Tiny Blessing

Today was great. I went for a run, worked on back-to-school stuff, made plans for the new youth track team we're starting this fall, played Blokus with the boys, and ate supper with friends. But today was supposed to be so much different. Today, I was supposed to be having a baby.

We really thought we were done after Max. I was even OK with it, despite thinking that I'd always want to have "just one more." After Max, I felt like our life was complete. I even said, "Heck no!" when people asked if we were going to try one more time for a girl. So, when I called my doctor to ask about some weird period issues and she told me to take a pregnancy test, I was sort of filled with dread. I drove to a different town to pick up the pregnancy test, not wanting rumors to get started in our small community. Wouldn't you know a former student was working the counter. And that pregnancy tests are frequently stolen (I sort of see why now) so now you have to ask for them. Awkward! Anyway, after giving her a clumsy, TMI explanation, I drove home, anxious to take the test to confirm that I was NOT pregnant. After all, I had just bled profusely a few weeks ago. But of course my mind wandered to the what ifs. What if I really was pregnant? We did NOT need a baby right now! Plus, that bleeding couldn't have been good.

I took the test with shaky hands and when I read the results, the word I muttered under my breath was not a nice one. I broke the bad news to Ryan with tears and fears. He was amazing. He right away said, "This is a GOOD thing! We'll be fine." That made me a little hopeful, until I remembered that I'd bled twice recently, once a LOT and with clotting. We decided to try not to get ahead of ourselves. We just prayed and waited. Well - that and I talked out every single possibility ad nauseam.

While I tried to process everything, I made five trips to the doctor in a little over a week's time for blood tests, ultra sounds, results, etc. It was an emotional roller coaster to say the least. At first, I really didn't want the life-altering event of another baby. I couldn't coach track for several years! We'd have five more years of driving to--and paying for--day care! We wouldn't be able to pay off the house as quickly as we had planned! I was going to get fat and stretched out again! And then I saw the baby for what it was - a precious life. Another little Reed or Calvin or Max or maybe a little Ella Raney! Then, I desperately wanted the baby to be all right. And I had a lot of guilt about my reaction when I first thought I was pregnant. The unexpected had brought out an ugly side of me. Things like finances, schedules, coaching, and my body were more important to me than a life. I was sort of brought face to face with my selfishness.

For most of the time, we thought we were dealing with a miscarriage and preparing to process everything when it was all over. I prayed for strength to handle either a miscarriage or a baby (both equally scary possibilities) and I also prayed that God would use this uncertain time as a "reset" button for me. For years - probably every since becoming a mother - I have prayed for the ability to "let go" of so many things, most of them completely stupid. Laundry, cleaning, school work, perfectionism, and unrealistic expectations kept me from enjoying a large percentage of my life. I felt really blessed and life was great and all, but I always carried a lot of stress around. I was so high strung that I rarely FULLY enjoyed the moment - or the people sharing it with me. While I was praying for forgiveness for placing stupid priorities over the life of my baby and asking God to give me a chance to right that wrong, I realized that I had three "babies" already who deserved to be more of a priority in my life. Whether I got a chance to cherish this baby or not, I could start treasuring the children I'd already been blessed with.

After a second ultra-sound, we were told that our dates were wrong. The strange bleeding that I thought was a period was probably oddly-timed ovulation bleeding, not related to the pregnancy. It explained low HCG levels and an undersized embryo at our first ultra sound. It explained how I got pregnant in the first place. The baby was probably fine, just a little younger than we thought. The doctor still wanted to watch closely, but she was confident waiting a month before checking in again. I was so relieved and, just like that, my fears vanished, and I became  so excited about a new little one. I started a secret Pinterest board and reconfigured our house and my schedule and our budget to make room for another little Layton. Ryan settled into cautious optimism, not wanting to get too excited in case things were still not right, but we decided to go ahead and tell the boys on Christmas Eve. They were THRILLED!

After Christmas, we headed to visit my family in Kansas. I started bleeding lightly the night before we left. I cried. We prayed. And we left the next morning, not knowing what else we could do. I bled all the way to my parents' house, dreading every pit stop. It stayed light, but it never really stopped. It continued through the next day, my Dad's birthday. The day after that it got worse and we were pretty sure we knew what was happening. I very much wanted to miscarry on my own--not in a hospital, so I just called the doctor to ask what to expect. Ryan took me to Wal-mart to get thicker pads, and when we got back I decided to take a shower. Within seconds of stepping into the shower, I passed the baby. It was the most awful thing I've ever experienced. I stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out and Ryan came to check on me. We cleaned up and I crawled into bed, exhausted.

Awful as it was, it was such a blessing to be where I was. The boys had no idea anything was going on until we told them. They were sad, but they quickly had lots of people to take their mind off of the sadness and keep them occupied. Ryan was able to be there for me without having to worry about distracting the boys. My sister had suffered a miscarriage about a year before and it was so comforting to have her here. We ended up seeing my aunt who also had a miscarriage years prior and she could speak from experience on the grief.

And God's timing was so evident through the whole ordeal. If I'd lost the baby right away, I would have really struggled with guilt over not wanting him or her. We "had" this baby long enough to want and love it. If I'd lost the baby just a few days into knowing about it, we wouldn't have told the boys. Even though it was hard, I think our family is stronger because of going through pain together. And I don't want to keep a secret like that from them. It could have happened before Christmas break while I was at school. It could have happened while I was at home alone with the boys. It could have happened a few days before we left, when our water heater conked out and we were without hot water for a few days. Or on the road between Missouri and Kansas. Or on my Dad's birthday. Even just twenty minutes earlier and I would have been alone in a stall at Wal-mart.

But it didn't. This fallen world throws some ugly stuff at us, but God gives us what we need to withstand it. I am so glad I was already in the privacy of the shower and Ryan didn't see me go through the loss. For some weird reason, I'm really glad it was just me and God in that awful moment. I was in a warm, soothing place, alone, but surrounded nearby with people who loved me, knew me deeply, and could also distract me and my family from our sadness. Even the date has significance. New Year's Eve. The next day I sort of felt like we could box up the ordeal in 2015 and start 2016 with optimism instead of uncertainty.

And then we headed back to Missouri. Now I realize that our visit delayed the grief a little, because it hit pretty hard after we left. Ryan and I processed it more fully as a couple on the drive home. And then we had a day or two at home before we had to go back to work. Those were the hardest days I think I've ever experienced in my life. I felt so alone in my pain. Sure, Ryan and the boys were sad, but the baby was just an idea to them. I felt like I was supposed to protect and nurture a life, and my body failed.

But I'm grateful God provided those last few days to grieve and pray--and go on a long sobbing walk and then try to croak out the chorus to "Praise You in This Storm" in the shower. I needed that time. And then the real world returned even though I didn't feel ready for it, and going back to work was exactly what I needed to move on with life.

It's strange now, because in some ways it feels like it never happened. And yet God has used the few weeks of that baby's life to change me. I have tried to let go of stupid stressors for YEARS and just couldn't do it. Now, I can't believe I ever worried about some of the things I did. My house has been messier and I've been more relaxed than ever. Oh sure, I freak out every once in awhile, but then we give it a 5-5-5 and I'm good to go. And, I'll be honest here, around the time this all happened, I was to the point where the very presence of my children (and, quite frequently, husband) annoyed me a good portion of the time. I loved them, sure, but more than anything I just wanted them to go away and leave me alone! I won't lie and say I don't still feel like that from time to time, but it's much less often.

And the parts of my life that I thought were going to be "messed up" by a baby I regard with new gratefulness. We enrolled in a Financial Peace University class through our church and are buckling down with our finances. Coaching track this season was so amazing! And I've been eating a little better and exercising a lot more and feel better physically than I have in awhile. I told Ryan that I feel a little guilty about being so happy about the very things that were going to be "ruined" by a baby. But he pointed out that those are the silver linings to our loss, and I shouldn't take the blessings for granted. The other thing that this miscarriage has changed in me is a yearning for heaven. No, I don't want to die young, but I guess I see more clearly what I always knew--that this life is fleeting. We weren't meant for this world forever. And someday, I'll get to hold that baby. The one that I thought was going to "ruin" my life, but whose tiny existence ended up making mine so much sweeter!

Public Apology

I started to compose a private message on facebook to the four people who would be visiting my house this weekend in my absence. I wanted to apologize for the fact that they will need a machete to get through the lawn. Then, I realized that I owed my neighbors an explanation as well. You see, while we were home during daylight hours on Sunday and again today, it rained both of those days and, so, our grass has not been mowed in two and a half weeks. Yes, like all responsible homeowners, we turned our sheep loose in the yard to help the issue, but judging by the looks of things, they are doing just as much fertilizing as they are eating.

You see, we have been runningnonstopforthelastthreemonthswithbarelyaminutetobreathe. Ryan and I have been coaching track together, which has been AMAZING! But baseball season just started as well, so Ryan is coaching/helping coach four teams. One is made up primarily of four year olds and one is made up of teenage boys and girls. 'Nuff said. We've eaten supper at home about as often as the boys have showered (I'll let you guess the number). I bought yet another set of sheets because it was physically impossible to keep up with the bed wetter. Last night, Max rolled up to the ball fields stylin' in clothes from Mrs. Pam's "orphan box."  I don't remember what the bottom of our trunk, sink, laundry basket, or coffee table looks like. In fact, there could be a small child hiding under any one of those aforementioned piles and I wouldn't even know it.

But, glory hallelujah, school's out for summer! It's been an awesome year, but I must say I've never been more happy to say the "s" word! It is 4:30 and we are home! There is no practice or game tonight (a minor miracle!) I have big plans to hide the junk and chisel the toilets clean straighten up the house, but here I sit typing this post, so we'll see.

I guess what I'm saying is, please don't judge the Layton book by its sticky, water-damaged, torn cover! Our sink may be overflowing, but so is our life right now. Come back and judge us in a week, after we've all had a chance to be home together for awhile... Actually, on second thought, let's not do that. You can come check out our house and yard in roughly 14 years. It'll be lookin' good then.

Romance Is...

Romance Is…

...An early gift--made by two high school chemistry students on behalf of your husband (but with a sweet note inside written just by him)

...Spending Valentine’s Day playing dodgeball for a high school fundraiser.

...Going out to a quiet lunch at a Hibachi grill. In your sweats. With five other adults. And all of your/their children.

...Watching basketball, playing air hockey, shooting hoops, and testing out an elliptical.

...Getting home after dark and going for a moonlit stroll together. To load a wheelbarrow with firewood for the night and wrestle it back to the house.

...Falling asleep watching a movie together.

...Waking up early before church for another jaunt to the clearing to load the truck up with wood for the upcoming storm. Then making yet another trip after church when the forecast sounds like it’s about to get real.

...Not doing lesson plans, instead staying up super late to wait for the snow to start.

...Sleeping with the outside light on and waking up every hour or so to watch the flakes fall.

...Waking up to a foot of snow and the sweet promise of a week at home together!

Wise Stranger

The woman who sat beside us at the restaurant today got quite the show. She saw a lot of wiggles. I'm fairly certain she felt some, too, given the range or our wiggliest child who sat not six inches from her chair. She saw our kids get up to the bathroom two times. EACH! (Well, she was only there for the contagious poop round, but trust me, lady, there was an identical pee round not five minutes prior). She saw Max drop two forks on the ground. Hopefully she didn't see me "wipe the germs" off of fork number two because I was too embarrassed to bug the waitress who had already witnessed the three-ring circus that performed before a new seating arrangement was issued.

This poor lady (and half of the restaurant, I'm sure) heard loud comments on other customers' clothing, tattles about what each boy was doing to another, demands for explanations on why we ordered water instead of soda, and inquiries into the whereabouts of the beloved restaurant owner (a.k.a. "the Oreo man" because of previous generous table visits). She heard me ask Calvin to please stop kicking me, no less than 14 times. If she was listening closely, she also heard hushed, but increasingly aggravated explanations and corrections from Ryan and I.

Then, when bellies were full and cake and cobbler were on the table and Ryan and I could finally get an adult-to-adult word in edgewise, she heard us try to mentally re-create our calendar for the week, unsure of which night was T-ball and which was parent pitch, if there was a conflict with the PTO meeting or if we could attend, how many nights this week we'd have to crock pot it or eat out, and how badly we didn't want to add a whole-crew grocery run to our list for that day, but how it seemed unavoidable.

When Ryan left to pay the cashier, trailing two stained mouths behind, I tried to make our table look not quite so tornadic before I grabbed a sticky little hand and followed. The lady caught my eye, gave me a warm smile and said something that brought me to embarrassing tears right there on the spot. "They'll be all grown up soon."

Thank you, random lady, for not glaring at us when we interrupted your quiet Sunday afternoon dinner for the umpteenth time. For not elbowing our wiggle worm back (actually...) And for giving me a message that was exactly what I needed. Part hope and part warning.

Weekend Roller Coaster

Friday night, I threw what I call (when one of the boys is acting similarly) a "big, fat, baby fit" about how much work I do, how overwhelmed I am, and how everybody else in our family is a lazy slob who doesn't care about me. Or something like that.

Saturday, my wonderful husband helped me with the laundry, the boys and I straightened, dusted, and vacuumed the living room (if you count Calvin using the vacuum tube to suck up random large chunks as vacuuming), I cleaned the bathrooms, the whole family cleaned the kitchen, Ryan and the boys cleaned up the yard, and I graded papers while sunbathing during nap time. Then, Ryan and I spent the rest of the day planting our garden in the most ingenious method ever invented by woman and man (in our humble opinion...) Here's our process:

1) Dump old straw on garden months before summer.
2) Right before planting time, trap a herd of sheep in the garden to eat down any weeds (and dump a load of fertilizer) on the plot.
3) Rake straw out of way, lay down plastic (that you got in a huge roll, free from a coworker)
4) Cut holes; plant plants.
5) Layer feed sacks between sheets of plastic to let ground "breathe" in spots.
6) Cover the plastic and feed sacks with straw.

7) Never weed again!
8) Conquer the world in all your spare time this summer!

While we worked on the garden, the sheep worked on mowing our grass, because that's how we roll. The boys jumped happily on the trampoline with very little fighting or tattling or crying.

Sunday, I got to take a long nap and read a book for hours.

I recant everything I said Friday.

For now...

Bittersweet

Today, I turned in my letter of resignation from a job I have loved for almost twelve years. I've gotten misty-eyed, burst into unexpected tears, and full-on ugly cried several times in the last few weeks thinking that soon, the place I've called home won't be "my school" anymore. I'll be an outsider. I'll be leaving students I've watched grow up since kindergarten. I'll be leaving some of my closest friends. My two oldest boys will be leaving theirs.

We sort of always planned for my stay at my current school to be a temporary one. When I took a job there, I was an early childhood major, dead set on teaching kindergarten, but heading into a year of gangly fifth graders. It was one of the lower paying school districts in the area, so I figured I'd just use the opportunity to get my foot in the door of education, tough out the preteens, then find something "better" the next year. Except I fell in love. With the gangly kids, the school, and the community. It felt like a family, not a job. On my first day on the job, I found creatively-wrapped gift bags from total strangers on my new desk. Later, when I asked for advice on a particular student I heard insights into their lives that told me these kids were really known and cared for by their teachers. And in no time I felt known and cared for, too.

A few years ago, Ryan and I started discussing me looking for a different job. The district where he works made sense for our family in a lot of ways. But every time it came down to making a move, I just couldn't bring myself to go for it. A strong sense of loyalty to my home coupled with fear of the unknown pulled me back. We discussed it every year, and it never felt right. I whined that this was all I knew. I loved it. My friends were there. I felt like I made a difference here. Ryan waited patiently, telling me if I never wanted to leave that was ok. I took comfort in that, but something in the back of my head told me a move was inevitable, just not right for now.

Then something changed this year. On a long car ride with my soon-to-graduate sister, we discussed her own fears about finding a teaching job. She could only see herself at the school of her student teaching, same grade, please. It was all she knew. She loved it. She did a great job there. I told her that she would soon feel just the same about whatever classroom she entered, probably within a short period of time. God would put her where He wanted her and she could be happy anywhere. She might even like it better than what she wanted so badly. She turned my advice around on me. Hadn't I felt a nudge in a different direction for several years and used the same excuses to resist it? Couldn't this new place be just as good? In fact, I already had my foot in this community. I taught Sunday school there. Our kids played baseball there. We stalked their library every summer. I cheered on a batch of 30-some teenagers every Cross Country season.

So, I stepped out in faith, and I went to an interview in the same suit a wore 12 years ago (Let's just pretend it fit the same and I didn't have to fold under the totally unbuttoned pants and pray the zipper didn't slip), more qualified, yet somehow less sure of myself than when I was a fresh-faced idealist. I entered the halls of foreign turf, terrified. I arrived early (brownie points?) and got to witness the 3:00 rush. I got smiles and waves from Sunday school kids, summer reading program kids, T-ball moms, friends of Ryan's, Cross Country runners, and acquaintances I couldn't quite put my finger on. The turf wasn't quite so foreign. Several people chatted me up in the office, easing a little of my tension. Then, I faced a panel of six. Of course I felt intimidated, but I also felt like I got to interact with some really great people. People who wouldn't seem so scary if I got the chance to share the halls with them. And soon, I found out I would. I was thrilled! Excited! And also a little sad.

A few weeks ago, I worked the concession stand at homecoming. I wrapped hot dogs and squeezed cheese and made change alongside former students, teased them about where they learned their math skills, admired them for being so diligent or good with customers or able to figure out the popcorn machine. Then I watched them and other former students march in the homecoming guard - lined up in their uniforms, suits, and prom dresses. All those gangly fifth graders had grown up and turned into fine young men and women. I'm so proud that I was a small part of that. I left misty-eyed, fully expecting an ugly cry on the way home. But then I thought about the kids just a few miles down the road. Kids I'll meet next August. Buck-toothed third-graders who will grow up to be fine young men and women someday. I'll watch them march someday too, their uniforms a different color, but I'll still get misty-eyed thinking that I got to be a small part of their "raising."

So, to my old home; thanks for welcoming a clueless college girl and taking her under your wing.  You are where I really grew up, where I really learned to teach. I'm glad I have a few more months to call your school home, your kids, "mine." It's been a privilege and a joy.

And to my new one; I'm not sure all of the reasons God has led me to you, but I can't wait to see what He has in store for this next chapter of my life.

Keepin' it Real

Lest you think we're the most perfect family in the whole wide world, what with our balance of athleticism and academics of late, let's keep it real by discussing today.

Basically, I wanted to kill everyone all day.

Reasons (OK - I realize the only real reason is my crap-bag attitude today, but indulge me, m-kay?):

- I slept in (again) and only crawled out of bed to break of a screaming fight over some random toy. This was the first of many such fights.
- Calvin's mystery "dry patch" multiplied and looks suspiciously like ring worm. He squirmed through the fungicide and band-aid application.
- Reed acted like Calvin had leprosy half the day.
- Max reverted back to his early twos, jumping and crying about anything that didn't go his way.
- I paid bills.
- I still, after four days and a weekend, have papers to grade.
- When I fell asleep on the couch reading a book (I know, rough life!) Ryan awoke me with a lion's growl (it's a book with gladiators). Then, Calvin and Reed kept me awake by "snuggling" me with their ice cold fingers and toes.
- After supper, Ryan decided to research the benefits of brown rice vs. white rice (we had white rice for supper - it's clearly nutritionally inferior, blah, blah) and go on and on and on about the benefits of various whole grains and all their nutritional facts and how we should start incorporating more of them into our diet and making suggestions for how. Then, when I told him to make a menu (basically to shut him up), he did. Then, the menu ticked me off. I didn't like him telling me how to do my job. I likened it to me telling him what shape of wood I wanted him to burn in the fire that keeps us warm. He said that analogy would only work if the shape of wood I preferred was going to make our whole family healthy. Touche'. Also, bite me. I'm whole grain.
- I thought we were going to get groceries and movies, but someone decided our road is still too icy.
- We're off again tomorrow.
- Saturday and Sunday are after that.
- There's snow in the forecast for next week.

Life's a roller coaster.

Better than Legos

Sometimes I wonder if anything we say will ever get through the thick little skulls of our children. We try to "train up our children in the way they should go," and it feels like we're constantly teaching little lessons about kindness, sharing, generosity, and gratefulness. And then Christmas happens and it's like they've never even heard of those concepts!

The boys had a slumber party in one bed on Christmas eve and were up so late giggling that they let us sleep in to a decently reasonable hour, as far as Christmas mornings are concerned.

They enthusiastically opened their presents, then spent the rest of the morning feverishly assembling their favorite gifts, the Lego sets they'd received.

The boys were so thrilled with the Legopalooza at our house, that one little gentleman didn't even want to leave to go to the Layton Christmas that afternoon. He was whining that he wouldn't get any Legos there. Insert big speech about nobody owing you any gifts at all, being grateful, Christmas is about Jesus, not you, etc. etc. In one ear and out the other, with a quick trip around the eyes to make them roll. But he got over it, put on a good face, and ended up opening some great  presents, including a Lego set. And he seemed to be genuinely grateful for and happy about all of his new loot. But when I asked the brothers to pose in their new deer hunting get-up, this is what I got:

A mini political statement? Surely not!

Fast forward to the Raney Christmas. When Uncle Trey showed the boys around the playroom, occupied by his cousins, a 2 year-old girl and a 6 week-old baby boy, they found a vanity, dress up clothes, and a million baby dolls and accessories. Calvin took a quick tour of the joint, then announced, "Can we open presents now?" I coulda killed him!

But a few days later, Mr. Selfish redeemed himself and all three boys gave me hope that maybe a little of our instruction is sinking in. My dad had a significant birthday which I will not divulge (I'll just say that it rhymes with pixty). We threw him a little party and after he opened presents, he took the opportunity to share his heart with his family. He told us about how he went to a Bible study with someone years ago and learned about Jesus. When Max heard that name, he piped up with, "Jesus can save you!" Interrupting? Yes, but also true--and cute. My dad (a.k.a. Papa) described how when he accepted Christ he literally felt a warmth crawl up his body and settle in his heart, to which Reed interjected, "That must've been the Holy Spirit!" (I gotta admit--I was sorta bustin' my Sunday-school-teacher-mom buttons right then...) Then he went on to share that from that moment on he knew that God was real. Then, he said that God has communicated to him at various times in his life, including when he told him to marry Mimi. Calvin had to get his two cents in to this speech, so he said, "I'm glad He told you that, cuz' (big eyes and big finger point to Mommy)," which of course elicited an explanation by Reed and random chatter by Max. After the speaker got his audience back under control, he warned us that Satan is spreading two big lies: that God isn't real and that the Bible can't be trusted. Then he encouraged us to seek God and try to learn more about him because He's real and He loves us. "So, I guess that's my gift to you," he concluded. And how did my selfish, toy-obsessed child reply? He perked right up and said, "That's better than Legos!"

That'll preach.

God's Math Doesn't Add Up

I write my prayers down because I have ADD. Proof: This morning, I stopped writing mid-sentence and didn’t realize it until almost lunch time when I noticed my prayer journal still sitting on the table, unfinished. I have no idea what drug me from my talk with the Lord, but if I had to guess, I’d say whatever it was had two legs and a loud mouth. 

Anyway, I looked back and saw this prayer Monday, “Please bless my efforts and multiply my time.” Here’s a run down of my week:

• 14 hours spent at school - completely ready for Open House next week and cleaned-out files. Not going back to my classroom until I have to on Monday.
• Started, worked on, or finished SEVEN crafty projects. Got farther than I ever dreamed.
• Took boys on the first round of school supply shopping and an enjoyable (!?) errand run with SIX stops! (It should go without saying that one of the munchkins was home with Daddy.) 
• Read at least six children’s book a day to the short ones.
• Hung out with friends a few nights -- in a tornadic house (yay, me!)
• Reorganized all of my Pinterest boards.
• Blogged a few posts and started several drafts for the future.
• Laughed at 80 cheesy jokes (we’re on a comedic roll around here) and oohed and ahhed at 132 Lego creations.
• Cooked supper every night.
• Took the kids to another short VBS and attended family night.
• Washed sheets (and blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals) almost every day for a certain bed-wetter whose capacity is increasing dramatically.
• Enjoyed 90% of my time and stressed 0% of it!

People, if you know my day-to-day life, you will immediately recognize that this is a miracle. Most summers, I return to school an entire week before I have to and am NEVER ready for Open House until right when they unlock the doors. Usually, I’m hiding half-finished stuff in the closet when the first parent walks in my classroom. I haven’t been this crafty since my nerdy middle school days when I strung packing peanuts and foil star stickers on dental floss and called it a necklace (I think my tastes have improved since then -- wait for future posts to judge for yourself). And normally when I’m this productive, I’m also stressed out, tired, and totally unable to enjoy my family. I’ve felt relaxed, energized, and like we’re all just doing our thing side by side with occasional intersections. It’s only halfway through Friday as I type this. We still have last-day-of-summer-celebration events planned for the afternoon. 

I can’t explain how it works, but when I let go of pressure and ask God to help me, I am able to do immeasurably more than when I try to do everything on my own strength, running around like this dude...

...only minus the head. My next challenge -- REMEMBER THIS LESSON! 


Linking up to Women Living Well. 

My Life, in Children's Books

When I was a little girl, my most favoritest book was Miss Suzy, by Miriam Young*, a story about a young squirrel who was neat and tidy and bossed around toy soldiers and made them be neat and tidy, too. It was SO me!

Well, life changes and while I still like to be bossy, the whole world knows that I am no longer as neat and tidy as Miss Suzy. But this week, I discovered my new favorite book: The Old Red Tractor, by Andreas Dierssen.* I was hooked when I opened to this page:

It's quaint and messy. And there are ducks running all over the place. My life exactly! And then I kept turning pages and finding more details that could totally be borrowed from our little patch of life.

Like the creatively engineered repair jobs:

The random junk piles in the shed:

And a rogue chicken trying to make his home among the junk piles instead of the nesting boxes (actually, we gather almost half of our eggs out of the shed and NOT the nesting boxes):

That chicken's feathered friends, dropping feathers (and poop) all over the yard:

And the Mama collecting bushels of apples. While simultaneously telling the boy no because he wanted  something that they "don't have enough money for." 

Plot synopsis: Tony has a great old, red tractor. He loves it. Life is good. Until he sees his friend's shiny, new tractor. Now all of the sudden life isn't so rosy on his quaint, but messy little farm.

 He begs for a shiny, new tractor, gets rejected, and eventually realizes that he likes his old, faithful tractor just fine. And then rides down the idyllic countryside hill, realizing that "no matter how old, beat-up, or broken his tractor was, Old Red was the best tractor in the world."

That'll preach...

* Not Amazon Affilliate links - I only wish my blog were cool enough to get those!

Perfect Day



My "twins" with the triplets



Today felt like summer! Not just weather-wise, but lifestyle-wise too. The boys ALL slept in--and by slept in, I mean 7:15.  There was a day long, long ago when I would have referred to anything before 8 as the butt-crack of dawn. Now, I feel like a lazy teenager when I get to roll out of bed any time after 7. They only ate one breakfast (as opposed to the usual 3-5 morning snacks the little hobbits beg for). Max extended his mommy leash a few more feet than normal. We had a relaxing, fun, productive morning - finished a dragon book the boys and I have been reading, got a jump-start on laundry, then off to church. Agreed to take over a  Sunday school class starting next week (yikes!) Then came home to a low-key lunch and simultaneous nappage. While the boys slept (and by "slept" I mean rolled around making battle sounds with stuffed animals for an hour, but whatevs) I laid out in my swimsuit and graded papers. Triple threat, right there: 1) alone time, 2) getting something done, 3) fighting albinism. The rest of the afternoon included working in the garden/yard, the boys playing with our new triplets (be still, my beating heart!),

haircuts for all, another low-key meal, and everyone showered, jammied, and teeth brushed with no incidents! We watched Frozen Planet on TV as a before-bed treat, and now I sit here with my baby, relaxed, slightly sunburned, and with EVERY PIECE OF LAUNDRY IN OUR HOUSE CLEAN, DRIED, FOLDED, AND PUT AWAY! I shoulda just started with that little tidbit, huh? It only happens once every 75 years, but today is the day! Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!