witnessing101

Superhero Central

Our house is Superhero Central.  A Watch Tower located on Earth.  And we are not only populated by the Justice League, but any superhero you can imagine and some that are unimaginable excpet to my children.  Take Isaac for instance.  He can be Batman, Spiderman, Bibleman, Buzz, The Hulk, and a handful of other heros, or any combination of costuming and superpowers.  Sometimes he whips off a costume to reveal yet another hero underneath.  He has no mild mannered alter ego, however, because when not in costume he is Super Ike.  Always ready to swoop in and save the day. 

And Angel and Faith are not left in the dust either.  They have been all of the above on a couple occasions, but they prefer to make up their own heros.  Angel is Angel with all the powers.  No, one is simply not enough.  Two or three, that is to be scoffed at.  She has them all.  You name it, she has it.  You make it up, she takes it.  And Faith, of course, has the power to became any animal and has the powers that animal has.  There are some animals she only turns into for fun not the defense of the planet.  An aardvark, for example,  really has no special power, but it is fun to say.   And the only real power Ihave seen the dolphin come up with is a loud high pitched sound that is meant to peel off the wallpaper. 

As they were playing superheros the other day, I got to thinking about what superpowers would be pretty cool.  Aside from my sarcastic wit and sense of irony, what powers should I have?  Isaac is convinced that I have a Mom Sense- a tingle that tells me when he is about to do something he shouldn't.  I think all mothers share that power.  And x-ray vision.  I know what they are doing upstairs when I am in my room putting away laundry, or in the kitchen making supper.  Add to that super sonic hearing for all those times I hear what is called nothing but I can pinpoint the sound and the offender from a great distance.  And mind reading ability for I can tell if they ask for tape, string and if I have seen the cat I know they are up to no good.  I have more detailed abilities also.  For instance it takes a doctor years of training to tell you what is ailing someone.  I can tell you from a dead sleep with no proir info or warning not only what is wrong, but with which kid and why you should run for a bucket.  At the slightest cough in the middle of the night when my x-ray vision is not its sharpest because I do not have my contacts in and therefore can only see as well as, let's say, a cross-eyed mole, and I can't even find the glasses I had on right before I laid down for the night, I can locate the Vicks and the humidifer that we have not seen for 6 months.  I may step on every small toy in the house in the process, though.  I also have super other  vision because I can find the other.  Doesn't matter if it a shoe, glove, soccer ball, or child.  If someone in my house can find one, the other is my responsibility.  I have a mess-o-meter that helps me locate the messes that no one else seems to be able to see but yet they can conviently step over.  I also come equiped with a two-way voice locator.  I can pinpoint the location of my child by the slightest sound, even when they are hiding in WalMart.  And they locate me by screaming through the house.  Now that I am pregnant I have the 3-2-1 Penguin made popular super gravity belly, also.  With that particular super power I have the amazing abilty to run into things with my belly that should be too far away for it to reach and it seems to draw peoples hands like magnets.  I also use it to knock the lids off crock pots at potluck dinners and baby showers.

So, despite the fact that i persistanly wear my underpants on the inside of my clothes, only wear tights when hard pressed, and do not regularly wear a cape, do not be fooled into thinking that I have no special powers.  I am cleverly disguised as a pregnant homeschooling mom who can't even find her own van keys.  As quick as Superman can locate a phone booth, however, I turn from my mild manner alter ego into Super Mommy. 

Election Time

It's a ...

We went for an unltrasound yesterday.

It's most definetly a BOY!! 

We are all very excited. 

His name is David. 

Finding Time For Me

These past few weeks have been challenging.  For two years I worked wanting to be here.  Now I am here and have no idea what to do.  The housework is piling up.  The schoolwork is piling up.  The laundry is reproducing faster than I ever imagined.  I wander from room to room trying to fight against the mess and clutter, only to be weary and defeated as I drag myself to bed at night.  I can't seem to accomplish the things I want to each day.  I feel as though I need to carve myself out from under the mountian of stuff I decided needed done when I was done working.  Two years worth of stuff. 

I know, I know, being pregnant, homeschooling three kids, being as sick as I was, those are all reasons.  But each night as I walk through the house and see messes everywhere, and each morning as I see my laundry piling up higher in my room, I feel like a failure. 

There is so much I wanted to do when I was done working that I have not had time to do yet.  Material I wanted to go over.  Cleaning that I wanted to do.  Games I wanted to play with the kids.  Field trips.  Scrapbooking I wanted to catch up on.  I did not realize what this was doing to me until my birthday.  I got a book from my mom that I could not wait to read.  I put the kids to bed and snuck into the bathroom with new candles and new bath stuff.  I lit the candles, ran a hot bubble bath, and slipped into the tub.  I looked over at my book and suddenly realized something.  I was not as happy as I thought I would be.  I could not relax.  I had no desire for that new read and hot bath.  Being the fighter that I am, however, I perserved  and got absorbed (see that nice pun- tee hee hee) in a wonderful bath and a great new story from the mind of my buddy Ted Dekker. 

As the days have progressed, I have begun to see the things that are weighing me down.  I have had no desire to do what I love to do.  I am too tired.  Too busy.  Too guilty when I stop for a minute.  I have become out of touch with myself.  Not taking time for me.  Time for tea late at night.  Time to read.  Time to relax.  Time to have fun.  Everything has begun to take on a "been there, done that" feel.  Played this game.  *sigh*  Watched this movie already *sigh*  Don't have time for that *double sigh*

ENOUGH.  There needs to be time for me to do what makes me happy, what makes me ME.  I have no been creative enough, challenging myself enough, experiencing the things I love best enough.  No more.  And the clutter, oh the clutter.  We all do this, I am sure.  "I can't get rid of ______________ becaue so-and-so gave this to me."  "Oh, I have held onto that for years.  Why toss it now?  "  "Just stick it in the closet, I will worry about it later."  Only later never comes and you go to hang up your coat and get hit with an avalanche. 

I have been talking about this with a good friend.  She knew what I was talking about.  Holding onto stuff because you used to like it.  Now I am just tired of dusting it.  Or around it.  Or ignoring the dust because I did not want to move it.  While on the phone with her tonight, I said enough.  I went to THE CLOSET.  The one that is scary to open.  The one that actually has a closet inside it.   I was armed this time, however.  In one hand I held a huge trash bag.  Beside me was the trash can.  And in the other hand, the phone.  We talked and laughed as I tackled shelf number one.  And two.  And three.  There are now three boxes and one overflowing bag of stuff that is on it's way to Goodwill.  Stuff I moved with 6 or 7 times.  Stuff I have no idea where I even got it from, or who I got it from.  Stuff that is just ugly.  Or broken.  There are two more shelves in that closet, but I need back up.  One is way high and I am too short.  And one is really low, and from here until the baby comes I have a strict no-bending-over-unless-totally-necessary policy.  This can only be broken if one of my children is injured.  Or by chance I drop chocolate.  Emergencies  only, people.

Wow, the power of filling up those boxes and bags, of carting it out of my house.  It was cleansing.  I feel renewed.  I am ready to conquer greater things, like, um, the school room.  Only that is too big.  So tomorrow after school I will be in the closet.  There are two more shelves in the hidden closet, plus a shelf that runs the length of the main closet.  Plus a whole lot of floor to un-cover.  And I have a shelf ready to store my scrapbooking stuff, way from fingers that want to stick my Creative Memories stickers to the TV.  If only I can find the scrapbooking stuff...

Kids Make Me Say The Darnedest Things

I am suprised from time to time at the things I hear spewing from my mouth.  And the situations that call for those odd things.  Here is just a sample of things I have said to my children this week.

• Take the matches out of your underpants.
• Don't hit your sister with a snake- I don't care if it is soft.
• Why does the sound of "nothing" sound like you are covering the cat in tape?
• Do not shoot marbles from your nose.  They don't belong in there in the first place.
• Poopy is not a bad word, it can be mean sometimes, though.
• Do not put play dough in your ears anymore.  It is too hard to get out.
• Who put foot prints on the top of the dining room mirrors??
• Are those butt prints on the bathroom mirror?
• I do not think that a fork fell down and just happened to carve your name in the cupboard on the way to the floor.
• If you pull out your teeth for money the Tooth Fairy only gives you a penny.
• Get down from the ceiling and put that boogie in the trash where it belongs!

That was all this week.  Not too mention the day I had to point out live fish cannot breathe if you put them in your underware, they need water.  And many, many more.

Now, try this at home.  Say "Take the matches out of your underware.  All of them.  Right now."  Forcefully enough to mean business while on the phone with your brother who is laughing hysterically in your ear.  If you can do that then you can come babysit.  Oh, and as a side note, only one of my children did not need to hear any of those pearls of wisdom from me.  You can figure out which one.  The other two tied. 

School Days

I have been off work for a month now.  We have been working at putting the house in order, getting into a routine around here, and doing school.  Of course, that has been inbetween my doctor's trips.  I ended up with an abscessed tooth that needed to be removed.  And I am allergic to penecillin and pregnant, so I am taking this really strong medicine that makes me sick.  Hard to get into a routine.  Add to that the fact that Andy has been laid off for quite a while and tensions are running high around here.  And not a lot is getting done. 

Our first day of school went smoothly.  The kids were all exctied about new pencils, notebooks, folders, and various school supplies.  Day two excitment was still high, but beginning to decline.  Day three I hid in the pantry and called my mom to ask her why she never told me it can be this hard.  And I made her promise it would get better, even if she had to lie.  Day four was okay and day five was a co-op day. 

I know that they are not excited by math worksheets or language arts exercises.  Even Spanish does not thrill them when it seems so much like WORK.  One insists she can't read, the other forgets how to count, and last but not least I have one sitting on top of the bathroom door way holding the door open so that no one can go in and shut the door.   One who is super focused but won't read, one who can not focus, find a pencil, or sit in her chair with out falling off, and one who needs talked down off the funiture and makes his worksheets into paper airplanes.  Granted, the last one does not need to be in school, but I do not trust him on the loose anywhere in the house while we are busy.   I am sure it is too early to say that he is hyperactive.  I mean, he could calm down, right?  RIGHT?!?  I already have a highly distractable child.  One is enough.  The school room is not big enough for two of them.  I am not energetic enough for two of them.

Due to this, our school days run a little bit south of traditional.  While doing numbers, my daughter contorts her body into the shape of the number.  She sings her answers instead of writing them.  She does her addition problems while hoping on one foot and language arts to the tune of Beethovan's Ode to Joy.  add to that the not-run-of-the-mill "why"  and "What happens when..." questions I hear daily.  The scariest are usually followed by an "Oh, never mind.  I just figured it out...    "Why was there a screen in my window?  What happens when it isn't there anymore?  Why do we need to have that thing I found on the doorway?  What happens when you pull it off?  Oh, Never mind.  I just figured it out.. What happens when pencil marks get on the monitor?  What happens if you put a beanie baby on a light bulb and turn on the lamp?  What happens if you accidently write on the wall with nailpolish?"   A day here is never dull.  That is not just the school day, either.

I have not been feeling well, and today decided to take advantage of my husband being home.  I laid down for a nap.  The door to my room popped open and my son handed me the end of a white ribbon.  I mumbled something along the lines of "What's this?" He said he just needed  me to hold it.  He climbed the secret passage way, ran through our attic, back down two flights of stairs, around the living room, into the sunroom and finally finished up in the basement.  The whole time he was holding the spool of ribbon, unraveling it as he zoomed along.  Enter Daddy, stage left...into the tangled mess of ribbon.  It was not pretty.  I heard it in my half slumber, and realizing that I was a part of it, let go of my ribbon.  My husband does not handle this kind of creative game well.  He took the ribbon and sent them outside to burn off some energy.   I am not sure that will work, but at least they were quiet and I could rest. 

Ahh...Summer

It is about the end of the AmeriCorps year.  We had a meeting today in which we were asked to talk about our greatest challenges and accomplishments in three minutes.  That hardly scratches the surface.  I never doubted the good that would come out of this year, especially for the students that I was working with.  And I have worked with students long enough to know that means I would be changed as well.  However, I realized that I have been overcoming a problem that has nothing to do with AmeriCorps, but with myself.  I have very little self disciplne in certian areas.  One is food.  Another is time management.  And money.  Okay, there has been no big change in the food and money departments, but I am beginning to try.  Perhaps that is change enough for now. 

But I am coming to the end of the year.  I stuck it out.  There were days I wasn't sure if I would, or could.  To me, that is my biggest accomplishment, and an unexpected one at that.  I have had jobs before, but never that lasted really long.  I was never fired, I just quit because of different circumstances in my life at the time.  School.  Pregnancy.  Stress.  I never needed to stick it out.  But this, well, this was different.  I was determined to make all those hours away from the kids worth it for us in the long run.  Yes, I get the education award, and that was my motivating factor for doing this.  But it was hard.  Really hard.  Hard to balance work, school for Angel, moving, life in general and still work full time around all that.  And my heart sure wasn't in it like it is in homeschooling or taking care of my family.  There were many days I came home too tired only to find myself behind at home and having to press on.  Too many mornings that I wanted to shut off my alarm and sleep for hours, days even.  I have seen my desire for the things I love take a back burner to the things that demand my attention.  I have not had the time to read a lot or scrapbook at all.  I feel like the demands of life have sapped my creative energy.  I am actually GLAD that I am not directing VBS this year, which is wierd because it is my joy to do so. 

On the other hand, the sweet sense of accomplishment is incredible.  I am almost there.  I have perservered.  Go me!!  I have been looking at this as a two year commitment, and now I am half way through.  It is as though I have trudged upward all year and now I am at the top of the mountian looking down, awaiting the wind whipping through my hair on the fast ride down.  Perhaps this coming year will take my breath away, but each hour is another notch on my belt and I will be ever closer to my goal.  Smooth sailing from here!

Let's Go Fly A Kite

On the last windy day we had I took the kids to the ballfield to fly their kites.  Isaac has a Spiderman kite that he had up there pretty high.  He would run all around the outfield, chubby hands gripping tightly onto the string, yelling with joy for all to hear.  Faith has a Diego kite.  She would get hers going, but then she would run in circles and the kite would be against the wind and it would crash to the ground.  Neither one of them stood still and watched the kite soar.  They were too excited to stand still.  Angel has a Dora kite.  She patiently and lovingly put it together.  She sat on the ground and wound out just enough string that her kite was about two feet above her head.  She had to stay in motion to keep it in the air because no wind could get under it.  She was getting frustrated and angry that her kite wouldn't fly, but at the same time she was too afraid to let it go. 

I watched her for a few minutes.  I could see that she was afraid of losing her kite.  She picked it out and bought it herself.  She took time putting it together.  She remembered that last year Tony's kite string broke and his kite took off on its own.  I tried to explain that his kite string was old and broke easily, but hers was new.  Her string wouldn't break like that.  She was afraid the wind would tear the string from her hands.  I tried to show her how to hold it securely.  She refused to let her kite sour for fear of losing it.  She pulled in the two feet of string and took it apart.  She tucked it safely in the stroller and sat on the ground crying for fear that Isaac and Faith would lose their kites.  I held her, reassuring her that it would most likely be okay, and even if they did lose a kite we could go to the store and get another.  It only cost $1.50.  I tried to soothe her, but was struck with how similar her plight was with my own.

I spent nine months preparing for her to be born.  Seven hours in labor.  Months of bouncing her all night long when she was colicky.  Endless hours nursing her.  Tears of joy when she said Mama.  Tears of frustration when she wouldn't sleep- ever.  Tears of pain when she hurt.  Hours of fear when she was in the hospital.  At various times I dried her tears and blood after falls.  Cared for her when she was sick.  Paced the floor singing to her when she couldn't sleep.  Prayed feverently for her when she had nightmares.  I tried to be reassuring when she was first hurt by another child and had to encourage her to be kind regardless, even though I really wanted to spank the little bugger myself for the way he treated her.  My heart overflowed with pride when she decided to not play a soccer game becase she forgot her pads and at the same time broke because I let her down by tring to convince her to play anyway, breaking the rules.  I poured everything I had into her for the past seven years.  I now how it feels to want to hold on so tightly, keep her close, keep her safe. 

But at the same time, I need to give her string, let her go, encourage her to test the wind and soar to where God has for her.  Every centimeter of string costs me dearly.  A small peice of my heart is let out too.  My job is not to hold her so close, but to teach her to soar.  It is scary.  What if she gets lost along the way?  Temptation, sorrow, heartbreak, injury, sickness, death.  Sooner or later she will face them all.  What if the string that ties us together breaks?  She gets married, moves away.  Do I hold her close, only giving her the briefest taste of freedom, pulling her back when the wind tugs in the slightest?    How much will it cost to let go, to allow God to control her as the wind controls the kites we are watching?  To give her all the string she needs as she grows, and finally, one day to let the last bit out and watch as she soars away, out of my hands and into the future God has planned for her? 

I sat on the ground holding her closely.  For right now, I can hold her close.  I dried her tears.  I told her that I know how hard it is to let go.  We gathered up the kites and kids.  We walked home hand in hand, and my heart was full.  Full of joy that she is still mine to hold close.  Full of apperenshion for the time to let her go creeps closer everyday.  Full of thankfulness that there was someone who held me close, and when the time came, let me go so I could be here right now, right where God wants me, holding the hand of my own daughter.  Full of hope that I can be that strong when the time comes.  Full of joy that I do not hold the string alone, God's hand guides mine, letting out just enough string, pulling her closer when I need to, standing back and smiling with me as we watch her fly higher, filling my heart with peace.

It was the best of times...

Lately I have been so overwhelmed by the blessings that have been poured upon us.  That is a good way to be overwhelmed, to be sure.  I am sure that the house has so very much to do with it, but that is just more of a spring board to the other blessings that have come along.  The house is great.  We have a new van.  Okay, the check engine light will not go away, but we will get to it.  We paid off our credit cards.  We are headed on a brief vacation.  We are blessed with enough clothes to clothe the kids.  And me.  From many different sources.  No, Andy does not have to run around naked, he just keeps less clothes, and shoes, than three girls.  Go figure! 

It really does feel like the best of times.  Perhaps this makes no sense, but we still have the same car that is broken down, more bills to pay, and fear that Andy may not have a job much longer.  I still have to work and I hate it.  The van still needs fixed and gas is way too expensive. But everytime we walk into our house, well, things are just better.  It is a big reminder that God has provided a home for us and will continue to provide for us regardless of our circumstances.  Difficult times give Him the oppertunity to work in our lives in ways that we may never "allow" otherwise. 

It just makes me want to give my house a great big hug!

Finally, the moment you have all been waiting for...

Here it is.  A picture of my new house.  And an actual (SHORT) blog post. 

And some rooms that were box free...

Here is a close up of the backyard.  It is much greener now.  Those plant-y things are taking over.  What are they?  I am not so good with plants.  My Mother's Day flowers were killed in under 12 hours.  A new record.  Next year, I request chocolate.