Sheer Determination

I spent an afternoon coercing my mom to admit defeat in the potty training realm. I'm sure that the next administration will fund research to use dirty diapers to make clean fuel. Thus, keeping Sir Pudginess in diapers is actually doing an environmental service.

Second only to potty training is the Bike Riding Without Training Wheels Challenge. When my mother sees a grandchild on training wheels she takes it personally. No matter their age nor experience. I thought I had her convinced by saying, "Ella's neurologist said she CAN'T ride a bike without training wheels. She might have a seizure. And Sally just got that big bike, she doesn't even know how to stop yet."

No grandchild of hers will pedal with training wheels. I came outside one afternoon to be greeted by two girls careening down the driveway. Legs and arms akimbo, smashing into the gravel, and laughing the entire time. It took the three of them a week to master the balancing. Ella needed a mere afternoon to get the art of stopping and starting. Alas, Sally rides like a speed demon but is unable to stop herself. Her favored stopping method is aiming into the crowd of onlookers. They are softer than pavement.I jest, but this is a feat for both girls. Ella's prosthetic and little hand are on her left side. She favors that side and leans to the right to pedal and steer. I used her epilepsy as an excuse to keep the training wheels on, but I really wanted to save her the heartache of crashing over and over again. Then being defeated because of her differences. I'm so glad I was wrong.

Salvation

And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,

And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:3-5

The simplicity of the gospel is beautiful. Unfortunately, the gospel of Jesus Christ has become corrupted in our country. "Christians" have ruined Christianity. I have pictures in my mind of televangelists who claim Christ as their Lord, but live their lives in a way that they discredit the gospel for which He died.

Ella doesn't know about money grubbers who are perverting the gospel to their advantage.

She knows Jesus loves her. She talks to God at night. She watches her family and learns that we live a certain way because we want to please our Lord. In her literal world, this was it.

A few weeks ago, we began memorizing scripture as a family. Our first verse was, "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. Romans 3:23" She memorized and repeated it with clarity. I explained each day what the verse was saying. Each one of us has done something wrong. We cannot be in the presence of God because we aren't perfect. So simple.

The next verse gives us the good news. "For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. Romans 6:23" Without intending to, I was methodically explaining salvation to my daughter. I didn't intend to lead her down that road. As a rule, there is no pressure in our family. We read the Bible, pray, and try to live our lives to His glory. We don't shove Christ at our children. It needs to be something they hear and desire on their own. We don't ever want them to feel like they have to choose the gospel because, "Mommy told me to."

Imagine my surprise when I was tucking our kids in one night and Ella began crying. She said she was crying about heaven and Jesus. I wasn't sure if she was being sincere. She is seven--she was tired and possibly trying to stall. I was unwilling to get into a big discussion with her late at night. We prayed together and told Jesus we love Him. That was all.

The next day we continued our discussion. I was using analogies and getting flustered. Finally, I wanted to admit that she really wasn't able to understand Christ's sacrifice for her. She was upset, so I felt like pacifying her was not right. The gospel is simple...childlike faith. Why am I getting in the way of this being simple? I didn't care if she chose to walk away, but I felt like it was ME that was keeping her from getting a clear understanding.

So I nixed the analogies and asking her what she thought. Then, I drew a picture of two hearts on a sticky note. One heart was hers and the other was Christ's. I explained that to be in heaven with God you have to have a heart like Jesus--clean and perfect. Then I showed her heart, starting clean and perfect but then drew a spot for a lie. Another spot for hitting, another for cheating, another for disobeying. Ella started crying. So I quickly gave her the rest--the second half of Romans 6:23 'but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.' God loved Ella so much he sent his son, Jesus, to live a perfect life. Then, Jesus said I'll take your heart and give you mine. I'll take the punishment (for the wages of sin is death) for you, Ella. Romans 5:8 (our next verse to memorize) says that "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

At this point, she reached out and grabbed the clean heart I was holding and said, "I want that. I want Jesus to take my dirty heart and give me his."

The beautiful simplicity of the gospel. My daughter, raised up seeing the gospel, but never knowing it. Believing that talking to God at night would secure her a place in heaven. Believing that she is good enough to spend eternity with God. And a mom who didn't think she was capable of understanding the simple truth.

For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. Romans 10:13

Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. Luke 15:10

That's a Lotta...Hair?

This would be my daughter after I gave up two days of my life braiding yarn into her hair. I heard rave reviews about yarn extensions. I heard bad reviews. I thought she would *love* to have long hair for a while. That won me over. We visited the variety store and bought some funky yarn. That may have been a bad choice, since funky yarn produces funky lock-like braids.

She loves her yarn-ey head. The endless braiding was traumatic enough to keep us from doing this on a regular basis. The payoff has come in seeing her flip her 'locks' around throughout the day AND the daily hair regime is on hold. We moisturize and that's it.

Just for fun, here are the pictures chronicling the experience. I watched a video on Youtube to get instructions, but it was really pretty easy.

Wipeout!

I could spend months listing off all of the bothersome incidents that happen with five children. Add two more children and a week of teaching Vacation Bible School...it's a recipe for disaster. Someone is always tired and cranky (probably me). Something is spilling on a clean surface. Someone is hitting, stealing, or lying and needs a reprimand. The offended party needs a hug. It goes on and on.

I don't know how the idea evolved. Maybe it was the bag of water balloons that has been sitting on the counter. Maybe one of the children said they were bored. I do know that by the end of a long week we needed to get some revenge. We decided to make an obstacle course. Not just an average, pansy obstacle course. This one has an added twist. The kids compete and we pelt them with water balloons and spray them with hoses.

I only wish we would have cooked this up earlier in the week when my fourteen year old cousin was in town. We could have sat in the shade while he assembled the madness. Instead, we grunted for an hour in the hot sun to get everything into place. So far: kiddos-1, adults-0.

Bring on the revenge...

Crossing the gauntlet...
Did my grandma throw that water bomb?
If you find yourself at the end of your rope, but have a few hours, tarps, pool, bubbles, and an acre of open space...get some revenge on your kids for all those little things that make your life hard. From the look of it, they were miserable the entire time. (Actually, the first time my mom hit Sally with a water balloon, it didn't burst. It hit her back and bounced off. She was maddened that her dear, sweet, grandma would dare throw something at her. My mom made sure to throw the next one with added force. So it would explode on impact, of course.)

Future Ironmen

Our boys just did something impressive.

They competed in their first triathlon.

I was sick with nerves the night before. I knew that we would pull into the aquatic center parking lot and be met by children who have spent their summer training to slaughter my innocent-never-before-done-a-tri boys. Four days before the race, we did a dry run--swimming small circles in the backyard pool, biking to the end of the driveway and back, then dropping the bike and running like the wind. I knew we wouldn't be prepared. I knew other kids would be wearing speedos and triathlete shoes. I kept having flashbacks to the Mutton' Bustin' chap-wearing buckaroos that competed against the kids in the rodeo. So I started freaking out about the preparations after getting everyone to bed. It didn't help that my mother is frenzy-prone like me. We both frantically ran around putting air into tires, gathering helmets, goggles, shoes, clothes, towels, snacks... The accoutrements needed for swim/bike/run could be one good reason to stick with running alone. Shoes? Check.

All the while, Seth is trying to calm us down. I think he said, "It's not like they are going to die or something." What?! Is that a possibility? Because I wasn't planning on that. Let's just cancel the whole thing and sleep in.

As prepared as we could be, the morning comes. It's early and we are running late. As usual. It seems frantic with kids and equipment everywhere. Soon enough it was time for Eli to get into the pool. Now, Seth's frantic because he's the "transition guy" and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. Run after Eli into the bike area or just let him go? Dry off his feet or just let him go? What are the professional's parents doing right now?

Both boys tried incredibly hard and did amazingly well. They beat the speedos off of some kids! When we got the race results, we asked Eli if he wanted to do another one. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Nah, it's going to take me a while to recover."

It's going to take his dad a while, too. We checked the times and Eli only missed third place by four seconds. Probably the amount of time it took to dry off his feet.

Nuts

Josiah was getting ready to take a bath and had an accident. He looked up at me and said, "Peepee."

When my mom heard him she saw a challenge--potty train the 22 month old before he moves. Today, Josiah is running around without a diaper, drinking obscene amounts of juice, and racing to the potty every 30 minutes. So far little to no success with making it to the potty.

I fall into the category of moms who wait until their little boys are nearing three years old before potty training. Maybe I'm lazy or a quitter, because the messes on the floor today made me see failure. As a result, I pulled out the big guns and promised a treat if he actually goes IN the potty. A candid conversation between the two of us followed.

"Josiah, lets try not to go on the floor. Mommy will give you a treat if you go in the potty. Peepee in the potty. Where do you need to pee?"
His reply was astoundingly clear, "In the grass."

Nuts.

I'd almost settle for that.

Snot, Vomit, and Maggots...Oh My!

I'm at my parent's house. I took this picture as Josiah and I walked onto the deck this morning to enjoy a cup of coffee. So peaceful...

The kids have gone fishing in the evening with my dad.


We've worked in the garden and visited the parks for an afternoon walk. We picked strawberries and visited the historical working farm. It's been great.

Except for the chaos that follows us everywhere we go. Chickens escaping from the coop and the madness required to catch them and return them to safety. The 'puppy' catching rodents, birds, and even fish.

By far our worst day was when we woke up to the guinea pig laying rather still in his cage. That ended with a shoebox burial. Then my nephew and Sally shut themselves into our newly purchased refrigerator. It was in the barn, waiting for the new house (we close at the end of August). It took the two of them only a few minutes to discover the "great hiding place" and shut themselves in. Thankfully, my nephew pushed the freezer door open and then let Sally out of the fridge. Seth immediately strapped the doors shut. Then scoured the rest of the area for other death traps and firmly warned the kids that they are NOT allowed in the barn without an adult. It was terrifying. It was also just after lunchtime and the day had much more in store for us. That evening, my dog tried to drown my sister's dog in the pond. My sister had to jump in and pull our long legged water dog off of her drowning, short legged bulldog. Neither of the dogs would look at each other for the rest of the day.

That day alone was exhausting. Our family is a swirling tornado of madness and if you get too close...we'll pull you into the storm. It comes in waves. We have calm times and times where wacky things happen. Those wacky things are included in the title, but I won't expound on all of them.

....Like the morning Josiah grabbed a game piece from the princess game Ella was playing and shoved it into his mouth. In one foul swoop Sally poked her finger into his mouth and jammed the piece down his windpipe so that he started choking. Thankfully, he gagged enough that the game piece came out--as he vomited.

Okay, I'll leave out the snot and maggot stories...

Happy Birthday, Sally!

Sally turns five today! She has been looking forward to her birthday for months. Last year, she was confused by most of the celebration. It only took a few parties for her to realize what this wonderful called a birthday is all about. Especially when it's your birthday. She's been planning where (the venue has changed so many times I finally stopped listening to her), what kind of cake (again, fickle, fickle, fickle--she ended up with a bicycle cake), and presents. Specifically, she wanted clothes, an ice cream playset, and her ears pierced. We threw in a new bike for good measure. She's been riding a boy's toddler bike for a year. It's great for learning, but a few months ago she realized that she was indeed riding a bike waaaay smaller than Ella's and...whoa...it's blue. No! How in the world did I end up on a blue bike?! Hello Kitty is much more suitable. Sally's a girlie girl if I ever saw one.

Birthday celebrations began early with an invitation only VHS showing of Free Willy (the phenomenon continues). The princess gets a trip to the mall for earrings and a pretzel. Five seems a little young for earrings, but Sally's loophole is her questionable age. She's turning five today according to paperwork, but really...she got her six year old molars when she was 'four and a half". When I asked the dentist about her age he laughed and said, "It's not like she's 12, but she's probably not four." I'm more than happy to let her get her ears pierced now instead of making her wait a long two years. She's had a hard year. When she's fourteen and wants to start driving I'll be singing a different song!

Happy Birthday, Princess!

Our Day in Court

It only took us 14 months to get this done. I didn't have the same sense of urgency regarding paperwork AFTER the children were already ours. I finally felt so guilty about putting it off for eight months that I contacted the lawyer. It was a remarkably cold, blustery day back in February. I ran outside to get the van warmed up before loading everyone up. A few minutes later we trickled out to the van to find the doors locked. The keys in the ignition, the van running, and the second set of keys an hour away in Seth's pocket--no way I could make it to my appointment on time. I called for roadside assistance and waited. Then waited. Then started math with the bigs. Then called roadside assistance again. Then waited. Then ate lunch. Did reading, geography, and science. Then called roadside assistance again. Told them to stop lying to me about "being there in 20 minutes" because it had been four hours. Told them to just cancel the truck that was "just around the corner" because I if this was really an emergency we would have died by now. Thankyouverymuch. I called someone else and he was in my driveway within five minutes.

I finally made it to the office that day. Eight months and five hours late. I didn't feel too guilty after that, because I had taken the step by dropping off paperwork and signing a (rather hefty, in my opinion) check. I didn't hear from the lawyer again until a few weeks ago. (I have to admit that I had my reservations about the personable lawyer I had hired. Sure that she was running off with our wimpy payment.) We finally got a notice about appearing in court. I've only been in a courtroom once before. It was in Ukraine and the judge was scary--yelling at me, peppering us with questions about getting paid to adopt our daughter. This was a completely different experience. The judge was jolly and passed out gifts (gavels) to our children afterwards. I have to admit that I felt a little nostalgic about the morning. It was the last little piece that had to be done to make our children "ours".

July 4th

From us to you--"Happy Independence Day!" Pretend Everett is screaming that--it's much easier than opening photoshop and switching his face.

Last Month by the Numbers

4—Months that Seth has been living two hours away during the workweek.

80—Days I was alone with five children. Trying to sell the house. You are welcome to re-read previous posts and see them in a new light realizing that I was alone with the chaos. My loving hubby forbade me from publicly announcing our living situation.

$75—The whopping earnings we made when we sold our home.

22—Number of days that our family has been homeless—in the loosest sense of the word.

2—Hours it takes to travel from my parent's house to our city for doctor's appointments.

5—Times I drove back in the first 10 days after moving out.

16—Houses we have been shown (after ruling out hundreds).

2—Offers we have made. Still without a home.

7—Times the girls have watched Free Willy since we moved in with my parents.

4—Viewings it took for them to finally stop calling Willy a dolphin.

10.5—Hours a trip to Connecticut should have taken from my sister's house.

14.5—Actual trip time. Did I mention that I was travelling alone with five children?

30—Minutes for an average 'pit stop' on the trip.

5—Times my mom told me I was crazy for taking the trip.

At least 50—Times I told my mom she was right once I was in the van. Alone. With five kids. For 14 hours.

It's Finally Over

The medicinal saga has come to an end. Rounds of applause and cheering are in order. It's been a long year of daily dosing. Finally. She. Is. Done.

Sally is TB free! She still bears the scars. She'll wear the brace until the anniversary of her surgery, but her back is strong and getting stronger every day.

Cloth Diapers

If I were normal I would write an informative post about cloth diapers. Topics would include: cost effectiveness, type of diapers, stuffing for the diapers, detergents, the cool hose thingy that you can attach to your toilet for those nasty changes...It's been done though, and done very well. Google cloth diapers and you can read to your heart's content. I didn't use them until we got Josiah. Even then, I didn't decide to sink a bunch of money into diapers that I would only use with one child. A six month old, at that. My industrious sister was expecting her first and she decided to buy one diaper, dissect it, and recreate it herself 30 more times. She's nuts, absolutely nuts. She and my mom made some for Josiah. They were so kind, but I personally think they wanted to try them out on a live baby before finishing the big batch. These diapers are so cute. Sickeningly cute on an adorable, chubby baby that's cuddling with a puppy. A word of caution. These diapers can be extremely tempting to puppies. It could be disastrous if cloth diaper wearing child is not closely monitored around excitable puppy. Messes and injuries could result.

I'm So Clever

Without a doubt, the comment I get the most is, "You sure have your hands full!"

After hearing this for the fifteen millionth time, I got tired of answering with a lame, "Yes. I do."

Like, what else can I possibly say to that?
"Ya think?"
"Huh? I've only got five, you should see my sister she has 11."
"You talkin' to me? "
"Wha...don't tell me those stinkin' kids are following me again."
"Oh, no, they are all little blessings sent straight from heaven." That said while gritting my teeth and wrangling a screaming toddler from the overloaded cart at the grocery store. Honestly.

One day it just popped out. I must have had just enough sleep to be thinking coherently.

"Yes. I have exactly one handful."

Hardy, har, har. I explained it to the kids later and we all had a good chuckle. That has become my stock answer. My 'handful' and I are always eager to see the reaction I get with that response. We giggle about the quizzical looks that I get and it's turned an annoyance into a game. Instead of them being a 'hand full' and nuisance, we walk away from the exchange with smiles.

Dinner

One at a time they trickle into the kitchen. It's the smell that draws them. They start to crowd in on me, getting underfoot. Soon, they are pestering and pulling on me. They all want the same thing.

"Up!"

"How do you do it?"

Coffee and prayer, my friend. Lots of coffee and even more prayer.

The Move

Early Saturday morning Seth and I pulled away from our house. He was in a 26 foot truck and I was in The Van. Moby had been transformed--instead of transporting children it held my wrought iron patio furniture and a TV. I was kind of excited about the prospect of spending a few quiet hours driving to the storage unit. We got onto the highway and I started seeping from my eyes. I'm a brickhouse, honestly, I don't sob often. I guess I finally sat still enough to realize that we are really moving.

So, doomsday closing is next week. That means the kiddos and I have been living in an empty house since Saturday. It rained Monday and Tuesday. Today, Eli said, "All I can think about is the xbox. Please can we play video games?"

Um, no. I can't bear the thought of little minds melting while the sun is shining outside. The babe is asleep and it's the perfect time for me to scurry around getting the last bits into boxes. I shuttled everyone outside and found a forgotten bag of play sand in the shed. Beautiful! I raced inside and started on another box. Until everyone started complaining about needing some "guys" to play with in the sand.

Everything in the house is gone except the bare necessities. So, I grabbed four plastic spoons and drew faces on them with my black sharpie. Viola! Guys! That should have bought me at least 30 minutes, but the guys needed helmets and the guys that are girls needed curly princess hair. I added helmets and hair with my box-labeling sharpie and pressed on. As I walked through the house collecting odds and ends I noticed that my feet were getting very sandy. Upon inspection, there was sand EVERYWHERE. These little people were actually coming into the house to use the bathroom and tracking wet sand all over the place. I grabbed the broom and took to sweeping up the mess. Then, I heard Josiah yelling from upstairs and my 'getting stuff done' time had passed. I had packed three-fourths of a box. I had sand all over the floors. I was down four plastic spoons and saw the dog shredding the now empty play sand bag.

It would seem that I take half a step forward and five steps back.

Ella and I just spent a harried four days with my dearest friends shuttling between Yale Medical School and my friend's house. I arranged the trip without realizing that Connecticut is indeed larger than my backyard and driving from one corner to another may require a few hours each way.

We were flown to Connecticut so that my little girl might take part in a study of children with absence epilepsy. The title is something like, "Are children with absence epilepsy really absent?" If I had to make an under-educated guess I would say that my child is absent pretty often. Especially if she isn't taking her drugs, getting at least 20 hours of sleep, and doing something engaging that she enjoys. All three of those planets are aligned once a year. Yeah, around here we deal with absent minded behavior on a regular basis. Going to Yale--on their dollar, visiting friends, and getting pictures of my daughter's brain WHILE she's having a seizure? Count me in.

Sadly, most of our visiting had to happen in the confines of my tiny rental car and the waiting area outside of the research MRI unit. For this, I apologize once again, girls. So, so sorry! We made the best of it and chatted up a storm. Most of the chatting probably one sided so that I could stay awake as I drove back and forth. I honestly thought that Ella would refuse to have the tests done. Previously we've had to completely knock her out for an MRI. That was a year and a half ago. She's older, wiser, and more easily bribed these days. They had to put an EEG cap on her to monitor her seizure activity, then put her into the MRI machine to 'photograph' her brain, and gave her a 'video game' to play during the whole thing. The idea is to get a picture of what is going on while she's seizing and trying to think at the same time. I thought she'd balk the first day, but she was a trooper and had two scans done.

It was a thrilling trip for her. She 'met' old friends and got to fly on a plane alone with Mommy. I'm such a fun travel buddy that I made her take a math test and do phonics work on our layovers. On the way home we realized that we didn't have gifts for the children who couldn't come. Traditionally, around here, if you make a trip--you return with gifts. I think that's taught by the three wise men. I should have just picked up a postcard at the grocery store, but I wasn't savvy enough. I was stuck buying Webkinz at the CNBC stand at the airport. Never has such an extravagant purchase been made on a trip. The usual fare is a book or some sort of crayola art product. Seth once forgot gifts and shelled out a dollar to each child with some quip about thinking they would enjoy buying their own souvenir at the Dollar Store. That worked. The webkinz ruled though, by far the best gift ever given and I imagine that the children will welcome my departure more often. Josiah stole the car Ella chose from the treasure chest at Yale, so he was placated also.

So, the peeling back of Ella's layers continues. It will be months before we get her results and possibly years before this study is complete. I'm pleased with every little tidbit that we can scrounge up that helps us to understand her.

Our House Selling Vacation

Every single vacation earns itself a title of infamy to us. There was the "Poopy Trip Home" vacation, the "Bought Moby" beach trip, and the "Freezing at the Beach then Jamestown trip". This last trip could be known as the trip that took forever to get home (but that would make it hard to distinguish from other trips). Or that vacation that Eli got bit by a swan, or better yet the trip on which we SOLD our house!

Well, sort of sold our house. We have moved from the house selling world into the waiting for closing world. It can't come too soon because I'm fearful that something may keep it from coming at all. With selling the house comes packing the house and of course, buying another house. We won't even start to think about that. The day we hand the keys over will be an answer to many prayers. We knew when we put our house on the market that we could sit here for a year. Or two years. If our house sells after being on the market just a few short months, it is truly due only to God's mercy on our family. I'll chase that with the statement that I'm willing to stay here for as long as the Lord desires, but life would be grand if my hubby lived and worked in the same city.

All of the excitement from an offer dulled as we were driving home and the 12 hour drive stretched into 18 hours. As we meandered through Tennessee the sinking realization hit--the GPS is not wrong. We have added an additional six hours to the drive. It's really an amazing feat. Not too many people could spend six hours in a gas station restroom. We did. We slogged through a Kentucky monsoon at a blazing 40 mph for days. Finally, we reached my parents house and collapsed. When we finally got home (an additional two hours on the road the next day--that would make total drive time 20 hours) I had spent enough time thinking about moving that it finally settled in. During our week away spring had arrived and our trees bloomed. That made the arrival home even more bittersweet. I'm praying we can leave by the end of the month, but we will miss this house, our friends, and our church.

Happy Mother's Day!

I often wonder if I'll ever be that wise, calm, mom who knows all of the answers and has the most well-behaved children. Maybe I'll settle for being the crazy mom with five beautiful, albeit obnoxious, children.

I feel like a dud quite a few times throughout the day. Sometimes I would just love, and I truly mean L-O-V-E, a minute alone. I lose my temper and get frustrated. I don't know what I'm doing with these five little people! I wish that God would give me a teeny, tiny glimpse at His plans for them so I could better equip them for their futures. I really thought that after five kids I would know how to handle all the situations that they could throw at me. They are so ornery creative they keep me on my toes.

My ruminations on Mother's Day fall short of what I'm feeling. They also fall short of the wonderful things you've heard (or said) today. So I won't try to be eloquent, from our wild family to yours--we hope you have a relaxing, wonderful Mother's Day!

One Quirky Language

Listening to Sally talk is confusing and hilarious at the same time. She talks incessantly, asking me questions, tattling on her brothers, and generally just running her mouth. I should have enjoyed the (few) days last year when she didn't speak English. If only I would have known what a jabber box she would become! One afternoon Seth asked her to just please be quiet for a second so he could think. She shut her mouth for exactly one second and then took off again. Incessant. Chatter.

Last week she said, "Mommy, does the noise have a pool?" I was completely clueless about where she was going with this. So I gave her my befuddled, "Huh?" She calmly repeated her earnest question. Then she went on, "You know, the noise. You say we are going to the noise. Does it have a pool?"

It took me a minute to realize that she was talking about our afternoon trip to 'the sound'. She's so desperate to talk that she makes her way around our confusing language.

Along those same lines: Josiah's language has been explosive. It seems like everyday he surprises us with a new word. Yesterday, he broke into the chocolate cake from Seth's birthday. It was breakfast time and evidently, I wasn't working fast enough. I turned around and was greeted by a chocolate covered baby. I squealed, four more kids came running, and Josiah said, "Awanna chokat, Mommy!" It's hard not to laugh and just let him have it. Oddly enough, he repeats most anything we say, but REFUSES to say please. He's a stubborn, spoiled little guy (who charms me in the morning by singing the 'Bob the Builder' theme song).

All in just one year, I never would have expected it.

postscript 5/10--Tonight, Sally told me she had a booboo on her two-head. Then pointed to her forehead. Seth and I burst out laughing, poor kiddo!

A Week Away

This week, we are having fun,

relaxing,

and spending time with family and friends AT THE BEACH.

One Year Ago

One year ago today we met our children.

We didn't know if it was "gonna be alright." We prayed. We hoped. All we knew was that God had given us these children and we had to trust Him. The last year has had it's moments, but it's been so much better than 'alright'.

Sending Shoes to Ethiopia

After our day without shoes we had a chat after dinner. I had been thinking about whether being shoeless for the day actually made any difference in any one's lives. Curious about what the kids were thinking, I started a conversation--a day without shoes debriefing... "So, we went without shoes for the day, but what came from it?"

Some blank stares, some thoughtful looks--then this reply from Elijah. "Welllll, we all got really dirty feet and Jojo got a splinter."

Yeah, I guess that sums it up pretty well. Kids are so literal. So I pressed a little more, wondering if they would come to the same conclusion that I had. "Right. Do more people in Ethiopia have shoes because we went without shoes for a day?"

All heads are shaking. Elijah, again, is ever so helpful, "Why don't we buy some TOMS shoes so that they can send one pair to Ethiopia?"

"Great idea, except I counted my shoes and I'm ashamed to admit that I have 44 pairs. So I don't really need another pair. And I'm pretty sure we could buy lots of shoes for the price of two pairs from TOMS. What else could we do?" I'm totally leading them, but want them to see where I'm coming from.

Lots of ideas including sending our extra shoes to Ethiopia and (from Eli again) eating only baked beans to save money. I latched onto the latter idea. Sort of. I've told the kids that if we ate less expensive food, we'd have more money to give away. Joking I once told them that if we ate rice and beans everyday we would save tons. Which is true. Eli loves baked beans so he put his spin on the money saving bean eating idea.

After further discussion we all agreed that we would start saving money by making better choices and doing extra chores. I will put the saved money into an envelope for shoes. I'm going to send the money to Jill's sister, Katy, who will buy shoes during her month in Ethiopia this summer. It seems, to me, to be the most efficient way to bless shoeless people in Ethiopia.

Drawn From Water

My view of the world changed the moment a hurting orphan became our hurting child. Sometimes, it's a comment by a stranger that sets me off thinking. In this case, it's a hard-to-watch video. It's hard to watch because the images from Ethiopia are still so raw. I'm living comfortably with my healthy (somewhat), happy (most of the time) children. Why can't I let it go? Haven't we done enough? It would seem that upon returning home, supplying children with love and care, providing medical attention, and a generally easy going middle class cushy American lifestyle that we could just let it go. We did our part. But it doesn't go away. I have vivid images of the children we met at Kids Care. A year later, some of them are probably still. there. waiting. They are older children and have little hope for being adopted.

So, watching a video of children who have literally been rescued from death can be pretty hard. I see the faces of children I've actually met. I see the faces my children. Then I take a deep breath and turn the video off. To all the world we've done 'our part'. Secretly, I know that we haven't. If pressed, I would admit that I feel a terrible burden for orphans all over the world. I would also admit that I use my children as a great excuse for being complacent and disconnected. Will they grow up with a burden for others or be controlled by their desire for success? How do you teach compassion? Only by living it and I fear that we are falling short.

I admire the family who goes to Ethiopia, sees the children, and decides to do something. Please watch this short clip that explains their story. If you skip all other video suggestions, do me a favor and watch this one.




Drawn from water is the blog for the organization.

Kramer No More

That massive pile on the left would be "The Kramer" that I removed from Josiah's head. I picked his hair and couldn't believe I had let it grow so long. Six inches high seems a smidge out of control. I grabbed the scissors and went to work. Oddly, his head seems to have grown bigger. Maybe it's always been this big, but just looked small in comparison to the woolly animal residing on his noggin.

Our baby has officially left babyhood behind!

One Day Without Shoes

We are doing it. Will you join us and leave your shoes at home today?

Watch this video. Or this video. Then rethink your answer.

I talked to my kids. We decided that we could go without shoes for one day. I'm always looking for lessons to teach my children that require some action on our part. Before you scoff and remind me that I homeschool--we will leave the house. We will be in public. We will be cold because it's 40 degrees outside right now. No matter, we don't have to walk to get food, to go to school, or to get medical attention. We drive EVERYWHERE. So take off your shoes, tell people why you are walking around barefoot, and, if they strike your fancy, buy a pair of Tom's shoes so that a child in Ethiopia won't have to go shoeless.

Post Placement Visit

We just had our 12 month post placement visit from our social worker. I'm assuming all is going well since she left the kids in our care. It may have been the wildest visit she's ever had. I can't pinpoint what may have made it seem crazy. Maybe it was the baby climbing on her as she took notes. Could have been the puppy careening through numerous times. The bigger kids were only in and out 32 times during the hour she was visiting. I vaguely remember the phone ringing. Then it was all over. She's such a nice woman to put up with us and our chaos. That was our last visit with her. Sniff.

Until we adopt again.

Only kidding, folks! Here are some pictures for our post placement report.

I confess that both pictures of me in every post placement report have been staged. As in, "Quick, grab the camera and take my picture we have our visit this week!" The above photo was taken by Eli the day before our visit. I was directing him on how to take a picture and glanced over to see what the puppy was into when he snapped it. Seth wasn't involved in the photo choosing and was a *tad* upset upon viewing the pictures. Something like, "Yeah, look at what you got vs. me and Sally." I thought it was a great shot of goofball Sal entertaining her daddy.

I needed that

Josiah pulled back the shower curtain today. Then he pointed at me and said, "Bahnmrh bhayy mmmmphhh!" and laughed. Two things came to my mind immediately:


What in the world does that little butterball think is funny?


Perhaps it's time that he doesn't come into the bathroom with me while I'm showering. He can run around unsupervised downstairs if it will save me some embarrassment.


Later, Sally asked me why I have such big bunions. 'Bunions' is the term Eli coined for our hindquarters. Not having a very good reply for this I muttered something about being a mom and getting old. Probably should have muttered something about chocolate and poor exercise regime instead.


Sigh.

Blogging Funk

There is a stain on the carpet in the boy's bedroom. It's urging me to blog.

Reminds me of the time Sally puked on my legs just as we were going to the Creation Museum with the Dragovich family. That was pleasant. Well over an hour from home, no change of clothes, and I'm covered in vomit. What's a gal to do? Pull out the wipes, the antibaterial goo, and head to the women's restroom upon arrival at the museum so that you can half-heartedly rinse the vomit out of your shoe laces while no one is looking. We lost Ella and Sam for a while that day. Good thing it was just us and a busload of Mennonites. I even made all of my kids wear red shirts so they would be highly visible. I don't know how those two slipped away.

Shari is soon to be adding two more to her clan. After hanging out with me for a few days I honestly thought she would have called the agency and told them to just forget about it--no referral call needed. She's a brave lady.

Though I haven't posted in a while, life is still screaming along. My mind can't seem to be still enough to generate a single interesting thought. I guess the highlights of our past week would go something like this:

Seth was gone for five days. I can't imagine being alone all of the time. That is all.

For the first two weeks on the market we had five showings. They managed to time themselves just about every other day. It was unpleasant. We haven't had a call since. Life is more pleasant, ie. less mad dashing about to clean and bake goodies that mask the smell of five children, puppy, and a guinea pig that refuses to kick the bucket. Have I ever mentioned that none of the kids EVER flush the toilet? Chocolate chip cookies are good comfort food after learning that the house is still ours--but they aren't the wonder house staging item that you would expect. The hope of being united with Seth in our new and exotic destination is dying quickly.

Three of the five children have been sick. Everett has an overactive gag reflex (read: he pukes easily). Combine that with a weak stomach...remember that scene from Stand By Me? His worst nightmare. He'd probably throw up just watching the movie. Not that I would ever think of letting him watch it. While I'm on the topic, why do kids always wait to get sick until the middle of the night? I can't think of a time that any of my children just up and vomited in the middle of the day. Always at night. Without warning--they always eat a nice big dinner and then wake up and retch. They must have been feeling a little 'off', but never mention it until AFTER the nastiness.

Everett started coughing and expelled a chocolate milkshake on his bed and the creamy speckled carpet in the bedroom. When he saw the mess on his hand and then stepped into it...again, remember that scene from Stand By Me? Seth was the first to the bedroom, and immediately deemed himself unable to manage anything. I think he's missed most of the puking that has happened over the past year. Just by chance. He's out of practice and it's made him WEAK. (Stuck that in for you, dearie). He did get me the cleaning supplies and garbage bags. And he started the dirty stuff in the washing machine. As I was finishing the scouring of the vomit stained carpet, he returned from the laundry room and said, "No offense but I can still see an awful stain on the carpet. And it smells pretty bad up here." Thanks so much, my dear. Did you happen to notice on your way up here that IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT and there are two other boys asleep in this room? I'm not breaking out the steam cleaner. The stain is still there, by the way.

So I don't blog for three weeks and this is what I come up with. I'm so sorry. I've been living in a homeschooling, feverish, children and animals everywhere bubble. I have serious topics gurgling around, but I. Cannot. Go. There.