Thursday, February 27, 2014

Siéntense and be silent

I might have posted earlier, but it turns out that slamming your finger in a car door really does hurt a lot.


Like a really lot.


Like rolling-on-the-floor-crying a lot while your husband says, "You've given childbirth, so I believe you that that hurts."


Thanks, dear.  He did offer me booze.


I'd prove how much it hurt, but friends don't post pictures of blackened fingernails.  So just believe me.


I whined about it for several days, like the cowboy I am, which reminded me how my mother used to croon "probrecita" to us when we were pitying ourselves.  It means "poor little one" in Spanish, and although it was always used in a soothing voice, there may have been a touch of sarcasm in there.  A useful phrase to use on my own children.


Dad also had a command of certain conversational Spanish phrases, the most frequently used of which was "Siéntense!," used every day before dinner.  I always knew that word meant "stop poking your siblings and sit down," but it was years before I realized that it was part of an actual language, not just something Dad made up.


Dad having grown up on a midwestern cattle farm and then having four kids, his other favorite sayings included, "Head 'em up and mooooove 'em out!" when we were supposed to get in the car to go somewhere.


So you see, my upbringing was a mix of gringo Spanish and cowhand.


Although they did say some things in regular English, too.  Dad was forever telling us (mostly me) to "suffer in silence."  Mom would say, "You look like somebody's ragamuffin."  (Whose?  I'm your ragamuffin, Mom.)


Mom also had certain sayings she took out when we were causing varying levels of exasperation (Not me, so much, of course.  Mostly my brothers.):


"Take it outside if you're gonna roughhouse!"


"Hey!  Take it outside, guys!"


And last of all, "Go play in the road when the cars are coming."


*Nota bene, that last one was only used on children above the age of reason, who were old enough and sensible enough not to obey it, but also to get the heck out of Mom's hair when she said it.


*Also note that "suffer in silence" meant not "don't come to us with your legitimate problems and concerns," but, "if you're going to wrestle with each other in front of the sofa while I'm watching the evening news, do it quietly."


My poor sister with two daughters!  My parents hardly instilled any vocabulary in us for raising only girls!


Maybe at least sometimes they look like somebody's ragamuffins.







Saturday, February 22, 2014

Take that, Old Man Winter!

5 Ways to Fight the Winter Blahs


1.  Have portraits taken of your lovely children.





This was taken by the amazing Gayle Driver of Gayle Driver Photography.  She is terrific to work with and has a great studio in her home.  Also.... she's very, very patient.






Caleb (16 months) tried his darndest to crawl out of every shot.






Gayle persevered and clicked fast and we ended up with a portrait we're very happy with.



2.  Include every member of the family in putting up the Christmas tree.







3.  Commemorate your wintry tenth anniversary with an outdoor portrait shoot.


In the snow.  When it's 30 degrees and windy.


Don't let winter keep you down!






Did I mention Gayle will travel to the location of your choice?  And she's flexible--if you have a shoot scheduled for the next day and realize that it's supposed to be zero degrees then, she'll switch it last minute.  













3.  Have a dance party.


First, figure out how to get on top of the coffee table when you can barely walk on the ground without falling down.




Then dance, baby, dance!




Let your siblings cheer you on!




Until--




you veer too close to the edge just as Mommy's snapping the picture.  Notice Jeddy's eyes bulging out of his head.  We all gasped and lunged.  Notice the oblivious delight on Caleb's face.*



4.  Visit the library and settle in with a good book.









5.  Rejoice when winter starts to recede and the wavering faith you had in those dead-looking bulbs becomes sight.








  
The last of the sled trail.  This had been a monstrous jump.  Goodbye, snow.


Take heart, believer.  The God who sustains you through the winters of your soul is even now causing daffodils to grow unseen.  On that day when the clouds are rolled up, they will burst forth into glorious bloom.  Their fragrance will be all the sweeter from this time of quietly soaking in life-giving water from your crushing burden of snow.  


Springtime is but a tiny foretaste of faith made sight.  


"We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."  -1 Corinthians 4:18











*No children were harmed in the making of this post.  They harm themselves enough without this blog's help.  









Thursday, February 20, 2014

I've never been so proud!

My picture (and my name) made it onto Cake Wrecks!  (Thankfully, not my cake.)


Weekly Wreck Up 2/20/14


I've been holding onto this picture for a couple of years and just got around to sending it in, and she posted it almost right away!  My name is acknowledged down at the bottom of the post.


I submitted the second picture down, and yes, I have an immature sense of humor.


Wow!  I'm overwhelmed with the honor.





Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Remind me

"The universe is vast beyond the stars,
But You are mindful when the sparrow falls,
And mindful of the anxious thoughts
That find me, surround me, and bind me."  -Fernando Ortega, "Jesus King of Angels"


"Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows."  -Luke 12:7


The voice of the enemy is in my head today, telling me that God doesn't care.  God is rolling His eyes, weary that you're back with the same old problems.  There are famines in Africa.  War all over.  His church is persecuted.  Cancer.  Crushing poverty.


Does God care about individuals or just wide swaths of need?


Do the cancer prayers "count" more than the "God, I'm so disheartened but I can't put my finger on why" prayers?


Does the God who cares for orphans and widows also care for affluent Americans in the suburbs?


Did God fling the stars into place and then sit back with a cold beer to watch what happened?


Or is He intimately concerned with everything that concerns me?


When Jesus said, "Let the little children come to Me," did they approach Him with a list of global concerns like a U.N. committee head?  Or did they say, "Look at my boo-boo.  Mommy gave me a band-aid.  I have new shoes on.  Do you like macaroni and cheese?"


My Maker knows my weakness.  May He lift my eyes to those who greatly suffer.  But may I never disbelieve that He cares for me, His beloved child.


"In the loneliest places, 
When I can't remember what grace is...

When I can't receive Your love,
Afraid I'll never be enough,
Remind me who I am.
If I'm Your beloved,
Can You help me believe it?"  -Jason Gray, "Remind Me Who I Am"







Monday, February 17, 2014

Is there a doctor in the house?

I've shoveled about enough to last the rest of my life, but Jason and the kids were out there on Saturday building an Olympic-worthy sled trail.


The snow in the yard had melted down by at least half.  Caleb and I only stepped outside long enough to take pictures (thus the underdressed child).












Besides snow, winter also means dry air and illness.  To help with both, we run this humidifier.




Caleb learned a while ago that if you remove the white funnel top, it reveals a steamy shaft that's very good for storing paper scraps, socks, and Fisher-Price Little People.


More recently he learned that the top is also good for running around imitating a plague doctor.





He was charging up and down the hall like this.  Apparently he could see well enough through the skinny end of the funnel to mostly avoid walls.  






So we've got humidity and medical expertise covered here.  


Which is good to know, because last week, I was holding a squirmy Caleb on my hip while he was holding a cylindrical wooden block.  He suddenly flailed and delivered a roundhouse blow directly to the bridge of my nose with the block.  


Yes, it hurt at least as much as it sounds like it would, so that 6 days after I doubled over, blinded with pain, I could be found still popping ibuprofen and looking up "broken nose" on WebMD.  


I suppose if I need a cast on my face I know where I can get a snazzy mask to cover it up.


Ah, toddlers.  Searing pain, slobbery kisses, poor judgement and uninhibited fashion sense all rolled into a cute little bundle.   

Saturday, February 15, 2014

In my mind I'm curled up with a blanket and a good book

We got a foot of snow yesterday.  That's above the boots if you're an adult, above the knees if you're three, and waist-high if you're one and a half.


You'd think I'd have dramatically picturesque photos to post.  I don't.  There are at least two reasons for this.


#1, when it snows, our driveway magically grows to three times its normal length and I was very busy shoveling.


#2, Caleb falls down a lot.  He can't possibly walk in that much snow, but the already-shoveled areas are exposed concrete--meaning, when he falls, he comes up with a fresh forehead bruise and an urgent need for hugs and kisses.  Plus, the combination of boots and mittens means he can't get himself back up, so he just sits or lies there pathetically until someone rescues him (again, like Randy in A Christmas Story).


So, the combination of #1 and #2 meant that I didn't have a free hand/moment for a camera.


I blame all this on the groundhog.  Apparently I'm not the only one, either.


And also, is Punxsutawney Phil not on speaking terms with the robins who returned on February 4th?  I bet they're kicking themselves in the tail now.  And probably plotting revenge on the groundhog.


Thinking of the robins' premature return reminds me of the question at the end of Robert McCloskey's Time of Wonder:  "Where do hummingbirds go in a hurricane?"


That's a beautiful book and the ending chokes me up every time.  Some might say that's kind of ridiculous, but those people just don't understand the poignancy of superb children's literature.  There are several other children's books that make me cry:  The Little House by Virginia Lee Burton, for example, and the end of the original Winnie-the-Pooh series (The House at Pooh Corner).  I won't even count Charlotte's Web, because if you can read through that without tearing up, you have a heart of stone.


Now to share photo evidence of why it's best I keep my hands free at all times.


I love the crossed feet!




This was an attempt to keep him happy during math.  Predictably, he put one in his mouth as soon as I took the picture.  


He's figured out how to get the caps off the whiteboard markers.  'Nuff said.


Note the proximity to upholstered furniture


So let's all close our eyes for a moment and imagine white beaches, turquoise waters, our feet in a hammock, a book in our hands, and soft ocean breezes.


Now let's open our eyes and go stop the toddler from drinking out of the toilet.


Happy snow days!




Thursday, February 13, 2014

You can't always get what you want

It's really hard to meet everyone's needs.


It always baffled me why newborns are designed to wake and eat every two hours round the clock, with itty-bitty sleep cycles, when their caregivers require nice long sleep cycles, preferably of the eight-hour kind.  Why do baby humans require care that feels so likely to destroy their source of care?


Thankfully we're sleeping through the night here, but there are still clashing needs.  And they still center on sleep.


Caleb doesn't quite need a morning nap anymore but he can't make it to the end of school without crying... so we have little ones who need a nap, big ones who need school, and a mom who needs time when everyone is quiet at once.






File photo.  Not from Snowpocalypse.


Today I took the plunge and put the littles down earlier and finished school without them, thereby shortening my own downtime.


The jury's still out on this schedule, however, since we got "snowpocalypse" today, according to the newspaper, and I spent the whole time shoveling a foot of snow.


Shall I be surprised to find myself so often unable to be all in all?  Who defines what I really need but the One who says He causes all things to work together for my good?  What I most need is to feel my need of Him.  What my children most need is to look beyond me to the Living Water that always satisfies.


"And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:19




Monday, February 10, 2014

Willing and unwilling participants

Lest my dear readers become misled by all the happy shining faces in this post and this post about our school days, know that it isn't all harmony and rainbows here.


Last week Jeddy roped his sisters into reciting his skip-counting with him.


They were pleased to do this.




He also roped one sister into posing with his authentic French-and-Indian-War-era weapon replicas:  a bow and arrow and a crossbow, made with sticks, cardboard, masking tape, rubber bands and paper clips.


Not quite as pleased with this.




Ada got to cook again for kindergarten--granola this time.  Lizzy desperately wants to be given a turn at measuring.  





Caleb fills the role of voiceless observer.




Pinkies up!


Today we discovered that for a short time, Caleb used crayons appropriately, without eating them, so I set him up to color with Lizzy.  She was most distrustful of Jeddy's interference.






Brother eats crayons
Don't shoot your sister with that
School as we know it

(Original haiku by Mindy)


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