In trying to decide what to write next, I considered that "The Dark of the Night" was kind of a heavy blog post. Not my usual light-hearted tone. Wouldn't it be nice to write about the dawning of a new morning, and the arrival of joy, on the heels of such darkness? But that often is not how life works. The night lingers on sometimes. It has for me, in the process that has spurred the thoughts and reflections I journal here. So to mirror my own journey, here is something to chew on regarding the Lord's discipline, which often accompanies or follows or perhaps even causes a dark night of the soul.
Hebrews 12 is such a beautiful explanation of the Lord's discipline, most especially the assurance that, "[t]he Lord disciplines the one He loves, and chastises every son whom He receives," (verse 6). (In fact, just go read the whole chapter now; no, really.)
Did you hear that, Christian? Every son whom He receives. Every one of us who belong to Him will be disciplined by Him at some point. But why? Aren't we washed in the blood, adopted into the family, guaranteed a crown of glory and eternal life? I love Romans 8:28-30 for this reason: it's all in the past tense. Beloved, it is finished! Christ's work on the cross atoned for our sins, each one of them, including the worst ones and the ones that you keep going back to. Christ's sinless life was imputed to us, a righteous robe to cover our nakedness. Listen to the verbs in the passage, which apply to us, His children, in this order: God foreknew us; predestined us; called us; justified us; glorified us. Would God in His holy word speak of something in the past tense, which was not guaranteed and etched into eternity? From a heavenly standpoint, not only have God's foreknowledge, predestination, calling, and justification been accomplished, but so too our glorification. Ok, so we are washed and sealed. Done deal. Why, then, discipline?
The verse right smack in the middle of those finished, accomplished verbs tells us why we were predestined: to be conformed to the image of God's son, in order that He might be the firstborn among many brothers. Elsewhere we are told not to be conformed to our passions (1 Peter 1:14) or to the world, but transformed by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12:2). God indeed chose you before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4) to be adopted as His child. He promised you to Christ as an inheritance from eternity past, and as Christ stepped into history and died on the cross, He closed His almighty fist around you for eternity to come. Bought and paid for, nothing shall separate you from His love! (Romans 8:37-39) And.
AND. In this life, we are not immediately sanctified and sinless upon receiving new life in Christ. The New Testament, especially Paul's letters, are brimming with exhortations to put off the old self and put on the new. Lay aside your sin and strive for Christlikeness. In fact, if you spend much time trying to discern God's will for your life, consider 1 Thessalonians 4:3 which states it plainly. "For this is the will of God, your sanctification," and goes on to list specifics.
How does the Lord discipline us? Here is the heart of this post. Previously, I mentioned the observation that His discipline is perfect in its measure, its meticulousness, and its mercy. Would you bear with me while I unpack those aspects of the Lord's dealings with us? These are my reflections. Bear with me.
If you've experienced what you believe might be the Lord's discipline, consider its measure. Did the Lord chastise you tenfold for your sin? Or did He bring a measure of spiritual burden sufficient to get your attention, to motivate you to identify and lay aside the sin, but limited to what you with His grace could endure? Indeed, "a bruised reed He will not break, and a faintly burning wick He will not quench," (Isaiah 42:3). I reflect on my own experience of this, and how marvelously the Lord fitted the discipline to His child and to my sin. I felt the long heaviness of night, struggled deeply with negative thoughts, temptations to sin. It felt intense, and were it not for the promises of Scripture, I might have believed myself to be alone with my burdens. Was it too much? I am what some might call strong-willed. Hard-headed, even. The measure required to change my heart and humble me before the Lord...well, it might take for me a bulldozer where for another it would only require a thimbleful of rebuke. I acknowledge the Lord's good measure of discipline.
When I use the word "meticulousness" in reference to God's discipline, it is admittedly for the sake of alliteration, and what I mean is precision. The nature of my struggle, my discipline, my dark night, was directly related to the nature of my besetting sins. The Lord uses the sharpest scalpel, His word, to divide flesh and sinew, soul and spirit. One such instrument He used to teach me was the first chapter of Romans, wherein He reminded me that the judgement of sin is often, in fact, the sin itself. Or the fruit of that sin. Now God does not abandon His chosen ones utterly to our sin (mercy!), but does He give us a taste of its bitter fruit as a lesson? I believe He allowed certain negative thought processes and temptations in my heart in order that I would see the result of not repenting of tiny sins while they were yet tiny. It was like Alice down the rabbit hole: without the anchoring of God's truth, my thoughts were for a season tossed about, lies appearing lovely, and truth appearing unattainable. But with the purpose of tracing and excising one particular thread of sinful thought and action.
(And on lies appearing lovely: this relates SO MUCH to spiritual warfare, and after all, couldn't the Lord's discipline take the form of sending us into battle in order to learn our weakness and need of His strength?)
So what I mean is, God didn't give me financial poverty (to pluck a hardship out of a hat) in order to discipline me for impatience and anger toward my children (again, just a for-instance, I don't know anybody at my house who struggles with patience...). That doesn't match up at all. Not that he couldn't work that way at times, I suppose, but He isn't out to stump us. Rather, He graciously took the budding leaves of my sin and with surgical precision, drew out my inner thoughts and feelings tracing that one stem directly to its ugly root. One was directly related in cause and nature to the other. Who would have thought.
By the way, all these thoughts are meant less in a teaching sense and more in a marveling sense at the perfectness of God as our Father and Shepherd. God has been doing these things in my life, and I wonder if anybody else has had such a staggering sense of God's divine (wonderful, terrible) attention upon their sin? Yet to come are some thoughts on the mercy of the Lord's discipline. How kind of Him to press us into the mold of Christ! Soli deo gloria.
The Dark of the Night
Friend, have you ever had to fight for your joy? You know, the joy of the Lord that is our strength (Nahum 8:10) and the fruit of the spirit (Galatians 5:22). As God's children, we are called to live a life characterized by a number of qualities, one of which is a steadfast joy. The Psalms in particular are rife with allusions to joy (see Psalm 4, 21, 43, and 66 among myriad others).
Thankfully, though, the Scriptures are also overflowing with reassurances that life is HARD. To be human is to wrestle with sorrow, with pain, and with our own sin. Unendingly, with our own sin. As I type this, I feel my spirit groan with all of creation at this awful truth (Romans 8:22). I've been through childbirth thrice. I am familiar with the focused, purposeful groaning referenced here. A groaning as one summoning every ounce of inner strength to withstand some suffering which is promised to end, but feels at the moment infinite. What a wonderful metaphor, childbirth: such travail, ending in a joyful cry of life! Have you wept with joy or relief at the birth of a new child? The long wait, and the long-burgeoning discomfort of the mother, are all but forgotten. Two of my own children were born soon after morning's first light, bringing to mind the Psalmist's words: "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." (Psalm 30:5)
But what about the night, when you are long in it? When your soul weighs heavy within you? The first half of the verse above says that, "his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime." It's really, incredibly hard to make sense of suffering. Is the Lord angry at me? I ask you, are you a child of His? Or is this night of yours so dark that you despair even of your salvation? Beloved, if you are wrestling in the dark of night, know for certain that you would not struggle in this way if you were not alive in the spirit. Those who truly walk in the dark have no knowledge of it; "God gave them a spirit of stupor, eyes that would not see and ears that would not hear." (Romans 11:8). They might suffer trials, but as ones with no knowledge of the hope of Christ.
But if you feel that you are far from the Lord, and it gives you any anguish at all, or any tiny desire that He would shine His face upon you and give you peace, then take courage. You might be yet in the throes of childbirth, but you possess the heartbeat of life! I take this wisdom from R.C. Sproul, a brilliant Reformed thinker and teacher, who teaches that if you have any inkling of struggle with sin, the tiniest affection for Christ all, then you are completely and irrevocably His. What blessed assurance! So, belonging to Him, in your suffering, rest in the knowledge that He is not angry at you. His divine wrath was poured out to the uttermost, its flames burned themselves out, on Jesus at the cross. No, God is not angry at you.
So how then to understand the dark night of the soul? Greater minds than mine have expounded on this. My little litmus test is this: have I invited the Lord's discipline upon me in some way, or is He allowing a chastening time in my life in order to purify my soul and glorify His name? I think of either Job, whom the Lord gave to be tested for seemingly no earthly reason (but have you read the end of the book? Was all of Job's testing a set-up for God's awe-inspiring, mouth-shutting, heart-quivering glorification of Himself? And why not?), or Hebrews 12 speaking of all discipline feeling painful rather than pleasant at the moment, but yielding the peaceful fruit of righteousness.
Discipline: not divine anger. We earthly parents do sometimes discipline out of anger, but sinfully so. The Lord's discipline is perfect in its measure, its meticulousness, and its mercy. Much more on this in another post, but know that when the Lord disciplines you, it is as one tenderly yet irresistibly swelling you toward repentance. Think more of being enticed toward Him, and your sin clinging painfully though you tear freer with each obedient step. Or, even, His gentle fingers wresting that sin from your own...yet your tight grasp on sin might cause great pain in the letting go. Yes, He causes pain, but so tenderly, and always, always, always supplies the balm of His grace right behind the wounding.
What then if it is not discipline? I daresay there is always some sin to locate in my own heart, so first off, it is probably fair to presume that most of life's trials provide a means of discipline. That is not to say, again, that the Lord is constantly bemoaning or punishing my shortcomings, but rather that His will is to conform me to the likeness of His very Son! What better use could there be for my life than to spend it in the consuming fire of my Creator's holiness, so that when I meet Him face to face, it is with the purest, finest gold to offer Him (Malachi 3:2-3). For those whom He has chosen to be His, He has predestined to be conformed to the likeness of Christ (Romans 8:29). So if suffering is not discipline for one particular overt sin, perhaps it is to be felt as the general pressing in of the soul to the mold of Christ.
But again, perhaps it is not discipline per se, but a sifting, a testing such as what God permitted to happen to Job (Job 1:6-12). The book of Job reads to me as if God is pleased sometimes to seek His own glory through the challenging of His people. He does not abandon Job, nor does He permit Satan to have ultimate power over Job's life. With Satan's power as with the ocean: "Thus far you can come, and no further." (Job 38:11) Yet look at how magnified God is through Job's suffering! He is magnified in Job's own heart, He receives glory as Job answers his friends, and He engineers a marvelous opportunity to deliver a thunderous diatribe of His own majesty and omnipotence. If your soul is suffering, know that God is doing something mysterious for His own glory, and trust Him. Again, what better use for my life than to bear firsthand witness to God's glorification of Himself? This is the ultimate in "It's not about me." In fact, if anything in this writing sounds harsh or unfair from a human perspective, be reminded that it's not ultimately about us. God's love for us and divine, eternal plan of reconciliation, though it benefits us infinitely, is at its uttermost a grand narrative of glory, meant for us to marvel, to raise our hands in exuberant "Amen!" and to bow low in adoration. Soli deo gloria!! (The five solas of the Reformation)
Before I ramble far beyond the scope of this first post, let me return to my opening question. Have you ever groaned under the weight of spiritual darkness, whether in the guise of loss, trial, or temptation to sin? Then you know that this is a fight in the most somber and dreadful sense of the word. There on the pages of your Bible are all God's promises of joy and light and the pleasure of His countenance, when all you feel is weak and dark and doubtful. Maybe you even feel certain that you are bent to the point of breaking, or sure that you are about to buckle to the weight of temptation, or grieved that you have already succumbed to sin. Perhaps you are reduced to a sense of numbness or depression, an ache for just a glimpse of light over the horizon.
Then fight for your joy, beloved, with the full armor of God at your disposal.
(Ephesians 6:11-12)
If you feel too weak to fight, then stand firm in Christ.
(Galatians 5:1)
If your burdens are so heavy you cannot stand, then cry out from the depths!
(Psalm 130)
And if even your voice is too much to raise, lift your eyes, beloved.
(Psalm 121)
As the Israelites who in the wilderness looked to the serpent and were healed, look to Jesus and have hope.
(John 3:14)
For you once were dead in your sin, but God made you alive together with Christ! (Ephesians 2:1,5)
Moreover, "He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope, that He will deliver us again."
(2 Corinthians 1:10)
This is the first in a series on things like the dark night of the soul, spiritual dryness, the Lord's discipline, what it means to fight for joy, and how He uses sin and suffering in the life of the believer. I don't claim to be an authority on these things, but have felt led to share what the Lord has been teaching me in His walk with poor, slow-to-learn me. I'm not sure what all I plan to write just yet, but it's my prayer that someone out there would feel encouraged and that God would be glorified. Indeed, soli deo gloria!
Thankfully, though, the Scriptures are also overflowing with reassurances that life is HARD. To be human is to wrestle with sorrow, with pain, and with our own sin. Unendingly, with our own sin. As I type this, I feel my spirit groan with all of creation at this awful truth (Romans 8:22). I've been through childbirth thrice. I am familiar with the focused, purposeful groaning referenced here. A groaning as one summoning every ounce of inner strength to withstand some suffering which is promised to end, but feels at the moment infinite. What a wonderful metaphor, childbirth: such travail, ending in a joyful cry of life! Have you wept with joy or relief at the birth of a new child? The long wait, and the long-burgeoning discomfort of the mother, are all but forgotten. Two of my own children were born soon after morning's first light, bringing to mind the Psalmist's words: "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." (Psalm 30:5)
But what about the night, when you are long in it? When your soul weighs heavy within you? The first half of the verse above says that, "his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime." It's really, incredibly hard to make sense of suffering. Is the Lord angry at me? I ask you, are you a child of His? Or is this night of yours so dark that you despair even of your salvation? Beloved, if you are wrestling in the dark of night, know for certain that you would not struggle in this way if you were not alive in the spirit. Those who truly walk in the dark have no knowledge of it; "God gave them a spirit of stupor, eyes that would not see and ears that would not hear." (Romans 11:8). They might suffer trials, but as ones with no knowledge of the hope of Christ.
But if you feel that you are far from the Lord, and it gives you any anguish at all, or any tiny desire that He would shine His face upon you and give you peace, then take courage. You might be yet in the throes of childbirth, but you possess the heartbeat of life! I take this wisdom from R.C. Sproul, a brilliant Reformed thinker and teacher, who teaches that if you have any inkling of struggle with sin, the tiniest affection for Christ all, then you are completely and irrevocably His. What blessed assurance! So, belonging to Him, in your suffering, rest in the knowledge that He is not angry at you. His divine wrath was poured out to the uttermost, its flames burned themselves out, on Jesus at the cross. No, God is not angry at you.
So how then to understand the dark night of the soul? Greater minds than mine have expounded on this. My little litmus test is this: have I invited the Lord's discipline upon me in some way, or is He allowing a chastening time in my life in order to purify my soul and glorify His name? I think of either Job, whom the Lord gave to be tested for seemingly no earthly reason (but have you read the end of the book? Was all of Job's testing a set-up for God's awe-inspiring, mouth-shutting, heart-quivering glorification of Himself? And why not?), or Hebrews 12 speaking of all discipline feeling painful rather than pleasant at the moment, but yielding the peaceful fruit of righteousness.
Discipline: not divine anger. We earthly parents do sometimes discipline out of anger, but sinfully so. The Lord's discipline is perfect in its measure, its meticulousness, and its mercy. Much more on this in another post, but know that when the Lord disciplines you, it is as one tenderly yet irresistibly swelling you toward repentance. Think more of being enticed toward Him, and your sin clinging painfully though you tear freer with each obedient step. Or, even, His gentle fingers wresting that sin from your own...yet your tight grasp on sin might cause great pain in the letting go. Yes, He causes pain, but so tenderly, and always, always, always supplies the balm of His grace right behind the wounding.
What then if it is not discipline? I daresay there is always some sin to locate in my own heart, so first off, it is probably fair to presume that most of life's trials provide a means of discipline. That is not to say, again, that the Lord is constantly bemoaning or punishing my shortcomings, but rather that His will is to conform me to the likeness of His very Son! What better use could there be for my life than to spend it in the consuming fire of my Creator's holiness, so that when I meet Him face to face, it is with the purest, finest gold to offer Him (Malachi 3:2-3). For those whom He has chosen to be His, He has predestined to be conformed to the likeness of Christ (Romans 8:29). So if suffering is not discipline for one particular overt sin, perhaps it is to be felt as the general pressing in of the soul to the mold of Christ.
But again, perhaps it is not discipline per se, but a sifting, a testing such as what God permitted to happen to Job (Job 1:6-12). The book of Job reads to me as if God is pleased sometimes to seek His own glory through the challenging of His people. He does not abandon Job, nor does He permit Satan to have ultimate power over Job's life. With Satan's power as with the ocean: "Thus far you can come, and no further." (Job 38:11) Yet look at how magnified God is through Job's suffering! He is magnified in Job's own heart, He receives glory as Job answers his friends, and He engineers a marvelous opportunity to deliver a thunderous diatribe of His own majesty and omnipotence. If your soul is suffering, know that God is doing something mysterious for His own glory, and trust Him. Again, what better use for my life than to bear firsthand witness to God's glorification of Himself? This is the ultimate in "It's not about me." In fact, if anything in this writing sounds harsh or unfair from a human perspective, be reminded that it's not ultimately about us. God's love for us and divine, eternal plan of reconciliation, though it benefits us infinitely, is at its uttermost a grand narrative of glory, meant for us to marvel, to raise our hands in exuberant "Amen!" and to bow low in adoration. Soli deo gloria!! (The five solas of the Reformation)
Before I ramble far beyond the scope of this first post, let me return to my opening question. Have you ever groaned under the weight of spiritual darkness, whether in the guise of loss, trial, or temptation to sin? Then you know that this is a fight in the most somber and dreadful sense of the word. There on the pages of your Bible are all God's promises of joy and light and the pleasure of His countenance, when all you feel is weak and dark and doubtful. Maybe you even feel certain that you are bent to the point of breaking, or sure that you are about to buckle to the weight of temptation, or grieved that you have already succumbed to sin. Perhaps you are reduced to a sense of numbness or depression, an ache for just a glimpse of light over the horizon.
Then fight for your joy, beloved, with the full armor of God at your disposal.
(Ephesians 6:11-12)
If you feel too weak to fight, then stand firm in Christ.
(Galatians 5:1)
If your burdens are so heavy you cannot stand, then cry out from the depths!
(Psalm 130)
And if even your voice is too much to raise, lift your eyes, beloved.
(Psalm 121)
As the Israelites who in the wilderness looked to the serpent and were healed, look to Jesus and have hope.
(John 3:14)
For you once were dead in your sin, but God made you alive together with Christ! (Ephesians 2:1,5)
Moreover, "He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope, that He will deliver us again."
(2 Corinthians 1:10)
This is the first in a series on things like the dark night of the soul, spiritual dryness, the Lord's discipline, what it means to fight for joy, and how He uses sin and suffering in the life of the believer. I don't claim to be an authority on these things, but have felt led to share what the Lord has been teaching me in His walk with poor, slow-to-learn me. I'm not sure what all I plan to write just yet, but it's my prayer that someone out there would feel encouraged and that God would be glorified. Indeed, soli deo gloria!
Remember That Sugar Fast Thing?
Remember when I said I was doing a sugar fast and that I'd blog through it for accountability? Like, at least two weeks ago? Yeah. The good news is that I'm doing it (have done it?), and knowing it was out here in public did keep me accountable. The bad news is that you have no way of knowing what a help your virtual presence has been. I'd like to thank you for being here, waiting with bated breath.
^Haha, I wrote that like a month ago. And the sugar fast thing was probably a month before that. The moment has, as they say, passed, but I thought I'd still come back and share what was learned.
1. I didn't notice much difference quitting sugar initially, but I've observed now a correlation between eating sugar, and getting cranky and tired and frankly kind of down. I'm not sure whether sugar itself makes me cranky and sluggish, or if it's the eventual crash and repeated detox out of sugar - like, the next few days after indulging. I ate a LOT of dessert on vacation last week, and this week has been a BEAR. Or rather, I have been a bear. And my children too. Awful. Not sure how much of it is sugar vs. general fatigue and getting back into routine, but it feels like a thing.
2. My husband has a legit condition known as "reactive hypoglycemia". I will forever abstain from dessert just to have him conscious and conversant in the evenings. The guy falls dead asleep, no joke, after consuming any sugar and most refined carbs. Ice cream and Oreos are the worst offenders. He's like a new man without sugar!
3. When I stop to think about it, I feel really good without sugar. I'm not 100% clean eating or anything, meaning I enjoy syrup on my pancakes and sneak a few (handfuls of) animal crackers from my kids' stash, but overall I don't consume much that is processed. The biggest thing for me to give up was desserts in the evening, and without those, I do actually notice a difference in energy and productivity throughout my days. Three young children notwithstanding.
4. The cravings are real. Oh my word. After vacation last week, it has been SO HARD to go back to no desserts. Joel's been feeling it, too. It's been a gradual weaning process this week but I think we're getting there. I actually feel like it's worth it to avoid dessert, to maintain energy and avoid cravings, which is saying something for me because I have the world's biggest sweet tooth. I feel like one of those people talking like this but I am seriously a normal old person who isprobably a recovering sugar addict. I would always be like, you don't eat any sugar? You think fruits and veggies taste better than dessert? Who are you trying to convince there, partner? And I am for sure not in the "natural sugar for the win!" world just yet, but I've arrived safely at camp "I don't like how lots of sugar makes me feel".
There. Just in case you were curious. And so I don't feel like a total blogging failure with no follow-through and all that. I really did my sugar fast thingy, and I noticed results, and I'm finally recording it so there.
^Haha, I wrote that like a month ago. And the sugar fast thing was probably a month before that. The moment has, as they say, passed, but I thought I'd still come back and share what was learned.
1. I didn't notice much difference quitting sugar initially, but I've observed now a correlation between eating sugar, and getting cranky and tired and frankly kind of down. I'm not sure whether sugar itself makes me cranky and sluggish, or if it's the eventual crash and repeated detox out of sugar - like, the next few days after indulging. I ate a LOT of dessert on vacation last week, and this week has been a BEAR. Or rather, I have been a bear. And my children too. Awful. Not sure how much of it is sugar vs. general fatigue and getting back into routine, but it feels like a thing.
2. My husband has a legit condition known as "reactive hypoglycemia". I will forever abstain from dessert just to have him conscious and conversant in the evenings. The guy falls dead asleep, no joke, after consuming any sugar and most refined carbs. Ice cream and Oreos are the worst offenders. He's like a new man without sugar!
3. When I stop to think about it, I feel really good without sugar. I'm not 100% clean eating or anything, meaning I enjoy syrup on my pancakes and sneak a few (handfuls of) animal crackers from my kids' stash, but overall I don't consume much that is processed. The biggest thing for me to give up was desserts in the evening, and without those, I do actually notice a difference in energy and productivity throughout my days. Three young children notwithstanding.
4. The cravings are real. Oh my word. After vacation last week, it has been SO HARD to go back to no desserts. Joel's been feeling it, too. It's been a gradual weaning process this week but I think we're getting there. I actually feel like it's worth it to avoid dessert, to maintain energy and avoid cravings, which is saying something for me because I have the world's biggest sweet tooth. I feel like one of those people talking like this but I am seriously a normal old person who is
There. Just in case you were curious. And so I don't feel like a total blogging failure with no follow-through and all that. I really did my sugar fast thingy, and I noticed results, and I'm finally recording it so there.
Dream vs. Reality
I've recently begun a Bible study and church leadership seminar that both involve plenty of reading. Considering the last time I completed a book was in 2010 (and I'm actually guessing there, but I know it was before we had kids), I'm a little concerned about pulling this off. My night stand is littered with books only three chapters gone. I have the best of intentions, but I find myself thinking, "If only I had some time in the mornings before the kids get up! I would LOVE to read for a half hour, or even fifteen minutes, uninterrupted!" Completing Bible study homework isn't even probably what most people consider a "leisure activity", but it sounds positively dreamy to me.
Moms, can you relate?
I had the thought of brainstorming a Dream vs. Reality daily schedule. Here goes nothing...
Dream:
Wake up at 7:00 a.m. and enjoy coffee, Bible reading, and half an hour of pleasure reading or Bible study reading/journaling. Start cooking breakfast and cheerfully greet children as they come downstairs around 7:30.
Reality:
Be awakened around 7:25 by my selfless husband who makes my coffee before he showers. Recall soothing post-vaccination toddler at 2:00 a.m. and changing pee-pee sheets at 4:30 a.m. Summon all available resources (meager at best) to roll out of bed and stumble toward the coffee. Read select Bible passages while negotiating with preschooler to go back upstairs until 7:45. Eventually give in and allow him to sit on my lap while I try to pray for the day.
Dream:
Shower in the morning and get dressed, so as to feel ready for anything throughout the day.
Reality:
Complete bare minimum personal hygiene activities while foot-barricading the toddler away from bathroom drawers and cabinets. Juggle hair straightener and toilet lid for toddler's safety. Alternatively, apply one makeup product at a time during brief dashes up and down the stairs while kids are eating breakfast. Mess up foundation because of blood-curdling shriek from the kitchen. Forget whether eye makeup has been applied to both eyes. Wonder whether deodorant was involved. Pick up feminine products and return to cabinet under sink, discard those half-eaten by toddler.
Dream:
Blog for an hour in the afternoon to process thoughts, share updates, and relate funny anecdotes.
Reality:
Duel with handsy toddler whose mission in life is to see the Caps Lock light permanently green. Type two words, locate mouse pointer after said toddler gropes the track pad, delete type that somehow appeared two paragraphs up. Pause writing to block stairs, close bathroom door, and provide a handful of toys for toddler. Referee sibling squabble. Return to laptop and pretend not to notice toddler wiping nose with basket full of clean cloth napkins. Save blog draft and vow to finish it this evening after the kids go down.
Dream:
Blanch, chop, process the heap of tomatoes that our garden has been producing in abundance. Perhaps cook and can some sauce.
Reality:
Eat raw tomatoes with ranch every night at dinner, or tomato/mozzarella/basil salad when I have "extra" time, and feel guilty for throwing or giving away excess tomatoes. Ditto squash, peppers, cucumbers.
Dream:
Enjoy dinner with family while sharing "highs" and "lows" from the day. Help children tell Daddy what they learned in homeschool, review Bible verse and catechism question.
Reality:
Greet husband with toddler wrapped around leg, screaming maniacally (the toddler, not me) despite being well-fed throughout the day and taking a two hour nap (again, the toddler, not me). Notice magnetic letters strewn across kitchen floor and possibly in the pasta pot. Attempt to ask husband how his day was, but be unable to hear his response due to the chaos. At dinner, exchange sympathetic looks with spouse while dodging the food cannon that is the one-year-old. Cajole one child into eating at least three bites of favorite food, while the other child eats all of his food and starts in on my plate. Forget anything that happened earlier in the day, but feel sure that it involved running a marathon while being chased by hungry lions and listening to death metal.
Dream:
After kids' bedtime, catch up with husband, and spend the evening quietly reading or working on a hobby project such as knitting, crafting, maybe lesson planning.
Reality:
Collapse on the couch to decide whether to watch TV or movie. Possibly eat feelings, if there is ice cream or chips in the house. Despite relaxing potential of watching TV on the couch, actually fold laundry and exercise because this is the one time of day when said activities don't involve folding everything three times and/or becoming a human jungle gym/yoga mat. Interrupt folding and exercising to discipline children who have emerged from their room believing they require food, water, and company.
These are about all the contrasts I have time to brainstorm right now, due to the unbelievable din that is my children pushing chairs around the table, playing on a "musical instrument" and shouting imaginary play instructions at each other. Oh and somebody just peed on the back deck. Don't hold your breath that I'm about to proofread, either.
Does this sound like complaining? It's just my reality. Mamas, I'm sure you feel me. My kids are responsible for the highest highs and lowest lows throughout my day. I wouldn't trade homeschooling for the world. I get to witness my kids learning all the things - my son has been reading his first books, and I was there! My daughter is learning phonics rules, and I see the pleasure and pride (and sometimes relief) on her face when she finishes a lesson. We're getting through. The opportunities for grace ABOUND, let me tell you. God is doing things in me that are difficult, painful, and simply astounding. Sometimes I don't know how I'm going to keep doing it, but I know that I will, by God's grace, put one foot in front of the other. And other times I feel like I am completely nailing it. Or at least, you know, faking it convincingly.
What do you fantasize about doing with your time, mamas? Something grand, or just experiencing five minutes without someone shouting your name? Let us pause now and then to thank God for the fullness of these blessings, and the work He is doing in our hearts through them. Sanctification, much?
First Day of School 2015
Hi guys, it's me again! Emerging from my dark, dusty corner of the internet to blow off the cobwebs and actually commemorate something that is happening in our lives. A task at which I have been failing miserably, because seriously all of the things happen all of the time, and they all seem simultaneously too mundane to document, and too precious to ever capture all of the doings and feelings. I've got a serious case of full hands and an overflowing heart. My little loves!
In the past few weeks, Oliver has taken his first steps and said his first words - dada, mama, biff/buff (referring to pacifier, cup, anything he wants to put in his mouth), BALL! BALL! BALL!, and several animal sounds including an intimidating growl, 'oof, meow, moo. He can make it up the stairs in about two seconds and immediately grabs at the hall night light, which makes for a fun sport. Catch the baby before he electrocutes himself! Yes, we need the hall nightlight. No, there's no place for a baby gate. We do scoot the shoe bench in front of the stairs nowadays and it tends to at least slow him down.
The big milestone that I want to share with you, though, is our very exciting, not-so-perfect but oh-so-successful first day of homeschool. It felt a lot like that exhilarating-yet-terrifying moment when your dad first lets go of your bike and inside your head is all, "I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!", before you either truly do make it down the street or crash horribly into a bloody mess of gravel and skinned knees.
I'm really hoping for the former, personally, when it comes to our school year. Isaac's string of recent injuries notwithstanding (whole 'nother blog post, that).
Want to see a little of how it went? I'm looking at you, grandparents and long distance friends, especially. Let's begin with the proud mama parts of the day, shall we? Because I totally did THIS with the pancakes:
I strategically did not photograph the letters and shapes which suffered a clogged squeeze-bottle nozzle. Daddy's first "D" was a slight casualty, but you should have seen my blobby pentagon. And the kids could not identify the ice cream cone without significant hinting on my part. Isaac later tried to tell Daddy about the cloud (or was it a flower?), and I believe his description was along the lines of, "It was a....um....a big thing...mommy what was the big thing?" Also, after doing the obvious names and "school" and "teacher", I asked the kids for word ideas. Next up were dog and cat. Cute. Next choices were oil and bread box. I don't know, guys. I think we're just looking around the kitchen and naming things we see.
My goal was to be all up early and get in most of school before our "special recess at the park" (read: Mama got invited to an Usborne book party at the park at 10:00, and YES we are going!). However. Of all the days, my kids slept in til 8:00 and I had to wake the baby at 8:45. So there's that. Maybe I can count breakfast as phonics because letters and stuff? We did have a successful Meeting Time with our calendar and whatnot. Hit the park, ate donuts, cried because we couldn't take home the sample books (the kids were kind of disappointed, too), and came home to squeeze in some First Day Hooplah before lunch.
Behold the F.D.H.! (Ahem. Videos coming soon. Too long for Blogger to handle, must edit.)
You will notice that my kids' favorite food is apparently soup, the veracity of which I cannot at all confirm. Especially carrot and cucumber soup. But they both favor the Bible (pardon me, Word of God) as their favorite read, so excuse me while I pat myself on the back for my incredible parenting. Also, they both aspire to becoming a doctor. If you need me, I'll be shopping online for a cushy old folks' home for when they are rich and I am feeble.
Our school day was highly flexible. And by highly flexible, I mean we went to the park for an hour and a half mid-morning, and I did at least half my teaching with Oliver either on my hip or making animal sounds and hurling toys across the floor. He was really pretty low-maintenance as babies go, but you should be impressed with my inner sanctification, because how many kindergarten teachers do you know who have to keep their business together for calendar time while a miniature person devotes his whole being to unplugging the modem? (Today I got smart and strapped him into his chair for waffles during our morning meeting. We just had to deal with the aggressive BIFF BIFF BIFF when he got thirsty. Piece of cake.)
So yes, flexible day. Teach when they are teachable, release from structure when the melting goes down. We did our meeting and math before "special recess", then phonics and our writing pre-test after lunch. Also art, which yesterday involved learning to draw a caterpillar and telling a story about it. Today we delved into ancient history, which was me trying desperately to make pharaohs and mummies sound cool (you should have seen Mikayla's eyebrows when I told them about embalming) while they each colored a pyramid, which we then cut out and glued together. I downloaded those and some other Egyptian coloring pages from www.activityvillage.com or something like that. And the Egyptian books came from the library, and contain so many Egyptian-themed crafts and projects, it will keep us busy for the next few weeks while we pretend it is a "learning unit" and not just everything I could find with hieroglyphics and pyramids on it. Seriously, I checked out a kids' chapter book called "The Curse of the Cheese Pyramid". Living books, says Charlotte Mason. I'm sure this counts.
The Lord continues to provide, not only for mama to stay in control of her feelings while the kids refer to me as "Teacher Harriet" all. day. long., but also by filling in our curriculum gaps. I haven't been super satisfied with our phonics curriculum, which I was pulling from Phonics Museum and Explode the Code because neither one was quite at the perfect level for either of my kids. And then a homeschool-veteran mom friend literally gave me a complete Phonics program yesterday when I saw her at the park. Welcome to Alphabet Island, my friends! God is so generous and cares about whether my kids are literate.
There's so much more I could share, but the main thing is that the day felt like a big exhale of anxiety for both my kids and me. I found out that school is going to be fine, and so did they. Mikayla had the sweetest conversation with me last Friday in which she told me she was worried about school, and that she was worried there wouldn't be time for them to do things they wanted to do. I think the kids were relieved to find school a bit fun, and not taking up the whole day. Do you check in with your kids to find out what they expect, and how they feel about it? I so frequently need reminding that they don't have a whole 25-year history with school like I do, for instance, and might be freaking out on the inside that their whole world is about to turn upside down. When I say "school!" and think 2, maybe 3 hours max of structure, they might be anxious that their childhood is over. Oops. I'm so thankful that God gave me an expressive firstborn who is not afraid to let me know what's going on in her head. She helps me to slow down and be mindful of my kids' experience, and not stay so wrapped up in my own. Really both my big kids are good at putting words with feelings when I invite them to do so. And the first day of school is a big deal full of big feels!
How are you doing with the start of a school year? Are you preparing to send your kids to school and dealing with your own big feels about letting go? Are you keeping them home for school, and dealing with mixed emotions when you read about mamas who are celebrating the end of summer break? Both excited and slightly terrified about all of the extreme togetherness that homeschooling brings? Are you missing the first day of school ruckus because your kids are grown? Let's be honest, every stage of parenting carries some mix of excitement and terror. But let's also take a deep breath and trust the Lord who knit our children together, that He will hold both us and our children in His all-capable hands this school year and every year. Amen?
In the past few weeks, Oliver has taken his first steps and said his first words - dada, mama, biff/buff (referring to pacifier, cup, anything he wants to put in his mouth), BALL! BALL! BALL!, and several animal sounds including an intimidating growl, 'oof, meow, moo. He can make it up the stairs in about two seconds and immediately grabs at the hall night light, which makes for a fun sport. Catch the baby before he electrocutes himself! Yes, we need the hall nightlight. No, there's no place for a baby gate. We do scoot the shoe bench in front of the stairs nowadays and it tends to at least slow him down.
The big milestone that I want to share with you, though, is our very exciting, not-so-perfect but oh-so-successful first day of homeschool. It felt a lot like that exhilarating-yet-terrifying moment when your dad first lets go of your bike and inside your head is all, "I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!", before you either truly do make it down the street or crash horribly into a bloody mess of gravel and skinned knees.
I'm really hoping for the former, personally, when it comes to our school year. Isaac's string of recent injuries notwithstanding (whole 'nother blog post, that).
Want to see a little of how it went? I'm looking at you, grandparents and long distance friends, especially. Let's begin with the proud mama parts of the day, shall we? Because I totally did THIS with the pancakes:
I strategically did not photograph the letters and shapes which suffered a clogged squeeze-bottle nozzle. Daddy's first "D" was a slight casualty, but you should have seen my blobby pentagon. And the kids could not identify the ice cream cone without significant hinting on my part. Isaac later tried to tell Daddy about the cloud (or was it a flower?), and I believe his description was along the lines of, "It was a....um....a big thing...mommy what was the big thing?" Also, after doing the obvious names and "school" and "teacher", I asked the kids for word ideas. Next up were dog and cat. Cute. Next choices were oil and bread box. I don't know, guys. I think we're just looking around the kitchen and naming things we see.
My goal was to be all up early and get in most of school before our "special recess at the park" (read: Mama got invited to an Usborne book party at the park at 10:00, and YES we are going!). However. Of all the days, my kids slept in til 8:00 and I had to wake the baby at 8:45. So there's that. Maybe I can count breakfast as phonics because letters and stuff? We did have a successful Meeting Time with our calendar and whatnot. Hit the park, ate donuts, cried because we couldn't take home the sample books (the kids were kind of disappointed, too), and came home to squeeze in some First Day Hooplah before lunch.
Behold the F.D.H.! (Ahem. Videos coming soon. Too long for Blogger to handle, must edit.)
You will notice that my kids' favorite food is apparently soup, the veracity of which I cannot at all confirm. Especially carrot and cucumber soup. But they both favor the Bible (pardon me, Word of God) as their favorite read, so excuse me while I pat myself on the back for my incredible parenting. Also, they both aspire to becoming a doctor. If you need me, I'll be shopping online for a cushy old folks' home for when they are rich and I am feeble.
Our school day was highly flexible. And by highly flexible, I mean we went to the park for an hour and a half mid-morning, and I did at least half my teaching with Oliver either on my hip or making animal sounds and hurling toys across the floor. He was really pretty low-maintenance as babies go, but you should be impressed with my inner sanctification, because how many kindergarten teachers do you know who have to keep their business together for calendar time while a miniature person devotes his whole being to unplugging the modem? (Today I got smart and strapped him into his chair for waffles during our morning meeting. We just had to deal with the aggressive BIFF BIFF BIFF when he got thirsty. Piece of cake.)
[Do you love how I added the year to my calendar by slapping that business onto a green notecard and sticky-tacking it up there? And nobody actually wanted to find out what "Exploring" might mean. Fine. I'm just over here not taking it personally.]
The Lord continues to provide, not only for mama to stay in control of her feelings while the kids refer to me as "Teacher Harriet" all. day. long., but also by filling in our curriculum gaps. I haven't been super satisfied with our phonics curriculum, which I was pulling from Phonics Museum and Explode the Code because neither one was quite at the perfect level for either of my kids. And then a homeschool-veteran mom friend literally gave me a complete Phonics program yesterday when I saw her at the park. Welcome to Alphabet Island, my friends! God is so generous and cares about whether my kids are literate.
There's so much more I could share, but the main thing is that the day felt like a big exhale of anxiety for both my kids and me. I found out that school is going to be fine, and so did they. Mikayla had the sweetest conversation with me last Friday in which she told me she was worried about school, and that she was worried there wouldn't be time for them to do things they wanted to do. I think the kids were relieved to find school a bit fun, and not taking up the whole day. Do you check in with your kids to find out what they expect, and how they feel about it? I so frequently need reminding that they don't have a whole 25-year history with school like I do, for instance, and might be freaking out on the inside that their whole world is about to turn upside down. When I say "school!" and think 2, maybe 3 hours max of structure, they might be anxious that their childhood is over. Oops. I'm so thankful that God gave me an expressive firstborn who is not afraid to let me know what's going on in her head. She helps me to slow down and be mindful of my kids' experience, and not stay so wrapped up in my own. Really both my big kids are good at putting words with feelings when I invite them to do so. And the first day of school is a big deal full of big feels!
How are you doing with the start of a school year? Are you preparing to send your kids to school and dealing with your own big feels about letting go? Are you keeping them home for school, and dealing with mixed emotions when you read about mamas who are celebrating the end of summer break? Both excited and slightly terrified about all of the extreme togetherness that homeschooling brings? Are you missing the first day of school ruckus because your kids are grown? Let's be honest, every stage of parenting carries some mix of excitement and terror. But let's also take a deep breath and trust the Lord who knit our children together, that He will hold both us and our children in His all-capable hands this school year and every year. Amen?
Oliver's First Haircut!
Oliver celebrated his first birthday on June 14, with just a little help from cousins and cupcakes. This marked not only my realization that my littlest guy is growing up before my very eyes, but also that his beach curls have gotten way out of control. Joel and I decided to go ahead and give him a trim, which commenced with scissors, but quickly escalated to buzzing with the clippers (which I swore I would NOT do!) after I stabbed myself in the finger due to the wiggly nature of a one-year-old. We used the longest attachment, but there are probably still grandparents, family, and friends out there who would have my head for getting rid of his CURLS.
Don't worry, when it's humid and/or he eats peanut butter or cantaloupe, the curls (albeit smaller) pop right back out.
Pictures, you ask? I have been rocking the Before photos lately, behold:
And after we finagled his ultra-fine hair through the big bad clippers:
Does anyone else think he looks EXACTLY like his Papa (my dad) now? Pardon the unflattering overhead lighting in this last one:
He's still my cutie pie, but he looks like he's five years old now with his grown-up haircut. Sigh. How the time flies!
Don't worry, when it's humid and/or he eats peanut butter or cantaloupe, the curls (albeit smaller) pop right back out.
Pictures, you ask? I have been rocking the Before photos lately, behold:
And after we finagled his ultra-fine hair through the big bad clippers:
Does anyone else think he looks EXACTLY like his Papa (my dad) now? Pardon the unflattering overhead lighting in this last one:
He's still my cutie pie, but he looks like he's five years old now with his grown-up haircut. Sigh. How the time flies!
My Floor's Dirty Secrets
Some people applaud the use of flooring materials that "hide dirt". I used to pretend I was one of them. But, friends? You've officially lost me. Why in the world would I want a floor that might be dirty, but doesn't actually look dirty so that I know that I should clean it?
And also, as a mom of people who have recently learned to use the potty and still sometimes, you know, forget or don't quite make it in time - the experience of locating puddles with my feet is not a welcome one. Was that warm or cold? Like, body temperature warm? Judging from the quantity, was it a splash from an exuberant hand-washing or the contents of a preschool-sized bladder? Or perhaps an apple juice spill that nobody bothered to tell mom about? Did the tall, handsome gentleman who sometimes helps with the baby leave the diaper sprayer on by accident?
So a floor that is mottled and textured and hides all that great information from my eyes so that my feet may stumble upon it unannounced...not my cup of tea. Which might also be spilled and stepped in on any given morning.
I'm not saying I want a white ceramic tile running through the house. Lord have mercy, no. But my kitchen floor, beige with shades of off-white and...other beige...that is a death trap or at least a gross trap for my bare feet. Show me your dirt and I will mop you. Stick to my feet and I will curse you under my breath and get cranky with my kids. Dirt camouflage is dumb.
Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. And for the record, I've steam mopped twice in the past four days because that kind of clean is addictive. I've been walking around with confident steps, allowing the full flat of my foot to make contact with the floor instead of doing the toe-heel foot-arching thing when the floor gets gross. Too bad I have to return the Shark to my sister-in-law. Although she just had a baby. I wonder how long it would take her to realize it's still at my place?
And also, as a mom of people who have recently learned to use the potty and still sometimes, you know, forget or don't quite make it in time - the experience of locating puddles with my feet is not a welcome one. Was that warm or cold? Like, body temperature warm? Judging from the quantity, was it a splash from an exuberant hand-washing or the contents of a preschool-sized bladder? Or perhaps an apple juice spill that nobody bothered to tell mom about? Did the tall, handsome gentleman who sometimes helps with the baby leave the diaper sprayer on by accident?
So a floor that is mottled and textured and hides all that great information from my eyes so that my feet may stumble upon it unannounced...not my cup of tea. Which might also be spilled and stepped in on any given morning.
I'm not saying I want a white ceramic tile running through the house. Lord have mercy, no. But my kitchen floor, beige with shades of off-white and...other beige...that is a death trap or at least a gross trap for my bare feet. Show me your dirt and I will mop you. Stick to my feet and I will curse you under my breath and get cranky with my kids. Dirt camouflage is dumb.
Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. And for the record, I've steam mopped twice in the past four days because that kind of clean is addictive. I've been walking around with confident steps, allowing the full flat of my foot to make contact with the floor instead of doing the toe-heel foot-arching thing when the floor gets gross. Too bad I have to return the Shark to my sister-in-law. Although she just had a baby. I wonder how long it would take her to realize it's still at my place?
Cast Iron Clean-Up
You might recall that I posted awhile back about steps I used for seasoning my cast iron pan. Food-grade flaxseed oil, oven at 500 degrees, six times over and boom, a gorgeous finish. Since then I've been, you know, using the pan, and it so happens that I sometimes burn food onto it. It's not like I have time to stand there and watch my food closely. Whatever, man.
The result was some ugly marks on the bottom of my pan, and I honestly wasn't sure whether it was food burned on, or my seasoning flaking off. I hoped it wasn't the latter, obvs, but it wasn't getting much better when I scrubbed. Scouring with coarse Kosher salt was a help, and yes I even used water to rinse before and after the scouring, and then warmed it in the oven to make sure it dried thoroughly. I would also put another thin layer of the flaxseed oil on from time to time, since it's a relatively new seasoning. When I cooked with oil or grease, I tried to just wipe it out if I could rather than scouring, to add to the cure.
Last night, though, I cooked Italian sausage in there to go with mac 'n cheese because Thursday is kids' menu night, a.k.a. the one night of the week that my priority is not fighting with the kids about eating their dinner. And it may have gotten a little bit burned onto the bottom. I don't know how that happened, it's not like I had an eleven-month-old trying to escape down the basement stairs, or squawking like a velociraptor about wanting his dinner. And the big kids were totally chill and waiting patiently while I cooked.
Bahahaha.
And also, after dinner I had to run to ShopRite (read: got out of the house for an hour to preserve my sanity) while Joel got the kiddos ready for bed soooooo my poor cast iron pan sat and cooled, and the cooked-on gunk became cold, crustified, cooked-on brown gunk. It was so awesome, I did a little dance when I arrived back in the kitchen to finally clean it.
Kosher salt scrub - fail. Pan on a low burner followed by Kosher salt scrub - more fail.
A quick Google search, which I've found is always the best way to expand my repertoire of domesticity, suggested that I boil a small amount of water for a few minutes to loosen the gunk, and then drain, salt scrub as usual, and heat in the oven to dry thoroughly. I also added a little flaxseed oil and heated further, just to be safe. At 500 degrees. At noon on an 80 degree day. I always think through my plans very thoroughly and never have any regrets.
Guys, my pan looks flawless again! I would show you the difference, but I SERIOUSLY have a problem remembering "before" pictures.
The result was some ugly marks on the bottom of my pan, and I honestly wasn't sure whether it was food burned on, or my seasoning flaking off. I hoped it wasn't the latter, obvs, but it wasn't getting much better when I scrubbed. Scouring with coarse Kosher salt was a help, and yes I even used water to rinse before and after the scouring, and then warmed it in the oven to make sure it dried thoroughly. I would also put another thin layer of the flaxseed oil on from time to time, since it's a relatively new seasoning. When I cooked with oil or grease, I tried to just wipe it out if I could rather than scouring, to add to the cure.
Last night, though, I cooked Italian sausage in there to go with mac 'n cheese because Thursday is kids' menu night, a.k.a. the one night of the week that my priority is not fighting with the kids about eating their dinner. And it may have gotten a little bit burned onto the bottom. I don't know how that happened, it's not like I had an eleven-month-old trying to escape down the basement stairs, or squawking like a velociraptor about wanting his dinner. And the big kids were totally chill and waiting patiently while I cooked.
Bahahaha.
And also, after dinner I had to run to ShopRite (read: got out of the house for an hour to preserve my sanity) while Joel got the kiddos ready for bed soooooo my poor cast iron pan sat and cooled, and the cooked-on gunk became cold, crustified, cooked-on brown gunk. It was so awesome, I did a little dance when I arrived back in the kitchen to finally clean it.
Kosher salt scrub - fail. Pan on a low burner followed by Kosher salt scrub - more fail.
A quick Google search, which I've found is always the best way to expand my repertoire of domesticity, suggested that I boil a small amount of water for a few minutes to loosen the gunk, and then drain, salt scrub as usual, and heat in the oven to dry thoroughly. I also added a little flaxseed oil and heated further, just to be safe. At 500 degrees. At noon on an 80 degree day. I always think through my plans very thoroughly and never have any regrets.
Guys, my pan looks flawless again! I would show you the difference, but I SERIOUSLY have a problem remembering "before" pictures.
Sugar Fast: Day One
Read this first if you didn't know that there's a sugar fast going on.
The first time I heard somebody say that she was addicted to sugar, I hmmed politely but inside I did the HUGEST eye roll. Please. Addicted to sugar? Even if that was a thing, what's the big deal? It's, like, below even caffeine on the "everyone's doing it" list. You can't even convince me that it's a gateway drug. "Oooh shoot, busted for meth. You know, it all started when she started sending her husband out for Dunkin' Donuts on weeknights."
Now, here I am. If sugar dependence exists, I am its poster child. Literally, like the posters on the wall when I was in sixth grade of all the farm animals smoking cigarettes, but me with a cupcake, with the same caption, "It looks just as stupid when you do it!"
You know what's a great way to start your sugar fast? Head to the grocery store on day one. Wander the aisles in search of a few things, and walk boldly past the sweet treats for some holiday that's coming up next weekend. Pick up some ricotta cheese after successfully avoiding the ice cream case. Honestly, it was no big deal, but I can only imagine in another week or two how it might feel - will it be easier or more difficult to avoid the sweets?
And then there's the well-meaning hubby who said to me this evening, "So how's the sugar fast going?" And I said, "Well, fine so far." And he replied, "Well, we have this banana cake in the fridge that needs to get eaten." Thanks, babe. Glad you were able to take care of that for me and remove a big temptation. Right in my face. Also there might have been a little sugar in my coffee this morning, but I am so not complaining about that because I have freshly roasted, freshly ground coffee made and waiting for me every morning when I stumble to the kitchen. #spoiled
So far, I haven't really thought of sweets other than when they were waved in my face. Had applesauce on my pancakes this morning instead of syrup, no biggie. Day One under my belt without breaking a sweat. Tonight and into the next few days, I'll be reflecting on what I want to direct myself toward when faced with a craving or temptation. It's intended to be a spiritual discipline, obviously, but I feel like it should be parenting-oriented somehow. Food for thought....haha...food. See what I did there? Because this is about fasting.
Any input for me on doing a sugar fast? When might I expect to get all cranky and cravy, as I've heard about?
The first time I heard somebody say that she was addicted to sugar, I hmmed politely but inside I did the HUGEST eye roll. Please. Addicted to sugar? Even if that was a thing, what's the big deal? It's, like, below even caffeine on the "everyone's doing it" list. You can't even convince me that it's a gateway drug. "Oooh shoot, busted for meth. You know, it all started when she started sending her husband out for Dunkin' Donuts on weeknights."
Now, here I am. If sugar dependence exists, I am its poster child. Literally, like the posters on the wall when I was in sixth grade of all the farm animals smoking cigarettes, but me with a cupcake, with the same caption, "It looks just as stupid when you do it!"
You know what's a great way to start your sugar fast? Head to the grocery store on day one. Wander the aisles in search of a few things, and walk boldly past the sweet treats for some holiday that's coming up next weekend. Pick up some ricotta cheese after successfully avoiding the ice cream case. Honestly, it was no big deal, but I can only imagine in another week or two how it might feel - will it be easier or more difficult to avoid the sweets?
And then there's the well-meaning hubby who said to me this evening, "So how's the sugar fast going?" And I said, "Well, fine so far." And he replied, "Well, we have this banana cake in the fridge that needs to get eaten." Thanks, babe. Glad you were able to take care of that for me and remove a big temptation. Right in my face. Also there might have been a little sugar in my coffee this morning, but I am so not complaining about that because I have freshly roasted, freshly ground coffee made and waiting for me every morning when I stumble to the kitchen. #spoiled
So far, I haven't really thought of sweets other than when they were waved in my face. Had applesauce on my pancakes this morning instead of syrup, no biggie. Day One under my belt without breaking a sweat. Tonight and into the next few days, I'll be reflecting on what I want to direct myself toward when faced with a craving or temptation. It's intended to be a spiritual discipline, obviously, but I feel like it should be parenting-oriented somehow. Food for thought....haha...food. See what I did there? Because this is about fasting.
Any input for me on doing a sugar fast? When might I expect to get all cranky and cravy, as I've heard about?
Pitching the Sugar Fast
If you know me at all, you probably know that I am a sugar fiend. Well, a food fiend. I'm an eater. And when I cook, it's with butter and garlic and all the things that are delicious. And when I bake, it's three pies in one evening for my husband and brother-in-law's birthday party - blueberry, pecan, and apple crumb. I don't exactly shy away from the eat. Thank you, breastfeeding.
But sugar has a special place in my heart. Or in my extra dessert stomach, depending on who you ask. Give that up? Nay, gentle fool.
The Lord has been working on me, though, in that small nagging way that He sometimes does. I came across this sugar fast idea on this Moms of Boys Facebook page that I follow. Fast from sugar? How would that ever be possible for me? Dessert is a food group, a staple. I like my coffee blond and sweet, and I stress-eat like all mommas do at the end of the day. Or in the bathroom with the door locked while I eat a fun-size Snickers in two bites before the kids catch on. Some mommas do wine, I do cookies.
So, am I dependent on it? Gulp. That's a whole 'nother question, and one that I've ignored because sugar? So not a big deal. But again, that little nagging feeling that I am missing out on something that might happen if I give it up. Similar to the notion that giving up social media periodically is good for the soul. And hey, if I've done that and benefited...then perhaps the sugar fast might not be a bad idea?
What I'm saying is, I'm ready to find out. And I need accountability. If I put it on the internets, then I have to follow through, right? The sugar fast I linked to above has 16 days left. That seems doable. 16 days with no added sugar, no dessert, no candy. Which is awesome timing because I've got the remains of three pies and a banana cake in the fridge, and we just scored something like 20 pounds of M&M products this weekend at the Hackettstown Spring Festival (or Festi-bull, depending on who in my house you're talking to) and they are lazing around in baskets just taunting me with their siren song. The kids can hear the sound of a wrapper from across the house, through three closed doors, and they ask me what I'm eating despite my best not-chewing-anything poker face. Hmm, speaking of accountability, I think the way to nail this sugar fast is to tell my kids that momma's not going to eat any sweets for awhile. It won't even be worth cheating, knowing the inquisition that will follow.
I think I'm ready for the challenge. I'm ready to be free from sugar, if that's a thing, and feel my energy skyrocket (theoretically), and grow closer to the Lord as I use the fast to prompt prayer and Scripture reading (hopefully). I'm not sure that I'm ready for the effect on my moods, if sugar dependence is as real as I've read. Since I use blogging as a sort of journaling, perhaps I'll blog my way through it for your amusement/edification.
Does anybody else want to join me? Thinking about a different kind of fast? Or have you sugar fasted and succeeded? I'm curious to hear how this has gone for others. And I'm super curious to see how the Lord will use this to somehow prune my heart, as strange a thing as it is for me to try to give up!
But sugar has a special place in my heart. Or in my extra dessert stomach, depending on who you ask. Give that up? Nay, gentle fool.
The Lord has been working on me, though, in that small nagging way that He sometimes does. I came across this sugar fast idea on this Moms of Boys Facebook page that I follow. Fast from sugar? How would that ever be possible for me? Dessert is a food group, a staple. I like my coffee blond and sweet, and I stress-eat like all mommas do at the end of the day. Or in the bathroom with the door locked while I eat a fun-size Snickers in two bites before the kids catch on. Some mommas do wine, I do cookies.
So, am I dependent on it? Gulp. That's a whole 'nother question, and one that I've ignored because sugar? So not a big deal. But again, that little nagging feeling that I am missing out on something that might happen if I give it up. Similar to the notion that giving up social media periodically is good for the soul. And hey, if I've done that and benefited...then perhaps the sugar fast might not be a bad idea?
What I'm saying is, I'm ready to find out. And I need accountability. If I put it on the internets, then I have to follow through, right? The sugar fast I linked to above has 16 days left. That seems doable. 16 days with no added sugar, no dessert, no candy. Which is awesome timing because I've got the remains of three pies and a banana cake in the fridge, and we just scored something like 20 pounds of M&M products this weekend at the Hackettstown Spring Festival (or Festi-bull, depending on who in my house you're talking to) and they are lazing around in baskets just taunting me with their siren song. The kids can hear the sound of a wrapper from across the house, through three closed doors, and they ask me what I'm eating despite my best not-chewing-anything poker face. Hmm, speaking of accountability, I think the way to nail this sugar fast is to tell my kids that momma's not going to eat any sweets for awhile. It won't even be worth cheating, knowing the inquisition that will follow.
I think I'm ready for the challenge. I'm ready to be free from sugar, if that's a thing, and feel my energy skyrocket (theoretically), and grow closer to the Lord as I use the fast to prompt prayer and Scripture reading (hopefully). I'm not sure that I'm ready for the effect on my moods, if sugar dependence is as real as I've read. Since I use blogging as a sort of journaling, perhaps I'll blog my way through it for your amusement/edification.
Does anybody else want to join me? Thinking about a different kind of fast? Or have you sugar fasted and succeeded? I'm curious to hear how this has gone for others. And I'm super curious to see how the Lord will use this to somehow prune my heart, as strange a thing as it is for me to try to give up!
The Busyness of Life
It has been a real whirlwind of all the things over here lately. Two weeks ago (that long already??) my dear sister in law welcomed her fourth child via VBAC, and our little village has been pretty busy rallying with food, child care of her older three, and whatever other sundries she needs while recovering. I had the great honor of serving as my SIL's doula at her delivery, which is a whole other post about how that was the highlight of my entire life, but what you need to know is it happened overnight. Dear Lydia made her entrance at 3:44 a.m. I learned two things that night: 1) Childbirth is every bit a miracle when witnessed rather than experienced/survived. Oh my heart. and 2) I am no spring chicken anymore. It took me a solid week to recover from missing that night of sleep and now I have a cough and cold. I am officially an old lady because I had thoughts like, "What fool person would stay up all night on purpose?" My inner adolescent might have shed a tear.
Then, my hubby suggested that we move our guest room downstairs and shift the library/office up to the baby's room. What you need to know is that my love language is rearranging furniture. Of course, this project stretched over the course of a week as we trucked books upstairs and bedroom furniture back down. But it's finished, so hey, come and stay with us sometime!
Also, this Saturday we plan to paint our main downstairs living area. We are hurrying to get the furniture switch squared away as much as necessary to be able to prep the space for this big job. Phase 2 will be painting the trim, with replacing doors and maybe door frames as Phase 3. It seemed like a simple enough idea at the outset, and one that will update our home by a couple of decades without breaking the bank, but...with three young kids, every sprint becomes a marathon, yes? That weekend project takes over your home for a month because you didn't get to finish painting, so you left the painter's tape up and the switch plates off, so you left the furniture pushed around a bit so you wouldn't have to move it again, etc. etc. And all because the baby didn't take his nap that he always takes like clockwork, chopping a solid hour off of your painting day. Not that I expect this to happen on Saturday because that is the one project that is sure to go without a hitch. Hahahaha.
And then there's the whole "hi, it's spring, and obviously 81 degrees all week!" thing that has twisted my arm into the whole rotating bins of clothing thing for the kids. I only just located some shorts for my poor daughter, who has been referring to her one pair of capris as shorts because, well, they were her only not-pants. And then the shoes. The shoes! My kids outgrew their boots, then their sneakers, which I just replaced only to find that hey, sandals would be good now. If anyone has found the answer to keeping their kids in adequately-fitting footwear for longer than a month at a time, please subscribe me to your newsletter.
Then of course the typical cooking, cleaning, yard work, keep the kids alive and generally out of danger, blah blah blah which only takes thirteen of my sixteen waking hours. I'm working on planning (just) ahead on preschool lessons, which has paid dividends in getting my kids some structure and passing these spring hours a bit more productively. We started piano lessons which is not at all like nailing jello to a wall. The important thing is the love of music, not the technical perfection, I keep telling myself between deep breaths and shots of coffee.
What have you been up to? Has the long-awaited arrival of spring turned you into a hypomanic overachiever, too? Are you doing all of the things, or have you managed to slow down and smell a few freshly-blooming lilacs? To all things a season. This might be one of my favorites!
Then, my hubby suggested that we move our guest room downstairs and shift the library/office up to the baby's room. What you need to know is that my love language is rearranging furniture. Of course, this project stretched over the course of a week as we trucked books upstairs and bedroom furniture back down. But it's finished, so hey, come and stay with us sometime!
Also, this Saturday we plan to paint our main downstairs living area. We are hurrying to get the furniture switch squared away as much as necessary to be able to prep the space for this big job. Phase 2 will be painting the trim, with replacing doors and maybe door frames as Phase 3. It seemed like a simple enough idea at the outset, and one that will update our home by a couple of decades without breaking the bank, but...with three young kids, every sprint becomes a marathon, yes? That weekend project takes over your home for a month because you didn't get to finish painting, so you left the painter's tape up and the switch plates off, so you left the furniture pushed around a bit so you wouldn't have to move it again, etc. etc. And all because the baby didn't take his nap that he always takes like clockwork, chopping a solid hour off of your painting day. Not that I expect this to happen on Saturday because that is the one project that is sure to go without a hitch. Hahahaha.
And then there's the whole "hi, it's spring, and obviously 81 degrees all week!" thing that has twisted my arm into the whole rotating bins of clothing thing for the kids. I only just located some shorts for my poor daughter, who has been referring to her one pair of capris as shorts because, well, they were her only not-pants. And then the shoes. The shoes! My kids outgrew their boots, then their sneakers, which I just replaced only to find that hey, sandals would be good now. If anyone has found the answer to keeping their kids in adequately-fitting footwear for longer than a month at a time, please subscribe me to your newsletter.
Then of course the typical cooking, cleaning, yard work, keep the kids alive and generally out of danger, blah blah blah which only takes thirteen of my sixteen waking hours. I'm working on planning (just) ahead on preschool lessons, which has paid dividends in getting my kids some structure and passing these spring hours a bit more productively. We started piano lessons which is not at all like nailing jello to a wall. The important thing is the love of music, not the technical perfection, I keep telling myself between deep breaths and shots of coffee.
What have you been up to? Has the long-awaited arrival of spring turned you into a hypomanic overachiever, too? Are you doing all of the things, or have you managed to slow down and smell a few freshly-blooming lilacs? To all things a season. This might be one of my favorites!
Welcome to Narnia
This evening, I had the great pleasure of introducing our children to some of my most cherished literary characters. We met the Pevensies, and traveled with them for the very first time to a magical country called Narnia.
Oh, my heart. They sat and listened. Isaac's attention wandered, but then he's only three. Mikayla, on the other hand, has never been so transfixed as she was by this story! I wasn't sure how we would all fare in the great big world of chapter books, but as each chapter ended, she begged for the next. She didn't want to stop for dinner, didn't want to stop for bed. As we closed the book at bedtime, I promised that we will read a few more chapters tomorrow - especially since it's supposed to rain. "The perfect kind of day for sitting together and reading!" I said. She tried to sound nonchalant as she responded, "Or, we could just read all the rest of it." That's my girl.
Have you ever mourned, in a bittersweet sort of way, that you can't go back to your childhood and re-experience certain things for the first time? I sometimes have that feeling at the end of a great book even now, or after finishing a movie with a mind-boggling plot twist. Reading a favorite book to a child - particularly my own child, my first-born who is more like me than I ever dreamed possible - is so much like reliving my own first reading of the Narniad.
The awe of finding snow and trees inside a big cupboard. The oddity of meeting a little Faun - and what is a Faun, anyway? Part man and part goat, so funny! The ferocity of the White Witch - the Queen of Narnia? - and Edmund's eating too much Turkish Delight. The mom in me secretly applauded Lewis for mentioning Edmund's tummy ache from over-indulging on sweets. See, Mikayla? I didn't make that up! But the child in me, that true kernel of self that never ages, only is - that part of me blossomed in the sheer pleasure of seeing in my daughter a near-perfect reflection of my own delight. I have never felt so deeply happy with her, nor so closely identified with her. As we turned old, familiar pages, the magic and the bliss of the experience was palpable to me.
One of these nights, I'll find her curled under the covers with a book and a flashlight. And I'm sure I'll scold her and tell her to go to sleep. But I'll be hiding a smile, and deep down, I'll understand that you can take the book out of the child's hands for a time, but you can't take the child out of the book. Sweet dreams, my daughter, sweet dreams. And welcome to Narnia!
Oh, my heart. They sat and listened. Isaac's attention wandered, but then he's only three. Mikayla, on the other hand, has never been so transfixed as she was by this story! I wasn't sure how we would all fare in the great big world of chapter books, but as each chapter ended, she begged for the next. She didn't want to stop for dinner, didn't want to stop for bed. As we closed the book at bedtime, I promised that we will read a few more chapters tomorrow - especially since it's supposed to rain. "The perfect kind of day for sitting together and reading!" I said. She tried to sound nonchalant as she responded, "Or, we could just read all the rest of it." That's my girl.
Have you ever mourned, in a bittersweet sort of way, that you can't go back to your childhood and re-experience certain things for the first time? I sometimes have that feeling at the end of a great book even now, or after finishing a movie with a mind-boggling plot twist. Reading a favorite book to a child - particularly my own child, my first-born who is more like me than I ever dreamed possible - is so much like reliving my own first reading of the Narniad.
The awe of finding snow and trees inside a big cupboard. The oddity of meeting a little Faun - and what is a Faun, anyway? Part man and part goat, so funny! The ferocity of the White Witch - the Queen of Narnia? - and Edmund's eating too much Turkish Delight. The mom in me secretly applauded Lewis for mentioning Edmund's tummy ache from over-indulging on sweets. See, Mikayla? I didn't make that up! But the child in me, that true kernel of self that never ages, only is - that part of me blossomed in the sheer pleasure of seeing in my daughter a near-perfect reflection of my own delight. I have never felt so deeply happy with her, nor so closely identified with her. As we turned old, familiar pages, the magic and the bliss of the experience was palpable to me.
One of these nights, I'll find her curled under the covers with a book and a flashlight. And I'm sure I'll scold her and tell her to go to sleep. But I'll be hiding a smile, and deep down, I'll understand that you can take the book out of the child's hands for a time, but you can't take the child out of the book. Sweet dreams, my daughter, sweet dreams. And welcome to Narnia!
No-Sew Bulletin Board
Welcome to the next installment of my dining room redecorating project! Today, a good friend and I set out on a sacred pilgrimage to Joann Fabrics with four children under five years old in tow. I had crackers in my diaper bag, a gift card in my wallet. What could possibly go wrong?
I mean, other than my children constantly (and loudly) deciding they wanted to go find the adult *other* than the one they were currently with, and Mikayla insisting on magenta chevron for her bedroom curtains.
With my kids being chaperoned around the store, leaving trails of Ritz crumbs where'er they ventured (a modern-day Hansel and Gretel), and little Oliver in a sleepy, feverish haze (sorry, third-born, the world continues to turn when you're not feeling well), I set out to make some serious decisions.
My object: a pretty, non-chevron gray print for the bulletin board and a few other accent items, a colorful fabric for cloth napkins, decorative buttons.
My favorite part was spending the kids' 25 cheerful/this-is-fun minutes trying to locate the home decor fabrics in appropriate colors, and then attempting to narrow down and price my options only after meltdown/we-ate-all-the-crackers phase commenced. You think that parents have ragamuffin homes because the kids make a mess and "we can't have nice things"; however, the truth is that we end up with pillowcases over the windows and mismatched lampshades half-cocked because our children have finely-tuned radar for those decision-making moments. Nothing like mentally coordinating colors in the midst of a toddler hurricane. You'd think I would have learned from my misadventures at Hobby Lobby?
Anyway, you are not here for the disclaimers, you are here for the art, the style, the reveal. I know your heart, friend. Without further ado, I give you The Process! Tutorials for no-sew bulletin boards are a dime a dozen on Pinterest, and I didn't really use one anyway, so please assume I am not stealing anyone's ideas by not providing a link. Behold, my blank canvas:
First, cutting my fabric with the rotary cutter and mat that have changed my life (do I say that every time I use it? Yes, yes I do.). Isn't it pretty?
With all my careful measuring, I did an awesome job of making it the right size and perfectly square. Not actually. The size was decent, but the pattern is regular enough that it was obviously crooked on my cut piece. I had to straighten it on the board, using my see-through straight edge to line up the pattern straight across, and then trimmed the edges. Needless to say, it was not nice and neat when it was all said and done.
What do you do when your edges stink? RIBBON! I had considered edging with this ribbon anyway, to match it to last week's wreath, but my pristine cut-job made it inevitable. Phew.
For a finishing touch, I gorilla glued buttons tomy dining room table plain push pins.
The twine you see along the upper edge? Well. I noticed after hanging it up that gravity kinda affected the hang of my board. Namely, the top of the frame pulled up slightly, revealing unfinished cork board between the ribbon and the frame. I had already ribboned myself out of one predicament, so that was out. The twine gives it a down-to-earth feel and coordinates it even more with grapevine wreath next door. Right?? Haha.
And voila, all finished:
You might notice that one of my beloved children has also forayed into the wonderful world of interior design, in the form of abstract dry erase marker art. If you think that's snazzy, you should see the mural going the entire way up my stairs and embellishing my bedroom mirror. One of these afternoons I will be up to my elbows in Magic Eraser juice. Really looking forward to that.
I mean, other than my children constantly (and loudly) deciding they wanted to go find the adult *other* than the one they were currently with, and Mikayla insisting on magenta chevron for her bedroom curtains.
With my kids being chaperoned around the store, leaving trails of Ritz crumbs where'er they ventured (a modern-day Hansel and Gretel), and little Oliver in a sleepy, feverish haze (sorry, third-born, the world continues to turn when you're not feeling well), I set out to make some serious decisions.
My object: a pretty, non-chevron gray print for the bulletin board and a few other accent items, a colorful fabric for cloth napkins, decorative buttons.
My favorite part was spending the kids' 25 cheerful/this-is-fun minutes trying to locate the home decor fabrics in appropriate colors, and then attempting to narrow down and price my options only after meltdown/we-ate-all-the-crackers phase commenced. You think that parents have ragamuffin homes because the kids make a mess and "we can't have nice things"; however, the truth is that we end up with pillowcases over the windows and mismatched lampshades half-cocked because our children have finely-tuned radar for those decision-making moments. Nothing like mentally coordinating colors in the midst of a toddler hurricane. You'd think I would have learned from my misadventures at Hobby Lobby?
Anyway, you are not here for the disclaimers, you are here for the art, the style, the reveal. I know your heart, friend. Without further ado, I give you The Process! Tutorials for no-sew bulletin boards are a dime a dozen on Pinterest, and I didn't really use one anyway, so please assume I am not stealing anyone's ideas by not providing a link. Behold, my blank canvas:
First, cutting my fabric with the rotary cutter and mat that have changed my life (do I say that every time I use it? Yes, yes I do.). Isn't it pretty?
With all my careful measuring, I did an awesome job of making it the right size and perfectly square. Not actually. The size was decent, but the pattern is regular enough that it was obviously crooked on my cut piece. I had to straighten it on the board, using my see-through straight edge to line up the pattern straight across, and then trimmed the edges. Needless to say, it was not nice and neat when it was all said and done.
What do you do when your edges stink? RIBBON! I had considered edging with this ribbon anyway, to match it to last week's wreath, but my pristine cut-job made it inevitable. Phew.
For a finishing touch, I gorilla glued buttons to
The twine you see along the upper edge? Well. I noticed after hanging it up that gravity kinda affected the hang of my board. Namely, the top of the frame pulled up slightly, revealing unfinished cork board between the ribbon and the frame. I had already ribboned myself out of one predicament, so that was out. The twine gives it a down-to-earth feel and coordinates it even more with grapevine wreath next door. Right?? Haha.
And voila, all finished:
You might notice that one of my beloved children has also forayed into the wonderful world of interior design, in the form of abstract dry erase marker art. If you think that's snazzy, you should see the mural going the entire way up my stairs and embellishing my bedroom mirror. One of these afternoons I will be up to my elbows in Magic Eraser juice. Really looking forward to that.
For now, though, it's onward and upward to my next projects: increasing our collection of everyday cloth napkins, and pondering how to fancify (apparently not a word, per autocorrect changing it three tea before giving up) my dining room chalkboard.
I'm also contemplating another refashion sewing project. Just waiting for the right inspiration to come along...
Good Enough Wins: Part 2
In my previous post, I wrote about doing SOMETHING for homeschool instead of nothing, which is where we've been firmly planted for the last several months. I promised a few more thoughts on making "good enough" work for our family, and trying not to get so overscheduled and overplanned that I wind up doing nothing.
So, 1. Golf ball principle - plan the biggies, don't worry about the stuff that always seems to get done anyway. 2. Record success and completion, but don't overplan ahead of time.
And now I give you principles 3 and 4:
3. Visual reminders/accountability, particularly a Job Chart - I know, I warned you, ROCKET SCIENCE. Mikayla was given a magnetic/dry erase responsibility chart for her birthday, and we finally rolled it out. We picked ten things that should happen every day, or most days, for the chart. They are all about marking off their jobs as they finish, and may I say, for a girl who has never made her bed before in her life, Mikayla's bed looks PRISTINE today. I wonder how else I underestimate her? Also, both kids actually brushed their teeth after breakfast. To my shame, this is noteworthy. Thanks for the applause.
On our Job Chart I included lines for "Bible/catechism" and "School" and "Read-Aloud". Those are more for me than the kids, because I so desperately need the visual reminder to do those things. We do them in fits and starts and eventually burn out from undertaking too much at once. So even for tasks that don't happen every single day, I can now see where we marked them off and how many more times we should shoot for in a week. A stack of beautiful lesson plans in a schoolroom drawer have not, so far, helped me be very successful in "doing school" very often. Out of sight, out of mind. (The Read-Aloud category is for us to do a longer read-aloud book or series in addition to the regular short-book reading we do all the time.)
4. Semper Gumby. I got this phrase from my laid-back mother in law, meaning "always flexible!" I mentioned my brain paralysis that I get when I feel overscheduled and overwhelmed, even if I simply write down all the things I probably will be doing that day anyway. Flexibility is key for me, which on one hand means not boxing myself in with too strict a plan. And on the other hand, it means noticing how things are going and using that feedback to keep boosting our success.
Example of Semper Gumby in action: in our pow wow yesterday, Joel and I agreed that the kids should do Bible time/catechism every day. Ok, big golf ball item into the jar. I thought we would work on one memory verse until we've got it mastered, and put it on our chalkboard, write it in memory verse notebooks, and review it out loud, and move onto a new verse when it seems right. None of this "a verse a week" business. And maybe we'd put our new verse up on the chalkboard on a Monday (or whatever random Day 1 it might be for a verse) and learn it, or part of it; write it into notebooks on Tuesday; copy it onto different paper on Wednesday for practice; and simply review it Thursday and Friday. If it takes more than a day or two to learn a whole verse, then we take longer. No biggie. Also, catechism would involve learning a new question and reviewing old ones, maybe a question every few days or so. And then we'd do some Bible reading every day as well.
I learned very quickly yesterday that we are not going to be doing all of the above every day. News flash: my kids do not have the attention span! I got a Bible verse onto the chalkboard and started to teach it with lots of movement to keep little man interested. "God is our refuge" - lots of pretending that one person was the storm ("crash! boom!" stomp stomp stomp) and I would be the refuge, sheltering the other child from the storm. Etc etc. Totally on the fly, we had fun with it. But we barely made it through the whole one-sentence verse before people were losing interest. No way we were going to also do catechism and a Bible story in the same sitting. Lesson for me: teach a verse one day, and then on a day when it's just verse review, maybe undertake to do a new catechism question. And alternate structure with non-structure. Twenty minutes of Bible time probably earns a good 20-30 minutes of free play, after which they might be ready to come back for some Phonics Museum.
Did I mention I realize this isn't rocket science? Veteran parents are reading this like, "DUH. You are trained in psychology?" But it's a change from my previous vision of modeling our preschool after what the "real" preschools do out there in the world. Or what I imagine that they do. And just putting this out there: I will probably never create a sensory bin, unless some toys accidentally fall into a bag of rice. My kids get loads of sensory experience from playing outside with rocks, grass, dirt, and water. They play with their food. They blow bubbles. To borrow one of my favorite PoMo phrases, they "do life". (You're up, Joel.*) Which, incidentally, also gets them a fair amount of "school" experience - reading words from labels, boxes, and signs (not to mention books), and doing numbers, measures, and sizes from recipes, board games, and such. They have interests that guide our library book choices and Google searches.
Does any of this sound familiar to you? What have you learned about being a good enough parent or caregiver? Have you had to adapt your "ideal" vision to account for personalities and the realities of life? It can be tough to give up on the perfect, but the honesty of saying, "That doesn't work for me!" is SO liberating, and freed me up to find ways to be more successful. My homeschool may not look like your homeschool, EVER, and that's ok! After all, something is better than nothing!
And my four year old just marched sternly into the living room, declaring, "We have to Read Aloud." Score one for the Job Chart!
*Joel and I play this game where we try to speak completely in postmodern catch phrases. It's so authentic and genuine and fosters such a sense of community between us as we jump on the trampoline of experience together.
So, 1. Golf ball principle - plan the biggies, don't worry about the stuff that always seems to get done anyway. 2. Record success and completion, but don't overplan ahead of time.
And now I give you principles 3 and 4:
3. Visual reminders/accountability, particularly a Job Chart - I know, I warned you, ROCKET SCIENCE. Mikayla was given a magnetic/dry erase responsibility chart for her birthday, and we finally rolled it out. We picked ten things that should happen every day, or most days, for the chart. They are all about marking off their jobs as they finish, and may I say, for a girl who has never made her bed before in her life, Mikayla's bed looks PRISTINE today. I wonder how else I underestimate her? Also, both kids actually brushed their teeth after breakfast. To my shame, this is noteworthy. Thanks for the applause.
On our Job Chart I included lines for "Bible/catechism" and "School" and "Read-Aloud". Those are more for me than the kids, because I so desperately need the visual reminder to do those things. We do them in fits and starts and eventually burn out from undertaking too much at once. So even for tasks that don't happen every single day, I can now see where we marked them off and how many more times we should shoot for in a week. A stack of beautiful lesson plans in a schoolroom drawer have not, so far, helped me be very successful in "doing school" very often. Out of sight, out of mind. (The Read-Aloud category is for us to do a longer read-aloud book or series in addition to the regular short-book reading we do all the time.)
4. Semper Gumby. I got this phrase from my laid-back mother in law, meaning "always flexible!" I mentioned my brain paralysis that I get when I feel overscheduled and overwhelmed, even if I simply write down all the things I probably will be doing that day anyway. Flexibility is key for me, which on one hand means not boxing myself in with too strict a plan. And on the other hand, it means noticing how things are going and using that feedback to keep boosting our success.
Example of Semper Gumby in action: in our pow wow yesterday, Joel and I agreed that the kids should do Bible time/catechism every day. Ok, big golf ball item into the jar. I thought we would work on one memory verse until we've got it mastered, and put it on our chalkboard, write it in memory verse notebooks, and review it out loud, and move onto a new verse when it seems right. None of this "a verse a week" business. And maybe we'd put our new verse up on the chalkboard on a Monday (or whatever random Day 1 it might be for a verse) and learn it, or part of it; write it into notebooks on Tuesday; copy it onto different paper on Wednesday for practice; and simply review it Thursday and Friday. If it takes more than a day or two to learn a whole verse, then we take longer. No biggie. Also, catechism would involve learning a new question and reviewing old ones, maybe a question every few days or so. And then we'd do some Bible reading every day as well.
I learned very quickly yesterday that we are not going to be doing all of the above every day. News flash: my kids do not have the attention span! I got a Bible verse onto the chalkboard and started to teach it with lots of movement to keep little man interested. "God is our refuge" - lots of pretending that one person was the storm ("crash! boom!" stomp stomp stomp) and I would be the refuge, sheltering the other child from the storm. Etc etc. Totally on the fly, we had fun with it. But we barely made it through the whole one-sentence verse before people were losing interest. No way we were going to also do catechism and a Bible story in the same sitting. Lesson for me: teach a verse one day, and then on a day when it's just verse review, maybe undertake to do a new catechism question. And alternate structure with non-structure. Twenty minutes of Bible time probably earns a good 20-30 minutes of free play, after which they might be ready to come back for some Phonics Museum.
Did I mention I realize this isn't rocket science? Veteran parents are reading this like, "DUH. You are trained in psychology?" But it's a change from my previous vision of modeling our preschool after what the "real" preschools do out there in the world. Or what I imagine that they do. And just putting this out there: I will probably never create a sensory bin, unless some toys accidentally fall into a bag of rice. My kids get loads of sensory experience from playing outside with rocks, grass, dirt, and water. They play with their food. They blow bubbles. To borrow one of my favorite PoMo phrases, they "do life". (You're up, Joel.*) Which, incidentally, also gets them a fair amount of "school" experience - reading words from labels, boxes, and signs (not to mention books), and doing numbers, measures, and sizes from recipes, board games, and such. They have interests that guide our library book choices and Google searches.
Does any of this sound familiar to you? What have you learned about being a good enough parent or caregiver? Have you had to adapt your "ideal" vision to account for personalities and the realities of life? It can be tough to give up on the perfect, but the honesty of saying, "That doesn't work for me!" is SO liberating, and freed me up to find ways to be more successful. My homeschool may not look like your homeschool, EVER, and that's ok! After all, something is better than nothing!
And my four year old just marched sternly into the living room, declaring, "We have to Read Aloud." Score one for the Job Chart!
*Joel and I play this game where we try to speak completely in postmodern catch phrases. It's so authentic and genuine and fosters such a sense of community between us as we jump on the trampoline of experience together.
Good Enough Wins: Getting Back in the Game
Have you heard the saying that the good is the enemy of the perfect? It means that it's not always fear of a terrible outcome that defeats you, but rather the fear of not attaining the perfect outcome that prevents you from trying in the first place. This has been floating around in my brain lately as I've felt like a HUGE slacker in the area of school for the kids. I've not been doing much of anything. And do you want to know why? Because I had this whole Pre-K curriculum printed, laminated, and beautifully organized in a file drawer, but with all the sickness and husband-out-of-townness and every other kind of distraction, I simply have not had time to prepare, let alone execute the perfect Pre-K lesson every day (or three times a week...or even bimonthly...). My certainty that I would not achieve perfection (checking off all of the things on all of the days) has prevented me from doing ANYTHING for like three months.
So that's an awesome reason for neglecting my kids' development, right?
Maybe it's the changing of the clocks, the longer daylight, the melting snow; or perhaps it's the new coffee dependence motivating me. But this weekend, Joel and I had a pow wow and came up with a plan. Usually when the fire lights under my behind, I am all like let's do it ALL, 150%, it shall be perfect, thus and amen. (See also: redecorating the dining room.) This time, I tempered my administrata with a healthy dose of reality. When I plan out a schedule accounting for all the things that need to get done, I get OVERWHELMED. Yes, I've proven that I have enough hours for cooking, cleaning, educating, and sleeping (technically), but when I look at my list the next morning I'm all "Wow, that is a ton to do today. I'm tired looking at that. Let me just avoid everything."
So this time? Instead? I took the "golf ball" approach. What are the most important things to fit into my day and week? Let's map those, and let the rest of the chips fall where they may. I'm sure the bathrooms will get cleaned...someday...no need to write that in every Friday where I will inevitably go Chore-Blind to the task because not all Fridays are created for cleaning bathrooms, am I right?
My golf balls: (I have balls now!) (And I'm apparently a twelve year old boy because that made me giggle.)
1. Bible time/catechism/memory verses
2. Clean up stuff, at least some of it, and have the kids learn to do more of this (my knees! my back!)
3. Read-Aloud book (something ongoing like Complete Winnie the Pooh or Beatrix Potter, and one day the Narniad, in addition to all the books we read hundreds of times repeatedly each day)
4. Actually, that's it for the daily stuff. I told you I'm shooting low, people. We all need to eat and groom and that is enough some days.
Weekly:
1. Phonics Museum 3x a week, however many lessons and worksheets we happen to get through before students lose interest (I am all official because I have students plural).
2. Math/patterns/something nonverbal 1x a week. This could be doing puzzles, for all I care, which makes this a super easy requirement to meet. At some point we will do something to exercise the visuo-spatial development. BOOM.
3. Art a few times a week. Also easy to do. Crayons, markers, stamps, paints.
4. Piano/music lesson once a week. This one will take the most preparation, namely brainstorming a little concept and activity for the kids. Tempo, beat, pitch, learning simple tunes on the piano. I cleverly mapped this in on Tuesdays so that I have all day Monday to dig deep for something.
5. Family night - Thursdays seem like we don't usually have anything going on, so if we are all home, we're going to try to all do a game or something together. This happens sometimes but we thought it'd be good for the kids to see us prioritizing time all together doing things THEY love.
Notice I said "mapped". The word "schedule" seems to paralyze me, even though I dearly love the IDEA of having a schedule and routine. When I write it in pen on a calendar page, it gets in my head. Suddenly I feel suffocated by the idea of having to do it EVERY TUESDAY FOREVER. So I'll map it as a goal and if we miss it one week, everyone will survive. It's totally a psychological thing, I realize.
Also, instead of lesson planning ahead of time I'm simply going to track what we get done. I have the Phonics Museum curriculum (shout out Veritas Press!) which means no prep ahead of time. We will sit down at least three times a week and open the teacher manual and workbook together. If the kids have eleven minutes in them to do a song and a few worksheets, done. If Mikayla is having a Big School Day, maybe we crank through ten worksheets. And I'll write down what we do. None of this "Get through three lessons in a week! Three worksheets per day!" Because, again, paralysis with the uber structure. (Which totally surprises me because I am a 48/50 Administrative Gifting on the spiritual gifts inventory. Systems. Schedule. Planning and organizing. BUT kids, reality, and being a finite human being. Learning, here.) Plus I don't know if you're this way, but I notice if I'm keeping track of something, I end up doing it more just because awareness or something.
The only planning I'll need to do is picking a Bible verse and story each week, and coming up with something for music time. I *think* I can accomplish this.
Is it a matter of semantics? Yes. But I have totally learned that I need to remove mental barriers and get out of my own way. If I plan and schedule the perfect, but then one night someone only lets me get four hours of sleep and there's no way momma is waving her arms around to teach a memory verse, then we won't even accomplish a little bit. But if I give myself a general gist of what we want to do, it is far more likely to happen in some approximation. Win.
In my next post, I'll share a few more tweaks to my homeschool approach that I hope will help us to be more successful and consistent. (Read: implementing tools that every other family ever has probably been doing since the beginning of time, and taking my kids' and my personalities into account. Rocket science, I'm telling you.)
For today, tell yourself: the good is the enemy of the perfect. Something is better than nothing! So just gather your kiddos and crack a book. Boom, school. At least for the under-five crowd. Especially if you're pregnant, and you know who you are, ahem. If you're much beyond that in your home schooling, I got nothing. Except a crying baby with a fever, so pardon me while I go enjoy a healthy dose of the Reality, now that we've dispensed with the Aspirational for the day.
So that's an awesome reason for neglecting my kids' development, right?
Maybe it's the changing of the clocks, the longer daylight, the melting snow; or perhaps it's the new coffee dependence motivating me. But this weekend, Joel and I had a pow wow and came up with a plan. Usually when the fire lights under my behind, I am all like let's do it ALL, 150%, it shall be perfect, thus and amen. (See also: redecorating the dining room.) This time, I tempered my administrata with a healthy dose of reality. When I plan out a schedule accounting for all the things that need to get done, I get OVERWHELMED. Yes, I've proven that I have enough hours for cooking, cleaning, educating, and sleeping (technically), but when I look at my list the next morning I'm all "Wow, that is a ton to do today. I'm tired looking at that. Let me just avoid everything."
So this time? Instead? I took the "golf ball" approach. What are the most important things to fit into my day and week? Let's map those, and let the rest of the chips fall where they may. I'm sure the bathrooms will get cleaned...someday...no need to write that in every Friday where I will inevitably go Chore-Blind to the task because not all Fridays are created for cleaning bathrooms, am I right?
My golf balls: (I have balls now!) (And I'm apparently a twelve year old boy because that made me giggle.)
1. Bible time/catechism/memory verses
2. Clean up stuff, at least some of it, and have the kids learn to do more of this (my knees! my back!)
3. Read-Aloud book (something ongoing like Complete Winnie the Pooh or Beatrix Potter, and one day the Narniad, in addition to all the books we read hundreds of times repeatedly each day)
4. Actually, that's it for the daily stuff. I told you I'm shooting low, people. We all need to eat and groom and that is enough some days.
Weekly:
1. Phonics Museum 3x a week, however many lessons and worksheets we happen to get through before students lose interest (I am all official because I have students plural).
2. Math/patterns/something nonverbal 1x a week. This could be doing puzzles, for all I care, which makes this a super easy requirement to meet. At some point we will do something to exercise the visuo-spatial development. BOOM.
3. Art a few times a week. Also easy to do. Crayons, markers, stamps, paints.
4. Piano/music lesson once a week. This one will take the most preparation, namely brainstorming a little concept and activity for the kids. Tempo, beat, pitch, learning simple tunes on the piano. I cleverly mapped this in on Tuesdays so that I have all day Monday to dig deep for something.
5. Family night - Thursdays seem like we don't usually have anything going on, so if we are all home, we're going to try to all do a game or something together. This happens sometimes but we thought it'd be good for the kids to see us prioritizing time all together doing things THEY love.
Notice I said "mapped". The word "schedule" seems to paralyze me, even though I dearly love the IDEA of having a schedule and routine. When I write it in pen on a calendar page, it gets in my head. Suddenly I feel suffocated by the idea of having to do it EVERY TUESDAY FOREVER. So I'll map it as a goal and if we miss it one week, everyone will survive. It's totally a psychological thing, I realize.
Also, instead of lesson planning ahead of time I'm simply going to track what we get done. I have the Phonics Museum curriculum (shout out Veritas Press!) which means no prep ahead of time. We will sit down at least three times a week and open the teacher manual and workbook together. If the kids have eleven minutes in them to do a song and a few worksheets, done. If Mikayla is having a Big School Day, maybe we crank through ten worksheets. And I'll write down what we do. None of this "Get through three lessons in a week! Three worksheets per day!" Because, again, paralysis with the uber structure. (Which totally surprises me because I am a 48/50 Administrative Gifting on the spiritual gifts inventory. Systems. Schedule. Planning and organizing. BUT kids, reality, and being a finite human being. Learning, here.) Plus I don't know if you're this way, but I notice if I'm keeping track of something, I end up doing it more just because awareness or something.
The only planning I'll need to do is picking a Bible verse and story each week, and coming up with something for music time. I *think* I can accomplish this.
Is it a matter of semantics? Yes. But I have totally learned that I need to remove mental barriers and get out of my own way. If I plan and schedule the perfect, but then one night someone only lets me get four hours of sleep and there's no way momma is waving her arms around to teach a memory verse, then we won't even accomplish a little bit. But if I give myself a general gist of what we want to do, it is far more likely to happen in some approximation. Win.
In my next post, I'll share a few more tweaks to my homeschool approach that I hope will help us to be more successful and consistent. (Read: implementing tools that every other family ever has probably been doing since the beginning of time, and taking my kids' and my personalities into account. Rocket science, I'm telling you.)
For today, tell yourself: the good is the enemy of the perfect. Something is better than nothing! So just gather your kiddos and crack a book. Boom, school. At least for the under-five crowd. Especially if you're pregnant, and you know who you are, ahem. If you're much beyond that in your home schooling, I got nothing. Except a crying baby with a fever, so pardon me while I go enjoy a healthy dose of the Reality, now that we've dispensed with the Aspirational for the day.
Plan B which should have been Plan A
Remember this post about our big dining room makeover? I bet you're dying to learn more about my plans for that lovely yellow window. Well, at first I thought it was too gold and not happy enough. I started to paint it a nice, sunshiny yellow instead.
The first paint went on, and my soul smiled at the happiness of the yellow. Halfway through, and my soul began to panic a little at the euphoria of the yellow. I squelched my feelings, but when I hung the window on the wall, the downright banana-ness of it all gave my soul a stroke. Nope. I mixed my original too-dark yellow with my new YELLOW!! yellow and got something nice and mellow-yellow. Which, in pictures, and probably most people's memory, is basically the old color all over again. What are you gonna do.
The first paint went on, and my soul smiled at the happiness of the yellow. Halfway through, and my soul began to panic a little at the euphoria of the yellow. I squelched my feelings, but when I hung the window on the wall, the downright banana-ness of it all gave my soul a stroke. Nope. I mixed my original too-dark yellow with my new YELLOW!! yellow and got something nice and mellow-yellow. Which, in pictures, and probably most people's memory, is basically the old color all over again. What are you gonna do.
Mikayla agrees about the yellow, obviously. YOWSA!!
So we are basically here now, with a much toned-down version of the yellow above:
It looks lovely, but not quite finished. My hope is to add some touches to soften the look of it all and coordinate the dining room with our living room, since the space is open. Plan A for the window was to create an elegant wreath made out of pages from an old book. Once I got started, though, it looked like someone was just vaguely crinkling pieces of paper and pinning them randomly onto a big circle. Probably because that's exactly what I was doing. It looked a lot like a bad Kentucky Derby fascinator, I'll be honest. All you really need to know is it quickly spiraled into a whole a lot of ain't going to happen. So we are basically here now, with a much toned-down version of the yellow above:
Lovely idea, right? You don't even want to know how mine looked. On top of the sad appearance of my wreath, the straight pins I bought had teeny tiny heads and poked my fingers AND the papers pulled right off of them if I so much as looked at one sideways. I didn't make it past about five pages pinned onto my wreath before scrapping the whole thing. No, it wouldn't have gotten any better if I'd stuck with it.
I returned that failed experiment to Hobby Lobby, and left there with much better odds of success. So far, Plan B seems way more coherent and better thought through, for the simple reason that I didn't have my three small children with me as I navigated the glass-infested aisles of Hobby Lobby. Now that is a gauntlet if ever there was one. Have you ever tried to simultaneously brainstorm, visualize, make good shopping choices, and herd small children away from numerous breakable objects? It was a disaster waiting to happen, but we made it, albeit with a terrible project design. Bonus: my children only panicked twice thinking that I left them at the store. I guess the million repetitions of "mommy's going this way, please keep walking, I'm turning the corner, mommy's going this way," just weren't quite enough.
My method for putting the wreath together was to shove the stems from my fake flowers into the grapevine wreath and wiggle as needed, and then kind of bend the bendy parts into the wreath so they didn't stick out funny. It was highly technical and precise. The ribbon was added as an afterthought for balance, and to tie this in with my bulletin board, which will feature the same gold ribbon. I hung the wreath by driving two small nails through the ribbon into the top of the window, while praying that it was centered on the first try because NAILS. And you should have seen me trying to hang the whole thing back up while avoiding wreath shards and not crushing the flowers. The picture might look Pinteresty, but we all know the truth: behind every pretty wreath stands a bedraggled lady covered in craft debris and hoping it doesn't crash to the floor.
Also, I strategically moved all of my dining room mess out of the window reflection. I kept lining up the photo and going "phooey, you can see the Hobby Lobby bag!" "oh no, now there's me!" "oops, is that a half-eaten banana?" I didn't move the sippy cup because I am so into showing you (carefully censored portions of) my reality.
I'm purposely withholding the view of the whole wall, because I want to blog each piece and then do a big reveal at the end. Doesn't that sound like fun/a lot of waiting/slightly vain? Joann Fabrics is calling my name next week, and then I should have the next phase of the makeover ready to show you. Unless I get antsy and come up with a project in the meantime, but probably not. Nope, that's not likely at all....
Anyway, so there I was on my return trip to Hobby Lobby (by myself!!! It felt much like twirling carefree through a feminine product commercial.) in hope of finding awesome ribbon to hang my wreath. Me: Gee, I wonder what cute ribbons Hobby Lobby has today. Hobby lobby: I hope you like chevron! Or maybe this medallion print in every color of the rainbow. Which, I don't hate Chevron, but it is so stinking trendy that I fear my wreath will look dated by September. No offense, but I hope to not redecorate my dining room again any time soon. Wait, who am I kidding? This is the girl who waited for her husband to leave town, and then promptly painted a piece of furniture, a window, a frame, and a vase, and completely rearranged the dining room. I dunno, maybe it is kind of like me to get bored with a space?
My revamped idea consists of a grapevine wreath, three nearly-white burlap dahlias (some of my favorite flowers!), a similar burlap rose, yellow lilies, gray twill ribbon and coordinating yellow grosgrain ribbon. This was to hang from my yellow ochre window frame, so the yellow lilies and ribbon were to be a pop of coordinating color, whereas the brown and white of the wreath and flowers would be the focal point. The gray ribbon for hanging will hopefully tie it in with our eventual gray living room walls, and the gray in my eventual bulletin board cover. Lots of unfinished projects right now. I don't know how I sleep at night.
Speaking of unfinished projects and lack of closure, how long do you think I can make this post without showing you my completed wreath?
Voila!
My revamped idea consists of a grapevine wreath, three nearly-white burlap dahlias (some of my favorite flowers!), a similar burlap rose, yellow lilies, gray twill ribbon and coordinating yellow grosgrain ribbon. This was to hang from my yellow ochre window frame, so the yellow lilies and ribbon were to be a pop of coordinating color, whereas the brown and white of the wreath and flowers would be the focal point. The gray ribbon for hanging will hopefully tie it in with our eventual gray living room walls, and the gray in my eventual bulletin board cover. Lots of unfinished projects right now. I don't know how I sleep at night.
Speaking of unfinished projects and lack of closure, how long do you think I can make this post without showing you my completed wreath?
Voila!
My method for putting the wreath together was to shove the stems from my fake flowers into the grapevine wreath and wiggle as needed, and then kind of bend the bendy parts into the wreath so they didn't stick out funny. It was highly technical and precise. The ribbon was added as an afterthought for balance, and to tie this in with my bulletin board, which will feature the same gold ribbon. I hung the wreath by driving two small nails through the ribbon into the top of the window, while praying that it was centered on the first try because NAILS. And you should have seen me trying to hang the whole thing back up while avoiding wreath shards and not crushing the flowers. The picture might look Pinteresty, but we all know the truth: behind every pretty wreath stands a bedraggled lady covered in craft debris and hoping it doesn't crash to the floor.
Also, I strategically moved all of my dining room mess out of the window reflection. I kept lining up the photo and going "phooey, you can see the Hobby Lobby bag!" "oh no, now there's me!" "oops, is that a half-eaten banana?" I didn't move the sippy cup because I am so into showing you (carefully censored portions of) my reality.
I'm purposely withholding the view of the whole wall, because I want to blog each piece and then do a big reveal at the end. Doesn't that sound like fun/a lot of waiting/slightly vain? Joann Fabrics is calling my name next week, and then I should have the next phase of the makeover ready to show you. Unless I get antsy and come up with a project in the meantime, but probably not. Nope, that's not likely at all....
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