Mommyontheboysturf with her three sons

Mommyontheboysturf with her three sons

Monday, December 19, 2011

My Mom Rocks

Imagine how puffed up I felt when Babyboy, all on his own, dressed himself in his "My Mom Rocks" shirt. It isn't my Birthday or Mother's Day. On the other hand, Babyboy can't quite read yet at two and a half. Still. He must have had some idea.

Oldest, upon seeing him, asked, "Oh, does your mom rock?!"

"Yes, mommy rocks me upstairs in the rocking chair."

True Babyboy. Mom Rocks.
P.S. - Trying to get a picture of Babyboy in his "My Mom Rocks" shirt proved a real task. His real personality shines through. I don't think I got even one legible photo.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Fifty-Four Degrees

Who would have imagined 54 degrees on December 14 in the evening!?! Perfect weather for a sleigh stroller ride.

Last night Daddy took Oldest and Middleson "out". Out = shopping for yours truly for Christmas. It's tradition. They come home, sneaking-in, with crinkly Target bags pretending they drove around all evening for no reason at all. I pretend I didn't know where they were or what they were doing. Next year when Babyboy is fully pottytrained and sippy-cup-less, he will join the troops.

In an effort to avoid the "Meeeee goooooo!" screams, I bundled Babyboy for a stroller ride to see the lights. Bundling wasn't needed, we could have worn our beach attire.

We had so much fun talking. It was a bit strange having a one-on-one conversation with Babyboy. There is always so much competition in communication and unfortunately, the least verbal loses every time. Not last night. He had all of me. I had all of him.

We talked about why we celebrate Christmas. Soon he was imitating me, "Cewebrate Missmas is for Jesus Buthday. Happy Buthday to Jesus!".

We stopped at house after house to really look at the lights and the lawn displays. His favorite was snoopy in an airplane. At another house, he wanted a front-seat view of the choo choo train. Folks, I let him out of the stroller, into the yard, and directly in front of the train. It was dark and nobody could see us trespassing. And, when do you ever get closer to Christmas lights? There was no steamed-over car window to separate him. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

54 degrees in December might not happen again. And, if it does, he will be out with Daddy and the big boys shopping for mommy.

It was the perfect weather for a stroller-ride together for two.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

All Aboard!

Polar Express-- an event hosted by our local library with 14 stops and stations. The snowman toss, refreshment cart, model train, cookie decorating, and more.

Thankfully I was able to "snag" tickets to this limited capacity event for our first year in attendance. The boys woke up to red tickets peeking out of their stockings informing them of the event -- the time, location, and an invitation to wear pajamas "if you would like".

Excitement buzzed through the house all afternoon. Babyboy didn't nap.
"Choo Choo party tonight!"

At 6:21 Oldest and Middleson bounced at the door ready to depart fully clothed, but pajamaless. Middleson sported a mohawk, fully-gelled, and standing tall. Babyboy obediently wore his Thomas the Train pajamas.

My Oldest was one of the oldest in attendance. A strange feeling overcame me when I realized he is outgrowing this type of event.

It brought me great pleasure to watch the boys interact with the puppet show, sing songs, and anticpate each step on the journey. Oldest was pure child last night without a mingling of the pre-teen years. He giggled and laughed and ran from station to station. I received the gift of going back in time. I got to experience Oldest as a little boy again.

Babyboy missed most of the train stops due to his fascination with the electric train. He ran back and forth as it went around the track never tiring of its motion.

Middleson was distracted only by the opportunity to meet a friend and tell someone about Jesus. He is Mr. friendly and outgoing always looking for an opportunity to "sneak" Jesus into a conversation.

Our evening was idyllic. The kind you dream about in your mind but it rarely lives up to your own expecations. Just innocent, child-like, non-media, free fun, that produced old-fashioned, life-long memories. I will ride this train of memories for a long, long time.

Chugga, chugga, choo choooooo.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Missmas Outpits

The 2011 Christmas Season has begun!

Babyboy is in a 2 1/2 year, independent, "I can do it myself" stage. Yesterday he came down for breakfast clothed in his "Missmas Outpit". A handsome vest backwards, no shirt, and tweed dress pants also backward facing. "Honey, that is your special Christmas outfit. It isn't for today." I declared. "No. I wear Missmas outpit today." He responded convincingly. This was only the beginning of the dozen outfit changes yesterday. From snowman pajamas to bright red sweaters, he had clearly found the stack of clothes I had reserved as festive wear.

While Babyboy napped, Oldest and Middleson were my right-hand men in towing the Christmas bins upstairs. This year I didn't step foot in the crawlspace. My anxious helpers were happy with the adventure. Although I clearly appreciated the help, it was also a reminder of how quickly they are growing up.

Babyboy awakened to a winter wonderland. Stuffed snowman, ready-to-be-filled stockings, the Little People Nativity set, and flickering lights. What more could a two year old ask for?

He went to work transferring things from here to there and everywhere. He perched his Little People policeman atop the Little People Manger where the angel is supposed to perch. Although maybe he saw them both in a "security guard" type of role.

The snowmen with carrot noses posed a problem since he deemed them broken. He wouldn't let them near the rest of the stuffed moose, snowman, or santas.

Then he discovered the Christmas plates. They are used ONLY, only on Christmas morn for cinnamon rolls. He wanted his afternoon animal crackers served on a particular beloved plate. He won. "Why not?" I reasoned with myself.

Then another Missmas outpit.

Suddenly the stuffed creatures (minus the snowmen with "broken" carrot noses) were missing. So were the fragile, look but don't touch, musical snowman. Missing.

Found. Upstairs in Babyboy's room, they were tucked safely into his bed covered by the Christmas Tree skirt as a blanket. The bag of Christmas clothes was spread across his floor. Again. Again. AGAIN!

Up and down, and down and up,I ran around the house putting the newly displayed Christmas decorations back in their spots. This is the perfect solution for Thanksgiving weight gain.

A simplified decorating scheme was looking more and more appealing. "What can I put back in the Christmas bins?" I asked myself.

But the JOY of Christmas bouncing around in Babyboy's discoveries was worth the mayhem of the afternoon.

Afterall, that's really what Christmas is all about. Jesus coming to earth, in the midst of chaos and mayhem, to bring true JOY.

Babyboy, bring out the Missmas outpits and Christmas dishes. Why save them just for a day, when the season has only just begun?

Merry Missmas in the midst of discovering the true meaning of CHRISTmas.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Wow. Just when I feel like I've got this mommy thing licked, something new arises. Seasons come and seasons go.

I have a pottytrainer and a preteener at the same time. Big Legos, Small Legos, and one no longer so interested in Legos. Really? The Christmas lists are changing from no list, to a list full of toys, to a list of technological trinkets and music.

The books I am reading right now include, "Raising Sons and Loving It" and "Wild Things the Art of Nurturing Boys". Wild Things is the perfect description of a house full of boys.

I am back at college, so to speak, studying for finals, making up for lost time. Nervous. Fingerbiting. Sweating. I'm pulling an all-nighter in Mommy class hoping I do something right. Trying do be prepared for what's ahead so it doesn't catch me off guard.

The last decade has been sabatoged by baby gear, diapers,sleepless nights, and goo goo gaa's. The next decade of parenting scares me - cell phones, independence, driving, and dating. More sleepless nights. Maybe worse than the baby years!

What can I do now to steer my three treasures toward making right decisions? How can I help them foster their own personal relationship with Jesus? Hopefully our meals together, long coversations, family devotions, and turftime will provide for growth and memories that will impact our future positively.

Thanksgiving is just days away. This is a great time to ponder the questions, changes, and seasons above. It is about living a life of Thanksliving all the time. Living in the moment. Thankful for each stage. Laughing at the days to come. In EVERYTHING give thanks!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

No Tricks, All Treats

Babyboy. Babyboy. Babyboy.

Last Saturday Daddy dutifully took the crib down. I couldn't believe how defeated I felt removing the crib skirt and dis-assembling the crib. Three times it has been set up....and now this is it! This crib season is over! Babyboy was not so sure about sleeping in a big boy bed. Thank goodness we had a pack-n-play.

Today Babyboy brought his little potty chair from the bathroom to the family room. We have been talking "potty talk" for weeks and treating him for sitting on the chair. Today he removed his pants, diaper, and leaned over the potty like he has seen his brothers do. The next thing you know, he is screaming, "I peed! Look at my pee pee!" Sure enough. There were a few drops of some sort of liquid on the bottom. Pull out the big guns. MnM's.

This victory was followed by several more. I think it helps that we have a whole crew doing the potty dance, cheering, and clapping. Shortly afternoon I heard, "I pooped. Look at my poop!" Victory #2 for #2! More treats.

Unfortunately, with all this "growing up" today he decided he didn't need a nap. Nap-less, diaper-less, and crabby-full.

So, today was truly a day of treats and more treats! Thanks Babyboy!

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Oldest is 9. Nine. NINE!!

My Oldest has entered his last year in the single digits. Wow! October 1 marked the occassion, but my October 9 blog is devoted to him.

Every parent talks about how quickly the time flies. It really does! Especially with the first child. I urged him to roll over, sit, and then walk. Cheering and clapping all the way from milestone to milestone. A short time later he was at T-ball practice and learning to ride a bike.

Now he whizzes by on his bike and throws the football like a pro. He teaches me how to use the computer and we discuss things at an adult-like level. He devours books and recites facts constantly. He has become an expert on Bugatti's, hockey, and the life of a spy.

Learning went from ABC's and colors to division and past progressive participles in the blink of an eye.

One thing that hasn't changed is Oldest's smile and love for life. He just lives life to the fullest. He is passionate. He still doesn't like to sleep! Why sleep when you can be awake? Although I didn't appreciate that so much his first year of life!

Oh Oldest. I love you! I am so proud of who you are. I love your passion and compassion. Continue to let Jesus guide you and show you the way.
Love, Mommy

Friday, October 7, 2011

Fear Factor

I kind of have a love/hate relationship with hosting/entertaining/cooking/baking. I like people. I especially like one on one meaningful conversations. I also like baking and cooking.

It's the combination of the two inside my home that brings on the icky feeling.

I like the idea of hosting guests with ease in my beautiful home and offering an assortment of strategically garnished dishes. Can you see me lingering at the table without a care in the world? (I can't either.) I don't like it so much when the IDEA turns into an INVITATION.

I envy those women who can casually put out a spread and host on a moments notice and ENJOY it. I need time. I devour cookbooks and check out recipe ratings. I clean my house like there is a For Sale sign out front.

Even then I feel naked when I open the door. My tried and true "entertaining" dishes betray me and turn out Fear Factor-ish. They look ugly and taste not-quite-right. I notice the imperfections in my home. My home doesn't reflect me like I want it to.

When it is just me and my hubby, Oldest, Middleson, and BabyBoy, I bake and cook like a mad woman -- almost everything from scratch. We eat well. We eat together. We ENJOY! My house is tidy and organized and we are content.

Content until....

Content until I invite someone over because I want to host. Because the Bible tells me to be hospitable. Because I want to come face to face with one of my weaknesses. Because it is an area that is not a strongsuit, but I am willing to improve.

I am hoping to fall in love. So far it hasn't happened. I need lessons or something. Hosting Lessons. Cooking for Real People Outside of Your Family Lessons. Stay Relaxed Lessons. You Don't Have to Be Perfect Lessons.

Sometimes it is just easier to stay home and watch Fear Factor. I'm too stubborn to do that. Practice makes closer-to-perfect.

Anyone up for coming to the BoysTurf for dinner?

Friday, September 16, 2011

Mommy and the Victorious, Peaceful, Just Right Day

After reporting yesterday's news about Middleson's no good, very bad,horrible, terrible day, we headed for the library. Shortly after noon, during lunch, I read the book to the boys for the FIRST time. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day. A classic. One of my favorites.

They loved Alexander's adventure through his terrible day. After reading the book we talked about having a positive attitude. Maybe, just maybe, if Alexander told himself over and over that he would have a good day, he would have had a different perspective or found something positive in the midst of an "off" day.

Oldest, Middleson, and I took that as a challend to re-write the story in positive terms.
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.

Oldest and the Absolutely, Positively Good Day

I woke up and saw a $3 million dollar Bugatti out my window and a big dirt bike. At lunch I ate nachos and cheese. I knew it was going to be an absolutely, positively, good day.
My dad came home early and brought pizza for dinner. I got to stay up late, eat popcorn, and watch a movie.
It was an absolutely, positively good day.
The End

Middleson's Very Good, Out of this World, Crazy Good Day

I woke up to find a new new Lego set!! I went to clean my books and I found a cool new book. For lunch we had macaroni and cheese. I wanted to build my new Lego set which was a new police station with four trucks and a car, but I also wanted to read my book. So then I had a fabulous idea. I would build all four cars and push them and make my new book a jump. Then I read my crazy good book. Daddy came home and brought me a red dirt bike just the way I wanted it. We had chocolate sandwiches for dinner and chocolate ice cream sodas for dessert. I had a very good, out of this world, crazy good day.
The End

Note from Mommy: The above stories are FICTION!

Mommy and the Victorious, Peaceful, Just-Right Day
I woke up fully refreshed and energized before my alarm even rang. My hair stayed in perfect form even after sleeping. No bed-head. Ta Da! The automatic timer on the coffee pot brewed my coffee and poured it for me as I walked into the kitchen. I could tell this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.

After breakfast I laced my new shoes and they made me run so fast. I even got my laundry washed and hung before the sun came up. Once again, I could tell this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.

My boys suited up in full protective armor without me asking. Knee pads. Helmets. Socks and shoes. No trips to the emergency room. I knew this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just-right day.

Imagine my surprise when Babyboy asked for an afternoon nap. "Cwib upstas." The big boys read quietly for hours on end and entertained themselves. I read a magazine, sipped tea, and polished my toe nails.

At dinner everyone cheered when I presented a platter of vegetables -- eggplant, tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, carrots, and green beans straight from the garden. Even hubby was delighted about the lack of meat on his plate. With smiling faces each person cleared their spot and put their dishes in the dishwasher. There was nothing left for me to do! I knew all along this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.

Last, but definitely not least, dinner concluded with a full marching band playing a victory march to all the hard work I had done throughout the day.
Chant it with me now --
Thank you for doing the laundry
Thank you for making the meals
Thank you for running errands
and Thank you for teaching school

[Repeat again and again and again]

Success. Sweet Success. From sunrise to sunset. I knew this was going to be a victorious, peaceful, just right day.

Another note from MOMMY: In case you wondered, the above story is also FICTION.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Middleson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Yesterday was an emotional day for Middleson. Like Alexander, he had a terrible, no good, very bad day. With three boys, the drama in our home is minimal. The boys take after their daddy -- even keel and stable. Admittedly, any drama is probably stirred up by the only female on our turf -- yours truly.

Yesterday was different. It started at breakfast when Middleson retrieved the previous nights dinner that he was too full to eat. Interestingly enough, it was only the vegetables he was too full to consume. Lest you think I am a harshmommyontheboysturf, it was two green beans. Therefore, two green beans were offered for breakfast along with a side of his tears, followed by a steaming bowl of oatmeal with extra raisins.

Moments later another breakdown during his Unit Review for Math. He struggled through math problems that he solved easily the day before. Hugs required.

Then it was his Language Arts book. "When I just look at my Language Arts book, I miss Auntie W," he sobbed. I am still trying to figure out that connection. Perhaps it was the game of Scrabble we played togther a few weeks ago just before leaving Auntie W's home. Another long hug needed and given.

Later, trying to cheer him up, I flew his plastic Superman figure past his face. I missed and poked him in the eye with Superman's much-too-hard foot. Some Superhero. Some Supermom. Oops. Hugs and apologies from me in abundance.

An arranged call to Auntie W brought some relief and comfort thankfully. Middleson suggested that maybe pancakes (Auntie W's recipe) would cheer him up just a little. More hugs and pancakes-a-plenty.

After dinner he wanted to snuggle and read, just him and I. He tore back the covers on my bed and we read books covered in coziness. Even when Daddy and Oldest were heard outside playing football, he wanted to stay a few minutes longer.

Before bed he recounted all the times he had cried during the day. He reminded me that I gave him a strange look when he was eating his oatmeal noisily. I hurt his feelings and he had cried then too.

"Mommy, I know you get up real early and pray. Tomorrow when you pray could you pray that tomorrow I have a better day? And, you know how you hugged me so many times today when I cried? Could we do that again tomorrow?"

Sure thing Middleson! Here's to a great day with more hugs than you can count.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


I have never been a believer in luck -- good luck or bad luck. Lately, though, the trials have pounded like hard, steady rain -- a down pour. As some would say, "a string of bad luck". Nothing earth shattering, thankfully. Just the intensity of a continual set of trials. When it rains it pours.

Today I want to pull the "two year old" card and throw a good tantrum. "It's not fair! I don't like this! No! No! No!". I'd love to flirt with the comparison trap. Comparing myself to others that have it easy schmeezy -- or so it appears -- but I know better.

As a Christian, it is tempting to believe if I just pray hard enough, I can achieve the outcome I desire. I approach prayer like God is a genie in bottle with never-ending wishes to make me happy. But, like Paul said, it's about finding contentment no matter what -- even when every attempt to stand means getting knocked down again by the strong wind of trials.

Philippians 4:11-12
"I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little."

Paul learned to quit tantruming (yes, another homemade word). The wrestling match was no more. Either way, he was okay.

James 1:12 is where the rubber really meets the road for me.
"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him." Later, in the chapter I am reminded that God generously gives me wisdom. Trials and the need for wisdom are closely connected.

Trials are the "gym" for my faith. As my faith grows stronger I can withstand, endure, and persevere. There is something greater -- beyond any joy or pleasure or comfort in this world -- eternity with Christ.

Ann Voskamp's book, A Thousand Gifts, contains a quote that has changed me. "Make every moment a cathedral giving glory." Every moment can be holy if I allow my reaction/response to line up with God's Word. When I can rejoice in my trials, glory is given to my Heavenly Father. It becomes something beautiful and something that can be used. Something holy. Even the broken and ugly and fearful things. The trials that threaten to overtake me are transformed into miracles when I give thanks. Within each trial there is room for thanksgiving. I just need to search for the hidden treasure.

When the glass really is 1/2 empty I can be thankful. There is room in the cup for more. It will be 1/2 full again!

The realization that my first instinct to a trial is trust instead of panic. Luck? No. A blessing. A miracle. An opportunity for something greater than myself. Maybe what feels like "bad luck" is really "good luck". As a result of the growth process, I come out strong, able, and far beyond "lucky".

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Turf Time minus the running, swimming, biking

30minutesontheboysturf took on an interesting twist this week. Saturday night a slow-motion, nothin'-crazy, how-did-this-happen bike accident sent Middleson to the emergency room for yet another set of stitches. I wonder if he is strategically placing scars around his body as some sort of boy body art.

Doctors orders -- Ten 10 TEN T-E-N days of NO swimming!, NO running!, NO biking! How do you do that in August when the Summer weeks of play are dwindling and school is just around the corner?

Mom's orders -- have the best 10 days possible while preventing further injury or infection.

I feel like I am living life with my seat belt on this week. The weather is beyond beautiful -- breezy, sunny, and perfect temperatures. This is the week to hike and take our 10 mile bike rides.

But Middleson.

We changed our plan -- two library visits and reading on blankets in the back yard; Middleson and Babyboy in the jog stroller for a few walks; playing in tents on the driveway; and, of course, Lego building in the basement.

As Middleson reminds me often, "God's delays are always for a reason."

We'll take this one in stride and look forward to Tuesday's removal of the stitches and the permission to swim, bike, and run!

Friday, July 22, 2011

The Worry Dance

Laboring and spinning and worrying, laboring and spinning and worrying, round and round I go. This is precisely how I started my day. Even the flowers of the field know better. My very first awake, pillow-thought was one of worry. Side by side, was another thought I whispered gently and quietly as to not disrupt the morning's peace. "Worry is a sin, the Bible tells me NOT to worry. I am going to read my Bible and counteract these worrisome thoughts."

Why I have elevated worry to a "more holy" sin I am not sure. Do not kill, do not lie, do not worry. I've certainly justified worrying in my life since I am sure it indicates my love and concern for those I love. Right?

Downstairs I went, one step at a time, each a reminder, "Do not worry. Do not worry." After retrieving my Bible and a hot cup of dark roast, I settled down to do a word study on "worry".

My well-worn, much-loved Study Bible has a concordance. I found out today that it ends with "woman". The last entry on the last page. Apparently, along with a few stickers, the last few pages of my concordance were ripped out probably by an awake-much-too-early toddler sitting on my lap with flying ripping fingers. Since I have no recollection of the event, I guarantee I was sleep deprived too.

Worry has been ripped out from my Bible. Thankfully, my mind knew where to go in moments like these. Matthew chapter 6.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

I love the practical nature of this passage. I can actually replace WORRYING with SEEKING! Worry might be natural. But, the lack of worry is super-natural. It is possible with God. Seeking is to be "continually absorbed in searching for something; making a strenuous effort to obtain something". I can do the worry dance or seek Him to care for me. Unproductive vs. Productive. Unlike breathing, both take effort and thought and time. Why not choose the better thing?

For today, I will take a clue from my Bible and its lack of worry. I will thank God for the vivid illustration of worry being ripped from my life. It has no place. For I have a heavenly Father who knows what I need and He cares for me.

I gracefully refuse to dance this worry dance -- a partner I do not need. Instead I will rest in the embrace of His great love.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Within Arms Reach

Today was a scorcher even as the sun rose. My morning run like mid-day heat. Hot. Sticky. Our mid-morning bike ride quickly interrupted by, "Can we turn around and go home? I'm thirsty!". The sun's rays darkening the shoulders of my boys before my eyes. Summer is here.

Just moment's later I'm shearing my blondies' heads like hot, sweaty, sheep outside. Instead of falling to the ground, the fresh wisps land on dewy skin, staying put, refusing to fall. The clouds rolled in, the sky darkened and everything stilled.

"I think we are gonna have a storm." Middleson stated. "I'll check the weather." Oldest piped in, always ready to help. Sweaty Babyboy with a big boy haircut sleeping soundly. My almost-dried clothes flapping frantically on the clothesline as if trying to beat themselves dry in record time. The wind awoke.

Oldest and I ran up and down the line tossing clothes and pins in the basket, laughing as we went. Just in time. Moments later, the thunder clapped and lightening flashed. The house, once sunny and bright, dark like night.

Feeling a little frightened myself, I considered Babyboy. He really really needed a nap. Yet, I didn't want him to be frightened. For now the sounds in his dreams drowned out the storms surrounding him. I decided to wait outside his door. Within arms reach if he needed me. If the storm sounded too loudly, I'd let him know mommy was near.

Crouched on the floor, waiting by the door, I pondered other storms I've been through. Real storms. Life storms. The ones that shake you and throw you and toss you about.

I pictured Jesus, just waiting and ready to let me know He was there. Within arms reach. Daddy is near.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Better than before

So far, we have had a really great Summer with a great balance of fun, play, and a little bit of keepin'-the-cobwebs-out school work.

Today the big boys were finishing up their first week at VBS. Babyboy and I ran some errands (the difference between errands with 1 child and 3 is amazing) and came home. I set the time for 60 minutes and attempted to race the clock and check off some lingering to-dos. I was completely oblivious to Babyboy as he played happily on the floor. Well, he was playing and writing. Writing with a pen. Writing on a chair. Writing on a white chair. Writing on a sacred, hand-me-down vintage white heirloom chair. And, it is not my chair from my side of the family. It is my husband's chair. Oooooops. BIG OOOOPS!

I kicked into high gear googling, "how to remove ink from white upholstered chair". I wanted to dial 911 or at least let google know this was an emergency and I needed to borrow some extra high speed 4G. Time was ticking and I had to pick up the big boys! Can you feel the panic in my writing?

I had zero rubbing alcohol on hand, but I did have Sea Breeze. Sure enough the first ingredient was alcohol. Like a teenager with acne, I overloaded cotton balls with Sea Breeze and went to work. Sigh of relief. It. Was. Coming. Out. Thank. You. Lord. (Serious prayer of thanks I assure you.)

Since the chair has been in our possession it always had a dingy spot. Since the Sea Breeze was working so well on the ink, I expanded its territory and went for the dark spot. Whoooo Hooooo. The chair looks better than before! If only I had known, I would have applied Sea Breeze much before now. Babyboy's adventure served a great purpose in cleaning the chair.

How many tragedies/problems/trials have I found myself in, flailing to get out and pleading with God to remove from my life. Then, as time goes by I can see that I came out of the trial better than before. The sorrow was a gift. The pain was not wasted. It had a purpose.

This is a song I have been listening to that enables me to define "blessing" a little bit different. Listen to Laura Story's song titled, Blessings.

Hubby will be glad to know that the writing on his white-upholstered chair is gone. So is the dingy spot. It looks better than before.

Friday, June 10, 2011


With anticipation, I checked on my little garden today. I was hoping for some marked changes -- bigger leaves, longer stems, or new sprouts peeking through the soil. Nothing. My pepper plants look exactly the same as they did yesterday and the day before. In fact, I don't know if they have progressed since I transitioned them outdoors. Will they really really bring forth something edible in the next few months?

Growth is rarely instant, fast, or even measurable. It takes place over time until one day you look back and can finally track measurable progress.

growth (grōt̸h)


the process of growing or developing; specif.,
gradual development toward maturity
formation and development
degree of increase in size, weight, power, etc.
the full extent of such increase
something that grows or has grown: a thick growth of grass
an outgrowth or offshoot

As I pondered my disappointment over my seedlings and my desire to fast-forward or microwave them to maturity, I was reminded of my own children. As the mommy of Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy my job is to train them and enable them to grow. Training isn't a one time event, it is a process. I need to be patient as they grow and mature even when I don't see marked progress or change or improvement.

Oldest was not even two when Middleson joined our family. But, he suddenly went from our one and only baby to our Oldest and a big brother. I instantly saw him in a different light and expected so much from him! "Grow up and act like a one year old!" MY plan was to have him potty trained and dressing himself by the time Middleson arrived....of course those attempts failed. Five years later, Babyboy arrives and I feel like he gets a mom who has grown and matured. By baby number three, instead of pushing the "hurry up" button, I am pushing the "pause" button wishing I could "rewind" a few years.

Even as an adult, I have not arrived. I have a lot of growing to do! Gratitude overwhelmed me when I thought about God's patience in the midst of seasons in my own life when my growth seemed stunted. Yet, when I look through my journals from a decade ago, I taste the victory!

I have grown. I have matured in Christ. Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy will too. And so will those little seedlings in my garden.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Oldest requested a game of Checka's (Checkers) for 30minutesontheboysturf time. In his 8 years he has played more than I have in my lifetime. In fact, I am just learning the game. Today was really my first official game of checkers.

One of my favorite things about Oldest is his sensitive sweet heart. I have story after story that I could share of ants, robin's eggs, and stray kittens. Sometimes I wish I could bottle that sweetness when it would most come in handy -- with his little brothers!

Today, in our Checker's match, we were down to 1 king (me) against 4 kings (oldest). He had tears in his eyes as he jumped my king and won the game. This was after several turns of stalling the finish. He didn't want to see his mommy lose the game.

That makes him a real WINNER in what matters most.

Monday, May 23, 2011


Mom Guilt International
Today was our first day of no-schedule, nothing-to-do Summer Break. Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy all slept until 8:30. Over the weekend I began filling in the blank page of today with projects I have been wanting to complete.

-Go through my coupons
-Thoroughly clean the boys' rooms
-Swap out outgrown clothes for ones that fit
-Make sure every sock in the house has a mate (I've been hearing a lot of, "I can't find the sock that goes to this one."

The weather was perfectly rainy -- the best kind of day for those types of projects. I also announced loud and strong that we would be spending time on the boys turf today.

As the day projected onward like a rocket launch, I was left feeling unaccomplished. I honestly did not want to lose momentum and do 30minutesontheboysturf. Oldest and Middleson were actually quite content to continue building castle kingdoms in the basement. I also knew I would be disappointed if I didn't follow through. So....I asked (hoping they would delay, "When do you want to do turftime?" "NOW!" they both replied. I took that as a cue that my boys really like spending time with me and like my focused attention on their turf.

Oldest wanted to explore Together, we became a fan on Facebook and posted on his wall -- something I would never do. Middleson wanted to check out After looking at America's Most Wanted, he was sure he recognized one of the men. I see dollar signs as I type! REWARD!

I, on the other hand, was glad I kept my commitment even though I felt guilty about not looking forward to my 30minutesontheboysturf.

As many have reminded me, the laundry will wait....and who needs matched socks in the summer anyway? That is what Crocs are for!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

School's OUT, Turf Time is IN!

Oddly enough, Middleson woke up with his desire for "turf time" fresh in his mind. I asked him if he had read my "to do" list for today. He hadn't.

I have not been overly zealous with an organized 30minutesontheboysturf for a few months for several reasons/excuses. First, we were finishing school and homeschooling means an excess of togetherness. Secondly, we have done a lot of fun family activities like bike riding, working in the yard, and visiting a local kids museum. Lastly, each afternoon I have been reading books to the boys. (Turf time, but not time on the boys turf....more like time on my turf since I call the shots.)

Still, I knew I needed to re-commit to my original plan. 30minutesontheboysturf, Day 1. I commit myself completely un-distracted, phone-less, computer-less, paper-less for 30 minutes where the boys call the shots and I follow their lead. I engage mentally, 100%.

Summer is the perfect time to do it when the schedule goes out the window and there is more free time. Maybe 30 minutes seems like a long time, but 15 minutes is doable. Maybe 30 minutes 3 days a week if 5 seems like too many. Many non-homeschooling friends found it difficult to find time in the school week. Now is the time! The investment is so worth it.

Today I was back in the cold dark basement on the first day this week it hasn't rained. Middleson had great Lego machines in mind for us to build. He built the mail truck and I attempted a mailbox. Unfortunately, my mailbox was not up to the inspector's guidelines and it was dis-assembled and the Legos are back in the bin, up for grabs.

Here goes, Turf Time, Part II.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Bad Mom. Good Friday.

Yesterday was one of those super challenging days as a mom -- the most testing in my 8 years of motherhood I think. I know they are bound to happen from time to time, but I wasn't expecting it. There were no warning signs.

Quite the contrary actually.

The day started out quite wonderfully. I read my Bible and had a great time of prayer. I felt strong, refreshed, and prepared for the day ahead.

The day unraveled life an afghan.

-The rain prevented me from my anticipated run.
-My Plan B workout dvd wouldn't run.
-Middleson woke up far too early.
-All 3 sons quarreled and fought and yelled and hit. Even newcomer Jace was swinging his arms in battle. Really? What in the world is going on?
-One un-named son intentionally did something to the computer during school that required a call to tech support and a much-too-long delay in school.
-My afternoon bath (since I didn't get a shower) to pull-myself-together was filled with COLD water.

My reaction to all of the above was less than ideal. Afterall, it was Good Friday. In my mind I conjured up a peaceful day of reflecting on the death of Jesus. Of all days, I should have been on my best behavior on Good Friday, right?

By late afternoon, weary and battled, I made an attempt to reign in my soldiers. We sat together reading the account of what happened to Jesus on Good Friday. We spent our entire day in turmoil -- yuck. Gross. I felt guilty and condemned. The day felt wasted.

Yet, the message of the cross was never clearer. I sin. I fall short. My sin was before me, but so was my Savior! I came face to face with my inadequacies and my feeble attempts at "getting it right".

All of my sins were nailed to the cross. I bear them no more!

His mercy and grace cover me. His love never changes. He loves me the same when I have on my new Easter dress and black shiny shoes on my way to church as he did yesterday in my imperfect mothering. He died that I might live.

He brings hope to a bad mom on Good Friday.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Floor-LESS. Joy-FULL!

So a tiny itty bitty H.I.P. (short for Home Improvement Project) turned into stretched out H.I.PS. (That would be Home Improvement ProjectS.)

Since the day we found our beloved home, I was not in love with the white linoleum floors. Each crumb reacted like bleach on white pants. Yet, it was hard to justify replacing them when the boys were galloping to and fro day after day. To our knowledge the previous owners had grown children. Therefore,the carpet was lusious and the linoleum pristine. Fast forward 6 years and 3 boys later. Even with a Dyson-loving caretaker and a "no shoes" rule, the carpet and linoleum had seen their better years and were begging us to let them rest.

"It would make a lot of sense to paint while the baseboards are off." I said to myself and then later to my husband who loathes painting. On a whim, I picked out a not-so-practical paint color which goes against my practical unwhimmish nature. It was a good move. I really feel like I am living on the edge with my "icy aqua" walls and buttery yellow and red accents. There is even a floral printed rug for the first time in over a decade. I went a little overboard during the "victorian rose" era of decorating inthe early 90's and never wanted anything floral in my home...until now...and I promise to keep it simple.

The entire family joined in the linoleum removal. It was really fun for the first 5 minutes or so. I didn't realize it was stapled with thousands of staples to the sub floor. Being the perfectionist that I am, I wanted each one removed. After a few blisters and many hours, the hammers came out. For three days we (and I mean WE -- Daddy, Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy with his toy hammer)hammered down staples until the floor was flush and ready to be covered with an upgraded surface.

Surprise! We never knew water was seeping into our home under the patio door. Removing the linoleum led to the discovery -- and that was a good thing as the damage was minimal and repairable. Twelve or so hours later, we (rather husband and helper) got over that bump in the road and back on our flooring journey.

Many many hours of prepping, moving, hauling and wearing shoes in the house to avoid staple injuries, we had finally arrived. Installation day was upon us. Whoo Hoo. We had been encouraged by many that it would be a "quick, half-day" job. Umm. Three days. Three long days at least with a toilet re-do sandwiched in the middle.

Oh,how thankful I am for the new floors. I like to call the shade, "toast-crumb oak" since all the crumbs are camoflauged. I'll save hours of time and kilowatts of energy since my Dyson won't need to show himself quite so often. The floors will pay for themselves in no time at all.

With fresh paint and new floors, its time to get outside for the Y.I.P. You got it -- yard improvement projects. At least there won't be any staples to remove.

Thursday, March 31, 2011


Babyboy. Toddlerboy. No,I'm going to leave it at Babyboy. That will do just fine. Yes, he has entered toddlerhood, but he will always and forever be my babyboy. Today is Babyboy's second birthday. Two years O-L-D, two years B-I-G, and two years that felt way too S-H-O-R-T. While I mourn how quickly the time has gone, I celebrate the tremendous gift he is.

One of my all-time, most-precious moments was when Oldest and Middleson met Babyboy for the first time. I left the house early on March 31 with a rounded belly. A few hours later Babyboy had arrived and the boys were astonished that the belly bump turned into a bundle of baby boy. As the nurse cleaned up our fresh baby, Middleson growled with his meanest face, "Don't hurt my new baby!" Since that day the big boys are still Babyboy's biggest fans, protectors, and friends! Even after two years there is a moment of excitement as soon as Babyboy's voice is heard each morning and the big boys race upstairs to greet him. He is doted on like the day he came home from the hospital. I can still hear the sweet homemade lullaby's Big brothers sang when Babyboy cried. Oldest would sit for hours (well, half-hours anyway) with Babyboy laying on him. Now he carries him on his back and chases him around the house. Middleson invites him to play cars and often marvels that "he is a real boy now". The camera sits ready to capture every moment -- Oldest and Middleson are the "first time" parents that deem every moment picture worthy.

How sappy of me to blog and cry and reminisce. I just didn't think babyhood would slip through my fingers so quickly the third time around. I savored the pregnancy, his delivery, and his infancy. I treasured all the firsts that have now become lasts. Still the time flew, the seasons changed, and suddenly I have a two year old.

This year will be full of milestones I know. I've walked Two-Year-Old Road two times before -- an ever expanding vocabulary, potty-training, and greater independence. Goodbye to sippy cups, the highchair, the crib, and that head of wispy fine blonde baby hair!

Happy Birthday precious Babyboy! Mommy loves you.

P.S. Oldest and Middleson just arrived to "comfort" me. "Mommy, you don't become a child until your six years old. So don't worry, he is still a baby." Sounds good. He can still hold "Babyboy" status for a few more years.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Addition and Subtraction

Middleson is in the middle of a story problem unit in math. He has to decide if he should solve a particular problem through addition or subtraction.

For some unknown reason, his lesson reminded me of my morning at MOPS (Mothers of Pre-schoolers) yesterday. It was a valuable time of laughing, talking, praying, cake-decorating, bread making, recipe collecting, and more. I left with more than (> greater than) I arrived -- a mini bottle of lotion, dozens of recipes, a new journal, and a refreshed outlook on my week.

As I reflected on the meeting and all that I took away (- subtract) I realized I had the opportunity to tweak my addition skills (+ plus) too. A friend approached me for advice -- always an honor. Another friend told me I had been an encouragement to her which in turn encouraged me right back (hmmm maybe that deserves an = sign). I held a little baby whose mommy needed one more set of hands (multiplication X). I have been in that predicament more times than I care to count (1,2,3,..).

Yes, I left feeling full, but I was also able to give something away!
Life is about adding and subtracting. Balance. Giving and receiving.

As a mom, I am always doing math -- my words, actions, and looks can add or subtract from the very spirit of my children. I am reminded constantly that I am either training them up or tearing them down. The Bible instructs me to "train them UP". Even when I am disciplining the three boys, it should always build them UP! How easy it is to do the reverse. I need to calculate my responses accurately.

My never-ending goal-setting personality is up for a challenge. I am on the lookout for opportunities to add value to the lives' of the people I am around. I encouraged Oldest and Middleson to join in too!

In God's math class, there are no less-than <'s. We are all equal = in Christ with a + positive value that we cannot begin to fathom.

Real life story problems. Just like Middleson, I need to ask, "Should I add or subtract?" Math class is life long isn't it?

Thursday, February 24, 2011

On Their Turf

Today my post goes back to the "root" purpose of starting this blog. I desired to keep myself accountable to spending good quality time doing whatever my boys wanted to do. In other words, an open ended, "What do you want to do with mommy?"

The experiment was/is a success. I still periodically have people ask if I am still spending time on my boys turf. It is great motivation to keep going!

Homeschooling does provide the opportunity to have one on one time with each child. But, really, homeschooling is time on MY turf. I am dictating what we do and when we do it. However, by the time school is over we usually end up on opposite ends of the house! I usually want alone time, while the boys want time to play.

On Tuesday night I had the rare occassion to spend time alone with Babyboy. At 22 months he finally got to touch play-doh. He has carried around tubs of play-doh countless times. I didn't have the courage to introduce him to the substance fearing I'd be picking up play-doh remnants every day after our school hours. Oldest and Middleson are quite able to pick up after themselves. Amazingly, Babyboy is content with the containers and really doesn't like to squish it, touch it, or mold it.

Today after school I asked the big boys what they wanted to do. Basketball was the activity of choice. Two big boys against mommy. It felt good to be back on their turf again.

Now, as I blog, they are contentedly Lego-ing in the basement. Happy kids = Happy mom. Spending time with them really is an investment.

We journey on....

Friday, February 18, 2011


It appears my last few blog posts have a common theme -- sit. wait. rest.

This is a tough one for me. The journey started several years ago. I have often used our travel time in the van as a time to memorize Bible verses or put them to song. On this particular day, we were reciting The 10 Commandments from Exodus 20. Verse 8 in this preschool-friendly version, said, "Rest on the Lord's Day". When I was a child I memorized, "Remember the Sabbath Day by keeping it Holy." I have lived my entire life going to church on Sunday. In that regard, it is a "special" day. But, Oldest asked, "Mommy, what does it mean to rest on the Lord's Day?" Rest? Really. I don't rest any day of the week. How can a mother rest? I wanted to say something like, "Oh, back then they had to rest on church day" or "That is part of the OLD Testament and now we don't have to do that." But, I wouldn't say that regarding the commandments that prohibit stealing or killing or committing adultry...or any of them for that matter. It is true, we are not under the Old Testament Law, but really it is listed with some big no's no's. I certainly don't equate killing someone with not-resting on the Lord's day.

In Genesis, after six days of creation it says, "By the seventh day, God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done."

I began to study what the Sabbath meant and what it means for me today. I had to wrestle with the concept that the word "sabbath" can't be separated from "rest".

A respected preacher I heard defined the Sabbath this way -- resting on the Sabbath means not producing. For some, it can't be a particular day -- like Sunday -- but it is ONE day out of SEVEN dedicated to worshipping God and ceasing to produce. It is trusting that when I stop producing, God can continue to produce on my behalf. It takes faith and trust to truly rest.

In prayer, I began to ask God how I could honor Him on the Sabbath. It isn't about a set of black and white rules of what can and can't be done. It is about the spirit of honoring the Lord.

As a mom, my weeks are busy, specifically with homeschooling my children. Saturday's are filled with sports and laundry and many other things. Sunday has become a bonus day. After church, I love to tackle a few things to make my week go a little smoother. If I can go to bed on Sunday night with the pantry stocked, dishwasher unloaded, laundry done, and school prepped, I am ready for the week. How can I possibly not produce on the Lord's Day -- all of my days are my days! Can I give one up?

I have to say, last week the Lord challenged me and answered the prayer I prayed when I asked how I could honor the Sabbath. I experienced a series of events that sound made-up!! I have been journaling daily and watching the week progress.....tickled at God's goodness! When I ceased to produce, God literally produced for me...and the week isn't even over.

Once again, I appreciate your feedback, comments, and private e-mails. I am still in the process of truly comprehending what "Honoring the Sabbath" means. How do you incorporate it into your life?

Friday, February 11, 2011


Waiting. It feels long and drawn out. If it isn't long, it doesn't feel like waiting does it? I don't wait at a green light. I wait at a red light. I have to come to a stand still or a complete stop. It isn't a comma or a dash. It is a period. A long period, not knowing how long the wait will last.

"Wait a minute. Just wait! Wait just a second!!"

Yesterday, a radio broadcast reminded its listeners of the instant society we live in. Beyond microwaved and fast food, we have scheduled early baby inductions, fast-dry nail polish, and instant oatmeal (is 5 minutes for the regular too long?). Children are encouraged to grow up quickly by the way they dress and even academically! Kindergarten is now more like first or second grade. The preschool years are dedicated to learning over playing and just being a kid. (As a homeschooling mom, I am NOT anti-education.)

This morning I read Psalm 40. It led me to study the words "wait", "waiting", and "waited" in the Bible. I even waited to post this blog because I am still in the process of mulling this over. There may be a part II. Just wait and see.

I found this rather humorous -- look at the Psalmist's words:
vs. 1 "I did not give up waiting for the Lord."
vs. 13 "O Lord Hurry...."
vs. 17 "Oh my God, do not wait!"

I chuckled as I read the passage because it hit so close to home! Sure Lord, I will wait. Okay, hurry up! I need an answer now!

Time is often needed to bring optimal results. A pregnancy is 40 weeks. Bread takes time to rise and cheese takes time to age. People are no different. The Bible is full of characters who required time on the potters wheel before they were used. That often came through waiting.

Waiting strengthens our spiritual muscles. I call it WAIT Lifting! Psalm 27 says, "Wait for the Lord. Be strong. Let your heart be strong. Yes wait for the Lord." Is there anything more difficult than needing answers, relief, understanding, or direction and being forced to wait?

I can think of several poor decisions I would have made had I NOT waited! Being hasty is foolish. I can also think of decisions I made in haste that I regret.

As I pondered the Bible's definition of "wait", I came to the conclusion that it doesn't include worry. Wait and worry should not co-exist. Waiting is a time to trust and be strong rather than anxiety and worry until the answer comes.

With no conclusive end to this study, I would love to hear your thoughts on waiting.

Now, I am waiting on you.

Friday, January 28, 2011


Sit. Sat. Sitting.

No matter how you say it, I don't really like it. I'm not much of a sitter. As far as I recall, I've never been one to sit for too long. I'd rather be standing, moving, or walking. Why? I think I equate sitting with un-productivity. Productivity is the name of my game.

Perhaps that is why a week of sickness in our home was so utterly painful. I was forced to sit and didn't really want to. I recently found myself sitting in the van with a minute or two to spare. I grabbed a wet wipe to clean my steering wheel and dashboard. When that was done, I collected trash. I realized I could just sit and talk to the kids and enjoy the moment. I did.

When Jesus fed the 5000 by multiplying five loaves and two fish he instructed the disciples to have the people SIT down. In John 6 it says the food was distributed to those who were SITTING down as much as he wanted.

Although the highlight of this story has always been the miracle of multiplying the food, I have been perplexed by Jesus' instruction. I wonder if anyone missed out on a meal that day because they wouldn't sit down?

Why not a basket buffet? With 5000 people it seems that would be more a more efficient program. Everyone could have stood on either side of the baskets to retrieve their bread and fish.

Perhaps when the people were seated, they could SEE all the people and SEE all the food and SEE the miracle! What miracles have I missed because I would not sit down for a moment and look around and open my eyes?

Maybe Jesus knew the people needed rest as much as they needed to be nourished physically. They had followed Jesus for quite some time. Mandatory time out for all. Time Out should be mandatory for all mommies!

Sitting down tends to be a posture that says, "I recieve. I rest" Maybe my constant producing and dis-taste for sitting has more to do with trust. Babyboy loves to do everything for himself. At thirty-something I still like to do everything myself. When I sit, I can't produce. I have to trust someone else to do, to produce, and to provide for me.

In the story of Mary and Martha, Mary sat at the Lord's feet while Martha took care of the preparation. I can guarantee you that if I was present, I would have busied myself with the prep work. Mary was commended for choosing what was "better". If Martha spent more time sitting maybe she would not have been so worried and upset about many things. Maybe if I would sit, His peace would cover my to-do list too!

Some people could stand to stand a bit more. I could stand to do a little more sitting. I'm learning.

Sit. Sat. Still Sitting.

Thursday, January 20, 2011


Have you seen the show WIPE OUT? The contestants are thrown into a larger-than-life obstacle course. More often than not they end up wiping out, landing flat on their back-side!

Our entire family, with the exception of daddy, could be contestants on that show. The flu came suddenly and intensely, and wiped us out one by one. Right now, Oldest and Babyboy are still down for the count while Middleson is in the best shape and almost back to normal. I am somewhere in the middle taking one step forward and two steps back.

It has been at least 5 years since we have faced this kind of sickness. I prayed over and over each day for the strength to take care of my kids and nurture them while they were ill. The Lord enabled me to do it! I am even more grateful for the good health we normally have. Some people live with chronic illness and pain.

We didn't have any official 30minutesontheboysturf under the circumstances. But, there was something to be said for the sickturf. Since my agenda was completely discarded, my only goals were to get my kids better and get better myself. We read stacks of storybooks and just packed into one cozy chair and snuggled. Babyboy, who does not stop these days, is only content if he is laying on me or being held close. After Middleson recovered he made mention that he thought sitting togther and reading books was really fun!

Now, I am not advocating more sick days! I cannot wait until we can all leave the house again. But, the time we have spent wiped-out was put to good use snuggling, loving, praying, and persevering.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Ready or Not, Here I come!

Yesterday afternoon I retrieved Babyboy from his crib after his nap. We hid behind his rocking chair and yelled for Oldest and Middleson to come and find us. That led to Babyboy's official first game of Hide and Seek! Mommy and Babyboy against Oldest and Middleson. That certainly qualified for some great energetic time on the boys turf.

The game was toned down from the usual suspenseful, in-the-dark, intensely difficult-to-find game that the big boys play with Daddy. Oldest and Middleson used sweet voices and hid in more obvious spots with a limb hanging out to clue Babyboy of their whereabouts.

When it was time for Babyboy and I to hide again, I could feel his little heart beating rapidly and a his face anticipating the moment he would be discovered. When his big brothers found us, he screamed in delight.

After several rounds, we decided to let Babyboy stand on his own two feet. When I requested that he hide, he did. As long as he couldn't see us, he reasoned that we couldn't see him. He layed on the floor on his tummy with his face squished into the carpet and waited for us to find him. Oldest, Middleson, and I used our best acting voices to pretend we couldn't find the one we sought. And at last, with much drama, we found our Babyboy!! Everybody clapped and cheered.

He liked hiding. He liked being found.

This morning when I heard Babyboy singing his morning tunes, I opened his bedroom door to find him laying still with a blanket spread over his face. I quickly understood that he wanted to repeat yesterday's adventures.

As I reflected on the joy we all experienced from a simple childhood game, I couldn't get away from the THRILL it must bring Jesus when we seek Him. We are definitely the lost ones. He isn't lost, yet the Bible instructs us to seek him repeatedly.

Jeremiah 29:13 "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."
Hebrews 11:6 "....he rewards those who earnestly seek him."
Psalm 105:4 "Look to the Lord and his strength; see his face always."

Miriam-Webster gives the following definition for "seek".
seek verb \ˈsēk\

transitive verb
1: to resort to : go to
2a : to go in search of : look for b : to try to discover
3: to ask for : request
4: to try to acquire or gain : aim at
5: to make an attempt : try —used with to and an infinitive
intransitive verb
1: to make a search or inquiry
2a : to be sought b : to be lacking
— seek·er noun

Psalm 10:4 refers to the one who does NOT seek him. "In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God."

My prayer is that I will seek His face always and train my children to earnestly seek Him. I want to leave room in my thoughts for God and push out the distractions that keep me from seeking Him wholeheartedly.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Sometimes I do cry over spilled milk!

Wow, being a mom is just so intense. It is wonderful. It is more than I dreamed in so many ways. Who could have ever imagined or expressed the magnitude of a mother's love?

But it is constant. For me, as a homeschooling mommy, I am always (always) always (always) with my 3 blessings. Oldest, Middleson, and Babyboy accompany me to the grocery store, bank, dentist (try getting 4 cavities filled with 3 kids running around the dentist's office), gym, library, doctor (no details here), and everywhere. There is no such thing as "time alone" or a quick in-out trip. It is 3 coats on, 6 shoes on, buckled in, unbuckled, in, out, buckle back in, arrive home, shoes off, coats off, hands washed.

I signed up for this. I am not complaining. I am content, thankful, blessed, and everything in between.

But, sometimes I cry over a spilled glass of milk. It is those silly little things that almost put me over the edge. Bread crumbs on the floor. Lots and lots of them -- glued together they just might make another sandwich. How about an "I'm still hungry" when the food has been put away and the last dish is cleaned and put away. Last but not least, in a house full of boys I can normally expect a few dribbles on the toilet EVERY single time I enter the bathroom.

I am finding it helps to include Oldest and Middleson in the cleaning and chores routine. I light a scented candle and turn on some worship music. I take a deep breath. I stand back and ask myself what a proper response would be -- in other words, should I REACT or gracefully RESPOND? I tell myself that my children are a blessing from the Lord and I have been chosen by HIM to be their mommy.

I wipe up the milk and and dry proverbial tears....and life goes ON!

Friday, January 7, 2011


I was given the advice to NEVER EVER post being home alone. Not on Facebook. Not on a blog. Don't do it! I didn't. I refrained.

Now, I can say I was home alone. Daddy traveled to Florida for a business trip. Oldest stepped up to the plate to be the "man of the home". Middleson and Babyboy stepped it up a notch too. I feel like super-mom having gone from Daddy home for two weeks to flying solo after the high of Christmas, New Years and too much sugar! I made it!

When daddy is gone we always camp out in the master bedroom at night, with the exception of Babyboy who needs the confinement of the crib. Oldest and Middleson look forward to being on my floor in sleeping bags.

While I couldn't wait for Daddy to safely arrive home, there are some perks in his absence.

First, the boys are easy to feed. They request sandwiches for every meal. And, we eat much earlier than our traditional 6:30 supper and multiple afternoon snack sessions.

Second, since we eat earlier, the evening feels longer. I made it a point to play with the boys each evening. Jenga, Tic Tac Toe, and Rocks, Paper, Scissors filled our evenings. I call this "30minutesontheboysturf". I made a conscious decision to hold each boy and affirm each son. It is too easy to let a day go by without a snuggle or a hug or words of affirmation.

Third, everybody in the home gets a new appreciation for daddy! Babyboy's expression was priceless when daddy came through the door last night. "Daddy, Daddy, daddy!" he squeeled begging to be picked up.

That's it. Three is enough. I can't possibly begin to list the reasons he is missed or why I am so glad he is home. Can I just say, I am so glad I am no longer HOME ALONE? Everything feels just right now. Home sweet Home.