it's a little late for "back to school"...

So my little girl goes back to school tomorrow. I swear, it's harder than her first first day.

Weird timing, you say? Yes. Yes, it is. I homeschooled her for the first half of the year. And I knew - KNEW - more than anything that it was the right thing to do. I didn't have anything against the school system or school itself. I just knew that she could do better at home - learn more, learn better, learn better things, etc. And the whole first half of the year, September till now, it's felt like the right thing to do.

But I haven't been able to concentrate on teaching. No one tells you that having two kids in school and the others at home will mess you up, homeschooling-wise. Our schedule is not ours. We can't do as we wish. We can't plan what we want. It all revolves around someone else's schedule.

And what if one of those schooling children maybe (maybe) really should be in school? What if that's what they need? Then you'll never have that "make our schedule what we want it" scenario.

Then you have home stuff. That is, Stuff. Stuff comes up. Children act out. Teenagers emerge. Teenagers with baggage. And you become so consumed with them and their issues and their next move that you border on depression (again) and can barely manage to run your own house, let alone someone else's entire education.

So back she goes. I will miss her. So much. (sniff) Having your kids around you so much for such a long while, it suddenly seems like 8 hours is FAR too long to be without them.

I love liking my kids. I just have to trust that this is the best move for all of us.

For now.

radical parenting

I've noticed this wave lately of what I'm calling "radical parenting," at least among the people I know. Maybe they've always been this way, and I'm just the one catching up. I don't know. But the idea is very simple: the parents are the parents. The kids are the kids. The kids will be respectful and obey, or there will be consequences. And the kids will also learn how to live with much less of the stuff they think they can't live without.

A friend of mine from church has recently taken away all screen time during the work week. They may watch tv and play on the computer on the weekends.

Another friend of mine online doesn't have a microwave.

These are the only two concrete examples I can think of at the moment, but they form a theme. Kids do not REQUIRE screen time. An attitude of "I must have my chicken nuggets in 30 seconds or I'll explode" is simply unnecessary and untrue.

They're things that I've noticed are EXTREMELY scary at first, to think about, but then afterward...not really a big deal.

In our house, we also no longer have a microwave. Not actually because I was taking a giant stand against instant gratification, but that is a giant side-benefit. It was actually because 1) our microwave was starting to get old and the display unreadable and 2) because it looked hideous sitting up on top of my newly-acquired old farmhouse cabinet. (My microwave was BIG.) But when I used to think about getting rid of it, I'd always say, "oh, no. That's not for us. Maybe someday, but not yet. I have toddlers. They require chicken nuggets and hot dogs. And I have leftovers."

And can I tell you? It was honestly DAYS before my children noticed it was gone!!!!!! I'm not kidding. Because, it turns out, we don't have that many leftovers (hubby takes them with him to work the next day, and I only make enough for dinner and his lunch). And my kids were almost never in the kitchen while I made the chicken nuggets or hot dogs, so I would make them in the oven or on the stove and they'd never know it. I honestly think it was at some point where Miss 8yo said, "well, can you just warm them up in the microwave?" and I said, "no." She asked why, and I said, "because we don't have the microwave anymore." And she actually said, "yeah, we do -- wait, what?? Where'd the microwave go??"

And that was that. I explained the principle of cooking on the stove and in the oven, and although it wasn't received the same way a new puppy would be, they've gotten over it, and I've only heard a few comments since. (Miss 8yo's biggest grievance is that the ONLY way she likes eggs is from the microwave. Oh well.)

I haven't been as brave with the screen time. However, today I shortened their screen time from an hour a day to a half hour a day. I only got one complaint as I said it. (It might have been an inspired idea that I told them while they were lost in the tv. I did make them answer me, though. Oddly enough, the only one who answered me was the one ON the computer at the time. Weird.)

Now I'm moving on to an issue that has plagued me for months, and that is the issue of SNACKAGE.

I buy things like granola bars and Cheez-its and cheese crackers. A side issue may actually be that they're growing big enough now that one of these items - the current allowance - is no longer enough to satiate them during any particular snack time. (Miss 13yo especially. I recognize that. I'm trying to think about that separately and allow for it.) Another side issue is that my boys wake up very early in the morning, and are hungry immediately, but I'm busy making Hub's breakfast, and thus the rule is that I will feed them when I'm done with that. So, in the meantime, I've let them have one of said snacks.

So, in one day, one normal day (when Miss 13yo isn't home from school), there should be roughly maybe 7 snacks being eaten. (It's a rough estimate, allowing for whether or not Mr. 2yo has one of those snacks which he doesn't always, and the before-breakfast snacks.) So one would think that if I buy 20-something snacks in a grocery trip, they should last us several days. Right?

Clearly there's a pilferer among them. Because it's way too easy to reach into the snack drawer quietly when Mom's not in the kitchen. (This was an idea I came up with so I didn't have to constantly get up to get them a snack at the time. This idea may be revisited.) And we're going through so many snacks, it isn't funny. Nevermind the days when Miss 13yo is home. And hungry. And could probably eat something close to a meal at every sitting. (Those teenage appetites, even budding ones, can be scary. I'm so grateful every day that my boys aren't there yet. I'll need to figure out how to make more money by then.)

So I need a solution. I need ideas of snacks the kids can have that will actually fill them, and some way to keep them from just grabbing one whenever they feel like it, or whenever I'm not around.

I had one thought - ah ha! Buy snacks they don't like! Well...for about 1/32nd of a second it seemed like a good idea, but with further investigation, proves itself to be a bad idea. Because they won't eat them, and I'll have to listen to it. (Not to mention wasted food.)

But I think I have landed upon an acutally feasible idea. Buy foods that they like, that are good for them, and filling, but not necessarily the ones they'd go for FIRST. These would be foods like apples, bananas, raisins, etc. This way they are healthy, filling, and will be eaten ONLY if they are ACTUALLY hungry, and not just because they want the chocolate chips out of the chocolate chip granola bars.

Anyone tried this? Thoughts? I may try it. :)

Just another step in the radical parenting process. Another attempt at creating less.

my alter ego

Do you know what "alter ego" means? I didn't. I still kinda don't. I mean, I had the general idea, but I wondered - is it the version of yourself that you'd most like to become? Like your dream self? Or is it the version of you that is most opposite from who you are? (In my case, this would be an extremely outgoing goth people-person. I know that seems to be a contradiction, but trust me, that would be my opposite.)

I finally looked it up and it said "the other self." Well, thank you, that's most helpful.

NOT.

Well, due to a chance meeting with a pretty little kitty outside my door tonight, I've decide who my alter ego is. It is the me that I think I'd like to be, the person that I will begin praying to become, the person I wonder what it would be like to work toward becoming.

Let it be said: I am not a cat person.

I mean it. I don't understand them. They're snobby and expect to be served and hide from people and I just can't read them and their litter boxes smell awful. They look all cute and then they'll swing around and nab ya. (I know: I've had the rabies series to prove it.) I love dogs. I get dogs. I get along very well with dogs.

But this kitty... It was like almost 11pm! I was just headed to the convenience store to buy tortilla chips for Hubby. Isn't it just like God to give us divine messages in the most mundane things?? (My last experience like that was while deep-scrubbing the bathroom. In God's defense - not that He needs it - it was a task that required much prayer and praise music.)

It was a pretty little white and orange kitty. Often when we exit our house late at night, we'll hear rustling in the leaves over by the trees, and we wait a second to make sure that the skunk/possum/giant squirrel has a chance to move on before we freak it half to death and turn it evil. But as I heard the rustling this time and paused, I glanced over and saw a lighter colored figure, and then the glow of two little cat's eyes. So I did what I, not a cat person, always does when running into a cat unexpectedly.

I said, "oh, hi, kitty!" and mowwwed at it. (For not being a cat person, I do a pretty good "moww.")

And this kitty came over to me, and looked at me, and stood with me, and I scratched the kitty, and it's hesitancy lasted about 3 and a half seconds, and then it purrrrrrred at me, and wagged incessantly at me, and arched at me as I scratched its back, and it followed me to my car.

I told it that it would make the doggies yell. I told it I had a dog and it wouldn't work out. I told it we couldn't be together, even though I was 5% worried (hoping?) it might try to get in my car with me. It almost seemed like it wanted to play (where, admittedly, my rabies vaccine experience kicks in and I decide I shouldn't find out; I don't really know how to initiate play with cats, or where their too-far point is).

But as I drove to the convenience store and back, I revisited the idea with God about who I'd love to be, and began to investigate the idea to see if it's someone that might look like me.

And I decided it didn't. Not now, at least. But the now is practice. I have a bunch of kids, one of which is a psycho teenage daughter. That's got to be training for something.

So I decided this new woman would look something like this:

She would lose all her icky body weight so she can easily move around her several-acre plot of land, but she would still be soft enough to give good hugs. She would be the keeper of the Orphan House - her home, where any animal or baby or child in need of love and a warm bed would find its rest. She would own a good comfy pair of cowgirl boots and a good pair of tall rainboots. She would read her Bible like it's her very breath. She would hang Bible verses around her house to remind her and those around her from whence their strength comes. She would gather her passle of girls on her bed and they'd read (and watch) Jane Austen and Anne Shirley and learn about beauty and chivalry and romance, and she'd work outside with her passle of boys, fixing trim and building lean-tos for said creatures who ambled through their lives. She'd homeschool so that she could be around to be needed, and people would show up on her doorstep - a long front porch attached to a rambling farmhouse - and say "got room for one more?" and she'd never have to say no.

I'm praying for that woman. I hope to meet her someday.

what i do all day

This morning I was talking with hubby about groceries. "I will probably end up running to Walmart today if you need anything." "Why?" "Well, we're almost out of bread...we're just about out of snacks...you need deodorant..." (This last item was something he actually requested a few days ago, not a commentary on my part.)

We have recently gone from weekly pay to twice-a-month pay. Talk about nuts. It's crazy how long it's taken to get back on our feet from switching our schedule. In that process, we're also trying to go grocery shopping less. We have a BJ's membership but never use it, but are planning to now, so that we can make fewer trips. That means buying more at once (obviously), but that also comes with deeper planning.

So we sat and talked about snack foods, and how many granola bars per day we would need, etc.

My husband BUILDS LISTS at work. My husband does LEAD GENERATION. These are big words and big ideas. He throws around terms and abbreviations that I have no idea what they mean. (I also don't ask. I'm grateful I've learned how to take the context.)

Meanwhile, I throw around terms like "12-count box" and "non-fat milk powder." (This last one scared hubby, but I told him it's for the bread machine. Then he was okay. But it came with a stern warning.)

I started trying to explain to him how I feel sometimes when I have to go over this stuff with him. Not all the time, but if I'm in a particularly vulnerable mood, or if I'm quiet enough to hear my undercurrent of thoughts while talking, I can admit that I feel inferior at these times. He has stress at work, and the things he does there are miles away from any kind of home happenings. And if he needs to not think about home while working, in order to concentrate, so be it. His job is not to do both jobs at once. That's what he has me for. You'd think that would make me feel important. And I do. Still...

Sitting with me and doing the math of "how many granola bars come in a box?" "8...or 12." "Probably should go with the 12." "Yeah, I do" is not, I imagine, how he'd choose to spend his 6AM hour. I told him, I feel like he thinks that kind of conversation is pithy. boring. mundane.

And maybe it is.

But it's still important. I need to know when he won't be home for dinner. I need to know how fast we'll go through a case of toilet paper. I need to know the ratio between when the away soccer game bus says they'll get back to when they will actually get back. I need to make rules like "one granola bar per day." I need to know where the crayons are that will fit in the spiral of my 2yo's handy-dandy notebook. (Can you say crisis?!?!)

And here's a reminder to me, and anyone else who's identifying: these things ARE important.

They are vitally important to the success and smooth running of our households. The conversations might be mundane to our very hard-working hubbies. But that doesn't mean they think them unimportant. It's just not their job. So the pride is ours to take in our work. We're growing little people, after all.

What odd-to-the-world-outside-of-mommihood things do you find yourself in charge of? Is there anything you do during the day that makes you say, "you know...if I wrote a book...this would totally go in it..."?

bless the rains down in africa

My boy is in my head. Again. Still. Always, of late.

A morning of listening to the director of my sponsor-kiddo's orphanage, who was so blessedly able to visit our church this morning with almost no notice.

The kids are good. They're healthy. They're happy. They're learning about Jesus.

The price of food over there in Ethiopia has sky-rocketed, so they have to cut other things from their budget to feed the kids. Things like shoes.

On their New Year, they usually have a big feast, but the kids came to him this year and said they didn't want the feast...they needed shoes. How do you not just write over the remainder of your bank account to them?? And then I got to hear a little more of his story (including how to pronounce his name correctly!), how he got to the orphanage, how he's already advanced to a new grade, and how he has a gift for agriculture. He sometimes cares for the chickens. He knows when and where to plant. [so proud]

I wish he could come teach me.

And he's the most handsome 14/15 year old on two legs. (And, for clarification, that there is his own handprint on his shirt, with MY FAMILY'S names written under it, by M. himself. Heart melting.)

And how I (again...still...) just want to clear out so much junk from my house. I sat there in church with my icey latte, and then sat down to a lovely luncheon supplied by all the sponsor families....and my boy just needs shoes.

Grrrrrr.

I'm off to go pour out my heart to the One Who is with my boy right now, and can let him know I love him...even thought it can take weeks for the letter telling him so myself to reach him.

morning quiet

I got up this morning, tired per usual, but with the ability to get up and function. In the quiet kitchen, I made hubby's breakfast and coffee. I love the wood floors, and the beginnings of less, so I can see what's there, what I need to do, what I have. It even makes the overflowing weekend's worth of dishes easier to think about. And a moment of grace - eldest's glasses...assignment book...soccer papers...water bottle. First thought: well, I'll tell her they're there, but if she doesn't take them, it'll be lesson learned. But if it were my own blood-born? I'd help. I'd gather. So I help. I gather. They're put into a neat pile on the corner of the table for her to see and easily put in her backpack.

Breakfast and coffee made, hubby descends to the first floor. No more self-quiet, but still we-quiet. First-light discussions of finances, lunch, later-in-the-week hobbies. Peacefully. Eldest decends - dripping hair, packback strapped way too loosely, panicking from running late, doesn't have time to move soccer stuff from backpack to soccer bag (doesn't need the soccer papers, she says), but wants to take time for me to scrounge for gum (didn't brush her teeth). If no time for soccer bag, no time for gum. Running late.

A quick ("just the facts, ma'am," the way she wants it) reminder - if you don't want big arguments, it begins in the small everyday willingness and lack of attitudinal answers - and they're out the door. Love you. Have a good day. See you tonight.

And a vacancy in the house. I stand at the front screen door, smelling the cold morning air (my favorite). Bailey comes and stands beside me. "Hi, puppy." I watch the car across the street pull out and drive off. A vacancy in that house. I think about the person in that house cleaning up from making breakfast, putting prep things away, now taking the time to make their coffee, listening to the quiet, cold morning.

Oldest boy comes down, sleepy 5 year old "hi, mommy" snuggles. Finding markers, practicing L's.

And off we go again. God, give me the grace to keep this early morning quiet in my attitude all day, even later when it's very bright and very warm and very loud.