about dogs

Yesterday we said goodbye to a family friend, our dog Byron.  Our beloved sheltie was only 11, but he had struggled for many years with skin and ear infections.  Each year as the humidity rose in the spring, Byron developed fungal infections and then ear infections.  We constantly battled this with baths, medicines, shaving his beautiful coat.  All that took its tole on his body, as he lost his hearing, his coat didn’t grow back thickly, and he lost his personality. He spent his days sleeping. Only sleeping. Never playing, never cuddling. He was miserable. So we made the decision and let our pet go.

The task fell to me to take him to the vet. As I said goodbye and kissed his nose, I couldn’t hold back the tears. Our kind old vet gently said, “It is always hard, even when doing the right thing.” And then he took Byron back.  As I signed the papers, I almost changed my mind.  So I left, crying, as quickly as possible.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

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Every Sunday JD and I rush out of the house by 8:20 so that we have time to make it to Starbucks for my weekly mocha and JD’s hot tea.  As we get back on the highway to head towards church we drive past a small lake. It’s there that every Sunday morning at 8:45 that I see them, the lady and her golden retriever.  Each week through the fall and cold, wet winter, I saw them. She’s always bundled up in her teal coat and hood, leash coiled in one hand, poop bag in the other.  The dog looks just like our Sam.  Big, strong and beautiful.  The dog is usually off-leash, fetching a tennis ball or stick, or running in the brush.

I look for them now. I look even during other days of the week. I wonder what the dog’s name is, how old, boy/girl.  I wonder if they are out each day or if Sundays are their special play time.  Does the woman have a family? Is this dog her one companion?  Do they know that others are spying on their time?

One thing I do know, I spend more time with Sam because of what I see each Sunday morning, mocha in hand, on my way to church.

oh so tired . . .

Here is first of my many, many pregnancy related posts.  Expect more over the next six months.

I am soo tired. I mean drop-dead, drag my butt off the couch to collapse on the nearest chair tired.  We joke that my bedtime is 9 pm . . . if I get a nap.  If I can’t squeeze a nap in during the afternoon, then I cuddle up in my chair, tune in to some mundane tv show on Discovery or History channels and fall asleep around 8.  JD drags me into bed a few hours later.  If I didn’t have the boys, I probably wouldn’t get anything done, yet if I didn’t have the children I probably wouldn’t be so dang tired!

Yes, I’m taking my vitamins.

Yes, I’m exercising, at least 30 minutes a day, five days a week.

Yes, I’m eating healthy.

I’m doing everything right so far, but I’m growing a precious baby and I am oh so tired . . .

Noisy time

I found this post today on Between Two Worlds, a blog that I occasionally read. It jumped out at me as I have seen this happen in my own life. I no longer have a quiet time. My time is not noisy, necessarily, but I do pray out loud with my eyes open as I speak with God. If I just can’t get away from an audience (the kids or JD), then I pray a very quiet whisper. I first started doing this a few years ago after my pastor described his quiet time. He prays aloud while walking in his office. As I started to get over my silly inhibitions of talking to myself (I know, I know, I’m talking to God, but it felt so strange at first) I realized my prayer life was growing. I was staying focused on God, my praises, confessions and requests. Instead of relaxing, I became incredibly involved, and at times, I have felt like I was truly conversing with a living God. Some achieve this by journaling as well, but I grew frustrated by thinking/talking faster than I could write. I do still journal some, but it is more bullet points of how God is working in my life, things He is teaching me, or just experiences, instead of long entries detailing my innermost thoughts.

So here is part of the post. To read this rest, go here. Let me know what you think. How do you pray?

“It’s fair to say that having a “quiet time” is a misnomer. We should more properly have a “noisy time.” By talking out loud we live the reality that we are talking with another person, not simply talking to ourselves inside our own heads….I’ve known many people whose relationship with God was significantly transformed as they started to speak up with their Father. Previously, “prayer” fizzled out in the internal buzz of self-talk and distractions, worries and responsibilities. Previously, what they thought of as prayer involved certain religious feelings, or a set of seemingly spiritual thoughts, or a vague sense of comfort, awe, and dependency on a higher power. Prayer meandered, and was virtually indistinguishable from thoughts, sometimes indistinguishable from anxieties and obsessions. But as they began to talk aloud to the God who is there, who is not silent, who listens, and who acts, they began to deal with him person-to-person….Out loud prayer became living evidence of an increasingly honest and significant relationship. As they became vocal, their faith was either born or grew up.”

Another baby . . . another boy???

Yep, it’s true . . . we are expecting another baby. Our fourth baby.  Possible our fourth boy.

Expected arrival: Mid-October

Official due-date: October 14th.

Oh friends, there is so, so much I want to tell you. I’ve been kind of quiet on this blog recently because so many of my thoughts are consumed by this pregnancy! I am excited to share my thoughts, concerns, fears and dreams with you for the next several months.

“You’ve got you hands full!”

With three young, vivacious boys, I hear it all the time.

I heard it at the doctor’s office on Monday. I’ve heard it at the grocery store, on the rare occasion I take them out with me. I’ve heard it at the park from sympathetic mothers who have one child, maybe even two, but never three. I’ve heard it from the nursery workers who lovingly care for my children.

It is true. My hands are full. Somedays it takes all my patience, self-control, and grace to get through the day. On days that we spend hours outside, my boys can come in with more energy than they went out with. They can jump, run, bounce, wrestle, crawl, and NEVER wear down. I, on the other hand, am exhausted at the end of the day.

My boys are not ornery. They are not rude. They are not trouble-makers or back-talkers. They are not mean-spirited. They ARE rambunctious. They giggle and laugh with infectious joy. They make silly jokes about body parts (what boy doesn’t?) and their food often becomes an airplane, rocket, or train.

I struggle with knowing when to let little boys be little boys, and when to step in and become the enforcer. For example, they love to wrestle on the floor. Inevitably, someone starts crying because an elbow has connected with a nose, a foot has kicked a stomach, or a kneed has crashed into a head. So, now we have no wrestling. Do you know how hard that is to enforce? It is in their nature to roll on the floor with each other!

Or we were invited to join a small group a ways back. We went twice. I loved the group. The kid situation just didn’t work for me. Some junior girls in the group were going to watch the little kiddos (10+) while we participated in the study. But, if my hands are full with my energetic boys, how can I expect timid, tweens to corral my boys plus other kids? Again, my boys are not rotten! (I feel like I am betraying them here. So let me put in a plug for them . . . I hear over and over how personable they are, how loving, how kind, even how well-behaved) It’s just that I know how quickly my boys can get wound up and going strong.

Or what about church? When church is out we grab the boys and head for the door. If I happen to get caught in a conversation, I am continually distracted. “No, don’t touch the coats.” “Stop pulling at your brother.” “Everybody sit along the wall, touching no one or nothing.” “Don’t tear up your paper.” AHHH!

Those of you reading this, smirking as you watch your calm girls play quietly with their toys, know this–in a few years I’ll be smirking back at ya while you deal with all those hormones and fights over skimpy clothes.

Bite the bullet

Have you seen the Magic Bullet Infomercial? I haven’t, but my mom has, and she bought the bullet.  So of course my dad (who does most of the cooking at their home these days) had to show it off while we were visiting a few weeks ago.  I was impressed.  In fact, I ordered it the next day.  It came last Friday.  We are in smoothie heaven.

I have a great, powerful, ice-crunching blender. But it is big.  It is a pain to get it out from the cabinet and to put it back away.  The bullet is small! Its parts are dishwasher safe.  Plus, now I can personalize each person’s smoothy.  Before, I made the banana-free smoothies for those of us who detest bananas, then I would make the banana-infested smoothies for Jacob and Jesse.  Today I just put a collection of frozen fruit on the counter and let each kiddo fix his own. Then I made a chocolate peanut butter smoothie for me!  Oh, and this weekend I made a mocha.  Yep, it even compared to my local coffee house.  (I know you may not believe, but I was stunned.  The milk was really, really frothy.)

As for my husband. JD eyed my recent appliance purchase with much, much skepticism.  Until I goaded him into making milkshakes after dinner.  He, too, was impressed with how easy it was to make individualized milkshakes.  He, too, was impressed with how easy the cleanup and how strong the motor is.

So, if you make a lot of smoothies or milkshakes, and if you have more than one person in your house, I would get one of these gizmos. I love mine.

a lesson in mercy and grace

A few days ago I was greeted by a screaming Jonah. He was crying so hard, I just couldn’t understand him. After quickly looking him over and determining there was no major injury, I made out the word “Jacob.”

Hmm.  Now to find Jacob.  I found Jacob crying in the basement.  Here is how the conversation went:

Me: What happened?

J: I was mean to Jonah.  Really mean.  Really, really mean, Mom.

Me: Oh, I see. Why?

J: I was really angry with him.

Me: Did he do anything to you? Did he take anything from you?

J: No.

Me: Uh huh.

J: I’m so sorry Mom.

Me: You’ll have to tell Jonah that you are sorry, as well as God.   When you’ve done that, you may go play.

J: But I don’t deserve to play. I was mean Mom.  I know I was. I deserve to be disciplined.

Me: Yep, you are right about that.  But let’s talk about mercy for a second. Mercy is not getting what you deserve.  Grace is getting what you don’t deserve.  God gives us both daily as we make mistakes because He loves us and He wants us to grow to be more like His Son Jesus.  So for today, I want you to have a taste of that.  God gives me grace and mercy when I mess up, and I want to pass some on to you.

J: Whoa. God is really good, Mom, isn’t He?

Me: Yep, Jacob, He really is.

Expelled

I’m gonna see this movie. Somehow, I doubt that it will receive the accolades that other movies such as an Inconvient Truth or the Michael Moore movies have received.  I bet it will be ridiculed.  I bet the scientists in this movie with be attacked and discredited.

Not all scientists who question Darwinism believe in God. Even those who merely question it as a theory are ostracized.

Yep, I’m gonna see this movie.   I’ll let you know when I do.

nut cases for president

There is a tragic flaw in our precious Constitution, and I don’t know what can be done to fix it. This is it: Only nut cases want to be president.   Kurt Vonnegut

daily living

It seems that lately I’ve been caught up in the whirlwind of the ins and outs of daily living. Laundry.

Ironing.

Dusting.

Schooling.

Cooking.

Shopping.

Potty-training.

Vacuuming.

Scrubbing.

Sleeping.

Disciplining.

Sleeping more.

For the past year I’ve implemented schedule after schedule, looking for the best way to organize my day and get the most accomplished. The past few weeks I stumbled upon a new schedule that is working . . . working beautifully.  My day starts a little after six and the scheduled time is over by dinner time and all the chores, schooling, exercising, etc have been completed for the day.  I learned early in my teaching days that sometimes the best discipline is proactive planning! Keep them busy and keep them out of trouble (at least to some extent!)  Also I’ve finally found a laundry schedule that I can keep too! I’ve tried doing one load a day, all laundry on one day, all laundry on 2 days, etc.   I’ve settled on the little boys laundry on Monday, Jacob’s on Tuesday (He does his own, but I still help with folding it neatly), JD’s and mine on Wednesday, towels and sheets on Thursday.  In addition to this, I started a new chore rotation that involves all the boys.  Jacob empties the dishwasher, sweeps the floor and vacuums the hearthroom daily. Jonah wipes down the sinks and toilets.  Jesse changes the hand towels.  Each afternoon we clean one room from top to bottom.  I always feel such a peace when all is in order.  A clean home calms my soul.

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JD started a new job last week.  That’s right, we’ve given up self-employment and freedom for the security of healthcare and 401k.  No really, it is much more than that! For the past year JD has work with this company in DeSoto KS.  He’s acted as their CFO for hire. However, when they approached him with the opportunity for a full-time position  as second in command to the owner, we felt it was a great opportunity.   So this week I’ve had to adapt to losing the flexibility that his self-employment sometimes offered.  No more asking him if he could pick up Jacob on the way home or work in the house during naptime so I could run out without the boys.  I guess I’m back to living like the rest of you! Oh, JD is still keeping a few clients on the side, plus he is completing tax returns.  Until April 15th, I don’t expect him to get a lot of sleep.

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I know I promised you no more on the trials of Jesse’s potty-training, but here are my last words on the topic.  HE’S COMPLETELY POTTYTRAINED! It all clicked for him on Monday, and he’s been in underwear ever since. No accidents. No more diapers.

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I’ve been intently studying Psalms 119.  There is so much to that long, long Psalm.  I’ve read it in NASB, The Amplifed (my personal favorite version), The Message. I’ve underlined, circled, questioned words and passages.  I’ve looked up original meanings of Hebrew words and read different commentaries. But it all comes down to this: love the Bible as a communication from God, internalize it, and live it.  Oh that I could do that.  Later this week I want to share a bit more of the details that I’ve uncovered and some verses that have jumped off the page to me.

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One night last week the boys, Missie, Stan and me played an exciting game of flashlight hide and seek. We turned off all the lights in the house.  The seeker counted while the hiders hid. Then the seek came looking for all those hidden using only a flashlight.  I wish you could have seen the merriment in my house that night! Squeals of excitement as we were found one by one and screams of surprise as we jumped out and scared each other were heard through out the house.  The boys have been asking to play it each night since, but we’ve been to busy.  Really, this was a night that memories were made.

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I’ve been cleaning out the basement  . . . again. This is the third spring that I have gone through everything in the basement.  Each year I get rid of more stuff.  You know, if it has been in the basement, forgotten for all this time, it is time to go!  Plus, the less stuff down there, the easier it is for me to sweep up all the dog and cat hair and dust that accumulates.    I pile all the unwanted stuff in a corner, then donate it to some garage sale charity in the spring.  This year I finally went through all my books  . . .  I just couldn’t keep them all.  We also went through all the VHS tapes.  UGH.  JD’s parents belonged to one of those movies clubs in the 90s, so there were a lot of videotapes.   We got rid of 2/3 of them.  Stan couldn’t part with his John Wayne collection . . .

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