How to Keep From Being Overwhelmed

Today I sit amidst papers everywhere--clipboards, charts, checklists--pencils, books, flashcards all around me, and I feel overwhelmed.


Another term starts in the morning, and I'm not ready, but we will start anyway, because I will never be fully ready.  

I am tired today, and I would rather crawl under covers and hibernate, letting somebody else draw up the plans and clean up the schoolroom and serve up dinner.

And I think back to the lie I spoke the other day, well-meaning, but false nonetheless:  "It will get easier," I said to her.  She, who has two 2 and under, is overwhelmed under the diapers and needs and constant crying and night wakings.  I remember that life, and how unrelenting it was.

So I spoke the words, fully meaning them, but that's because I was zooming down the road, my children all quiet and tucked into seatbelts, nobody needing anything right then.  I forgot.

But it was a lie.

It doesn't get easier.

It gets harder.

In the beginning, you worry about their health and safety and sleep and food.  It's all-consuming, and it takes every fiber of your being to summon the strength to smile at a fussy two-year old when you've only had 3 consecutive hours of sleep for months on end.  Newborns are precious and worth it, but the lack of sleep feels deadly, and you wonder sometimes in that season if it really is worth it all?  You call your mom and ask, Is it possible to actually die from lack of sleep?  And when she says no, you doubt her.

So it stands to reason, when they can bathe themselves and dress themselves and feed themselves, and you no longer have to cover electric outlets and worry about choking hazards, that it would get easier.

That part of it does, surely.

But the rest?  It only gets harder.

Teaching and training and caring for emotional needs, and spiritual needs, and dealing with endless sin--yours and theirs--is relentless.  It drains the spirit so fast that unless you constantly feed it, you'll just dry up.  And sometimes you forget to feed it.

Today I feel dried up.

This is not an easy road, this seamless life of living and loving and learning under one roof.  There is no day off.  School during the week, church on both days of the weekend, and the laundry?  It never takes a day off.  I can choose not to do it, but then I have double the next day.  The dishes?  Always there.  And even if I'm not the one doing them, I'm the one reminding somebody to do them.

It's ceaseless.  And that's the good days.

The bad days--when rebellion stirs, or hearts are hard, or disease sets in--those are the days when we have to wonder how strong He thinks we are, that we can handle it all.  At all.

Those days--

those days are the days to settle in.  To read the words again:  "My yoke is easy and my burden is light."  And again.

"Cast your cares upon Me."

"Be anxious for nothing but pray about everything."

Everything, Lord?  Even when the waves are threatening to overwhelm me?

And then I remember:  "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you."

This relentless, ceaseless calling is a lot of things.  It is hard, and it does not get easier; you'll just trade one set of cares for another.  There is no break for mothers.  But here is one thing it is not:  It is not overwhelming, because He says nothing shall sweep over me.  Nothing will overwhelm me.

This feeling of being overwhelmed I have?  The one that makes me want to rest my head down on the desk and sigh, the feeling that this is too hard and too involved and too much?  It's just a feeling.

He is true.  My feelings?  They'll lie to me.

It doesn't get easier, yet He says His load is easy.  I have to put down my load to pick up His.


So I carry on.  We still start another term tomorrow, and I'm no closer to being ready than I was before.  But somehow, knowing that it will not sweep over me, that questions and concerns and worries and fears will not triumph over me, that inexplicably changes everything.

And once again I marvel that He chose me for this job, to raise these children.  I know that I can step in sync with Him, and that He won't allow me to drown under the waves.

Not this time, and not next time.

So I guess then, in light of that, it does get easier.  I should call her back.

And this time, I'd tell her the truth.  His truth.

Green Pastures

"The earth is the Lord's and everything in it." Psalm 24:1

Lord, the beauty that surrounds me feels like springs of water to my spirit.  Thank You for mudboot walks and cupped hands of boll weevils and wide, green pastures.  For hay bales to sit, swollen ponds to poke, and space to think.  You truly are the Giver of all good things.  Today felt like a gift that I know I didn't deserve.  Help me make the rest of this day beautiful to You.

Soul Gardening

A day in the long-neglected garden gave me much to ponder as I stooped, pulling weeds.  Close to the earth, its aroma of dew and sun and  chicken manure, so close to my nose, so many thoughts making their way in my mind and around--and around again:

How this space of green had been left on its own during last summer's drought.  Plants battered by an early June hailstorm, then gnawed on by waves of locusts, and finally scorched by relentless waves of heat, caving in to death.

Not a single fruit for an entire garden, for an entire season.  There wasn't much to hope for, between storms and insects and endless heat.  Nothing to water, really.  What was the point?

I didn't want to see it, but I mirrored that parched garden.  A season of drought had left my spirit dry, parched, barren.  I found myself wanting.

But oh, the weeds, they prospered!  Entire beds of stubborn weeds, knee-high, covered the garden.  A garden of weeds.

Earth obscured beneath weeds and chicken manure,  and the weeds' roots were so deep I had to dig them out with the shovel.  Huge clumps of thriving weeds.

And I couldn't get the image of weeds as habits, weeds as sin, out of my mind.  It's so easy to pull out a single weed, a single habit.  Roots are shallow, not much damage done.

But when left untended, my soul's garden grows only an oxymoron:

Fruit shrivels, weeds thrive.

And when better to water a garden than during a dry spell?  When better to nurture weak plants than during the storm?

"Watch over your heart with all diligence, for from it flow the springs of life."  Proverbs 4:23

There's that saying, that nobody is at a standstill.  If you're not moving forward, you're sliding backward.  And you don't even know it.

It's like driving next to a semi, and you can't tell if it's going forward, or you're going backward, and if you watch it too long without looking straight down the road, you lose all perspective.

It's heart-stopping how easy it is to lose touch with the One who made the earth and the rain and the sun and the seeds.  It's breath-taking how quickly self-reliance sets in, or busyness adds distance, or exhaustion hides the fact that my spirit is a plant, and I need daily, hourly, minute-by-minute caretaking.


If I forget for too long, the fruit dries up and the weeds move in, and I take a step back and see only a garden of weeds.

So I pulled.  Hour after hour, and clump after clump came out.  Beds slowly took shape again, and although we had to do it by flashlight and frog-song, we planted that garden, and the roots are already digging in.

I watered it again today, imagining red, ripe tomatoes and fat orange pumpkins and spicy pink radishes.  I already see the baskets of beans and peppers and onions, and I smell the basil and oregano and dill.  I smell hope.

If I weed it.  And if I water it, and brave locusts and mid-summer heat.  If I remember to go out every morning and check the newly-rising plants, and give our garden the attention it will need.  Apathy can't set in, or I will find myself next spring pulling out clumps of weeds and regretting another season of neglect.

It can't be a coincidence that man's first job was taking care of a garden.  God is gracious to remind us that we are as tender as plants, and that we need time with the Gardener, or we will dry out and shrivel up.

Lord, it's all too easy for my life to be consumed with homeschooling these children and washing their mountains of laundry and picking up the same messes everyday.  The unending work of loving and taking care of this family clouds my vision, and I see you as a part of my life.  Time in the garden reminded me You are my Life.  I dry up without You.  Water my spirit, Lord, and help me remember that time with You isn't part of my to-do list, it's the very water I drink and food I eat.  Help me drink deep today.

Images of a Seamless Life ...

Building towns and driving cars,

Camping in the back pasture,

Creating our own "I Spy" pictures and poems on a rainy afternoon,

Playing Legos with Daddy,

Hanging out in a nightgown, mid-day,

Smiling just because it's sunny and the grass is green.

Yes.

Lord, You are good and You are the Source of all good things.  Thank You for the many ways You seamlessly weave our lives together in this place.  Thank You for allowing me to be the steward of it all.  

Living Seamless

Vacuuming out the car again today, sucking up endless debris--bread crumbs-apple cores-lost Legos-stray milk tops-straw wrappers--wondering how it gets so dirty, so quickly.

Every week, in and out, I clean out the car, always throwing away the same things, and carting in the same things to the house.  Books, baby dolls, jackets, Legos, always Legos.  And every week I wonder: how do we go from so clean to so dirty in less than seven days, spending a few mere hours in the car?

And I thought, as the vacuum sucked up leftovers from our week, that I do the same thing:

I formulate new plans, new lists, new ideas, new ways of gaining control over this household of people and messes and laundry and meals and animals and life,


and every week, somewhere nearly half-way through, I feel the same waves rising up.  Overwhelmed, messes on every side, Didn't I just clean that room?  And it feels hopeless to even try to get it under control, except if I don't, nobody will, and we'll just slide further toward mayhem.

Somebody has to be the Mama.  Somebody has to wash the clothes and teach the children and plan the meals and hand out chores and the training and somebody has to pray over it all!

And I feel like it's rising up to my neck again, and I know a new little one is coming, and that school only gets harder each year, and is this one going to learn to read, and will that one ever be able to spell, and will anybody want to read their Bibles without me making them?   Or maybe even pick up their dirty socks?

The doubts rise up, and my confidence falls.


And I want to quit, but I can't, because I'm the Mama.  There is no back-up plan.  I am the back-up plan!

I realized, while pushing the vacuum attachment around the crevices of the cupholders, that I will be cleaning out this car for the rest of my Mama-years.  And that even if I write new rules and outlaw snacks and drill-sergeant the kids about taking their belongings into the house, it's going to get dirty again.


It's only reasonable, after all:  I have to take a shower more than once a week.  All the perfume in the world won't make up for lack of hygiene.

Our life is seamless.  We live here.  We learn here.  We are several, and we live a messy life, and no amount of rules will keep the floors clean or the laundry in hampers or the school lessons confined to 9-3.

And more important than a clean car, I have to be made clean routinely.  I have to go to Him and bow low, acknowledging what we both already know:  I don't have it under control.

I don't need to have it under control.

He has it under control.  I'm the manager, not the owner, and the ultimate responsibility doesn't rest on my shoulders.  He's not calling me to perfection; He's calling me to willingness.  He's calling me to come to Him, to rely on Him, to remember that they are His.  It's all His.

The doubts fall, and my trust in Him rises.

And for tonight, my car is clean.

But I am weak, and forgetful, and if I don't run to Him more often than I need a shower and the car needs vacuuming, I will fall under the surge again.

Lord, tonight I'm surveying messes on all sides, despite so much work today.  Give me Your eyes.  Let me see what You see, and lean on Your everlasting arms when I'm blind. And over it all, remind me to be thankful for this seamless life.  

How to Be Alone

Once, when my husband was in Australia for two weeks, I drove home from dinner late at night with the kids to find my way to the front door blocked by an enormous snake eating an enormous toad.  There was a bloody-death scene at the door, blood smeared across the front walk, and the snake just wouldn't move.  I don't think it could, actually, so stuffed with the toad as it was, but eventually my hysterical screaming and Caiden somehow appearing with a rusty machete (We have a machete?) convinced the snake to move.  It slithered around the side of the house, toad still hanging half out of its mouth, and I tiptoed around gore to get in the house, a little shaken.  The violence of it was stunning.

This time he was in Oklahoma, and I had to let him know that Shadow, his beloved lab, found a chicken and played with it, and Caiden had to wrestle his dead chick from the dog's mouth.  It's one thing to have a hawk hunt the chickens and eat them as a course of nature; it's another to have your pet needlessly kill your other pet.  That's a hard pill for a little boy to swallow.  My husband felt bad, and I did the right thing:  instead of cursing the dog, I reminded Caiden that dogs have instinct, that if a hamster ended up in the chickens' coop, they'd eat it in a heartbeat, too.  It's nothing personal; it's the way animals are.  It ended all right, with only a few tears, and an understanding boy.

But the next day, when we drove up after running errands, and Shadow was running around the yard with yet another dead chick in his jaws, feathers spread across the lawn, it felt like too much.  The boy had to dispose of another body, I had to remind him of wretched instinct again, and the silly lab chased him with a toy in his mouth, wanting to play.  Caiden's thin shoulders sagged, and he shook his head.  Tears spilled out of both of us, and I just wanted my husband home, to help him bury the chick and hug his boy and make it all right.

Instead I made comfort food for dinner, with chocolate chip cookies afterward, and let the kids play hide-and-seek in the darkened house.  But by bedtime, my nerves felt stretched and I felt thin-boned and thin-skinned and sad.  I'm not good at being alone, without his help and encouragement and presence, and I think to friends who are shouldering their homes and their children and their lives alone, everyday.

I feel stretched after a few days; I can only imagine a few months, years, forever.  I admire them.  I don't want to be them.  I am terrified of ever being them.

Nothing reminds me more of my frame--it is but dust--than days alone, surrounded by children, and mess, and noise, and clamor, with my most beloved one far away.  I become quick to snap, quick to tire, ready for bedtime early, for a respite, only to lie in bed sleepless.  But it is on those days when I am reminded most that He is here to lighten my burdens, to shoulder them with me, that I am not alone.  I am never alone.

And I lay down the burdens, leave my tender ones in His care, and sigh as I slip into worn-thin pages. "Cast your cares upon me."  "My yoke is easy and my burden is light."  "In peace I will lie down and sleep, for You, Lord, alone make me dwell in safety and confident trust."  He is right.

And I sleep.

Unrelated Thoughts

Just like these completely unrelated pictures, I'm writing out my unrelated thoughts, so I don't forget them.  At this point, if I write them down on paper, I will misplace them, but the computer is large enough there's hope if I store them here.

And so:

 I think perhaps I've posted this photo recently, but I love it so much.  Caiden's bedhead (Oh, the glories of learning at home!), Addie's lips pursed, reading, and the little marker-covered hand because she's currently into personal works of art.  So many things to love.

 Scout is a lot like Winn-Dixie, if you're read the book (We finished it today, and as Caiden said, I cried the last ten full minutes as I read.  It was such a fun book, and I think I'm going to have to read it again, just because I love India Opal and her dog so much.).  Anyway, Scout has a "pathological fear" of thunderstorms, and you just can't convince him he doesn't fit under--or behind--my bathtub during a storm.  Bless him.  At least he's not still trying to climb into my front-loader washing machine.  He did that three times, and I had to replace the rubber gasket all three times.

 Addie is a true girl.  If you have boys, you know what I mean:  boys do not sit and color for long stretches of time.  I mean, some might, but not generally, unless the coloring accompanies drawings of aliens or battleships or pirates or cowboys and Indians.  Addie, on the other hand, will stand at the marker board for literal hours and draw.  Lately it's mermaids.  Sad and happy mermaids, evidently.  Notice the three with blacked-out bellies.  She decided Mermaid on the left was a little inappropriate, I guess.  Bless her.

 If you can't tell what this is, that's understandable.  Obie, our little happy Persian, is stretched out on his back.  That semi-round but sort of flat thing at the top is his head, and his little arms--I mean, front legs--are curved into a sort of heart up by his neck.  It was the weirdest thing ever, and he lay like that for a long time one morning.  We'd walk by and scratch his belly, and he never moved.  He's the nicest cat, ever.  He's like part-dog, part-cat, having the best characteristics of both.  We might need to get him stuffed when he dies, Caiden loves him so much.  Bless him, too. (If you're not familiar with the South, we say "bless him" whenever we just don't know what else to say.  It covers a lot of ground.)

 Grayson, in his typical out-of-the-box--actually, it's more like, "There's a box?  Where?  I didn't notice."--fashion, read in a Childcraft book how to plan a party, so he did.  He invited some friends, sweetly asked me if we could have a party for no occasion, and planned all the details, including favors and decor and activities.  We invited two friends who are also homeschooled, to come over one Friday afternoon, and all four boys spent the entire day playing Legos, eating massive amounts of food, sword fighting, chasing guineas, ziplining, and building forts in their bedroom.  We invited Addie's best friend, who's the sister of one of Grayson's guests, so for an entire day I had six kids, and it was very sobering.  But it made four seem like a piece of cake, so that's good, right?

 Ruth Bell Graham's gravesite.  We visited the Billy Graham Library in Charlotte, did the entire 1 1/2 hour tour, and then I cried at her gravesite, while my husband pretended that was normal.  But really, it was so sweet and so touching.  And the landscaping was phenomenal.

And then there's my landscaping.  A little less preened than Ruth's, no?  Actually, this is the grass in my garden, which I later mowed.  But underneath that red bench is a guinea, practicing laying eggs.  We left the nest, hoping to find some eggs once she really starts laying.  I'd love to see a guinea egg; they're usually hard to find because guineas are totally spastic creatures, and there's no chance they'll lay in the nest boxes like normal birds.  But maybe she won't know we're onto her.

Other unrelated thoughts:  Sarah Clarkson is studying in Oxford right now, and she wrote about what learning is like there in this post.  It was so interesting to me, as one who earned an English degree here in the States, in a totally different approach.  I would've loved to have her experience instead, but just reading about it inspired me as a homeschool mom.  So good.

And did you hear that the Pioneer Woman has a new cookbook coming out?  I'm excited about that, although cooking and I haven't been friends since early February.  I'm hoping by the time I have the book, my stomach has made friends with my nose, and I can cook real food again.  The kids haven't gotten tired of shells and cheese or PB sandwiches yet, but they can only hold out so long.  (Note:  the cookbook comes out next week, but if you order it now on Amazon, you'll get it cheaper than if you wait.  Pre-orders are always cheaper, I just found out.)

And that's about it.  I'm still plugging along, gagging my way through the day, but thankful for a strong, healthy bean-sized baby.  The kids have all decided the baby is a girl ("Because why on earth would God give us a boy if we've prayed for years for a girl?" says Caiden.  He tells me to go out on a limb of faith, so I'm just calling the baby a girl, too.  If I find out otherwise, we'll deal with that then.). And they've adopted her as their own, personal baby, calling her "Our Baby."  I'm pretty sure this child is going to have five parents, and that she's never going to be allowed to date.  Or fall over.  Or cry.  That actually sounds nice.

And that really is it.  Thank you for reading this entirely-odd-and-random post, if you made it this far.  Bless you, too!

Catching Up

Actually, I'm never going to be caught up.  That's what I just decided.  It's just not possible.  Not in this house, with three kids who live here and stay here for school and play in the barn and then walk in with chicken straw on their feet.  Not in this house, with books overflowing and laundry overflowing and errands overflowing and passions overflowing.  It's just not going to happen.

But my hope, now that my meds have kicked in and I'm feeling more like myself, is that I can get mostly caught up.  I'd like to prepare a full meal this week, wash everybody's underwear at the very least, and remember to feed the animals daily.  Or, remember to remind the boys to feed the animals daily.  And I think, if I can accomplish that list of bare minimums, I'll feel pretty accomplished, because in the last three weeks, I've gotten almost nothing done.  Morning sickness hit fully on my birthday (not nice) and of course shouldn't be called morning sickness:  it's if-I'm-awake-I-feel-carsick sickness, and I sort of dragged myself around for a full two weeks, barely alive.  Thank heavens for kids who know how to make cereal!  (As a side note, my best friend Bridget has always said it's not fair I was given three good sleepers who also never threw a single tantrum between them--and I said it's not fair she's had four pregnancies without a single minute of morning sickness, and that I think God has a way of making things even.)

The sun is shining bright in Texas.  Trees are in full bloom, and yesterday I found this little friend hanging out on our front drive fence:

How cool is that!  I've seen a lot of fun creatures here on our land in the last four years, but the owls remain my favorite.  It's mating season now, and they call to each other all day long, and I love them.  So it made me so happy to get in the car and see him (her?) on our fence.  We watched each other for a long time, before he finally turned his head around and flew across the road.  I told my husband he was so cute and round that I was tempted to try to hug him.

I actually have things to write about, like our trip to Charlotte (so fun!) and my thoughts for how to spend our summer (part-time summer school, Kid Day, schoolroom relocation).  But for now, I have to wake up all my sleeping boys and get them in the car so we can drive to Babe's to have a birthday dinner with most of my family.  Caiden and I have been dreaming of the all-you-can-eat mashed potatoes for a week now, and I don't want to be late!

I hope you're having a lovely Sunday--thank you again for all your sweet congratulations on our coming addition, especially those of you who read but don't comment.  (You can do that guilt-free:  I almost never comment on my favorite blogs, either.  I don't mind.  Thanks for reading!)

See you tomorrow, or something like that :)

Thank You

Thank you for all of your sweet congratulations on our baby news! I was touched to see how excited you all were for us, and although I'm actually on a little quick getaway with my husband in beautiful Charlotte, I didn't want to forget to say thank you. I appreciate each of you for reading and taking the time to comment. Have a lovely Monday, and I'll be back once I'm home and unpacked!

Coming Soon(ish)!

I wish I had a really clever way to announce this, but I'm not coming up with anything other than to flat-out say, we're having a baby!

It still feels surreal, but we are actually, really, truly going to have another child.  After a nearly six-year hiatus, it feels like I'm pregnant for the first time again.  Except this time I'm a lot older :)

We don't have a single baby item--not clothing, furniture, toys, or anything!  But all these years I've always said we had an empty chair at the table that needed filled, and now we're going to fill it!  It's going to take a lot of work:  the Happy Room, our schoolroom, will become the boys' room, and the boys' room will be the baby's room, and the location of the new schoolroom is yet to be determined, although I do have a brilliant plan in the making that I'm still working on.  Come summertime, we'll be shuffling all the rooms and figuring it all out, and begging/borrowing all the necessary baby stuff from friends and family who've recently had babies.  By the fourth baby, you see that all the extra stuff just takes up space, and that there's not a whole lot you need.  It's the dark secret Babies 'R Us doesn't want you to know :)

For now, I'm sick as a dog.  This is the sickest I've ever been, and that's saying something, because I've always been really sick.  This time around, even the medicine I take isn't wiping out the nausea, and there are definitely moments when I wonder what on earth we've done . . . But the thought that we are really going to have another child--possibly a sister for Addie?--makes all the room-shuffling, item-borrowing, and nausea-feeling inconsequential.

I still can't believe it!

(This picture has nothing to do with this post, but I love Carl Larsson, and this camping scene is so fun.  It reminds me of growing up and camping with my family.)

I feel like my posts lately have been very disorganised and rambly--yes, I know disorganised is only spelled with an "s" in England, but the letter it's supposed to have isn't showing up on my computer for some reason.  Cra_y, huh?  (And inconvenient.  You don't know how often that letter is used until you can't use it!)

Back to rambling, see what I mean?  I used to write nice transitions with good flow, but my brain is so scattered nowadays that I can't seem to find any flow.  Case in point:  today's to do list had only very simple things, like school lessons, laundry, groceries.  If you count playing board games as school, I can say I checked off one measly thing.  But only barely.  I don't have a good reason; I'm just very unmotivated toward productivity lately.  This isn't good, but I'm moving like molasses and can't seem to speed up.  If you know me personally, you know this is odd and out of character, and I'm hoping I get a good burst of energy soon.  Until then, my writing is as disjointed as I am.

The point of this post--really, there is one!--is to answer some questions you've left me in the comments recently.  I've had two different people ask about where I find our book lists for each grade of school.  I use Lindafay's suggestions found in her free curriculum.  They are generally the same as Ambleside's, except that American history is studied before British history.  And I make one notable change--Lindafay has first grade begin "This Country of Ours," but I start it in the second half of second grade and just do more each week to finish by the end of third grade.  I'll probably start it in third for Grayson, so that Addie, who will be in second, can do it at the same time.  Two birds with one stone.  Caiden is in fourth grade, so this is our fifth year of a Charlotte Mason/Wholeheart education, and it works really well for us. It takes a lot of prep work, and I usually start making book lists and ordering books from Ama_on (pesky keyboard!) in early April, so that I'm ready.  This year I'm reading all of Caiden's books, so I'm starting a little earlier.  But for a book lover, that's not a chore!  I love "having" to buy books!

Another question, a frequent one, is for book suggestions.  I use several books for ideas for our own family:  Sarah Clarkson's "Read for the Heart" is my favorite, and "Honey for a Child's Heart," "Who Then Shall We Read," and "Books Children Love."  If a book is new, I read it before I let any of my kids read it, but generally very old books are pretty safe reading.  (Another benefit of old books is that they're usually free online or on my Kindle.)  Caiden loves G.A. Henty historical novels, as well as the entire "Redwall" series, which he has read multiple times.  Actually, Caiden loves any book I give him.  His favorite, beside "The Chronicles of Narnia," is historical fiction.  Sonlight has a good selection of books for each grade that I use as free reading for Caiden.  This year he read tons of books on both World Wars; here are some of them:

• Swift Rivers
• The Winged Watchman
• The Endless Steppe
• Snow Treasure
• Escape from Warsaw
• When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit
• Enemy Brothers

I buy most of our books from Ama_on with its Prime free shipping, and I am thankful for several sets of built-in bookshelves in our house!  Another series we just discovered is "The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place."  I read the first two before handing them over, but they are very funny and very clean.  I always love finding a new series for the kids!  These are pretty short and easy reads; that's my problem with Caiden.  He reads so well and so fast that he needs difficult reading or else he finishes way too quickly.  Henty's books are great for that--they are meaty and full of harder vocabulary, so he can't race through them.  Edith Nesbit also has great stories, like "The Railway Children" and several lesser known ones.  I think Caiden has read all of her books in print, and he says they're all fantastic.  He also loves Eli_abeth Enright, Jean Craighead George, and Eleanor Estes.  "Viking Tales" was another early favorite, and it's the book that got him really hooked on reading back in the first or second grade.  Honestly, he has read pretty much every book and author that he can read at 10 years old.  His reading level is college, but of course he can't read books meant for college students, so he often re-reads old favorites.  I print out our book lists several years in advance so that I know what not to let him read ahead of time.  Otherwise, we will very truly run out of books for him to read!  A wonderful problem, I know.

Right now I'm reading "Around the World in Eighty Days," for the first time.  He'll be reading it in fifth grade, so it's the first on my list.  I love Jules Verne but had never read it, and somehow thought it was about traveling the entire world over in a hot air balloon.  So far Phileas Fogg is more than halfway around, and no balloon to be seen.  It's quite different than I expected, and the vocabulary is ama_ing--words I've never even heard of, and I was an English major!  This should be a fun book to discuss with Caiden next fall.

So that's what's going on of a bookish nature at our house.  I hope that answers some questions, and as always, I'd love any great book suggestions you have, too!

Pardon My Progress

I'm not sure this is actually progress, but I'm changing up my blog's look, and it may look odd the next day or so as I figure it out.  Just in case you're wondering!

This morning I am, as I told my husband, getting my life together. He asked what, exactly, that entails, and I explained that it starts with making lots of lists. A list immediately makes me feel like things are getting together. (The hard part, we all know, is actually doing what's on the list.)  And he nicely asked what things in my life aren't together, which I thought very generous, since he had to ask for clean underwear this week.

So I'm upstairs, in the newly-tidied Happy Room, writing plans for meals, our overall schedule, what I want to accomplish in school lessons, and what extras need to be fit in, somehow.  I have water with a straw (my favorite), Andrew Peterson singing, and lots of looseleaf paper.  It really doesn't take much to make me happy!  Actually, it just being a sunny Saturday makes me happy, so everything else is a bonus.

I started reading "Around the World in Eighty Days" last night.  It's on Caiden's 5th grade reading plan, and while I love Jules Verne, I've never read this one. My goal is to read all the books on his list, even the ones I'd read years ago (Island of the Blue Dolphins, yay!) and take notes on what I want to remember to discuss with him when he reads them in the fall.   The list is immense, and I have no idea how I'm going to read them all and still do the laundry and feed my family!  But it's a goal I'm excited about reaching.

In non-school related reading, I finished "Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet" yesterday, about a friendship between a Chinese boy and Japanese girl in Seattle during WWII.  I love historical fiction--it helps fill in gaps I have from having had history teachers who were football coaches first and teachers second (We actually watched deer hunting videos in class when my freshman history teacher, the varsity head coach, was out.  That's what he planned for his sub!!  Good grief, it's no wonder I don't know anything about history!)  Anyway, the book is a really sweet read.

I keep waking up in the middle of the night and am currently occupying myself by redecorating our little guest house in my mind.  It works wonders for falling back asleep, and I think I've come up with a great plan. I have to convince my husband to move my treadmill to the back porch, and give away both the old big screen TV and our little loveseat so I can move in different furniture, but I think if I can cast enough vision, he'll agree.  We've never decorated the space at all, and in my mind it's going to look really pretty and welcoming when it's done!  Decorating the guest house is all part of a bigger plan, but I'm not ready to reveal all that just yet.  More thinking and planning first . . .

Texas is proving to be her typical warm, sunny self this winter, and my beds are filled with blooming daffodils.  Whoever planted them years ago loved them, and they are planted abundantly along our entire driveway bed, which goes for about 100 feet.  They're so cheery and beautiful in the winter, and they make me want to get out there and weed!  (You know you live in Texas when the weeds grow in the winter!)  Somehow, I'm going to fit in weeding this weekend.  I know that sounds ironic--weekends are supposed to be relaxed and slow.  But I'm married to a pastor, and our church has services both Saturday evening and Sunday, so my weekends are full!  Caiden is in winter basketball, with a few more weeks to go, and his games are on Saturday, too.  So it's hard to add extra things to an already-full weekend.)

Here are a few random pictures of what we've been doing this winter:

Climbing trees,

reading, reading, reading, (Where are Grayson's covers?  Probably in a fort somewhere.)

learning and building and creating and playing together,

teaching our kindergartener to read!

and, insanely, starting a quilt.

I saw this quilt and loved the vintage, scrappy look of it.  That's my favorite kind of quilt--one that looks like Grandma made it out of her old dresses and housecoats, with no planned color scheme.  It's hand-appliqued and paper pieced, so each of those squares is hand-sewn before being machine pieced together.  It's going to take 252 of those little squares, which felt impossible when I started.  But I just work on sewing them at night when Chris and I watch TV together, and I already have two of the nine rows finished.  I already love it.  If you look, you'll see the four-piece blocks form a circle, but when the blocks are set next to each other, they also form Xs, see?  So Grayson and I decided to call it the Love Quilt, since it's made up of Xs and Os!  It's insane to think of making a hand-sewn quilt right now, when I'm having a hard time keeping up with the laundry, but making beautiful things keeps my soul happy.

So that's what's going on around here lately.  Reading, playing, learning, going, doing, making.  My favorite things!  Now back to making lists . . .

Somehow, impossibly, it's already February.  I am still stuck in the post-Christmas haze, not quite able to find my pre-holiday productivity.  (To be honest, the tree and house lights didn't come down until January 26th, which says two things:  we were those people this year, and now you see why I'm still feeling post-Christmas.)  I don't actually know why the tree was up that long, except that it was.  I consider it making up for all the other years where it was down before New Year's.

I'm typing up in our homeschool room, dubbed "The Happy Room," and it sure looks happy tonight.  Addie's scissors fetish has resulted in nine million tiny scraps of paper all over the floor, along with stickers (another fetish), staplers, markers, pencils, and mirrors.  Not sure how the mirrors play into crafts, though.  No, wait, I do:  this room mirrors the state of things here lately.  My meal planning has tanked, along with my great intentions to work on our 2012 taxes each month, instead of all the night before the yearly tax appointment.  The good news is that I'm only one month behind.  The bad news is that I'll probably be two months behind in a few weeks.

I keep cleaning out the minivan, and it keeps looking like a bomb made up of shoes and water bottles and Legos has exploded in it.  The pets keep showing up with empty food bowls, and my library keeps emailing me that the books are overdue.  I'm not running on very many cylinders lately, clearly, except that I'm not just lying around watching three-hour marathons of "Anne of Green Gables."  (Except for Saturday.  I did, and it was awesome.)  I'm actually working like crazy to get caught up, but I'm somehow falling behind more every day.  Laundry piles up.  The dishwasher is always full.  The milk keeps running low.  And bedtime comes every night, and I fall into my bed and burrow under my covers and wish one more time that I had trouble falling asleep, so I could at least enjoy lying in my bed for more than 10 seconds before I've woken up and it's the next morning.  I'm pretty sure I haven't had trouble falling asleep in, well, never.  It's a good problem, but I think it also means I've been tired a really long time.

We went to the lake to see my parents this week, and I casually picked up a binder off the coffee table.  It's new this visit, and had a picture of Caiden wearing gloves I'd knit him, twirling in the snow, so of course I was curious.  Inside were our family Christmas letters, dating back to 1985 when I was 9, and the letters were typed on actual typewriters.  Most years' letters were there, and almost every one made me laugh.  My mom is a pro at writing a Christmas letter you'd actually like to receive--no brag letters:  none of us were geniuses, we didn't go on expensive vacations, and our life was nice and regular.  Instead were honest, funny, down-to-earth descriptions of our family that year, mailed to friends and family we'd left behind over our many moves.  My favorite one is the first letter, where my mom actually wrote these words:  "... and Danny is still quite the experience."  Danny is my little brother, and he was a tornado when he was two, and it made me insanely happy as the older sister to read those words.  I can't believe Mom actually included that in our Christmas letter, but I'm so glad she did.

Flipping through page after page, I re-read our family's history.  I started out 9, then all of a sudden was in high school, then a newlywed, then bringing home babies.  The signatures on the letters started out with all five of us and have whittled down to just two now, Mom and Dad.  It's a little surreal to see us kids grow up so fast, in a couple decades' worth of letters, and then explode our original family size with spouses and children of our own.  What started out as five has tripled, and family gatherings are really loud.  Shoot, it's really loud just when my three kids and I show up at my parents' house!  (Ask my dad; he's still recovering tonight.)

All of this Christmas card nostalgia has a point, though.  I remember those years growing up.  Three kids, multiple pets, a busy dad, a mom who juggled all of us.  We had such a fun childhood, ate meals together around the table, traveled in a minivan cross-country together so many times.  I'm sure there were messes, unplanned "breakfast for dinner because I forgot to plan dinner" nights, irritating pets, projects that never got finished.  But I don't remember any of that.  And not just because I wasn't the mom and wasn't responsible for all of us.  I don't remember any of it because that's the stuff that just doesn't matter in the long run.  Those details never made it into the Christmas letter because laundry and meals and messes are part of life with family, but they're not the important parts.  The important parts are the four people I live with.  If the Happy Room is a wreck, they don't really care.  If they don't have clean underwear, they don't really care.  (Especially the boys.)  And they love pancakes for breakfast.

What they do care about is having a fun, full, ordinary, exciting life in this house with the four people each of them loves the best.  That's what matters.  That's what makes it into the Christmas letter.  And that's why, when I crash into bed yet again tonight, I'll have made sure I tucked each one in with a smile, and the mess on the Happy Room floor can wait another day.

And I'm already drafting my first annual Christmas letter.

Swirling Thoughts

I have so many thoughts swirling around my head right now.  I've been reading like crazy, something I always seem to do the first of the year, and reading books for me is like drinking water:  the more I do, the more I want!  Today after lessons we piled into the van and headed to the library, where we spent over 2 hours exclaiming over finds like true bibliophiles.  The children's librarian just grinned at us; we probably are a children's librarian's dream!  Caiden and I love books better than any other thing, and Grayson and Addie are fast becoming the same way.

So I've been thinking about books so much; how I need to read all of Caiden's books for 5th grade, and I better start now because there are nearly 60 (!), not to mention all the books I want to read.  Like "Anne of Green Gables," which somehow came home with me although I really don't have time to read it.  But I miss Anne Shirley, you know?  If you love books, you'll know.

Sometimes I wish I were 5 again, a brand new student, except this time my mother would've homeschooled me (She told me she wishes she had.), and I'd have all the time Caiden does to read.  I think possibly I'd be at a point now where I wouldn't feel like there are more books I want to read than I'll live long enough to read.  Except probably I still would, if my water analogy holds true.

I paid Grayson $100 to read 100 books this school year.  He was a little reluctant at the start.  Thirty pages of a novel or a regular picture book counted towards one book, and he finished this weekend.  Somewhere around #50, he fell entirely in love with reading, and now he has his nose in one nearly as often as his brother.  He is now reading 200 page books in a couple days, absolutely devouring them.  That $100 was a very good investment.

Then Caiden pointed out that he didn't get that same incentive when he started reading (The true downside of being the first-born is mother's lack of wisdom the first time around!), so I told him he could do the same for a one-time payment.   (If I paid him $1 for every book he reads, I'd be flat broke in a month's time.)  He wrote down 100 books he's read this school year--books like "The Yearling," and historical novels from G.A. Henty, not light or easy reads, for sure--and in five minutes' time he'd earned his $100.  It has been an expensive few days, but there's nothing I'd rather spend money on than books or helping people discover a love of reading.  Now that we've started the tradition, Addie will be up for her 100 books challenge next school year.  Right now she's still at "Go Dog Go," so I'm pretty safe with the wallet for a while.

The problem with books, if there is one, is that I want to be just like the hero or heroine of every one I read.  (Except David Copperfield.  I definitely didn't want to be him.  Or Jonathan Strange.  And certainly not Mr. Norrell.)  Luckily, I'm reading Sally Clarkson's "Ministry of Motherhood" again right now, and wanting to be more like Sally is a decidedly good thing.  She inspires me on so many levels.  I'm praying one day she and I become real-life friends.  (Don't laugh.  I fervently prayed that about Lisa Whelchel, and God answered, and we are!  Crazy, huh?  So I'm holding out hope.)

So now this has muddied down into rambling, but that's very much how my brain is lately.  So many good ideas, so many fun things I want to do (Like the Fred books for math--there are three new ones for younger kids, and they are adorable!  Why on earth didn't I get to do those instead of Saxon Math? I'd probably understand math now, if I had.)  And I'm making a quilt I saw on a blog and just jumped into starting, without fully realizing that there are 252 hand-appliqued squares that comprise the blocks.  Right now my goal is to get it done before Jesus comes back.  And I guess if I don't, it doesn't matter, since I can't take it with me.  But in the meantime, it's coming out really sweet, and I already love it.  But really, who on earth has time to hand-applique a quilt?  And don't get me started on Giada Di Laurentiis' cookbook I bought and am cooking through.  It's all amazingly delicious, and I can't fathom how she is so skinny, when she cooks like that!

Rambling again.  But my mom will understand, because I get these genes from her.  Love of books, love of ideas, too many things I want to do and be.  But oh, it makes me so happy!  And now I need to close and go make dinner, because tacos make everybody else around here happy, too.

Thanks for reading, friends.

Tray Time

It's a sunny, freezing Sunday morning.  I'm home in robe, badly needing a shower, but content to lounge around with coffee and assorted books and notebooks for now.  Yesterday morning Grayson came to tell me something, and when I noticed a creepy rash on his neck, I whisked him to urgent care to have it looked at.  Diagnosis: impetigo.  Super contagious, very nasty.  Since he was banned from being with other children for a few days, my other two went to church with Daddy last night, and he and I had a date.

I borrowed an idea of Sally Clarkson's, to have a one-on-one tea time, that I read about in her newest edition of "Educating the Wholehearted Child," my hands-down favorite book on home education.  Our bedroom has a sitting area with an ottoman, and on it I placed an old tole tray, two mugs (his of cocoa, mine of tea), a lit candle, and a small plaque that says "You are My Sunshine."  I brought in "The Child's Story Bible," and turned on Celtic Psalms softly in the background.  His little face completely lit up when I led him into the room!

We talked for a little bit, then I asked him what story he'd like for me to read.  He chose one about Jeremiah, which was perfect for our time--the Bible says God chose Jeremiah before he was even born to be His prophet, and as a very young man, Jeremiah's mouth was touched by God to have His words in it.  It was a great opportunity to talk about Jeremiah being called "great and important," and that it doesn't mean he was wealthy or famous or powerful--our culture's idea of great and important--but that God called him that because he spoke God's words.  And Gray and I talked about how we can speak God's words too, because we have the Bible.  (Ironically, this week's Greek root words was logos, which means "word," and is what Jesus is called in the original language.  I love it when God lines things up like that!)  We pondered how God might use him as he grows up, to make a difference for the kingdom, according to his interests and skills.  He's so creative and out-of-the-box, and I can't wait to see how God uses that in the coming years!

It was a really sweet time.  Gray felt special and soaked up all my attention, and it helped soothe the sting of having to stay home from church the entire weekend.  It gave me some alone time with my middle child, and I loved hearing his little heart just open up!  I think that establishing "tray time" with each of my children in the coming days and years is going to be a wonderful opportunity to be able to pour into their hearts, and also to have them open up to me some of their deepest thoughts and needs.  What a privilege, mothering is!

Stopping In

I've come to terms with the fact that I am not a very good blogger.  In actuality, the only consistent thing about this is how very inconsistent I am.  It's a pretty good picture of my life, however, so I'm not worrying about it.  I tend to do things in spurts or seasons, and when the season has run its course, I do something else for a while before I come back.  Right now I'm in a reading season, and I'm finding myself staying on the treadmill much longer than intended each day because it's the place I can read, uninterrupted, and feel like I'm still doing something at the same time.  At this rate, my reading list for this year is going to be whittled down quickly!  (My waist, too, I hope?)

There's no way I can sum up what's gone on here the last two months very fully, but here are some highlights:

We spent our holidays drawing roads, painting, building Legos, and other assorted crafty things;

made a lot of yummy food (which is why I'm now on the treadmill daily!)

went on dates with the kids--Addie's choice was always Target/Starbucks, smart girl!;

did all the customary shopping, wrapping, giving, and hosting we always do at Christmas;

took a staycation after Christmas to rest up from a whirlwind week of Christmas services;

washed the cat (just kidding!);

visited with family (building Legos at basketball practice with my dad);

and more family (at the library with my mom);

chopped down one of our dead oak trees and split firewood;

took pictures of us that would've turned out cute if we hadn't looked like Smurfs!;

and welcomed my best friend's newest little one, Shepherd, last night!

Now we're trying to get back in the swing of things:  school, cleaning, cooking, etc.  I only undecorated the Christmas tree yesterday--which is ridiculous, I know, but there it is--and somehow still feel like it's Christmas break.  Except that it was 70 degrees here yesterday, and my heart is longing for spring.  It's an odd place to be in, and one that defies much productivity.  But that's okay; winter is for library visits, chicken soup (middle child is down with a stomach bug today); movies, and much snuggling in to read books, draw pictures, build Legos, and play with our crazy cat.

That's all that's going on around here.  Nothing big, nothing exciting, nothing even remotely productive. I love it.
I hope you're having a similarly lovely winter, too!
Until next time,
Sarah

A House Full

Each morning when I look at the date on my calendar, I'm surprised again at how fast time is flying by!  How can it already be the end of November?  We've been busy here (like everybody else) with school, finishing up some fall activities, and the beginning of the holidays.  We dropped out of Scouts to add some breathing space to our lives, finished up the fall semester of co-op, and are just about done with the first term of our school year.  It feels good to have some space back in our weekly schedule!  Caiden starts basketball next week, so a little bit will be taken up again, but he's excited to try a new sport, and I'm just thankful it's inside!!

The last several weeks have been a storm of household management.  That sounds crazy and boring, but after cleaning out the junk drawer a while back and realizing how much I love order, I've been bitten by a decluttering/organizing/simplifying bug!  My mom has jumped on the train with me, like she generally does, which makes it much more fun.  We text each other photos of before and after, and she came to visit me last week and was genuinely interested in checking out my newly-decluttered cabinets and closets.  Moms are good for things like that!  Who else would care about my closets??

What I'm seeing is a house that's much easier to keep picked up, now that so much of our stuff has been sent to live with somebody else (Good riddance!), and a better chores/allowance system that has  helped greatly.  The kids are loving the idea of an allowance, and Addie is so pleased to be big enough to feed the cat and take care of her room and clothes that she usually has her chores finished first!  And now I have the time to do things I rarely ever did before, like cleaning the oven and scrubbing the bathroom floor in the guest house.  Before, I was always busy running around and picking up and cleaning--but somehow nothing ever felt cleaned or stayed picked up.  I can't believe how much easier it is to keep a house clean with less stuff and a better-defined schedule!  It's just in time for the holidays, when "more" feels so much more anyway!

My husband's parents are here for Thanksgiving.  Being a ministry family, we don't travel for holidays.  The holidays add so much to our schedule that when the actual day of the holiday comes, we don't want to do anything but stay in our pajamas and lounge around, recovering from all the extra church services.  So we decided after traveling for Christmas when Caiden was an infant, that we'd stay here and welcome anybody who wanted to visit.  (Except for Christmas, which we decided after a couple years of company that we needed that holiday to be just us.)  Chris' parents drive here from Tennessee each year, and it's the perfect time for them to visit.  Chris' mom is a wonderful cook, and we've come up with a pretty good system--she makes the traditional Southern dishes, like pecan pie, sweet potato casserole, and the cornbread dressing; I make the mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie,  etc.  Chris takes care of the turkey.  (Funny story:  last year when I found out Chris' dad doesn't eat pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving because it's a "Yankee" food, I was aghast.  Chris cracked us up when he reminded his dad that Thanksgiving is, after all, a traditionally-"Yankee" holiday.  So true!  But last night, when we reminded him of that story, his dad said "Yes, but we Southerners improved it!  That's why we now have sweet potato casserole and pecan pie!"  So funny!  As an aside--no offense meant by the term "Yankee."  Chris called my parents that for years because they lived in Pennsylvania, and when they told him that only East Coasters truly qualify as Yankees, he said that as a Southerner, anybody above the Mason-Dixon line in Kentucky is a Yankee!  Funny Southern boy!!)

This year will be especially fun, though, because my parents are going to drive over for dessert in the evening.  We've never shared a holiday with both sets of parents, and I am so excited!  Even more sweet is that it was Chris' idea to invite my parents, and I am touched that he offered to share the holiday with his in-laws! 

So today will be the traditional day-before cooking.  I love wearing my apron and working on tomorrow morning's cinnamon rolls and getting everything ready that can be done ahead of time.  I love setting the table beautifully for our meal, creating Thanksgiving "thankful" crafts with the kids, and everything else about Thanksgiving!  It's my favorite holiday, hands-down, and having mounds of mashed potatoes (That only Chris, Caiden and I will eat, leaving more for me!) only helps.  Chris camped with the kids in our back field last night, possibly starting a Thanksgiving tradition?, so I imagine I'll have some nappers this afternoon, making preparation even easier.  (As I write, my little campers are all snuggled up in their mummy sleeping bags on the family room floor, playing "Christmas-opoly" together.  My sweet in-laws gave the sleeping bags and game to them yesterday for their combined birthdays, and there's not much else that could have delighted Caiden more than a new Monopoly game!  He's like playing with Donald Trump; don't play with him unless you bring your A game!!)

I hope your Thanksgiving week is beautiful, filled with friends, family, and gratitude for what the Lord has given you this year.  I am so thankful to have family here with us, especially when earlier this year we didn't know if Chris' dad was going to survive a serious health scare.  My house is full of people I love, and I am so very thankful for what the Lord has given me!  Happy Thanksgiving to you!!

A little while back I stocked up on bats, balls, and other outside play stuff.  I realized we didn't have any left because somebody's rotten dogs had eaten them *all.  Now that the weather is out of the 100s, my kids will spend hours and hours outside, and I will do anything to further that!  (That's why Addie has my serving spoons outside in a muddy pit beside the shed.  She's "cooking.")

It didn't take the boys long to suck Daddy into before-work pitching sessions:

I love watching all my boys, making memories of playing together.  And I love being married to a man who'll let his coffee get cold on the fence post so that he can throw the ball to his boys.  Sweet fall memories!  Someday I'll be watching my little boys do the same thing with their boys . . .

*Since then, somebody's dog ate the shock collar and was able to wander around the yard one night, "shopping" for balls, which he then took back to the side yard and devoured.  We still have a few left, although I don't have high hopes they'll last long.  It's a little scary what a mastiff can eat.

Keeping Up

I am trying so hard to be faithful to writing here regularly.  I did for a long, long time, and then I felt burned out for a long, long time.  But I realized a little while ago that even if nobody reads it (except my mom, who of course reads it because she is, after all, my mom!), I love this blog and want to be able to relive our memories years from now.

But I have to be honest--consistency is not my strong point!  I'm not very consistent about very many things, other than the most important things.  Everything else comes and goes as I make time.  I'm also trying hard to be present in each day, not so busy behind the computer or iPhone or camera that I miss out on what I'm trying to record.  Does that make sense?

So here are a few snapshots of what we've been up to.

Two weeks ago, we got our fourth batch of chicks.  We ordered 35 this time, to make up for recent losses, and they threw in an exotic chick for free.  As of right this second, all 36 are still alive, although I'm not counting my eggs before I eat them!  We've discovered in nearly 3 years or raising chickens that life as a free range chicken has very low odds for long-term survival.  We have three of our original 19 that are still alive, and we call them the "old ladies."

The kids were super excited to pick up our box from the post office.  The lady made us wait nearly 10 minutes at the door, and I thought Caiden was going to burst a blood vessel from prolonged excitement!

 Chris built a critter-proof nursery inside the stall for our chicks, and so far no snake or possum has figured out a way in.  I hope these cute little ones make it to adulthood!  If they don't, it won't be for lack of trying.  Caiden is still as passionate about his chickens as ever.

And I'm still decluttering.  This was the contents of my dining room cabinets.  This is the project that propelled forward multiple other areas being cleaned out, and now I'm down to just two closets left.  It's amazing what a tidy house can hide behind its cabinet doors!  Now the house is much, much tidier--mainly because I gave away everything that continually was being left out and was driving me crazy.  Ironically, nearly four vanloads of stuff was taken to Goodwill, and nobody has asked me for a single thing I got rid of.  That's a pretty big clue that we had a lot of junk we didn't need or use!

It got cold here, and the kids acted like they were freezing.  I think Grayson just needed an excuse to raid the hat/gloves bin.  It's supposed to be 80 degrees here today, and I'm beginning to wonder if it's ever going to get truly cold!  On the bright side, the kids are able to spend hours outside every day.

We are almost done with this semester's co-op classes.  The kids have had a blast with their classes, and now that Addie is in kindergarten, she and Grayson are in the K-2 class together, and I love watching them interact.  Generally it involves lots of elbowing and jockeying for the best seat, but that's pretty par for the course for a brother and sister only 1 1/2 years apart.  I'm trying to be patient with the sibling squabbles that seem to have come out of nowhere lately--telling myself that they spend 14+ hours a day together, 7 days a week, helps a lot.  I'd probably feel the same way.

Caiden is taking a recycled art class, and it has been such a neat class!  He's made pumpkins out of sweaters and Wal-Mart bags, frisbees out of pantyhose, and now a chicken poster with reused lids.  It's not finished yet, but it's looking really neat.  He loved tracing the chicken shape on his foamboard.

 Gray and Addie are taking a Spanish class and are making pinatas.  Notice Addie's new scrunchy grin.  It makes me laugh every time!

 In Caiden's PE class one day they played indoor games, and we discovered that 9-11 year olds love marbles!  Definitely a good stocking stuffer idea for Christmas, I think.

 Painting his chicken before gluing on the lids.

This week I'm getting ready for Thanksgiving.  Chris' parents arrive Saturday for about 10 days, and I'm trying to make sure menus are planned and shopped for, and that my house is clean.  My vacuum broke, which is a grave matter when you have an indoor golden retriever and a Persian cat, so my mother graciously offered to bring hers when she comes in Tuesday.  I'm already excited about vacuuming, which is weird.  My floors are in dire need!

And I've discovered Pinterest, which I've totally fallen in love with.  Right after I told my sister I didn't think I'd like it.  See?  Not very consistent.  But I love having an organized bulletin board where I can store all my ideas!  It's so much easier and more convenient than bookmarks on the computer.  I've also found so many great ideas on other girls' boards.  It's so much more fun for me than Twitter or Facebook, but it can suck away just as much time, so I'm trying to not love it too much.

So that's what's going on around here.  A little of this, a little of that.  Nothing big or earth-shattering, and that's exactly like I like it.  I hope you're having a happy weekend, too!