Our little parrot....

Yet another late night over here. By my choice. As I've said before, my "me" moments usually take place late at night, although I was able to get in a run by myself tonight that was much needed. I even borrowed a friends' Blue Heeler "Hobbes" who is so well trained that he runs off-lead beside you and keeps perfect pace with you. 

I used to run with Bailey, but never off-lead. That felt completely luxurious, to be honest. And I felt much safer. I was running after dark and by a lake, and there are lots of shadows, but I felt completely safe with Hobbes there. I also run without headphones or anything, so I'm tuned in to sounds around me. Anyway, that is so not the point of this post! 

This post is to share with you a letter I stumbled upon tonight. I was looking for information on homeschooling and stumbled upon a link for good homeschool blogs and somehow, after flicking around several, landed on this one: FIMBY. Turns out the first post I read of hers was this letter, titled, "An Open-Hearted Letter to Moms of Young Children." 

It spoke to me as only something divinely inspired can. It spoke to places in my heart that I don't verbalize. That I pray about but leave in my head. It felt like this...

Brooklyn was running down the stairs the other day and slipped and wiped out. She banged her little knee and I know it hurt. But she is stoic and hates to break down and was putting on a brave face. My little girl needed to cry, though. I pulled her to me and said, Baby, I know that hurt. It is totally ok to cry. And she just broke down, face sagging, tears instantly streaming down her face, letting out that hurt, embarrassment, all of it. It just rolled off her in waves and I soaked it up, or tried to, as I held her in my arms. 

This letter had that effect on me. Maybe it will on you, too. I know it's not easy being a mom with young kids. We all put on brave faces and try to act like it's all ok, it's all fine, it doesn't hurt, it doesn't bother us, we're ok. But girls, sometimes, you just gotta let it all out. It's ridiculous to feel like we're bad moms because we don't blog every 5 minutes with the most fantastic photographs or hilarious stories about our awesome lives (sometimes yes, but always? come on!), or because your house isn't filled with all the marvelous things you've created from Pinterest pins (I am starting to think Pinterest is run by a devious conglomerate designed to make us all feel bad about ourselves), or just because it's easy to see someone who looks like it all comes together for them all the time. Maybe. But probably not. 

I love my life, I really do, but there are days that it is not easy. Worth it, yes. Fulfilling, mostly. Exhausting, most certainly. Purposeful...I believe so. Taking it one day at a time, step by step, leaning oh so heavily on my Savior? No doubt about it. 

So, take a visit to that link up there and maybe it will warm your heart and refill your cup as it did mine. 

There is apparently something fascinating about our washing machine. It's like the Pied Piper of Goshen.  

The siren call goes out and my children respond...

Here, Brooklyn, you go first. Let me help you.

Hey! Where'd everybody go??!!

Or depressed/hyper cartoon figures.

Or lunatic, megamind game show hosts!

This one, I just belly laugh every time I see it!

Would I lie to you?

It's just hurtful, really. Don't even do this to yourself if your self-esteem is flagging.

Baby and Momma Chipmunk.

Hours and hours of entertainment.

Do you ever ask yourself what it would be like if you lived, say, 200 years ago, as opposed to right now? Or not even that far back. Say 150 years ago. 

I admit this is not something I give much thought to. But I did happen to ponder it a second ago. And here's why. I just happened to spend an extremely lovely morning visiting with my niece, Meredith. Who drove the very short distance down to my house from Zach and Anna's because, well, she can. There are cars and stuff. And she happens to live near enough that we can visit on a whim. Instead of having to coincide our visits with a trip to town or something. So, there's that lovely aspect of the NOW period.

I also don't have to live in a sod house on the prairie..although prairies are quite nice. I hear it snows there. I don't think I'd manage to deal with living in stacks of sod and manure glue. Or using an outhouse. Or using a well for water. Or dealing with all the things prairie-dwellers and such deal with. I mean, if we're talking prairies, let me be the Ree Drummond type of prairie girl. 

And speaking of Ree Drummond, her website, The Pioneer Woman, is reason enough that I choose to live NOW instead of before. Tonight our family is celebrating the second birthday of my niece, Merrick, and I'm supposed to bring a salad. In pondering salad ideas, my second thought (I picked Meredith's brain first) was to check out the recipes on PW's blog. There are so many recipes she has up that I can always find something inspiring. And I just wouldn't have that option if I'd lived pre-internet. Pre-PW. Pre-printed cookbooks. 

This would be troubling to me. I can't imagine having to live on a diet of, hm..biscuits and gravy...salt pork....lots of salt pork from what I read of those days...I would really have issues with that limited selection. I need selection. I prefer selection, should I say. And an unlimited supply of food options is made available to me through blogs, online cooking websites, and my arsenal of trusty, food-stained cookbooks which enable me to offer a variety of foodstuffs to my family! 

Creative kids - I found this one day as I entered August's room. He and Brooklyn had color-coordinated their toys with the quilt colors.

It took me a second when I first looked at the quilt. 

There seemed to be something "extra" but I didn't initially SEE all the toys.

Until I looked closer. Clever children. 

A very active 10 month old who gives himself  black eyes when he rolls off my bed. Or when he pulls things off counters onto his head. Or when he misjudges distances and cracks his face onto tables, drawers, toys, chairs... 

 My life is pouty boys in shirts with too-short sleeves.

And gleeful boys in layers and patterns and sweetness and hugs and laughter. 

 And precious all girlness and excitement and chatter and intelligence and bounciness and all that is Brooklyn.

And the occasional craft (this one courtesy of Nan and Grandad) 

Colored and ready to go. 

More of that excitement.

Craft project ready to bake briefly. And me, post-yoga and pre-shower. Sorry.

See my hand enter the hot oven...

Little things all curling up on themselves only to lay back down seconds later, only much much smaller.

Itty hardened plastic Cars characters colored by my children. 

After spending most of my day checking things off my "to do" list, I find myself lingering at my laptop in the wee, quiet hours as the rest of my household sleeps around me.

Today was a busy Tuesday. Rene went back to Hendrix, we're back in the swing of home-schooling, I'm still trying to tackle my house cleaning, and I cooked Indian food tonight for my family and two of my siblings, Jeremiah and Rachel.  'Miah spent a year in India recently and has been hankering for Indian food since his return this past July.

He uses all his persuasive powers to get me and my sister-in-law, Melissa, to keep him in curry. And fortunately for him, both she and I (and our families) love Indian food. I made a run to the Indian Grocer yesterday, stocking up on basmati rice, lentils, garam masala, atta flour, and some other random Indian food necessities. I am running out of Tupperware containers in which to house my growing array of flour stores. I think I have more flour types than I once knew existed. 

Tonight, since I knew Jeremiah eats enough for 4 people, I made three different dishes: two chicken curries and a veggie curry. Plus chipatas and naan. All in all, it meant that I was standing in my kitchen a large part of the day and praying they were all ready about the same general time! 

Anyway, all that, on top of washing sheets, cleaning a bathroom here and there and just enjoying this rainy day with a cup of hot tea. Nothing you other moms out there aren't doing too. And then some. And I want you to know that I appreciate the solidarity of these busy days. To know that I'm not the only mom who feels like the days are just packed...it's a good feeling. 

So, I sit here now, with Dorien sound asleep on my lap, Kyle snoring (yes, you do) to my right, the laptop warming up the sheets, content in having scoured some Pinterest sites, made myself some notes for tomorrow, and feeling considerably sleepy myself. So, at the dawn of a new day, I sign my name to the end of my day with a big flourish.

And thank the Lord for blessing me so richly with children, spouse, family and friends, food and shelter.

And with a big yawn, I say to you, Good Night. Sleep Tight.

Since my last post was not of happy tidings, I am filling this one with pictures of happy cheer and  good times. Namely, Christmas Day at our house. I realize it's a tad late, but why

 should that stop me? 

Brooklyn and August

(Brooklyn wanted to hook their arms, but August was protesting that they NOT do the married pose)

Brooklyn - age 5 - feet planted. Ready for anything.

August - age 3 - cheesing it up like his big sis taught him

Rene - age 20 - sophomore at Hendrix University - not sitting in front of a computer for a brief change!

 

Dorien - age 9.5 months - sitting and grinning!

Look over there! It's crazy!

So, until more pictures appear, here's hoping you had a fabulous Christmas and Happy Celebration of the end of 2011 and the beginning of 2012.

And that your year to date has been fantastic!