Unnecessary Anxiety

I won't mention that all anxiety is unnecessary; right now I'm facing the overwhelming silly decision of which doctor to visit for a probably little issue. This shouldn't be hard. Dr. D. certainly isn't giving me any sympathy on it, but ... I have three choices.

Option 1: my "new" family doctor, rather my husband's doctor. I went to see him for one of those routine thingamabobs this summer, thinking "He's a homeschooler! What could be better?!?" Ugh... I thought I saw him at CVS the other day, and hid down the next aisle because of my imagined conversation - He says: "Hey! How are those inverted nipples?" Me: "Um, I think you have me confused ..." He say: "Right! That was the other homeschooling mom - you're the one with the ugly finger wart. By the way, did the freezing work for that?" Me: "It, uh, well ..."

Okaaaaay, I can see why Dr. D (hubby) doesn't buy this particular excuse, but what if I happen to run into this doc and his family at a homeschooling event? I know he wouldn't say those things, but he'd be thinking them. Or I would be, which is what matters now, isn't it?

On to option 2: my old family doctor whose office just recently moved to Mars (or somewhere thereabouts). "Hi! I've been your patient since I was 15, that's why my file is the size of a telephone book, and, well, yes, I know I haven't seen you in over four years, because I've been seeing my OB and my husband's doctor, because, well, I don't really like you (you could try smiling - it wouldn't kill you), but I like you better now since I'm not likely to ever see you outside of the office and even if I did you'd have no reason to recognize me so how about we get started?" I'm sure that would go over well.

So, option 3: my OB-GYN from my second child's (complicated) birth. "Hi! Remember me? Yeah, thought so given how much of a problem I was for everyone. Well, I have three kids now. Decided on a midwife and homebirth for the most recent addition, which went well, but now, see ..."

Sigh. That last one is looking like the best option at the moment. Now to pick up the phone and call.Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

Secret Sister Gift On its WAY!

I sent this lovely package out to my Secret Sister on Friday!!! I can't wait for her to get it and open it!!! Here's a preview:

Secret Sister package

HAHAA! As if that helps!

I have to confess, it was a special joy for me to pray for her (something I'm still doing). All my angst about dropping the ball? Well, God is faithful even when I'm not - He didn't let me forget. Not only that, but He is already showing me answers to those prayers. I'm so excited! Mailman/woman, hurry up and deliver this package, will you?!?

Back at it ... almost

Well, today was supposed to be St. Nick's next outdoor adventure class. But, after two nights of waking in tears because of an earache, and one late evening at the med center, and a forecast of cold and wet, he's staying home. I think he was ready for a week off (they've had the first Monday of every month off, except December). He gave it one or two perfunctory "But I don't want to miss my class!" statements, and then resolved himself with a, "I'd rather stay home and hug Mommy all day." Problem being, I was planning on using my time today to plan out the week!
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Ok, admittedly, planning out is nothing more than going into Homeschool Tracker, rescheduling a book we didn't get to last week, and dropping the rest of our assignments into the Assignment Grid. All of five minutes? So why am I over here writing about it rather than over in HS Tracker? (Especially since I have it open in another window.) I don't know.

Ok, I do know. I'm drooling over web page templates and fiddling with PayPal settings. Why? Hmmmmmmmmm. Plead the 5th.

And now the kids are up from the basement (Curious George done - every few weeks they go obsessive over a different PBS show), so the presence of mind required for this and/or rescheduling in HST is gone! How convenient for me!

Holiday Surprises

#1 Stuffed Pumpkins!

I tried this recipe on a whim a few weeks ago and it immediately became a favorite. Adapted (as always) from Taste of Home, this brought oooohs and aaaaahhhhs from everyone around the table - and more - once all had been served and were tasting the delightful sausage-rice stuffing within, they were ooooohing even more! There's nothing I love more than to share something I find absolutely delectable with others (who are appreciative, i.e., not my kids, unless the pumpkin is stuffed with SUGAR)!

Here is the recipe:
Prep: 50 minutes (really true)
Bake: 1 1/4 hours (true there too)
Yield: 8 servings (as a side); 4 servings (as a main dish)

2 cups water
1 cup uncooked brown rice
2 teaspoons bullion (I use beef)
1/2 teaspoon curry powder

Mix spices into water with rice and boil for 40-50 minutes or until the water is absorbed.

1 pound bulk Italian sausage
2 cups chopped celery
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
5 tablespoons dried currants
1/4 cup vegetable broth (or water)
1 teaspoon poultry seasoning
1/2 teaspoon rubbed sage
1/4 teaspoon dried marjoram

In a large skillet (VERY large) cook sausage until no longer pink; drain and set aside. In the same skillet, sauté the celery, onion, garlic until tender (3 mins). Reduce heat and add currants, broth, and seasonings. Return sausage and cook until liquid is absorbed, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the rice.

2 medium pie pumpkins (2 - 2 1/2 pounds each)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

Wash pumpkins and cut opening in the top, reserving the tops (for lids). Remove and discard the loose fibers (save the seeds for roasting, if desired). Prick inside of each pumpkin with a fork and sprinkle with garlic powder and salt. Stuff with rice mixture, pressing down firmly; replace tops. Tip: use a small and very sharp knife for the pumpkins!

Place in a 13x9 inch baking dish and add about 1/2 inch of water. Bake, uncovered, at 350 for 30 minutes. Cover loosely with foil and bake another 50 minutes longer or until tender. Cut each pumpkin into four wedges to serve.

I'm so glad the only pie pumpkins I could find were unusually small. I have half a bowl full of stuffing left and two acorn squash just begging to be stuffed!

#2 No Post-Holiday Aftermath

I didn't have the same "morning after" sensation - tired, dishes left from the previous night, spots on the rug, piles of linens needing to be laundered. The festivities were at my brother's house, despite my sister-in-law just having had surgery last week. It was her choice - she'd rather bake a ham than ride in the car for six hours in one day. I can see her point, though I have to say, though I love hostessing, this time around I was very thankful that I got to ride in the car!
Living to Dining
Ahhhh, so nice coming home.

Leaves of Thanks

Happy Day Before Thanksgiving!

This year throughout the month of November we added Thanksgiving Leaves to a large vase on the dining room table. Today's task? String them all together into a garland of thanks.
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Here's what everyone is thankful for, grouped by individual:

St. Nick
-Mom and Dad
-fun and books
-leaves to jump in
-winter
-chemistry and good stuff
-hearts
-tacos and my mom that makes them
-love

Little Fish
-lava inside a volcano
-giant bats
-spiders
-slippers
-his house and cheese
-bacon and ghosts
-juice at church
-candy

Mud Pie
-"I'm fankful!"
-giants
-our house
-"ME!"
-"Pwetty Dwess!"
-smiles
-kisses

Dr. D
-God's provision
-good food
-warm food
-my wife
-that we can rake leaves together
-home, wife, and family
-health

Mommy
-Christmas and Advent and Jesus' birthday
-my husband and the many ways he blesses and leads
-hope
-beautiful music
-my wonderful children
-that my family is together and safe and happy
-pizza and baked goods and taste buds

General
-church to learn about God
-Mud Pie
-delicious French Toast
-the color brown
-forgiveness
-Little Fish
-St. Nick
-slippers (again. I guess we really like slippers)

All of these make me smile. And despite a few outbursts of, "NO! That's TOO MUCH GLUE!" I know the kids had a lot of fun and are all proud of their beautiful garland. Me, too!
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Time to toss the table cloth in the wash (before the glue dries!).

Sookie, Time to Pack Your Saggy Bags!

I haven't stayed current with blogs lately - been trying to cut back on digital attachments. But yesterday I clicked over to bloglines and started skimming through the dozen or so blogs I follow.

Then, at one post in particular, I stopped skimming and started reading. Karen's, Perfectionism is Nasty. I half expected my name to be mentioned. Wasn't Karen writing about me?

(Of course she was! It's her blog, sure, but I am a card carrying member of NRU*, so it had to be about me!)
See, there's an elephant in the room, only I didn't know it was an elephant until I read Karen's post. Perfectionism. This is exactly my problem.

I had another blog, and this one (which I don't really consider a blog; it's just a little journal to replace my spiral notebook because that inevitably gets scribbled in or spilled on with something that will smell terribly horrid, like coffee with cream) was my sweet little homeschool journal where I kept track of what we did and how it went. Nobody read it and I didn't care. Because plenty of people read my other blog. My professional blog (that has to be said with a snooty upturned nose, by the way). On that blog, my technorati ranking was incredible; I had links in from friends and strangers and Important People; I got advertising solicitations almost weekly.

But it was an albatross. The very week of its inception, I began to resent it. My every thought: what do I blog on next? What would be a good post? How can I attract more readers, and how can I satisfy my fans? (Fans! I'm shaking my head here.) I'd spend hours I didn't have brainstorming posts and sketching them out. Each had to be better - funnier, more insightful, more novel - than the one before. Before long, what little time I had for other things (beyond the day to day things, like SCHOOL) was gone.

"It's so fun!" I'd say, watching my hit counter soar creep up a dozen, then a hundred or more every week. Pretty soon I had attracted readers from far away places, and important readers I wanted, almost desperately, to impress. It was marketing. Building a platform for my career, I thought. Or at the very least gaining inroads to an industry that has very few doors, most of which are guarded by hydrophobic three-headed beasts.

The more I thought about my readers, the more questions arose. "Can I post this? What will those Important People think of me? If I post on bioethics, won't some of my readers think less of me? And my friends? They know I'm pro-life, right? Wouldn't they have to know that? But, I can't post a link to this, even to just point out that Dr. D's name is mentioned. It's way too controversial."

And religion. Post about faith and risk isolating those not on the path; don't post and run the risk of being misjudged by the rest. There were other topics too - family, homeschooling, untouchable for one reason or another. Soon I couldn't write anything on any level for any purpose. The blog was, at that point, the least of it, although it was the initial cause.

So I deleted it. Two clicks, gone.

And I picked up here, thinking anonymity would free me from the shackles I'd bound myself in. After all, if no one knows who I am, why would I worry about what I write? Why would I care if I'm too sarcastic or too scatological? Too esoteric or too simple? A religious zealot? A backslidden heathen? A crunchy liberal? A *gasp* Republican (I am Independent, when I bother to think about it, which is just a few seconds shy of zero, fyi)? A hack? A fraud? No one knows me here, so why would I care?

But ... I do care. It all comes back to one thing: perfectionism. Having to be understood. So that if someone does disagree with me, it's not because I haven't been rational and reasonable, because I've been very careful to be right. Perfectionism. Which, as Karen pointed out, is arrogance.

I was so focused on who people thought I was, and I got so wrapped up in trying to control their opinion ("the spin" as Dr. D puts it), that I forgot - entirely for a while - who I am.
Perfectionism is just innately wrong. It's arrogance. It's thinking you are something when you're nothing. It's thinking you can do things perfectly, which is a lie, or that things depend on your performance, which is a lie. It's setting up your own standards and believing that if you fulfill them, then you are good and God is pleased. Total legalism. (And, I'd add, idolatry.)
I became so obsessed with numbers - stats, inbound links, comments, popularity - that I let it define my value, and I forgot the origin of my value.
Like desiring the favor of men; like wanting to feel approved and worthwhile because of your accomplishments when the Bible says you're already approved and worthwhile in God's eyes because of HIS accomplishments...
I became so crippled by fear of how my words would be received, or if they'd ever be received (those Important People again) that I am going on six months of "vacation" from something all of those closest to me say is as much a calling from God for me as is motherhood.

Yet even as I write this, staring truth in the face, the loudest voice is crying, "What will they think of you? Surely they will misunderstand!" So, there he is, Sookie, the Saggy Baggy Elephant, moping in the corner. Despite my efforts to be anonymous, it hasn't changed a thing, because the real cause of my struggle doesn't need my name attached to torment me. There's only one way out. Which, as usual, means opening my hands.

* Narcissist's R Us, or rather, are me. Just me!

Land of Catastrophe - And Yet Another Reason to Use Cloth Diapers

Who says catastrophes have to be saved for Dr. D's trips out of town?
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Today, as I was cleaning up after lunch, St. Nick said, "Wow, Mom, what stinks?" and a second later, "I smelled something really stinky but now I smell oranges." And a second later, "MOM! MOM! MOM! THERE'S A FLOOD A FLOOD A FLOOD!"

That caught my attention. I set aside Mud Pie's plate of goo (once a jelly sandwich and orange slices), which I'd been ready to stuff down the disposal, and peered around the refrigerator.

Water, seeping out from under it. My first thought was that the leak in the refrigerator had worsened, but the leak is just a trickle from a frozen line - the fix is simply to unplug the thing for a few days, but when on earth can a family of five unplug the refrigerator and leave the door hanging open for days at a time?

Anyway, the water was orange. And chunky. And there was a lot of it. An awful lot.

Opening My Hands

Today was the last sermon in a series at my church on the Story of the Christ. I wish now I had thought more about each one and had written up detailed notes because the teaching is something I want to take into a quiet corner and gnaw, like a dog with a favorite bone. I've loved the Author for a long time; now I'm learning to love the Book.

One of the main points of the series - eleven weeks illustrated - was the shocking nature of who Christ actually is, as opposed to who we (now and the Jews at the time) expect him to be.

The Jews were waiting for a Messiah, for the one who would lead the nation of Israel against the tyranny of Caesar and reclaim their national and religious independence. They were looking for a warrior, a fighter, a King.

And, as Jeff (the pastor) pointed out, we today expect a different sort of Jesus. A wandering Buddha-prophet (only thinner), aimlessly hiking the rocky wilds, stopping now and then to wax eloquent and give us nifty sayings we can later immortalize on little plaques in our kitchens. Oh, and healing anyone he happened across. I unwillingly think of Miss America on tour, waving from a parade float, visiting orphanages and spreading smiles and good will.

Jeff painted an altogether different picture, intricate and richly detailed, and wholly scriptural.

Jesus, a man with a mission, a message that had nothing to do with Rome and taxation. And most certainly not an aimless wanderer, seeking out the downtrodden so he could demonstrate his powers. Wherever he went, he was mobbed by diseased - mobbed by them such that he couldn't do what he'd come to do. Soon he couldn't set foot in a city before the crowds would seek him out, so he hid, avoiding crowds, and if he did get found out by someone needing healing, he would say, "Shhhh, don't tell anyone!" It wasn't some perverse reverse psychology - don't tell! (But do!). He needed solitude to do his work - to train the twelve. And what was he telling them? That he wasn't interested in revolts against Rome. That he was going to die.

Die? What kind of Messiah dies? They didn't get it, thought he was speaking in metaphors.
His actual message - that he is the Son of God - was not what anyone expected to hear. Blasphemy! When he so much as hinted at it, people picked up stones. More than once his disciples spirited him away from a crowd set to stone him. Over and over those opposed to Jesus couldn't catch him. During daylight hours, the crowds protected him, and at night his disciples kept him in hiding. Until one of the twelve defected. Maybe Judas was disenfranchised. This Jesus guy sure isn't the king he was hoping for, the warrior, the second David.

People today don't want to hear this either. They're fine with Christ being a prophet, or some really good guy. Jeff taught on this today. Imagine the eleven (since Judas wasn't in the picture anymore) holed up in a room the day after Passover, the door locked. Jesus was dead. Dead. So he couldn't be the Messiah, because as everyone knew, a dead messiah was no Messiah.

But who was he? Minions of hell feared and obeyed him; the winds receded at his command; water bore his weight; disease fled at his touch ... he had even proved power over death!

He couldn't have been an ordinary man, with a few delusions of grandeur. Not with the power he had demonstrated.

A prophet? Sure, they may have thought. A prophet like Elijah. Prophets could die.

Only ... he'd said he was Messiah. He'd said he was the Chosen One. Had he lied?

Only ... then he would have been a false prophet.

And when the Marys came pounding on the door shouting, "It's empty! The tomb is empty!" what would they have thought? And when He appeared, bodily, they didn't break into cheers. They thought they were seeing a ghost. They were terrified!

But He took off his sandals. He ate. Not a ghost but a corporeal being, the same as He was before, but different. And very much undoubtedly alive. He had turned back the clock to the Garden, the choice of the first pair. The break - which He had now repaired.

I've always known the story. I could quote along, in a dull monotone, near any passage from the gospels and yet all my life the picture I've had in my head has been wrong.

No wandering prophet, patting children and snacking on loaves and fishes in the windswept grass. A man, at once man and God, with purpose and power and who has called me to Follow Him.

And here is the point of the past eleven weeks.

Follow. It's not about where I'm going. The Jews wanted to be free of Caesar, but Christ didn't care about Caesar or, ultimately, the political nation of Israel. He didn't come to lead their revolution.

Or, as Jeff said again and again, He didn't come to head up the parade I'm already leading.

Follow.

It's not about where I'm going; it's about where He's going.

My parade, my plans, my desires, my goals - all of those things I'm clutching, knuckles white.

Leave.

Follow.

I'm holding tight. But if I want to follow, I must open my hands.

An Uncommonly Good Week

I don't know what it was about this week - maybe the joyous clarity of my sinus passages, or the fascinating study with Tapestry, or the prayer from my Secret Sister, whoever she is? Whatever the cause, it's been simply ... fantastic. Not that we haven't had our moments of Mommy hiding in the mudroom to scarf down a comfort cookie (noooo, I don't really do that. Of course not!). But overall, school has been wonderful. Now to remember what we did ...
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Monday I got to drive St. Nick to his very cool outdoor adventure class (something he'd never get to do if we sent him to traditional school). The venue was simply beautiful - carpet of leaves, towering oaks, lake peeking between the trees, quaint little cabins tucked around every corner. Even the 40 minute drives to drop him off (one way) and pick him up in the afternoon were great. I took Fish for the pick-up (and left Mud Pie, napping, with my mother), and we stopped by Robinette's on the way home. We oooohed and ahhhhed over the Christmas ornaments (rather, I did the ooooohing while the boys played with little wind-up caterpillars); I bought my Secret Sister her gift, and we got a dozen donuts to take home. Not school, exactly, but certainly fun! We even saved some donuts for Dr. D.

Tuesday, riding the wave of Dr. D being home at the office (and NO TRIPS planned for a good while), we dove into schoolwork and studied all sorts of things related to Ancient China. Books on Chinese inventions, discussion on the culture. Lots of talking, which is by far St. Nick's favorite thing to do. We also did math/reading, which were a breeze.

Wednesday St. Nick got hooked on our book of myths from around the world. I keep it out of reach because it's not the sort of book I want him lingering on. The stories tend to be strange and violent - both things that fascinate him. I think we've read at least half of the book in the past three days. What's fascinating to me is just how rational St. Nick is. He's been asking about everything lately, "Now is this real or fake?" Like, "Is reindeer flying true? Can they really fly?" Everything from the tooth fairy to magic kits (in allll those toy catalogs) gets the question. "Is it true? Is it real?" This sparks some fantastic conversation - we've talked about everything from what the tooth fairy (if he/she is real) looks like to creativity and the veracity of the Bible. Who knew a six year old could think at this level?

Thursday was especially fun because I "tricked" St. Nick into enjoying his lessons. First thing in the morning we do our scripture and character reading, prayer, then the three Rs. The afternoon is the fun stuff - science and Tapestry of Grace. But St. Nick, on his myth kick, didn't want to study the boring old Maya. He wanted myths! So, I got out our copy of Rain Player and said, "This IS a myth!" But I had him sit with me and read a short nonfiction book on the Maya before opening the myth. The first page: "I don't want to! I'm not listening!" The second page: "What is THAT? Is that a TOMB?" (Like I said, anything grotesque catches his attention immediately.) He was engrossed in the book, and the myth was all the sweeter because he understood the context for the story.

Then I broke out a craft I'd purchased a few weeks before, before I'd decided to give up on crafts. St. Nick just doesn't like them. They're boring. They're useless. Really, when I think of it from his perspective, what is a craft? He spends a lot of valuable time (that could be spent on Legos or watching CyberChase! Come on, Mom!) to make something that's sort of ... papery and flimsy (think paper plates and poster paints and Popsicle sticks). It goes on the refrigerator for a week, and then who knows? Into a drawer? Or the X file (the trash can)? This craft was different.

I'd purchased a weaving kit. St. Nick labored over it for two hours, and at one point said, "Mom, this is SO FUN!" Only he wasn't smiling. But he's a little young for sarcasm, isn't he? Anyway, I think he meant it. Once I helped him free his creation from the loom, I told him he'd made a fantastic potholder.

"I made a POTHOLDER?" He was clearly amazed.

"Um, yes?" I'm expecting tears or something at this point.

"A REAL POTHOLDER? Like for REAL pots?"

"Um, yes, except it says not to use it on metal pots."

He grinned. "But I can use it for our macaroni pot! (glass) I can make macaroni with my REAL potholder!"

He proudly brought it with us to dinner and showed it off to everyone who would look at him. What a difference a useful craft can make! I've read a bit of Charlotte Mason's ideas, but the idea of handicrafts (that children spend their free time making useful things, like doll clothes and, well, potholders) has always seemed silly to me. St. Nick sewing? Weaving? Right.

But he loves his potholder. It's hanging from a hook on the mantle right now.

And that brings us to today. Another fun day - we decided to scrap The Corn Grows Ripe (not capturing his attention) and we spent a good while turning a cardboard box into a sled and giving Fish rides around the living room in it. Oh, and of his own design, St. Nick made cardboard show shoes for his feet. And wings. And we spent some time doing what is fast becoming one of my favorite things, telling stories. I cuddle with Fish while St. Nick fiddles with something on the floor (have to keep that boy's hands busy) and I start telling stories. Either family stories from childhood or silly made-up stories. St. Nick loves to add to them and suggest twists and turns. And, if it's a made-up story, Fish is usually the hero (along with Mud Pie and Nick, of course), which makes him glow like a little Christmas bulb. I love that glow.

Now it's the Blessed Hour of Cyberchase and Arthur, my little moment to regain possession of sanity before Dr. D comes home from work. The craziest thing of all? I can hardly wait to start up again next week!

Humorous Contrasts

Both of these things I found extremely funny. But while one left me feeling hopeful and contemplative, the other made me want to go out, find that lady who sat next to me at a wedding a few months ago - the one who said how she "hates homeschooling" and went on and on about her homeschooled niece who can't do math and is ruined forever - and smack her upside the head.

The first is the Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List. I could identify with so many of these, particularly # 17
Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.
I can't tell you how many times I've heard that one.

The second is actually far funnier, and made me laugh and cry at the same time.

Did You Get Your Flu Shot Yet?

Who wants to stand in line? I could mix up my own batch and keep it in the refrigerator. Let's hope I don't confuse it with the yogurt ...



(Thank you to A Garden Full for the laughs!)

Note to Self: Watch the Outgoing Mail

I just found an envelope on the table - I hadn't put it there, so where did it come from? Sealed, unlabled, but something was inside. I opened it and there was an order form from one of our many toy catalogs. St. Nick hadn't written on the form, but had filled in the return address.

From: "MISHUGIN"
Address: "1324"
City: "GRRAND REPISSG"
State: "USA"

I'm still laughing! Especially the Grr.

Here's another cute one:

Always a Crisis

I am hard pressed to think of a single time Dr. D has gone out of town in which there hasn't been some crisis, either right before he leaves, or while he's gone. Last week he was gone for two days and I had to get in to the doctor for a sinus infection. He's in Chicago today, so something had to happen.

Last night St. Nick lost his balance while spinning on the wood floors and slammed his nose into the floor. I'm sure if he had his two front teeth, they would have been knocked out (or at least loosened, or at the very least, put a slice in his upper lip), as it was, the poor kid got a bloody nose. He is such a gusher. One bonk on the nose and he's going through half a box of tissues. And later in the evening he walked into a wall and even later, very nearly tripped over his sister.
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That's a pretty tame Daddy-out-of-town crisis. We've had a whole assortment of other things - bad news in the mail, even a broken collarbone (Little Fish now knows not to jump off chairs backwards with his eyes closed).

I'm glad we made it this morning to St. Nick's outdoor adventure class, which is 40 minutes north, without incident. It's the coolest place - a campground where the kids spend most of the day outside learning about wildlife, ecology, geology, and all sorts of other things. Dr. D usually drives St. Nick, then works for the day at a McDonald's a few minutes from the camp. Today (because of Chicago) it was my chance to take him (and Fish and Mud Pie). Fish was enthralled by the scary taxidermied animals at the camp; Pie less so. But I can see now why St. Nick absolutely loves going to this class every week.

Surprisingly, it was warmer this morning than we'd expected. A pleasant blessing. The rain that's been pouring ever since I got dropped him off, however, is not so pleasant. But maybe it's not raining up there!

Update: I found out later that it did, indeed, rain, and that they all built shelters outdoors in the rain! So incredibly fun. St. Nick was beside himself with glee over how filthy and wet he was. And now Dr. D is home safe and sound and we can enjoy crisis-free living! Let's hope, right?

Reading Street Signs

St. Nick likes to always know what street we're on, so instead of the constant, "What street is this?" I pointed out the little green signs on most every street corner. This morning on the way home from church, we heard from the backseat of the van: "Are we on Lake Doctor?"

Dr. D (who really is a doctor) got a chuckle out of that.

I must say, it's nice to be able to write, "on the way home from church." It had been nearly two years since we'd been able to say that with any regularity, and it's quite possibly the first time in over six years I've been able to say that without the accompanying prayer, "Thank You GOD we're on our way home now! Do we really have to do this again next Sunday?"

I could go into a laundry list of things that didn't work about previous churches, but I won't. There's no point in that - the point is, we have found a church now and have been going since late summer, overjoyed to finally be getting some spiritual food again. The hardest thing to believe is that it's a mega church. With a praise band! And coffee and cookies during the service! And we watch the pastor on a screen! And we love it! Dr. D and I met at a similar church - we both worked there, scrubbing our way through school - and once we left, I never thought I'd visit a large church again. Ever.

But six years of nursery duty and/or teaching Sunday School in small neighborhood churches, churches where I was one of the only stay-at-home moms and the only planning-on-homeschooling mom ... well. At one church, it wasn't unusual for someone on staff to call me and say, "I have this volunteer position open. All you'd need to do is make phone calls to arrange adult Sunday school teachers. What do you think?" "Ummmmmm. What did you say? (to the toddler) Shhh, honey, I can't hear!" And they'd press on, "Since you're home all day, we thought ..." Thought I had nothing else to do than hide out on the roof to make an undisturbed phone call? Because that's about the only place I can go to make an undisturbed phone call. (Undisturbed until I smell the smoke from the kitchen, that is.)

At the next church I made the mistake of volunteering to teach PreK Sunday School. I say mistake - I shouldn't consider it a mistake to serve, and I don't, but ... Not only did I get the pleasure of watching St. Nick interact with children who've spent most of their childhood in day care, I got to enjoy the germs of half the care centers in the city. Since it was a fairly small church, many of the other parents were serving in other areas, so when little Alex or Bailey had green slime coming from his or her nose, sweetie couldn't stay home, else Mom would have to find another deacon to replace her. So I got Alex and Bailey. And then I got sick. And then Little Fish (who was an infant at the time) got sick, but since I had to be in class, he'd go to nursery and I'd go downstairs to share the joy.

I suppose this is typical. But as the stay-at-home-er, there was an attitude from the other mothers that it didn't matter if I got sick. I was at home anyway! No missed time at work for me. One occasion made this clear - one week when the PreK and K Sunday School classes were combined. The K class's teacher smiled (grimaced?) at me, as I sat in one of the kiddie chairs with my pregnant (Mud Pie!) belly about to burst, and she said with a straight face, "It was such a busy week at work, and I haven't been in church in weeks, so I'll just go on up to the service, ok?" She was gone before I could remember the last time I'd attended the service (about three months earlier).

After that we tried a "family" church, with no nursery or Sunday School. I think I've repressed that particular memory. We left early.

Today, rather than drag home after a long two hours in the nursery or Sunday School, we bopped from classroom to classroom picking up our kids, refreshed and nourished. A part of me worries it's wrong to consume the Gospel, to take without giving back, and maybe it is, but right now the church is just going to have to be satisfied with financial gifts, because by Sunday morning, the rest of me has been spent elsewhere.

Cheese and Whine

Here's what we did this week:
  • Read Genesis 11
  • Read Leading Little Ones to God, Lesson 32
  • Did Singapore Math Intensive Practice, 1B topic 2
  • Did two Scholastic Success for First Grade worksheets (sometimes busywork is a good thing) (like when speaking - at all - triggers twenty minutes of coughing and nose blowing)
  • Read Fa Mulan: The Story of a Woman Warrior by Robert D. San Souci (on Friday, so followed by only five minutes of coughing)
That's IT, for the whole week. St. Nick did a few things on his own - made a host of "I Love You Mom" posters, drew a comic book (about a robot, I think - he hasn't mastered plot yet, but that's ok, since neither have half the published authors out there), and built about five thousand Lego projects.

What he didn't do was watch TV nonstop all week. This surprised me. When we dropped Dr. D at the airport Tuesday morning, and I came home and flopped on the couch, I pretty much expected the next two days would involve me feeling guilty about the kids watching television.

They watched, I think, even less than usual. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe they were worried Mom's mucus would thicken so much she truly couldn't breathe? (It came close.) So they wanted to stay near me? Maybe they're moving beyond this entertainment obsession? Whatever the reason, I'm glad for it.

I watched half hour last night and gave up, after being severely offended by some show. I don't even know what it was called because I'd never seen it before. The story went like this: a pastor was having trouble with his congregation because they thought he was sleeping with his hottie girlfriend. He wasn't, but the people treated her coldly (in a rather silly way), and so he quit his preaching post (as if it were not a calling, but just another job) and celebrated by going to hottie's house to rip her clothes off. Hmmm.

No, it wasn't HBO. I don't have cable. We get three clear-ish channels, and two fuzzy ones.

The point is, maybe the kids are starting to feel the same way about the box as me. (That would be boredom with a touch of horror and disdain, in case it wasn't clear.) That's worth a week of school lost, I'd say! (Nice try at the excuse-making, I know.)
Screen Zombie?

It's Official!

I am a dork.

So, I visited the doctor this afternoon for the hideous non-cold, and he asks me about my symptoms. I start rattling them off, "Bla bla bla, and the stuff in my nose! Noah could have used it to water-seal the ark!"

I went in for antibiotics, not to convince this doctor that I'm a complete moron. *whine* I'm not good at small talk! And I was hacking into a tissue between every lame joke sentence.

The doctor seemed a little scared of me! This red-nosed, red-haired lunatic is cracking snot jokes in his exam room?

Anyway, I have my antibiotics, and at least I said Noah and not Moses (at least I'm pretty sure I said Noah ...).

When is a Cold Not a Cold?

Oh, help. Did I say on Monday that I had a cold? It's so not a cold. It's something noxious, toxic, hideous, horrible. Chills every night for three days, feverish in the morning. Mucus that could seal the sides of a boat, and a nice seaweed color (keeping with the nautical theme). Pain that floats from inner ear to molars to cheekbones to forehead and back again. I've been avoiding drugs beyond Tylenol because of the faint (read: very slim, highly unlikely, virtually nil) possibility of being pregnant. I suppose I should just give up on that hope now, given how ill I've been and how pregnancies don't "stick" very well for me (that's too flippant - believe me, I don't take it flippantly). I certainly don't feel pregnant. I can't feel much of anything below my collarbone.
On the homeschool topic, I am so glad we switched to Homeschool Tracker for planning out our week because so far this week we've done exactly one chapter of Bible reading (followed by fifteen minutes of convulsive hacking) and one math lesson. It's one thing to have sick days because the kiddies are sick, but can Mom call sick days for herself? But, thanks to HST, two clicks and I can reschedule the whole week!

A side benefit. I felt too horrible to worry about Dr. D being off on a business trip! I got to skip the usual late-night-hubby-gone-loneliness, and instead fell into an exhausted, sore, miserable, fitful sleep.

Three-ish Long Weeks

So, weeks ago, on our visit to the Civil War thingy, St. Nick was almost unbearable to be around "bored" and "tired." Turns out, he had a nasty cold coming on, and this turned into weeks of a house full of tired, cranky, snotty (literally) kids. I was having flashbacks to newborn-raising.

10pm: Is that one of the kids crying? Yep, might as well go to bed.

11pm: Ugh. Little Fish. Crying. I'm glad it's only 11pm, lots more time to sleep.

12am: Mud Pie. Fever? No.

1am: Fish. Fever. Cold bath? Are you insane? Ibuprofen.

2am: St. Nick. Sore throat. Water. Kisses.

3am: Mud Pie. Needing a comfort kiss.

3:30am: Fish. Fever. 104! Strip off blankets. Tylenol. Not much night left.

4am: Only two hours. So tired. St. Nick. Coughing.

5:30am: Is it worth going back to bed? Fish. Sweaty, and has to go potty.

6am: Time to get up! Forget it.

6:30am: Mud Pie. C'mon! Get up already! I'm lonely!

We had about half a week of health, and now? I'm the one up every hour. I can't breathe through my nose. My throat hurts. Call the Waaaaahmbulance.

So with all this illness, what have I done with all my nice little planning sheets? (Did I mention the sheets? Or, rather, The Sheets. One for each week, organized, beautiful. I'd planned through December. It took hours and hours and hours. Truly beautiful.) I was really using those sheets, wearing them out, actually. Flipping ahead two sheets for one subject area, flipping back three sheets for another, flipping between two sheets wondering what the heck I was gonna do about the subject area I'd planned but dropped altogether. And when we all got sick, it just got better. I had the months of September through November all in use at once! Those poor trees.

Anyway, I trashed 'em. Yep, all of em.

We're unschooling now! Sixteen hours a day of unlimited TV and computer! HA! (Sorry, don't mean to offend you unschooling folk. I know I'm misconstruing and shamefully playing into stereotypes of unschooling. I'm doing it on purpose. Besides, we all know about my computer, right?)

Nope, not quite up for unschooling, however you do it. I switched my planning to Homeschool Tracker Plus instead.
Now how to record "educational computer use"?
I am in love.

Or, rather, "I ab im lobe."

Breakfast Monster Cookies - Grrrr ... Yum!

The scariest thing about these cookies is how fast they disappear! You'd never guess they were healthy.

cookies for fall

Breakfast Monster Cookies
6 eggs
1 Cup butter
2 Cups brown sugar
1 1/2 Cup honey (I substituted sugar and molasses and they were great!)
9 Cups oatmeal
4 tsp. soda
18 to 24 oz. peanut butter
1 tbsp. vanilla
1 Cup dried milk
1 Cup golden raisins
1 Cup dates
1 (6 oz.) pkg. dried mixed fruit
12 oz. chocolate chips (optional, but come on, is chocolate ever optional?)

Mix ingredients in order. Use a tablespoon to make large scoops. Flatten to 3/4 of an inch (though I didn't flatten mine and they came out fine). Bake at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes. Do not overbake. These really are a meal in themselves (or so I tell myself when I'm nicking three and calling it lunch).

It's a Conspiracy

The other night Little Fish was up at 1am; he went back to sleep, but according to Dr. D, he was bright eyed, ready to start his day. I wonder why ...

[cheesy 1970s wavy flashback lines]

Just after midnight, St. Nick slips across the hall to Fish's bedroom. "Psst! Psst! Fish!"

Fish: (Waking) Huh?

St. Nick: Fish, I been thinking ...

Fish: (Sitting up now) Yeah? We gonna raid the candy drawer again? That was fun!

Nick: No, no - all the candy's hidden someplace else. Naw, this is even better!

Fish: (Stands up in his crib - yes, I know he's almost four, but he's moving in December. Really!) Yeah?

(Mud Pie stumbles into the room, dragging her baby doll by the hair.)

Pie: Hey, whas going on? You pulled the candy heist without me. I want in this time!

Nick: (Cackling quietly) Just the girl I want to see. Ok, so here's the deal, tomorrow, you need to start right off demanding your pretty dress.

Pie: But I don't want to wear a dress.

Fish: Me neither!

Nick: (Sighs heavily) Fish, get with it. You're a boy. What you do is don't get dressed at all. Mama will tell you to but you'll sneak from room to room without taking your PJs off. And then you'll hang out in your underwear. And then -

Pie: I still don't want to wear a dress.

Nick: Yeah, but see? That's the beauty! Mama will put you in your dress, and then you'll tell her you don't want it!

Pie: (Narrows her eyes) Yeah? So, what's this for? What's in it for me?

Nick: We're gonna make Mama so nuts she'll kill us!

Fish: (Rattles the bars of his crib) Now hold on, bro, you want Mama to murder us?

Pie: Did you think this through? I don't want Mama to kill anybody.

Nick: (Rolls his eyes) C'mon, it's a speech of figuring! You babies take everything at face value. What I'm saying is, we're gonna make Mama go crazy!

Fish: (Nodding, a grin spreading over his face) I'm liking this - I can work with this.

(Pie flings her baby doll at Fish)

Pie: You just like causing trouble. (To Nick) I want to know what's in it for me.

Nick: (Holds his arms wide) TV, Baby sis, it's all about TV. Drive Mama insane and she'll let us watch all day.

Pie: (Grinning) Brilliant!

(The three lean their heads together, snatches of conversation can be heard.) demand a snack ten minutes after breakfast ... take off you socks and stuff one down the register ... use rakes as swords and pogo sticks ... change your outfit without asking, every two hours! ... stick train track in the DVD player, oh! and DVDs in the VCR! ... synchronized toilet flushing ... ask for applesauce at lunch then paint the table with it! ... complain about dinner! Fish: what's so strange about that? Nick: start at 9am! Pie: oooooohhh, goooood idea!!

Dr. D: (Groggy) Wha? Is Fish up?

Mom: Ughrfjoghfgh ... zzzzzzzz.

(Dr. D rises to check; the kids scuttle back to their beds.)

No wonder Fish was so wide awake.

Update: it's now 3pm. I'm bribing them with bowls of Froot Loops to just please go watch TV. Please? They've accomplished crazy ...Photo & Video Sharing by SmugMug

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