shauna, and the next Sunday, guess what we all sang?

Oh, What Do You Do In The Summertime, AbbyAlexLee-style:

The pictures that she came up were amazing, of course, because it was Shauna.


Oh, what do you do in the summertime, when all the world is green?
Do you walk in the park? Stay up after dark?
Pick blackberries for a pie?
Is that what you do? So do I.

Lots of syllables in this one--gotta' sing it fast!

Put the emphasis on 'on.'

(In Primary, she prefaced the song by explaining that she'd been sitting up front, watching Lee launch from his seat and belly flop spread-eagled on the floor again and again. She wondered what he was doing (besides being a squirmy 4yo boy), but when we sent her the lyrics about the Blue Angels, she knew--he was being a Blue Angel! The kids thought it was cool that everyone was singing a song that we created from our own family's experiences, and Lee absolutely lit up when the part about the Blue Angels--his contribution--came up.

I love Shauna.

Are you a Good Witch, or a Bad Witch?

Recently a friend posted on facebook that her wings were in the shop getting re-glittered, but she had her broom. I laughed because it was relatable. All to relatable.

Today this was me...



Absolutely, totally, 100% Wicked Witch of the West. I'm not even sure why. Maybe the headache, maybe the fatigue, maybe the asking-six-times-to-get-dressed-and-an-hour-later-you're-all-still-in-jammies got to me. Whatever it was, my Patience Meter was definitely in the red.

I had to run a work-related errand, so figured that while I was out, I'd take the munchkins to the library to turn in their summer reading charts. It went fine, but afterward we sat for at least five minutes in the parking garage waiting for Lee to buckle his seatbelt. I tried to be patient, I really did. For a while. Then the Wicked Witch lashed out and I hollered at him to just buckle his seatbelt!!!! Finally Abby begrugingly acquiesced to my request to help her brother buckle up. Nice of her, because earlier in the trip he noted that he didn't want to sit by her because he didn't like her. Charming.

I am afraid that I was rather unkind to the others, too, so I put myself in a Mommy Time-Out when we came home. Tired, headachy, cranky mommies sometimes best serve their children by removing themselves. So I did. I told the children that I was going to rest and they needed to stay downstairs. Lee came in FIVE TIMES! Each time I made it clear that he needed to leave, trying to be conscientious about my level of rudeness. As it turns out, the older children were sending him in to ask if they could watch a movie because they "...didn't know 'resting' meant 'sleeping' " and because they didn't want to come in themselves. Stinkers. I gave up on my nap, but was a little better.

Every now and then when I have days like these when I wish that I could be alone. Sometimes I sort of envy my husband just a little bit because he gets to leave for hours on end and not hear the bickering and arguing and whining and yelling and and and... Immediately I feel guilty about it because there are numerous people in the world who would give anything to be me. Today I drove past a Boys & Girls Club and saw a whole passel of kids proceeding on to some activity. I had a fleeting desire to send my kids there instead of keep them home all day. They'd have a lot more fun, that's for sure! Of course, the desire was fleeting because I chose this and this is what I want.

I want to teach them. I want to see them learn and hear them play and witness when Cora reaches out and gently caresses Alex's cheek.

I really hate when I'm a total swear word to them. They're so trusting and loving and malleable. I don't want them to look back and remember Mom as being volatile, impatient and cutting. I want to be good, kind, patient, uplifting, beautiful, helpful, steady and an emotional rock that they can depend upon. I want my Munchkins to run to me, not away. I want to be Glinda.