When seasons change...

Every time I sit down to write something, I notice that the last time I put my fingers on the keyboard was over five months ago. I get discouraged thinking of how many words it would take to tackle all that have gone on in that time. And I struggle to just pick up from where I left off because at heart, I am a storyteller. At certain seasons in my life my stories have revolved around climbing the corporate ladder or falling in love. Spit-up and poo consistency (thank you food allergies) came next, while other times have been stories of daredevil toddlers or learning to read. We're entering into the moments where consoling an aching young heart or navigating preteen emotions have become daily fodder. Because I tend towards being a storyteller, sometimes I end up telling four back stories before I can tell one current one, simply because I see life so completely intertwined and interdependent. 

Suffice to say, things have been changing around here. I am hoping that one of those things will be that I can sit down and chronicle our life in little ways again. Whether or not anyone reads these posts, I have recently been encouraged to look back and see where God was moving all along the story of our family growing up together. From health crisis to caring for small babies, art parties to caring for dying parents, God has shown Himself faithful. 

God knows the story of the last six months. Its place isn't here. Though I'll share it with you in my kitchen if you ever want to hear it. I believe God gives you your story to share to encourage and build up His people, His Church, but I also believe that God gives wisdom and discernment and that not every story should be shouted from the rooftops. Some stories are better shared over a cup of tea, or mug of coffee. 

Laundry awaits. And I should sleep at some point. Some things haven't changed. :)

After a year...

I don't know why, I honestly think it was the cover that creeped me out a little, but for the longest time I avoided picking up The Giver, by Lois Lowry. Finally, being convinced by my dear friend, Michelle, who truly is my literary advisor, I decided to give it a whirl and set to order it from Amazon. When I did, I realized that there were actually four books in a series, The Giver Quartet. If you know me at all, you know where this is going... I bought all four books.

Something you may not know about the culture in our home is that we love books. Ok, so you probably know that, but besides our love of reading, we love to talk about the books we are reading, we become friends with the characters and laugh with them, or cry with them, rejoice and feel sorrow as they do. We take on their inside jokes and make them our own. And because the kids generally have more discretionary time than I do to read, and they haven't learned yet how to talk about a book they've read without spoiling the plot line, I've come up with a little rule... it is simple really, I get to read books first. To be fair, this only applies to books that I actually want to read. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth when this rule was first enacted, but it preserved my enjoyment of reading (as well as my sanity), and the kids could always find something else to read while they waited for what I am sure felt like forever for me to finish a coveted new book.

All that background to say, I finally finished The Giver Quartet. I read the first two (The Giver, and Gathering Blue) right after I ordered them about a year ago. Then, I got busy with life and wasn't reading anything at all. Both the older kids were dying for me to finish the series but eventually stopped begging and assumed I would never ever let them read the books. When we prepared for a little driving vacation recently, and I was trying to decide what to bring to read, the last two books in the series (Messenger, and Son) practically jumped off the shelf into my bag. As Elliott drove the first leg of our trip, I devoured Messenger. Son took longer, but at any still moment, I pulled it out and hung on every word.

Everyone should read this series. Seriously. Everyone. And don't let a year pass between each book like I did. Read them back to back. There are some nuances I am sure I missed because of the space of time that elapsed between my reading of the first two and last two books. Nuances which I expect to pick up on when we kick off the coming school year using The Giver Quartet as our first literature Read-Alouds.

There is a gut-wrenching, ugly reality that is portrayed, yet hope is there. In each of the first three novels, a different "community" is the backdrop for the characters, each striving for a utopia in a different way, each one sacrificing something to achieve it. Each book leaves you wanting for what is to come in the next, even though the first two don't seem connected, and yet you know they are somehow. The third book starts to tie the storylines together and the fourth is the perfect completion of all. The ending is not contrived, the author leads you to the end with a talented hand. It is a thoughtful tale spun by a masterful storyteller. It was an unexpected delight to my heart.

What are you reading that is stirring your heart and mind?

Olympic fever...

Maybe it's because I was an athlete once, and dreamed of going to the Olympics as a child. Maybe it's because I'm proud of the achievements of the people of our great nation. Maybe it's because I have kids who have dreams of reaching the Olympic stage one day. Whatever it is, every four years, as the summer begins, I find myself glued to the TV in a way I never am at any other time. (In fact, many times I have petitioned to go TV-free, but I keep being overruled.) The Olympics is my Superbowl, NBA Finals, and World Series all wrapped into one glorious 16-day journey.

I love the stories of sacrifice and family support and overcoming hardship. I love that our country, and the world, comes together to celebrate hard work and determination and incredible talent and unquestionable skill. I love that athletes who love Jesus Christ have a platform to proclaim the Gospel and be bold on a global stage (did you see Steele Johnson and David Boudia praying before the 10m Syncronized Diving, and then after giving thanks to God for their talent and safety, and then boldly sharing their faith in the post-qualifying interview?!?!)

But I also realize that sitting around on my haunches for over two weeks, glued to the TV, is not a good option physically. So, while we were watching the Olympic Trials for Diving and Men's Gymnastics this evening, Elliott started doing squats during a commercial break, and that spurred on a great idea... If you want to stay in the living room and watch the selection of the TEAM USA athletes, you have to work out during commercials.

We began haphazardly with doing whatever the first person shouted out, whether it be burpees, sit-ups, lunges, push-ups or something else. Then, because we have children, they began bickering over whose turn it was to choose the exercise. So, we decided to go youngest to oldest in naming the workout. The boys seemed to lean towards arm exercises calling for burpees and push-ups and Supermans, while the girls chose squat lunges, butt kicks, and crunches. Since we watched Diving and Gymnastics back to back, we ended up with over two hours of some pretty intense stretches (why did the longest commercial breaks always seem to hit during burpees?!?!).

More than anything, we had fun together. We cheered on some great folks competing to represent TEAM USA in Rio, we broke a sweat and laughed at each other, moaning when another commercial came on instead of return to the event giving us a break.

I imagine everyone here will remember this Road to Rio trip. What will you and your family be doing to make this summer and these Summer Olympics a memorable one?

A thought for the future...

We are in the process of replacing our kitchen cabinets. It was an unexpected project, but it seems the last owner of our house decided on custom designed cabinets but chose them to be made of particle board. We were fooled by the solid wood doors which looked pretty but the rest of the cabinets were not proving to be sturdy enough to hold up against our crew and their need to be consuming food at all hours of the day and night.

In order to prepare for the new cabinets to be installed, I had to empty all of our old cabinets. I have been thankful for my craft room, as it ended up being the perfect staging area for the entire contents of our kitchen. And as we are nearing the end of this renovation project and I am beginning to load things back onto the shelves they belong, I thought about the most perfect baby shower gift for my daughters, and my son's someday wives.

I've given handmade blankets, bibs, toys and pillows. I've even painted custom artwork for friends welcoming their first child home. But until I was putting away my little tea cups and saucers just now, I realized the gift that I need to give to my children (and grandchildren of the future).

A tea set with a broken tea cup.

Yep, a perfectly flawed broken piece of china.

Why?

Because I don't want my children to miss having a tea party with their little girls and boys out of fear. Fear of a spilled cup of tea, or being worried about chipping a fragile porcelain cup or breaking a saucer. I don't want them to wait for their baby to be old enough to cautiously navigate the process, and end up waiting so long the child no longer wants tea. I don't want them to be controlled by perfectionism. Like I was. Like I sometimes still am. And miss out on so many precious moments.

Come to think of it, I may make them a little basket of goodies, like a jar of dirt, a rollie pollie or two, and a dandelion flower.

The dirt to remind them no matter how much they clean, there will be more dirt, but they may not get another chance to play Sorry or Candyland on the living room floor. The rollie pollie to remind them to explore outside, squeal with their child over the discovery of this little animal that can be walking one moment and be rolling away the next. The quirky little bug is a reminder to use those moments to spark a love for the Creator of the Universe who knew how much happiness a poop-eating transforming bug could bring to a young child. A dandelion flower for them to practice being delighted by the simplicity of life seen through the eyes of a child. I've too often complained about the soft yellow weed presented to me by a child with eyes aglow, so proud of their treasured gift, because all I can think about is how that gift meant there was an unwelcome guest growing in my well-manicured lawn. I may or may not have been known to say, "If you really love Mommy, you'll bring the roots too next time." And now I wish I had simply said, "Thank you," and given the child a hug.

And tomorrow, I think I'll make my children tea and ask them to see if they can scrounge up any dandelion flowers to decorate the table. I'm still navigating the complexities of this parenting thing. Do you have any "unique" gifts you would want to pass on to the next generation? Do share, I feel like I'm throwing myself a Mommy shower. :)

How we got here...

For 37 years, I lived less than 25 miles from where I was born. Try as I might to convince my mom to put in for an overseas job, we never moved. All through college, I dreamed about striking it out on my own, but I never left my home. In the early years of our marriage, Elliott and I discussed where we would be willing to move, and where we'd never want to move, and yet we stayed close. After we started our family, moving away was pulled off the table, we settled in and got comfortable. We were surrounded by friends, and family, and God blessed us with amazing neighbors as we rooted and grew in our little home in Cibolo.

I never thought it would happen in a million years, yet it did, God showed us it was time to move. It started in the Spring with a prompting in my heart to encourage Elliott to find a position he could be passionate about, even if that meant moving. And then, the Lord tested my resolve for the next six months, as opportunities rolled in from New York and California, New Jersey and Kentucky, Dallas and Los Angeles. Some days, my heart was excited about all the new possibilities. Other days, I felt paralyzed not knowing how to live in the now while we waited for news on the future.

One July morning, as my heart was heavy from the months of waiting and the weeks of excitement (Elliott had been flying to a handful of final interviews), I was pulling weeds in the front yard and I cried out to God for answers. I told God that I didn't care what the answers were, I prayed for Him to make our path straight, to give us clarity and direction. I never could have imaged what would happen next...

Tuesday, July 14th, was the morning I prayed in the garden. Less than an hour later, Elliott texted that he didn't get the Kentucky job. The news took my breath away, but I immediately thanked God for His quick answer to my heart-felt prayer. A little while after lunch, Elliott came home early. We were leaving for a vacation the next day, so I assumed he came home early to help pack. But I was wrong. He was fired. Again, shock hit me, but it didn't take long for me to see this news as God further granting my request for clarity and direction. An hour later, Elliott got a call for a lunch meeting with a company in Dallas. We were going to Dallas the next day for vacation. God's mercy and kindness was overwhelming to me, we still didn't have all the answers, but we could see God moving.

Elliott had a great lunch with the folks in Dallas, and even got a call the next day for references. Before we headed home from our vacation on Sunday, we drove around to a few suburbs I had checked out on the web to see where we would want to live if we got the job. We expected to hear a decision by Monday, so when no call came, we both felt a little crushed and disappointed. I realize now what the Isrealites must have felt like, seeing the LORD be faithful to rescue them through the Red Sea to then doubt His care for them as they grew hungry and thirsty.

Tuesday, July 21st, the call came in, and Elliott accepted the position in Dallas. They offered us a generous relocation package and we had to get things moving quickly because Elliott needed to report to work in three weeks. I had already been plodding along to get the house ready to put on the market, now it was just a matter of getting it listed and jumping through the hoops of the relocation. By Sunday, we had all our kids tucked away with friends and family and Elliott and I hit the road on a house-hunting trip.

We saw two homes Sunday night and had a full slate of homes to see on Monday. We saw some lovely homes that were just not "us", and then we saw some awful homes, and a few in between. Then, we opened the door to our last house before lunch and we both knew, this was the house. We were like giddy school kids, we had our realtor call while we stood in the kitchen. There was another offer on the home, they'd take offers through 10pm. We were in a bidding war. We made our offer, even wrote up a little note about what a blessing it would be to our family to be chosen, then we went to lunch, and prayed and prayed. It was a long night of waiting.

Tuesday, July 28th, our realtor called us before 7am to let us know that we had won the bidding war. The house was ours. My head was spinning, I felt so overwhelmed with thankfulness. It was such a relief to know that even though we would initially move into temporary housing, God had already secured a home for us in our new town. Now we needed to get home and sell our house.

We met with one of the relocation realtors as soon as we drove home on Wednesday, we finished getting the house show ready, had photos taken on Friday morning and we were on the market by 11:30pm Friday night. We had only one showing on Saturday at 12:15pm. But that was all we needed because we had a solid full-price offer by Saturday night.

Tuesday, August 4th, our home in Cibolo was under contract. We were just in awe of all that had occurred in the previous three weeks. We knew that God was orchestrating it all, and though my heart ached with the weight of leaving my amazing friends, and saying goodbye to family, I couldn't help but be excited for all the LORD would do in our lives in this move.

We lived in temporary housing for three weeks. We shared a stomach bug and one child got to experience the local urgent care after catching strep throat. But even still, life in close quarters was pleasant and felt more like a vacation than a trial most days. I made the trip home to meet the movers, and clean the house. God showered me with kindness, as friends stopped by with coffee and helped clean bathrooms. When I finally closed the door and whispered goodbye to my house of nine wonderful years, tears fell, but excitement also swelled in my heart, seeing God's continued faithfulness to us.

The last seven weeks have been a blur. This is our fourth week being in our new home, and while we are mostly out of boxes and have already had two different friends spend the night, we still have some settling to do. Our afternoons are predictable with gymnastics and TaeKwonDo schedules. We visited a small handful of churches and have recently decided where we will settle and plug into ministry. God has shown us mercy upon mercy, we are awed daily by His lovingkindness towards us. Tears still fall when I realize I can't just trip across town and have coffee with a friend. I miss my mom, I've never in my life gone this long without seeing her, and I think the hardest part is not the amount of time but the not being able to just drop in and visit on her couch. Even so, God has given me a peace that we are where we are supposed to be, and for that, I am thankful.

Playing in the dirt...

Spring has sprung, Summer has come.
Bright eyed boys digging up wiggly friends.
Giggling girls chasing leaping playmates.

Rain coming down, mud in the making.
The landscape is glowing emerald.
New life erupting silently from between my toes.

Toads and turtles, lizards and snakes.
Everyone needs a glass container so they can "watch".
Tears stream down cheeks when new friends leave.

These last few weeks I had big plans for us to log some good "Summer School" time. Instead, the kids have been filling our days with making new friends of the reptile and amphibian kind. Not wanting to be neglectful or hurtful of our adoptees, I have spent a good amount of time googling about the proper care of our adopted mates.

Meet Toad...

Years and years ago, we adopted a little toad from my mother's backyard because Hannah fell in love with it. We watched that little toad grow from the size of a quarter to the size of the palm of your hand in about two years. We finally released the toad when we had to buy crickets the size of your pinky finger that chirped all night long. So, it only seemed right to allow the younger boys the same experience when they fell in love with a hoppy little friend in my front garden bed. Here was the first toad the kids caught, already pretty good sized, Caleb and Micah called him Tim Duncan because he was a good jumper.

Then, I found him a friend when I was pulling weeds. This one was much smaller, more reminiscent of Hannah's first toad. I was inspired to improve on the flat look of the tank, using some flagstone from our pool decking and some succulent plants I had in small pots. You can see the small toad in the upper right corner on the "mountain" and the larger toad in the bottom center.

The kids have been finding smaller toads all over the last few days. I don't have a picture yet, but there are currently four smaller toads in a 20 gallon terrarium (the one I found weeding, one the kids found swimming in the pool, another I found in the flowerbeds, and the latest one was gathered during an afternoon visit to a friend's farm). We decided to let the larger toad go back in the front flower beds. Micah was sad about that, but seemed better after collecting the last one this afternoon.

Meet Miracle, the Red-Eared Slider...

Photo credits: Hannah

I found Miracle on a road in a shopping center. Not long ago we watched a research video about how a high percentage of folks will go out of their way to drive over turtles. I found the information saddening but had no idea that Micah had been so affected by it until we saw a turtle crossing the road in Kentucky on our family road trip. We had no way of picking that turtle up at the time, and Micah was crying, so we promised that the next one we found on the road we could take home. (I googled whether or not this was legal after the promise was made, and it is, thankfully. And the law about it is a bit comical, in case you are interested.) Well, we made it home from our trip and I went out for coffee with a friend. As we went back to my car, low and behold, a full-grown female Red-eared Slider was crossing the road into a large parking lot. When I made it home with our newest "pet", Micah said he had been praying for a turtle, and it was a Miracle that God answered his prayers, so that became her name. (The turtle's size gave away its gender, she was a full 12" across, and boys only make it up to 10", thank you Google.)

We kept Miracle for around two weeks. The kids would walk with her around the yard, we made sure she had fresh water and food. She really was sweet and friendly, not easily spooked. When the kids picked her up, she wouldn't even put her head or legs in, she'd sit on their feet (which the kids said was her way of hugging them). But she wasn't eating well. And we didn't have a way to provide her with moving water, which was important because mosquitoes were beginning to take a liking to her baby pool. We decided that she needed to be released. We loaded up our Miracle and headed to a local park with a river. Miracle was thrilled to be back in the river and we watched her explore her new surrounding for at least an hour. Dragonflies were also caught, skipping stones flung, and feet sunk into the bank. Micah cried and cried and cried about releasing his best little turtle friend. I think the little man is going to be a vet or a zoo keeper.

This afternoon our reptile adventures continued, and I wish I had a picture, or a video, but I don't. I was pleasantly surprised that no one suggested acquiring the anoles we discovered on my Red Yucca in the front yard because I'm not sure where we would have put them! But we did enjoy about twenty minutes with our neighbors watching a male anole doing his best to woo a female, bobbing his head up and down and expanding out his red bulging neck. The kids started looking for the female and we ended up spotting three green anoles in and amongst the Yucca leaves.

So, while we are squeezing in a little school work here and there, we are spending far more time playing in the dirt, observing nature, and soaking up the rain and sun. Oh, and every other day we stand around to watch the toads slurp up crickets. If you ever want to watch, just come by, I'll make coffee and we can "oooh" and "aaah" and cheer the toads on. :)

The desires of their hearts...

We had a major, unplanned disruption to our lives earlier this spring. And there seems to be another gigantic, life-changing one lingering on the horizon. In all the changes, I have had peace and {most the time} am patiently waiting on the LORD. But I am pretty type-A, so lingering makes my head spin and distracts me from the day-to-day, even when I really try hard to focus.

Lately, my heart has been burdened for how things changed in our schedule back in March. The change was abrupt and unexpected, yet we weren't totally shocked. I've referred to that time as an amputation, because it really was an upheaval of all we had done for the past 14 months, no time for goodbyes or graceful exits. One day we were there and the next day we weren't. We went from a full and predictable schedule to a completely wide open and blank one. And as certain dates have come and gone, or I flip through photos on my phone, or kids start the "remember when" conversations, my heart is squeezed just a little more. Regret, guilt, sadness, and confusion all swirl around in my heart. Clinging to the fact that God is sovereign and is doing something good in the midst is the one thing that brings me comfort.

While we were in the swing of things we were pretty busy. And since our "step back,"  I have been wrestling with what it looks like to have six kids and allow them to be individuals. I've gone back and forth about whether it is right and good to force conformity and allow only one family activity (even if it is only enjoyed by a handful of the kids) for the sake of ease and simplicity, or if we are to somehow figure out to juggle each child's desired activity and learn flexibility and put a few extra miles on the car to accommodate a busier schedule.

I'm convinced there is no pat answer to this one. I watch friends whose families all do the same thing and some kids who are thriving, and others (not as interested in the chosen activity) who are discontent and disconnected. I have watched other families torn apart by competing schedules and no guarded time to be together. We've experienced a little of each in our own family as we have tried different things, which raises all kinds of questions in my own heart about being fair and trying to figure out how to allow these kids the experiences they will need to become the people God designed them to be.

So, while we sit with this wide open schedule, we talk about "what we want to do when we grow up". The kids all laugh at the absurd idea that their mom needs to grow up, then they throw ideas around. We've asked the kids to pray, not only for the lingering issue, but also the "once we are done lingering" decisions to make. Summer is around the corner, camps can be a great opportunity to try out new things before settling on an activity in the fall.

I am thankful that I can trust that God already knows my heart, that He knows that the desire of my heart is to pursue those things which He will use to mold these children He has entrusted to us to be the kind of people whose heart's desire is to serve and love the Lord and His people.

How do you do it? How do you balance family time and individual activities? I'd love to hear it.

Finding my feet again...

I almost feel like I don't really know how to do this anymore...
Send off my thoughts into the great open world wide web...
Just to get the words out...
To encourage, I hope...
Maybe even inspire a fellow woman bumping along on this journey of mothering...

So, I am tiptoeing back in to the blogosphere. I can't promise regularity. Or encouragement. Or inspiration. But I am going to attempt to be transparent about the ways the Lord is shaping my days and changing my heart; not in a "I finally have it all figured out" way, but in a "you are not alone, this is hard, but God is good" way.

I'll be honest, I do struggle knowing how transparent I can/should/will be, so if I am vague in an area, please believe that I am desiring to share my heart but don't have the freedom to speak into specific situations with all the gory details in such a public forum. It may be that a situation is churning in my life that hasn't been fully resolved, yet the process is worth documenting. It may mean that I have been encouraged by some conversations or events with one of my children, but that I don't have that child's permission to share openly with the world. I might share my own struggle about being a wife who honors her husband and sharing the cause of the struggle would not edify my husband, but the process of seeking to see my heart conformed to Christ's image deserves remembering because it's the sanctification that is important, not the catalyst. Other times, it simply might be too personal to share details on a blog, and I need to protect myself.

If you have ever read my blog, or if you find yourself taking a peek back in time, you will know that I have struggled on and off with the whole social media thing. I'm gonna give it a whirl. We may be having some big changes around here and having somewhere to "jot it all down" is appealing. Especially since I throw out paper journals after I fill in the last blank page. (I have a thing about looking at my own handwriting. I don't like to. But the process of writing is something I love.)

So, while this kind of feels like an un-post, I just wanted to share where I am coming from moving forward. I realize I could have started a new blog, leaving the past in the past, but I'll be honest, I'm not one of the world's best "namers", and I kind of hope that if you look back (or when I do), we'll see God's work woven into the tapestry of my days, weeks, months, trials, and successes.

I hope you will join me, as I find my feet again... Feel free to say "hello" sometime. And I've said it before, I'm available in person, too. And I make some really yummy coffee if you ever want to drop by.

Want to join me...

Ok, so I am not a runner. In days long past I was an athlete, but running was never a part of the sports I chose. Swimmers don't run. Volleyball players laugh at the Basketball players who are running, because Volleyball players don't run. I just never saw any point to running. Honestly, I have probably not run on purpose since elementary school field day. I am not joking. I have always thought of running as a cruel form of torture.

But, I am really wanting to get back into shape. The baby phase is past, the busy kids being taken here and there phase has arrived, and I am struggling to have the stamina to keep up. Not to mention, I really want to set an example and teach my kids some good physical fitness habits outside of their chosen sports. Oh, and I need to lose over 40 pounds, but who's counting?!?! I began with some core/isometric workouts, but quickly aggravated the abdominal scar tissue I have from 8 abdominal surgeries in the last 13 years. Not cool. Really discouraging.

Thankfully, a week of rest and doing nothing even close to athletic, and the pain from the scar tissue subsided. During that time of rest, I began to wonder if walking would be all I would be able to do. I don't particularly care for walking as an exercise regimen, it takes a long time and I can do it without getting tired. But a friend mentioned to me that she and her daughter were going to train for a 5k race. I asked if the kids and I could join her. She said yes. And I was surprised to find I was happy about it.

I have downloaded a  "Zero to 5k (and 10k)" training app, ordered my iPhone 6 Plus arm band, downloaded the GPS/pacing app, and asked a few friends if they want to join me. I am somewhat competitive by nature, and I don't like skipping out on commitments, so if I get enough friends to run with me, I won't have a choice but to do it! Or at least that is the plan. (Assuming success in November, we will train for the 10k in the spring... I am not even thinking of a half marathon she wants to do in fall 2015 yet... must survive this 5k first).

The kids and I did the first day of training this evening. We ended our run with stretching, some planks and wall push-ups. I feel great, though now I can't go to sleep because I am WIRED. We may have to run in the mornings if this is the effect running has on me. 

So, the question is... do you want to join me? We can cheer each other on. We can rejoice in our successes, and encourage each other in our set-backs. We can get together for a coffee in two months and celebrate reaching goals we never in our lives thought we would set!

Learning their rhythm...

I remember when my kids were babies and I couldn't fathom the idea of scheduling them. I didn't think I was the best person for telling them when they were hungry or tired. Instead, I looked for clues in their behavior, like rubbing their eyes and yawning or searching frantically about while smacking their lips. Eventually, I noticed they would fall into a rhythm, feeding at pretty well dependable times (excluding growth spurts) and napping at regular intervals. We learned we could push the "schedule" earlier or later without causing much distress, simply by keeping the routine around the eating or sleeping predictable.

And while that always worked with my babies, somehow as kids have grown, I have relied more on the arbitrary decisiveness of a written down schedule and the ticking of the clock to determine when we eat, sleep, play or school. The very thing I never would have imagined doing for my babies is the very root of our daily struggle... staying on and finishing the schedule. And it isn't for lack of trying to clearly think through the day, I have thought and pondered and scribbled and formatted our schedule a million different ways in the last 10 years. Yet, we still haven't been able to find the ever-illusive "well planned day".

The last few days I have watched my kids specifically looking for ways to streamline our schedule. I noticed a few things. Some wake up easy and early. Others wake up slowly and later. When the early ones have to wait on the later ones, we lose their most productive time. When the laters are needing to slowly wake up, the earlies are rushing them because of how long they have awaited their downstairs arrival. Compounded in this observation is that this year we started trying to wake everyone up at the same time, 7am. Those later sleeping kids tried really hard to comply but began  struggling to maintain a happy attitude in the afternoons and were found falling asleep during any car ride after 3pm. And 7am was never early enough for the early kids.

I also noticed that when everyone is fresh and cheerful at the beginning of the day, they play more sweetly together and they really seem to relish being with one another. Yet, by the time the afternoon rolls around (when I have scheduled them to enjoy happy playing with their siblings), they are full of "being with people" and need a break. I can't really complain, that is something I feel too. Then the evening comes, which we have designed to be family time, can be overwhelming to those kids who are full of "together" time and would rather look for a closet to hide in and get away for some time alone than play a game.

And then, I had an "ah-ha" moment. It was an alarming idea to my Type-A self, but I decided to try an experiment with our schedule. I shared my idea with the kids and we are experimenting with it a little this week and officially will adopt it for the month of October next week.

Bedtime isn't changing, everyone will be in bed with the lights out by 9pm. However, I am not waking anyone up anymore. If I felt we had a child who struggled with being motivated to get out of bed, I might not be able to do this, but none of my children have proven to be sluggards, some just need more sleep than others.

Breakfast will no longer be scheduled, and we won't wait on one another before anyone can eat. Instead, it will be self serve upon waking, and to my children's shock, they may come down and eat before room chores lest they wake a sleeping sibling. Following breakfast, they will have their personal devotion and time in God's Word. Then, each child will work on their independent studies (handwriting, copywork, vocabulary, math, etc).

After completing their independent work, they will have free time, the more efficient they are with their time, the more free time they will have. This has been the plan before, but somehow, the free time being all the way in the afternoon was not a motivation. My hope is that the children who need to learn how to be more inwardly motivated will flourish under this schedule. So far, the last couple of days have been promising.

They aren't free forever, though. I call them up to do their room chores at 10am, and we have family Bible study at 10:30am. Then we have a little workout and stretching (honestly, I am trying to tire them out so they can sit more easily during our family school time). Family school follows, which is where I read aloud from history or geography or literature selections and the kids narrate back, or draw, or write reports.

Daily chores start happening while I make lunch, and we all sit down to read the "Proverbs of the Date" as we call it. We bless the meal and while we eat, we listen to some Lamplighter Theatre, lunch is a delightful time now, and since I am not reading and children aren't all talking at the same time, it is relaxing and refreshing as well.

After school we finish up with Mommy-led lessons, pull out the computers for typing and math practice, and finish up everything that looks, smells or tastes of school. The afternoon is free for the children, I make a coffee and prepare for dinner.

Our new schedule may seem long and draw out, but the last few days have truly been delightful, and we are having less conflict with better rested children. We are doing a better job at finishing school at a reasonable hour, and because of my mornings being free from teaching, I have gotten a couple of days of much neglected weed pulling done.

One challenge for me, and my Type-A-ness, is trying to find a succinct way to make this new, more flowing schedule into a cute chart for the refrigerator. But I have not doubt I will figure it out. :)

How do you creatively address scheduling challenges?

There's a first time for everything...

Including taking photographs of lightning. There was a fantastical, keep your kids up to watch, Texas thunderstorm with an incredible light show tonight. The girls are away at Grandma's house and I let the boys stay up to watch their current favorite movie, The Lego Movie.

Elliott and I were visiting and hashing out the day, and I kept thinking that I was hearing thunder. Elliott insisted it was the movie and the speakers being up too loud. I bought that idea for awhile until there was a quiet part of the movie and a loud patch of thunder.

I went out front, neighbors were out of their houses watching the scene. I have never, ever, in my whole life seen such a light show. I had Elliott call the boys outside (pausing the movie, of course). They were awed. Caleb said it was better than fireworks. I said they were God's fireworks. Micah said it was brighter than daylight. Noah marveled at how the thundering never stopped, and new lightning kept flashing across the sky.

Eventually, the boys went back to their movie, Elliott went to bed, and I sat on the driveway with my camera. Here's what I captured...

I never cease to be amazed at the beauty and magnificence of God's creation.

What's in a name...

Lately, Micah has taken to calling Elliott "Dada" instead of "Daddy". At first it was cute and I thought he was playing some game like "I am a baby..." but the name has persisted for the last few weeks. And honestly, it is funny to me that our family "baby" is the first and only one to call Elliott by such an endearing title.

As cute as it is when Micah rattles off, "Dada, Dada, Dada, Dada...," sometimes it gets to be a little much... but then something like this happens...

Micah: "Dada, Dada, look at me, Dada, Dada..."
Elliott: "Simon Says 'Don't call me Dada...'"
Micah: (without skipping a beat) "Elliott, watch this."

... and in a Bill Cosby kind of way I say, "just let him call you Dada." They grow up so fast.

A mommy comedian...

You never know who you are going to meet sitting on the bleachers at the gym. And yet, a few weeks ago, I struck up a friendship with a mom whose son is on Caleb's Boys' Team. We have been talking and laughing, and it was obvious pretty quickly that this mom was a Christian.

And then, as we were visiting tonight she said, "You know I am comedian, right?" I laughed and agreed she was pretty funny. But finally, it turns out, she started a Christian Women's comedy group a few years ago. Their main goal is to help women see that "Imperfect is Perfect" and God is more than able to meet us in our messes. So, in case you need a laugh, meet my friend Jessica over at www.ChristianComedyChicks.com