OK, as desperate as I know you are to read this, try your hardest to take your eyes off these words and scan up to the top left corner of my blog page.  Do you notice something?  My little cradle ticker is almost to the finish line which brings me to the point of this entry:  we're on the verge of a Miracle.

In just a few weeks, my body will kick into gear just because the Lord will tell it that it's Time.   He already knows the day and time that I  will feel that first, distinct contraction that will tell me that the miracle is oh, so close.  In a few minutes, I'll feel another and then another, and then we'll just be moving closer and closer to the Miracle.  At some point, we'll load up and head to the hospital, my husband's knuckles white and  palms sweaty around the wheel.  All the while, he'll be asking me, "Are you sure this is it?"  to which I will not reply but will give him the same look I did when he asked me that the last five times.  (One false trip to the hospital with our first child, ten years ago,  and now I'm the boy who cries wolf:).

After the midwife does her stuff and gets us settled in, it will be just me and Casey,  as we ride the waves of contractions, each one bringing us utterly dependent on the Lord and leaving us totally in awe of Him.  Casey will hug me, breath with me, stroke me, pray for me, and sometimes, just stare at me feeling completely  helpless.   After a while, I will tell him it's Time.  Time for the Miracle!  Within in minutes we will have the very first glimpse of the little guy that has been growing in the secret place for 9 wonderful months.  We'll see his scrunched up little face, watch his body emerge, confirm that it's a boy (if not , I'll come back and edit this :), and then we'll just cry.  Cry tears of relief, wonder, but most of all JOY.  Sheer joy because we'll have just experienced the Miracle. 

We'll stare at the focus of it all, inspecting his every little part and at the same time, we'll give thanks to the Maker of it all because He's the one who let us be at the center of such an unbelievable Miracle.

Yes, that we'll have been our 6th time in that same life changing place, but it never gets old, dull, or mundane.  Why not?  Because it's a Miracle!  The day we get bored with Miracles is the day we are no longer in need of a Savior.

And so, while I wait, I wake up every morning with this overwhelming feeling just because I know I'm standing on the verge of something that is beyond me.  I'm standing on the verge of a Miracle.

To get to the main point of my story, I have to tell you something about me that's, well, a little unusual. OK, here it goes: I'm a clown. Actually, a professional clown. Yep- I went to clown school and have a diploma and 10 years of experience to prove it. I haven't done much clowning since we became missionaries but it's still in me and hopefully will always be. So now you know and I can get on with my story.

One of the many blessings that clowning has brought me (besides great extra income while staying home with my precious children) is the opportunity to observe countless children and parents interacting with one another. My customers don't know it but I'm always learning from them- whether it be positive or negative.

A couple of years ago I was painting faces for a children's hospital when a young woman and several children came to the front of the line. My first thought when I saw this group was that the woman must be the babysitter (or maybe the aunt). You might be surprised at how I came to that conclusion. My assumption wasn't based on externals- she didn't look too young to be their mom and the kids favored her enough that they could have passed as her own. What made me jump to this conclusion was the smile on her face and the fun she was having with the kids. Before I go on, let that sink in for a second. I had met, painted, and entertained thousands of kids so I was used to seeing "normal" interaction between moms and their blessings. So, when I saw one who actually seemed like she was enjoying being with the kids, my initial thought was that it couldn't be the mom! How sad!

I know as moms we have so many responsibilities and concerns that we carry but are they really so heavy that we can't just let go and laugh with our kids, letting them, and others, know that we love them and WANT to be with them? Sometimes I find myself stuck in a rut of demands and nags that I forget to just smile at them and say, " I just love being with you", "You're so much fun to be with", or "There‘s no where else I‘d rather be right now than with you!" So consider this entry a reminder for all of us. Enjoy your kids!

Recently, a local woman heard that I had run a marathon and at the same time was realizing that I was mom to several youngsters. Do you know what she asked me? OK, you don't, so I'll tell you. She asked me why I run and then answered her own question with, "You're probably trying to run away from all those kids." I was sad for my children or any child to hear such a comment so I quickly replied with a sincere, " No, I actually like being with my kids. They're tons of fun." Alright, I'll be honest with you. They are lots of fun but they're also lots of work and sometimes they just wear me down. I'm human. BUT... I will never let my kids know any different. Even though it's common place for people to make similar comments to the one that woman threw at me, my kids will always know (from my reply, my actions, or my conversations) that I am with them because I choose to be. They are great company and, yes, I think they're fun to be with.

If you are stuck in a "TOO-SERIOUS-MOM" rut, like I admittingly get into myself, be encouraged. We say they're blessings- let's act like it. Make people wonder why you're having so much fun with your kids. Tell them you love being with them. Hide behind a door and POP out at them just to hear them squeal. When they're in the grocery cart, push it real fast and then hop on and hold on for dear life while you and the kid you're babysitting have the ride of your life. (If your husband is there, make it a race.) Tickle them . Smile at them in public. Play games with them. Be stern, be in charge, but BE FUN. Hey, be the babysitter.

It doesn't seem like long ago when one of my friends was having her third child.  Her first was an only child for nearly five years and then they had two little ones in a row.  I only had Kelsi at the time and I laugh now thinking about some of the thoughts I entertained when contemplating the impact of the younger siblings on their oldest daughter.  I remember briefly feeling sad for the first born, thinking that she was the loser in all of this.  I wondered how she was going to like getting lost in the crowd and not being the center of attention.  You know, before you have children or when you have your first you think you have it all figured out.

Here I am with my little blog pregnancy ticker nearing the half-way mark of my sixth pregnancy and I'd have to say that my feelings have definitely changed drastically over the years.  I now know that a new baby in the family is the BEST gift we can give to our other children.  Besides it teaching them how to live outside of themselves, it's just tons of fun!  I bring all of this up because yesterday we had an awesome preview of the newest gift that our family will receive in about 5 months.

 I was sitting on my bed when the baby started to move.  I’d been feeling this but the kids hadn’t yet had the privilege. With excitement, I called Kelsi, our oldest, to come feel the little kicks.  She ran in as fast as she could and waited patiently with her hand pressed in my belly.  Within minutes her face was all aglow as she felt tiny hellos from her newest brother or sister.  With great joy she called Gunner to come feel.  She exited, he entered, and the scene repeated itself, this time with Gunner being the one to experience the gift of life.  Next was Libby.  Then  Annie.  (Josie was in and out the entire time squealing with delight every time she touched my tummy.)  The line could have gone on and on and it never would have gotten old for me.  There was nothing like watching those eyes brighten and seeing those smiles stretch cross their delighted faces.  They were each amazed at what they felt inside mom's belly.  They talked about it the rest of the day.  Really, not a day goes by that isn't sprinkled with talk about what we're going to name the baby, who's going to get to have it in their room, if it's going to be a boy or a girl, etc... 

No one asks why they have to share mom and dad with another one.

No one wonders how much less they'll have to do without.

No one complains about a noisy little baby filled the house with midnight cries.

No one feels anything but the indescribable joy that comes with the Best Gift God has to offer.  I am humbled to be the one keeping the present under wraps until that special day in October when our newest little one will open its squinty little eyes to see the five gifts already waiting for it.  Until then, we'll just enjoy the kicks.

Sorry that it has been so long since I have blogged on here.  Things have been busy and honestly, with being pregnant, I just don't want to put my brain in gear to think at the end of the day.  I just wanna sleep :)

So much has been going on lately and I hope to get some other thoughts in type soon but for today I just have to tell of my latest adventure:

The day before Easter I got this crazy idea to drive "home" to FL (we moved to KY as missionaries just 7 months ago).  Casey had work to do but I thought it would be fun for just me and the five kids to jump in the car make the 14 hour drive together!  There were some key happenings in FL last week and mainly, my sister was diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago and I was just itching to hug her neck and spend some time with her.  So...  my trusting husband decided to let me go and we left the next day, right after church.  I drove to my brother's in GA (9 hours) and the next day followed him to FL (7 hours because I got lost- no biggie :).  We had an amazing trip- the kids were fantastic and I actually stayed awake for most of the drive.  I just love being with my kids and this drive was no exception. 

We had a very full week in FL but enjoyed every minute of it.  OK, maybe the part of two of my girls having pinworms and then passing it on to another family there wasn't so great, but the rest of the trip was nice.  Don't worry, our dear friends returned the favor.  We gave them pinworms and they gave us...  well, I'll get to that later...

Before getting on the road for the trip home, I had to stop in at Publix for some vittles for the ride.  In the parking lot the wind caught hold of our car door and blew it into a neighboring minivan.  The damage was almost microscopic, really.  It left a tiny mark on the back right wheel well.  No biggie, I thought, but  I knew it was only right to leave an apology note on the dash with our phone number, just in case.   When I went to the front of the vehicle to stick the note under the windshield, I peered into the minivan and noticed an immaculate interior that most likely had never seen the likes of a melted crayon, let alone a car seat.  Shucks, not the best car to hit but still, no big deal. 

When we came out of Publix the owner of the van was in it reading the note.  I politely escorted her to the miniscule scratch and, again, apologized.  She acted a little strange but  agreed that the mark was so small that it probably wasn't an issue.  Then she added that she would check with her husband.  Great.

Armed with a day's worth of Go-gurts and enough cheese sticks to stop up the kids for a week, we headed north.  Actually, my husband later informed me that we took the wrong way and actually headed south before heading north, but that's OK.  I knew where we were.  Nearly two hours into the trek my car began to die.  Literally die, right in the middle of the road.  I was able to coast to the shoulder just before my steering locked up.  Man, it's acting just like the time I ran out of....oh, no!  That was it, I ran out of gas.  How anyone could head out for a day -long road trip without remembering to fill up the tank was the question I've been asked over and over but...  well, you moms must understand that sometimes those important thoughts just sort of get lost in there somewhere between a which flavor juice boxes to buy and how bad is that dent?   Please tell me that you would have done the same thing if you had a shrunken pregnancy brain, a good Story Hour cassette on in the car (thanks Deb), and was mentally making sure you didn't forget anything important- like gas, my husband would say.  No,   like one of the kids!  I remembered ALL of them, thank you very much!

Fortunately my dad wasn't too far away to come rescue us.  He may say that he was far away but it was just enough time for three of the kids to go potty out the side door, lunch, and for me to take a short nap while being rocked to sleep by the thundering semis roaring by.  Dad bailed me out of this jam (a father's work is never done) and before I knew it, I was cruising right along.

Now for the payback from my friend.  You know the exchange for the pinworms?  Well, within an hour of our gas stop I heard a gagging cough coming from my two-year-old.  Any mom would have felt a lump in her throat when hearing that sound.  You know it.  It's the one that comes right before you hear your nine-year-old yell, "MOM!!!  Josie just threw up!!!"  Ok, no big deal.  Just gotta maneuver this little suburban across 15 lanes of speeding traffic to get to an exit and everything will be just fine.   After a 30 minute stop, Josie was cleaned up and we were "on the road again" (a little Willie for you, Jonatha).   My optimistic thought was how unfortunate for little Josie to have a touch of car sickness.

Thirty minutes later, the scenario repeated itself.   Man, car sick again.  Poor thing. The mess was nothing a couple dozen wipies and clothes pins for the whole family couldn't take care of.  After forty-five minutes, we were... well, we were wondering if we would ever make it out of the state at this pace!

Another 30 minutes goes by and well, you get the idea that, despite my best optimism, this wasn't car sickness.  My girl had a bug that just wasn't going to fly away.  Armed with nothing to catch throw-up, a dwindling supply of jackets and pillow cases to do the catching, and about 20 precious wipes left in the box, we trudged along.   I must say that my oldest daughter was beyond a trooper.  She was AMAZING!!!  She lovingly calmed her little sister each time she threw up, cleaned the mess, and assured me that she had it all under control.  That cut down on the number of stops but even so, it soon became apparent that we were going to have to find somewhere to hunker down for the night.

I chose to get off at the Savannah exit so that we could stay in a real town and not some obscure motel just off the interstate.  I'm not convinced that Savannah even exists because, after getting more than 20 miles from the interstate, the only thing I could find was a really bad neighborhood.  By the grace of God, I found my way back to our original road within 5 minutes.  I know that doesn't mathematically compute unless I was driving in circles but by now you've probably figured with me behind the wheel,  that was totally possible!  

To tell you the truth, I was laughing at all of this up to this point.  My husband and I long ago decided that sometimes... you JUST GOTTA LAUGH or else you'll just cry ( get the blog name?).  So I laughed.  I laughed at the small dent (and appreciated the opportunity to give my kiddies a lesson in honesty), giggled at how silly it was of me to run out of gas, chuckled at the throw up smell that was quickly "becoming one" with the vehicle that I was destined to spend the next two days driving in, and I even found it funny that I could get so turned around near  Savannah.  I knew I would laugh at it looking back someday so why wait?  Why not find the humor in it now, you know?

Oh yeah, I was all smiles until my cell phone rang:  "Um, this is the lady whose car you hit at Publix.  Well, I talked to my husband and he said that it will cost a couple hundred dollars to fix the damage."  OK, now I was ready to cry!  I thought she had to be kidding.  I could fix that scratch with a bottle of metallic nail polish from the Dollar Tree and her husband wants $200 for it!!!???  I politely told her my situation.  You know-  missionary, five kids, ran out of gas, long trip, baby with a stomach bug.  I may have even sunk real low and told her about my sick sister, I don't really remember   ( at the time I was balancing my life size road atlas on the steering wheel, looking for any familiar road numbers, getting the puke update, holding the cell phone, and tougher than that, holding back the tears).  None of that made her back down so I sweetly told her that I would have to call her back if  I ever reached my home again.  I also gave her my home number just in case I yielded to the nagging temptation to throw the phone out the window so that I would never have to hear from her again  (all the while showing my kids that honesty is the best policy).   It took all I had not to cry.  Really.  But all I had was nothing compared to what the Lord has.  He reminded me that He does indeed honor us when we follow his ways.  I relayed that message to the kids and encouraged them to pray that the Lord would change the husband's heart.  That's a small request for a BIG God.

We were soon in the parking lot of a Best W***ern (thought I would protect the name of this chain so that you aren't deterred from staying in one just north of Savannah, should you ever find your way there.  Of course the outbreak of the stomach bug in that area, stemming from the Best W***ern room #303 has probably already made it's way to the media. ).   I was faced with the challenge of getting in there to get rates, availability info, quarantine policies- you know, the basics.  Just when I was picturing myself waddling in there (I had to go potty so bad I knew I wouldn't be able to walk) with five road weary kids and one sticky, diapered, projectile vomiter, I spotted a van in the parking lot with the hotel's phone number on it!  I called and once I found out that they had a washing machine, I was sold.  What was so amazing is that after hearing my situation, the clerk offered to come out to the car to get my card and ID, go inside to ring it up, and then bring it back along with forms to sign!!  I had hit the jack pot!  Actually, on the way there I was praying that the lord would allow me to grow an extra set of arms by the time we got there but it must not have been His will.  This was definitely the next best thing. 

We did the paperwork and all I had to do was get the kids up to the room without Josie "blessing" the elevator.  Mission accomplished.  I told the older kids that we would spend the evening eating pizza and watching T.V.  They weren't too disappointed.  After going to the bathroom, my first mission was to find the washer and to get the soiled laundry in it.  Most importantly, I had to get Josie's "B" in there.  It is her little comfort blankey and, of course, the first thing she threw up on.  She had been asking for it ever since.  I left three kids in the room (is that legal?) and put the two littlest ones on the luggage cart.  We found the washing machine, got change for the washing machine, found the lady to tell us how to use the washing machine, then found out where to buy soap for the washing machine, and then got change for the soap for the washing machine.  Details, details.  I was finally hearing the peaceful swish swish of the washer when I heard the sudden announcement from my four-year-old, "MOMMY!!!  I have to throw up!!!!"  Like a seasoned pro, I scooped her up and aimed her for the nearest garbage can.  Bulls-eye.  We hit the target but unfortunately the target had one of those swivel lids so it wasn't exactly a clean shot.  You might be beginning to understand my previous statement about the outbreak of a stomach bug in that area... 

Funny thing.  Upon realizing that now my two youngest children were now plagued with this bug, I had this fleeting thought:  Well, what else could happen now?  It can't get any worse.  I say the thought was fleeting because even I know better.  I will not put God to the test.  It certainly could have been worse.  I'll take what's in front of me.  Just give me the strength, Lord  was my next, and more permanent, thought.  

With two little girls throwing up every thirty minutes- only it wasn't synchronized- you can imagine what the rest of the night looked like for me.  I made at least 15 trips down to the ground floor to rotate laundry (oh, by the way, Josie's "B" wasn't in that first load.  I had missed it because it was tied up in a separate bag in the car.  This meant repeating the whole laundry scene again but by that time the girls had made sure that we had plenty to wash), get stuff from the car, "borrow" towels from the fitness room, "borrow" towels from the pool area, ask for help from the front desk on how to use my phone.  You get the idea.  All the while, I had to leave the children in the room.  The other time that I dared take Josie with me, she threw up all over the 1st level floor and the luggagecart that she was perched on.  When I left her in the room, I came back to find that she had thrown up all over her helpful big sister.  This warranted another trip to the car to get her suitcase.  I was trying not to haul a bunch of luggage up there because I knew I would only have to bring it back down again in the morning.  No matter what I did or how I handled things, I was just barely keeping up with all of the excitement. 

The room was perfect, having two double beds and a pull-out sofa.  By the time we left, the girls had thrown up on every piece of bedding in that room.  They went through countless towels, garbage bags, and hand towels.  I kept calling down to the front desk to request replacement items, each time disguising my voice.  FYI: That doesn't work when they know what room number you're calling from.  The extremely helpful clerk that went out of her way to check us in was quickly getting fed up with my phone calls, requests, and seeing me roaming the halls with my near naked children who were ready to explode at any moment.  I knew our time there was running out.

But what was I going to do?  The girls continued to throw up all night and were both sporting red-hot fevers.  I wasn't even sure that I could get us all back into the car and if I did, I had nothing- I mean nothing- to catch the throw-up for the next 8 hours.  On top of that there was no telling who would get it next. Early in the morning, I made a great discovery.  Those little ice buckets that hotels have with the inconspicuous plastic liner/bags are a life saver when you have children who are throwing up.  If you can catch it (that's a BIG "if"), once they've done their deed, all you have to do is tie up the liner and toss it.  Put in a new one and you're ready for the next attack.  The bucket even has a tight fitting lid.  Every mom needs one of these, I'm telling you from experience.  Tell your husband that you have to go stay at a hotel this weekend so that you can add it to your mothering arsenal.  The only trouble is, ice buckets aren't exactly in the same category as those cute little shampoo bottles and soap bars.  They kind of belong to the hotel. 

Once I had a plan for getting out of our trashed, uh I mean, gently used, room, I called down to the front desk bright and early.  No need to disguise my voice, they had a shift change during the night.  After getting the check out time (I had two hours to give the kids baths, breakfast, and to make my run for it), I asked what they charge to the bill for "missing" ice bucket.  The gentleman said "Oh, don't worry about it if you lost yours, m’am."  In all honesty I replied, " Oh, no sir.  I didn't lose the bucket but I am planning on stealing it."  Is there an honest way to steal something?  Anyway, he promised not to charge me for it and I promised to be out of the place by 11 A.M. and to never come back (Casey thinks they have my picture posted at all the Best W***erns by now).  If you saw the room when we left, you could see why.  If it wouldn't have meant another trip to the car to get the camera, I would surely have taken a picture of the place upon our departure.  The mound of laundry was over taking one of the rooms (remember, linens from three beds, plus the replacement bedding, a ton of pillows, too many towels to count, and even more wash clothes and hand towels).  I had other towels strategically placed around the room to warn of "soiled" spots on the carpet.  The garbage cans were full and over flowing with various unidentifiable liquids, and you could almost see the germs.  

I ran into the housekeeper on my way out and warned her of the impending danger in exchange for a couple dozen more ice bucket liners.  We were ready!  Thankfully, I have an awesome husband who at the same time, was already heading in our direction so that we could meet up and he could drive us back.  I only had to drive 4 more hours until I had reinforcements with me.  Of course, by the time the whole family was back together and headed for home things had slowed down quite a bit.  We only had about four throw-up episodes (which, since relieved of my driving duties, I was strategically placed to catch) and the girls slept most of the way.  My husband was probably wondering what was so bad that I needed him to help get us home.  Or maybe he was still pondering how I could run out of gas.  Or maybe he was wondering if he would ever let me go on a road trip again.  Or maybe...

Once home, I broke the news to him about the "damage" done in the Publix parking lot.  We agreed that I would call the victims back and request that they get some quotes.  In the mean time I was contemplating whether or not I should Fed Ex the nail polish to her.  We also prayed and reminded the kids that God would take care of it.  I picked up the phone to call her back like I said I would and began to ask her for the necessary info.  She stopped me mid sentence and told me that her husband was able to go out there and rub the paint mark off!  It wasn't even a scratch after all.  It was just a paint mark left by our green door.  I don't know what compelled the man to go check it out again.  Could have been me mentioning my sob story but I have to know it was all those prayers! 

So now I'm home, safe and sound.  Everyone seems to be over the pinworms and the stomach bug.   And just in case someone does get sick again, I have my new best friend :  my handy dandy ice bucket with the Best W***ern logo printed on the side.  It also doubles as a souvenir of a trip that I won’t be forgetting for a long time. 

What a glorious day we had here in the mountains.  It was 60, sunny, and beautiful!  Somehow all seven of us made it outside and enjoyed some running and bike riding races.  I was the official "timer" ( not "old timer") because I'm still nursing this marathon induced knee injury.   Anyway, at some point our oldest two, Kelsi (9) and Gunner (7), slipped away and started making these creative little "houses" out of only "nature things".  Gunner was building a wigwam out of tree bark and Kelsi needed help pulling weeds so that she could have a nice smooth dirt floor in her home.  While I was snuggled up to her Daddy, quietly looking on, she asked me if I would help her pull those weeds.  Hmmm...  Casey and I are wrapped in each others arms, watching our children at play and for the moment my knee is not hurting.  She wants me to leave Casey, bend down to ground level (ouch!) and pull weeds....   Weeelllll, OK.

I hobbled over and SLOWLY lowered myself to her level.  At this point the little girls had joined in the fun too.  We made little stick fences, made people out of onion grass bulbs (sounds weird, I know, but they were all we could come up with), and I tied blades of onion grass to decorate our little house.  Kelsi and I were so close together, just enjoying every idea and every little nut or berry we could find.  We are close like this often through out the day but it is usually over a challenging math problem or because we're setting the table. 

After a long time of working together side by side, Gunner called us over to check out his progress.  On the way over I felt a hand slip into mine.  It was a child's hand but not a 2 year-old or a 4 year-old or even a 5 year-old hand, like I'm used to.  It was a nine year old hand.  Wow!  What a feeling!  Don't get me wrong, Kelsi and I still hold hands (and I hope we always do),  but this was different.  It was like a hand holding that said "I'm holding your hand just because I want to.   We're only walking a few feet but this is how I want to do it."  It said, "Thanks for taking the time to get down on my level and play with me.  Thanks for working quietly along side me just because you wanted to be with me.  Thanks for spending time doing something I like."  It said, "I love you Mom and I love being with you."  

All this was spoken into my heart from that not -too -little-anymore hand just because I took the time to, as my friend Deb said in an e-mail to me this morning, "tie strings" with her.  No, not onion grass strings,

We tied heart strings. 

(Thank you Deb and thank you, Lord. )

Did you know that tutlenecks are a first trimester wardrobe essential?  Yep.  As soon as that pregnancy test comes back positive, every expectant mom should head out a buy a turtle neck.  Sounds crazy?  Hear me out...

Today I had the privilege of cleaning out some "aged" food items from our refrigerator.  It didn't take long before things got pretty hairy (literally) and, as luck would have it, I had on my trusty first trimester turtle neck.  I just flipped the collar up, slipped it over my nose, as I was able to make it all the way through the baked beans! 

Then tonight, my husband had the nerve to open our garbage can.  I quickly forgave him but I also quickly put my handy turtle neck to use.  Two examples-both in one day. 

Next time you receive the good news of a friend that's expecting, don't bother with a congratulations card.   They're nice and all but, instead, go with the new trend:  Send a congratulations turtle neck!  

Today I asked my son to get me a blank piece of paper.  About five minutes passed- no paper.  All of the sudden,  out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white blur whizzing towards me.  "Here's the paper you asked for Mom,"  my seven year-old engineer said as I dodge the missile.  

My first instinct was to tell him that he needed to get me an uncreased, unlicked, untorn, unflyable piece of paper.  I needed it to write his math review on, after all (our copier was out of  order).  Before I could get the words out of my mouth, I decided that the paper that he "sailed" to me would actually be just fine.

So I set to work writing the math problems to fit just so in each fold of his airplane and, within minutes, I sent it back to him.  Math in a paper airplane.  What little boy wouldn't love that?  I know mine did.  This was an impromptu, out of the blue, idea, but maybe it could set someone's boring math day to flight! 

OK, I'll be the first to admit that I'm no compluter whiz.  In fact, for the first couple of weeks after purchasing a laptop, I kept thinking that someone was going to come confiscate it because I didn't meet the basic requirements for owning a laptop.  For example, I had to call my sister-in-law to find out how to turn it on.  Well, time passed, no one came to take it away, and I was able to finally come out of hiding.  So, now here I am blogging and there are just some things that I can't seem to figure out.  Can anyone help??  Here are my questions right now (there'll be more I'm sure):

How do you speel chek on here?

How can I put a priceless picture of my precious children on my page to replace the empty rocking chair shot?  It looks serene and all, but it just doesn't fit us.  See, with seven in the household (soon to be eight) and only 1,000 square feet of living space, there's never an empty chair in our house.  Besides, if that rocking chair were ours, my son would be balanced on the top of it with a cape tied around his neck. 

How can I edit my page?  My Just Gotta Laugh title doesn't have the "Just" capitalized.  I'm trying to teach my 4th grader how to capitalize and I've got to get this fixed before she sees it. 

Any help would be appreciated!

Thanks!

If you ever enter a room on the second floor of your home only to find your 7 year old son preparing to jump out of the window with his home made parachute, here is some advice for handling the situation.  I'm not saying for certain that this actually happened in OUR home with our only boy (out of five children), but IF it did, here's what I would do:

1.  Try not to surprise your son in any way.  In a calm voice tell him to back away from the window.  If he is questioning your motives, tell him you just want to admire his creation.  That works every time with boys.

2.  Once you have him lured away from the window, push past him and get that window closed and locked!

3.  Now that he is out of immediate danger (and once your heartrate returns to a normal level), give him a brief lesson in gravity.  If time permits, also educate him on the rising cost of health care and funerals.

4.  Tell him that you "like" his parachute but that he should first try it from a height that he would survive without the parachute (ex. the couch, a dirt pile, a low railing.   My son says the refrigerator fits into this category, too.  Not that my son tried this.).  That is always a good rule of thumb when trying any new contraptions that require the tester to defy gravity.  Every little boy should know this rule.   Maybe you could have his grandmother embroider a little wall hanging that says "Boys should only jump from a height that they can survive."  I know it doesn't rhyme or anything and, honestly, it isn't that catchy, but  I don't think you can ever be too careful with boys.  .

5.  Even better than rule number 4, encourage your son to tie his parachute to inanimate objects and let them fly instead.  I'm not too crazy about my only son being flung out the second story window with only ambition and a make shift parachute tied to him.  But a rock, or a G.I. Joe guy?  I could handle that.  Again, I'm not saying I actually had this scenario with my little guy, I'm just sayin'  IF....

Well, if anyone ever has this happen in their home, they should follow these guidelines very closely.  They work!!!  Not that I've had to put them to use, you know.

The kids and I were in the school building today.  I was working on a mural of the campus and, after they finished their school work, they were.... somewhere in the building.  It wasn't long before Kelsi (our oldest- 9) handed me a handmade "ticket".  She made one for me and one for Josie ( the youngest-2).  Mine read "Admission $1.00 to see the Fantastic Four."  I guess Josie didn't make the cut.  I was informed that the $1 would be split evenly between my oldest four children, a.k.a. The Fantastic Four.  When I was a kid, our shows were free.

Anyway, I gave my ticket (and promised to may my fee later) and was shown to my seat.  The curtain rippled while an array of giggles and other unidentifiable noises made their way from behind it.  Kelsi pulled the rope and the curtain slowly opened.  It only went a couple of feet before it caught on Libby's microphone stand (which held an invisible mic).  The problem was quickly remedied, and the oldest mouthed "One, two, three"  to her singers.  All four of them belted out "Awesome God", complete with sign language and motions, while Josie made her way to the stage.  She took her spot behind Libby (5), who looked like she had been waiting her whole life for this moment, and in front of Annie (4), who was just tall enough for me to see her dimpled smile over the podium that she had perched herself behind.  Gunner was seated with a guitar on his lap and a mic stand set just-so in front of him.  Meanwhile, Kelsi had slid back in after opening the curtain and never missed a beat. 

I just sat there as my eyes bounced from face to face (to face to face to face) in wonder of these five beautiful children.  They're all so unique and each so special to me-  I could hardly contain myself when I was quickly reminded that the Lord has one more for me.  It is hidden in a secret place for about 8 more months.  How can I stand the wait?  I love these little Robinsons so much... and to think there's going to be another.  My heart is so full of joy and contentment.  I certainly don't deserve this incredible feeling.

Friday-  I had a stomach bug that kept me on the couch for the better part of the day.  TGIF!

Saturday- Improved but definitely still there.

Sunday- The sickness is mild but this duration is like none I've seen.

Monday-  I've never had a bug for four days.

Tuesday- Strange that the sickness just comes and goes.  It's mostly in the morning and the evening.  Kind of feels like...

Wednesday- Tummy is still upset and now I'm tired a lot, too. 

Thursday- Last night I had to go to the bathroom so many times.  Shouldn't my period be starting today?

Friday-  A week later.  Symptoms are as follows:  morning sickness, tiredness, no period, and frequent urination.  HMMM....

By 5:00 P.M.  Friday- Casey and I are huddled in our timy bathroom staring at a little stick that holds our future in it.  The stick is shaking wildly because it's in my hand.   We've done this before, too many times to count, but somehow it all feels unfamiliar.  "OK, this spot should have a line no matter what and this spot should show a neg. sign or a pos.  Alright, I see the negative and..... if I squint, I see another line running across it.  Do you see that line, Casey?  Is it there or am I just imagining it?  Now I know I'm seeing it and I'm not squinting anymore!" 

Oh my, we're going to have six kids!  Not all in this one pregnancy.  See, we have five already.  This plus sign makes six.  Half-a-dozen.  WOW!

All week I wondered if I could be pregnant.  I wondered in my dreams, I wondered when I woke up, and I especially wondered when I put my head on the pillow at night.  Physically, I felt it.  My head knew it.  But somehow, my heart just couldn't grasp the fact that the Lord would, once again, allow such a miracle to take place inside of me.  The idea of part of Casey uniting with part of me and creating a new life, that, just by it's existance in me, would mean that the Lord was trusting it to us, was beyond my comprehension.  The crazy part is that it's happened five times.  Miracles are difficult to fathom, no matter how many times they're done.  This is a miracle and I'm so thankful that the Father would perform it in our lives and in such a way that we can only be in awe at the process.  I am humbled that He would choose me, an ordinary mom with daily struggles, to be a part of His great plan.  I will do this as many times as He (and my husband:) will allow.  There's nothing like it.

Please just try to picture this scene:

I was on the couch with my nine year old next to me.  We were working on math (really).  Meanwhile, My son (7) was working on physical fitness (with an emphasis on balance, climbing, and agility) while he sat on top of the fridge, feet dangling over the edge.  Libby (5) was perched on the counter right next to the fridge.  Just so you know, she wanted to be on the fridge, too, but being the safety nut that I am, I firmly let her know of our long standing one-child-on-the-fridge-at-a-time rule.  Did she really need to be reminded?  Anyway, she was also doing math- counting out the apple slices for the kids' snack.  We've always known she was our over achiever, and it was once again confirmed, as she worked in strategic problem solving with her math (she was figuring out how to get the apples to her brother without standing up on the counter and, thus, breaking another one of "Safety Mom's" rules).  Annie (4) and Josie (2) were also deeply focused on their elective studies in Drama, Music, and P.E.- they were running circles around the tables while singing a song, only stopping when they were laughing too hard to run any more laps.  It wasn't long before my scholarly son turned his studies to science.  More specifically, gravity, when he dropped his plate of apples from the top of the fridge.  Libby jumped down from the counter and retreived the apples for Gunner.  Then exuding above average teamwork, Libby held the garbade can lid open for Gunner while he incorporated Basketball (team sports) into the day's curriculum.  He missed the first shot (hey, whoever said throwing apple slices from the top of the fridge into the garbage is easy?) but sunk the second with ease.  I, of course, was so proud of my son, and  of all my eager learners, as well:)

I just can't say enough in support of homeschooling.  I also want to point out that it is possible to teach many different age levels at home.  As this brief picture of our home during school hours demonstrates, any family, of any size, can produce talented and well-educated young people, as long as the effort is well managed and intentional, such as it is in our case.  Need I say more?