Here's to Hope!

Christmas Eve was a little rocky at our house. Try reading the Christmas story with pouty and fighting elementary schoolers, an energizer bunny three year old, a screaming one year old, and frazzled parents. We were just about to throw the towel in, when Matt stopped reading and I paused. Frustration and disappointment, frozen inside my chest, started giving way to the warmth of peace. I felt hopeful, peaceful words come into my mind. "Do you know what the best part of Christmas is?" I asked the kids. For once, I had everyone's undivided attention. "Because Jesus was born, He was able to live and die for us. Because of Christ, we get do-overs. I'm so grateful for do-overs!" I asked the kids if they would like a do-over of our Christmas Eve pageant. They answered, "Yes!" Kate still fussed, but the spirit of the Christ child and the story of His birth filled the rest of us. 

There is no more hopeful time of year for me than New Year. A bright, pristine year lies before me, full of new experiences and opportunities!  All the ways I didn't quite measure up can be assessed and then put away. I get a new year full of new chances, full of do-overs. Fresh starts are such a blessing! Happy New Year, and may it be full of joy and peace!!

My Joe is twelve! Twelve is a big age in the Church of Jesus Christ of latter day saints.  Last Sunday, he was ordained to the Aaronic priesthood.  I am constantly amazed by this boy.  He is wise beyond his years.  He is kind and conscientious and takes his responsibilities very seriously.  He cares about people.  If you are his friend, you are friends for life.  He is thoughtful.  Words can't really quantify what he is.  It is an honor to be his mother.  I just hope I can get out of the way enough to not mess him up!

Music Soothes the Savage Breast

We kinda like music in our house...A lot! But each of us expresses that love in different ways. Joe likes to play the piano, Emily has a beat in her bones and is always moving (and I mean always; it's only been in the last year that we could get her to sit down to eat), Will - I haven't figured out yet, and Ben and Kate love to dance and sing so far (though with Kate's long and elegant fingers, I'm holding out hope for another pianist). But, for Mary it's different. Mary has music in her core. She needs music like she needs to breathe. Whenever she feels out of sorts or overwhelmed, she puts on headphones and everything is right again in the world. This morning, she had a fight with Emily as they were cleaning their room. She came downstairs, announced tersely that she needed fresh air, and walked out into the drizzly backyard alone. I peeked out five minutes later and she was wandering aimlessly and singing her heart out. I wish I could have heard it, but just peeking was risky - she spooks easily. A few minutes later, she came inside, ready for a redo. Mary reminds me of a Celtic fairy tale creature. As soon as you feel like you know what it is, it changes form. Magical and beautiful but impossible to anchor.

What Do You Seek

When I was a child, Christmas was magical.  I have distinct memories of traditions; decorating the tree, dressing up with cousins to act out the nativity, Swedish jam sticks, stollen, and cookie press cookies.  But it was bigger than any specific tradition.  There was just an excitement.  I felt alive and joyous and full of anticipation.  Granted, a lot of that was the excitement of presents and goodies, but it was more than that.  At Christmas time, it was okay to overtly focus on the Savior.  We could talk of him, read of him, display images of him and rejoice and sing of him.  Focusing on the Savior helps us tap into that joy. 

Last Thursday, the sweet sister missionaries ate at our house and then shared this video.

 I know it's been on facebook a hundred times since Thanksgiving, but I hadn't found a good time to watch - I wanted to watch it with all the kids.  After the video, Sister Meads asked how we are going to seek the gift this Christmas season.  I pondered that for a few days.  In December, it is hard to control your schedule.  It is hard to simplify and take stuff off of your to do list.  As a mom, there is a base level of stuff that needs to happen in December.  But, there is one thing I can absolutely control.  The most important thing.  I made a commitment to let everything I did for Christmas be done with a heart that is seeking the gift.  Am I leaving others with light?  Am I letting His light into my heart?  Allowing the joy that He brings into my life and trying to let all the errands be more than errands but another opportunity to feel the joy and anticipation of Christmas will lead me where I want to go.  I've been about fifty percent successful, but I'm trying! As I seek the Christ child, I will be able to find him, no matter what roads I am required to take during the course of this month and my life.  You can't find what you aren't seeking.  This month, I am choosing to seek The Gift.

Happy Birthday to Me! (A week early)

I am obscenely excited about my birthday/Christmas present Matt have me. I love to bake. It's one of my favorite things. My way of showing love to someone is to bake them something yummy. I have a really hard time with diabetics because I honestly don't know what to do for them. Isn't that silly. So, Matt is the hero this year (well, ok, every year but this is the reason this year). Can't wait to fire it up tomorrow!

Fun This Fall

We just got back from a quick trip to Charleston, SC.  Ummmm...I absolutely want to live there!  In spite of the trip being full of excitement (of the-mother-by-herself-with-six-kids-sightseeing variety) I loved it!  I will post about that trip later, but while looking through the photos I noticed quite a few that I hadn't posted - but had intended to.  Here are just a few of the things (that I haven't already posted about) that we have been doing this fall.

 

Learning about bubbles

 

Receiving Tenderfoot 

 

Playing soccer 

 

 

Enjoying the county fair (I'm ashamed to admit that this is the first time we've been.  The kids loved it! - not just the rides)

 

Visited an indoor playground - several times 

 

Halloween! I don't know where my other pictures are.  Emily was the sky and Kate was the sun.  Mary was a fairy.  Just for the record, Joe was Percy Jackson (after Tartarus), Will was a knight, and Ben was Captain America. 

 

Jogging around the neighborhood 

 

One of like three selfies I've ever taken.  This was when Matt was on a campout with Joe.

 

Oobleck!! Joe didn't know what "viscosity" was (it was referenced in something he was reading) so we researched and found this super awesome and fun experiment.  You make it with 1 cup of corn starch, and 1/2 cup of water.  A tiny bit of food coloring is optional but fun.  We used about six cups of corn starch total.  It is the coolest stuff ever!! It is a non-Newtonian substance so it doesn't follow predictable rules for viscosity.  When you push hard it has little give but when there's no pressure it's almost as runny as water.  Very cool.  A little side note.  The spontaneous learning that we have done has been the most fun we've had.  One reason homeschool is great.

Two Weeks Notice

I wish to resign my post. I find the work grueling and unsavory. There's a never ending avalanche of laundry. I find the toys disturbing. They are possessed and replace themselves in the middle of the floor right after I (or my underlings) pick them up - for sheer enjoyment it seems. 

Cook, clean, repeat. 

And then there's the bathing and potty training, and crowd control. And insubordination - not to mention the occasional mutiny. And, somehow, in the midst of all this, I am supposed to educate these six underlings and help them become mature, well-developed, lovely people when I'm not there myself and they act more like gremlins than humans-in-training. How am I supposed to do this?

My resignation is conditional, however. I can't afford to lose the benefits. My quality of life would be descimated without the hugs and kisses, the triumph of my underlings when they learn something new or overcome something they've struggled with for awhile. The unique joy of watching the underlings bond and become best friends. The warmth that thaws the chill of battle when a little one wraps their arms around my neck and says, "I love you."  And keeping my co-manager is a must. 

A timely response and solution would be greatly appreciated. Thank you. 

And Hast Thou Slain the Jabberwock?

This past week, the kids memorized The Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll.  I love it!  It is meaty and rich and colorful.  Well, on Saturday, I slew one of my personal Jabberwockies.  Eight years ago, for the first time ever, I ran more than a mile straight...and enjoyed it!  Every morning me and my incomparable friend, Karen, would pack our kids (only three between us at that time) into our strollers with toaster strudels, fight the coming winter chill, and jog.  It was a fight for several weeks.  

And then, it happened.  

We went jogging one day, and at the end we weren't sucking oxygen like we were drowning.  Our bodies weren't rebelling anymore!  It felt...great!

Shortly thereafter, I became pregnant with sweet Mary, and so my jogging tapered and finally went on hiatus.
Over the next three children, I tried to keep up on running, but for various reasons, couldn't/didn't make the commitment.

As I have contemplated my life beyond childbearing, it has been a strange thing.  Who am I as a person?  I AM a mother.  I AM a wife.  I AM a daughter.  These titles still define much of what I am and I am filled with nothing but gratitude for them. Life is empty without meaningful relationships.  But what do I, as a person, look like now that I am stepping away from having a baby every two years?  

One thing I have wanted to do for the last 8 years was test my limits physically (in different ways than giving birth to six children obviously :). I wanted to accomplish something hard. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. That i was strong!  That I was capable of pushing to the breaking point and not breaking.  That I could accomplish something amazing! So, in August, when my friend asked if anyone wanted to run a half marathon, I jumped up and waved my hand in the air like a not-so-smart Hermione Granger, yelling, "Me me me!" I really didn't think I could do it - I couldn't run 3 miles without a walking break - but life is about risk, right?  This felt like one of those moments. I could continue in a holding position and wait for life to settle down enough for me to work towards a big personal goal, or I could jump.

 I jumped. 

And I ran. And ran and ran. 

Training had lots of ups and downs but I made it to race day.  At the race, I was nervous! So silly. I wasn't nervous about the running so much as just starting. I said to myself, "if I could just have a friend at the starting line, I'd be ok."  I looked up and there were three people from church that I had been running with several times. It was such a tender mercy from my Heavenly Father. We started together...and within a minute they were out of sight. But that's ok. I was glad to get in my own head and set my own pace. They had been there to help me get started. (And they were there at the finish line with my family cheering me through.)

During mile 11 the phrase, "he went galumphing back" kept repeating through my head. I was indeed galumphing! My time was eh, but I earned that finish line. I earned sore muscles that proved I had worked hard. I did something! I slew that Jabberwocky. 

And just for inquiring minds. I'm not thinking I'll ever do a marathon. My knees aren't super happy with me. I see a sprint triathlon in my future, however. Or maybe I'll finish that novel I've been writing. Wherever that next jabberwock is, I'll find it!

Baby Love

How do you like Will's pool fashion?

We went through a block tower phase a couple weeks ago and Mary evidently took a picture of one with my phone. 

Sun Therapy

I wish my elementary school had been like this. 

We really needed the sun and the lake today. And today we are starting Five In a Row! I'm excited to see how Mary and the younger boys like it. 

Silver Shoes and Evil Puddles

Maybe this is shameful to admit.  I never read The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum.  I absolutely adore the movie.  But, the book, I just didn't read it.  Actually, I actively avoided it.  I don't know why.  For some reason I just was never even remotely attracted to it.  This past week we have been listening to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz audio book in the car.  I have found the book absolutely enchanting!  It's really quite wonderful, and the layers that the movie stripped away are like little hidden treasures.  I don't know.  Maybe this is just the right time in my life for this book.

 Honestly, I'm glad I loved the movie first.  If I had read the book first, the movie would have annoyed me.  I'm a bit of a purest.  One of my favorite parts of the book that was absolutely mangled by the movie (I suppose because it wasn't as action packed as they needed - or succinct) was Dorothy's enslavement to the witch.  The Wicked Witch of the West couldn't harm Dorothy because Dorothy had been kissed on the forehead by the Good Witch of the North. The Wicked Witch wanted her silver (not ruby) shoes because they held great power, power Dorothy had absolutely no idea of.  The Witch terrified and threatened Dorothy.  The irony was that Dorothy had the power and the protection.  It was her ignorance of what she possessed that kept her enslaved.  They weren't just pretty shoes, as Dorothy had thought.  It wasn't just a kind gesture.

Call me a sap, but I thought that was so profound and allegorical.  (Seriously geeky, I know).  But how often do we allow ourselves to be enslaved by circumstances or attitude or habit?  Those things may be powerful, but their power is nothing compared to our own.  We have the power to choose.  We can choose at any moment the path we're going to take.  We can choose at any moment to stop whatever is keeping us from the freedom of our own peace.  We can choose at any moment to not allow ourselves to be a slave.  We don't have power over our circumstances and sometimes past choices make freedom feel laughable.  But, we have other power too.  Just like the kiss on Dorothy's forehead.  We have been claimed for good.  Good is always stronger than evil.  Even if we mess up.  Even if we move in to the Wicked Witches castle.  Even if we are trapped in her deepest darkest dungeon through no fault of our own.  We can always find our way out again.  We can never be permanently destroyed if we remember who we belong to and who has paid for us.  We have been chosen and we can choose.  We have the power to vanquish those Wicked Witches in our lives.

Drama At the Cultural Art Center: Or Next Time Don't Let Your Crazy Out

The Cultural Arts Center is my nemesis.

This really came as quite a shock to me since it's a place dedicated to things that are at the core of my soul.  Nonetheless, it is an evil, evil place.  First, they designed a really great avant garde architecture with catwalks for halls and no ceilings in the main areas.  Visually awesome, practically: terrifying! Then they put the dance classes on the second and third floors and put an accessibility ramp in between that goes up and doubles around, attaching itself to pillars at long intervals and leaving the rest open to a chasm of doom.  The Pied Piper couldn't make that stupid ramp more enticing to children - especially two and three year olds.  Now give it super crappy ventilation with lots of windows and plenty of condescending "dance moms" and you get the picture. (Not to say there aren't completely lovely moms there too.)

When Emily took Irish dance, I about lost my mind.  Will was three and ran up and down the ramp despite my best efforts as I struggled to keep a crawling Ben away from the fifty points of doom and destruction.  I swore in my wrath that I would never again set foot in the Cultural Arts Center.  Until I did.  sigh.  Here I am again, two days a week, at the Cultural Arts Center.  I've managed to not have my boys with me until today.  Ben wanted to come and I naively thought, "What could it hurt?"

We had been there for a little over a half hour when Ben sneaked out of the little glass waiting area and ran down that blasted ramp.  He stopped when he was even with me - just a pane of glass and a thirty foot drop between us. With a mischievous grin on his little impish face, he started climbing the rails.  Why?  Why? I jumped up and told him to stop.  He climbed until the top rail was at his waist, bent over so his top half was hovering over the nothingness, and started lifting his leg to the next rail.  I started running!
"NO!!" I yelled.  "Ben!  Stop!"
He got down and started running away from me, laughing his little stinkin' heart out.  Finally, I got to him and took him back up to the glass cage.  I sheepishly apologized to one of the other moms and she replied, cool as a dadgum cucumber, "I'm sorry you were frightened."

Yes, I was scared!  Did you not see my three year old attempt a Peter Pan off the freakin' ramp?  Sorry for overreacting!

Never again.  I will never take little kids to that place again.  Then, maybe I can keep my crazy in check.  Maybe.

Hashtag My Kids Are Better Than Me!

I sewed the badges on Joe's boy scout uniform today.  Only nine months after he became a boy scout.  Yup.  I'm that awesome.  Joe's such a sweet boy he just said a genuine "thank you" and gave me a hug.

Yesterday, we were running late for Emily's ballet class because I had been on the phone and didn't get the six kids going out the door soon enough.  I forgot to put Emily's hair up and the only hair elastic in the car was the one in my hair.  I hadn't washed my hair that day and it had a decided bun crease.  We were going to the library during the dance class.  She went to dance with her hair in a bun and I went to the library looking like a crazy person...Oh wait.  I didn't just look like a crazy person!  But Mary said I looked beautiful with my hair down (even though I hadn't said anything about it).  She wishes I would wear my hair down all the time even if it's not finely coiffed.

This summer I was looking at photos of our family and I let slip that one picture was a horrible picture of me (three weeks after the birth of baby #4 and I was slouched on a swing in a highly unflattering outfit.) Emily said, "No it's not! I love that picture of you!"  She didn't see what I saw.  She saw her mom.  All the other things are just other things.  Weight, clothing, hairstyle.  They don't matter to her like they matter to me (at least until she becomes a teenager ;) ).

In all my trying to train up my children, I hope I allow them to retain their goodness and love and innocence.

(And, yes, I know you're not supposed to spell out "hashtag".  I try to be funny.  And I fail so very, very badly!)

Epiphany

I've talked on this blog before about not being the uber crafty mom.  The truth is, I love those moms.  I'm in awe at their abilities to beautify their homes and sew and knit and crochet beautiful clothes and blankets and things for family and friends.  And a gigantic part of me thinks there must be something really wrong that I know how to do a lot of those things, but I don't.  My inner dialogue tends to go something like this: "I should make the girls some skirts.  Look at that pattern!  I could so do that.  I've got some fabric I could use.  The girls would look so cute!  And they would actually have skirts that weren't too wide or too short.  So why don't I?  I don't feel like it.  I'd rather wash the dishes and fold the laundry than do that.  Gosh I'm really lazy!  Really, really lazy.  And not very creative."

So, our kitchen table's varnish is getting really tacky.  It's almost impossible to clean and when we ate on paper plates the other day, Joe very helpfully told the other kids that they just needed to not set their plates down for very long and then it wouldn't stick.  Yikes!  It was time for something drastic!  Matt asked if maybe I could make some tablecloths or something.  Yes.  I could do that...I should do that...Or!

I saw this on a home improvement show once and really wanted to do it.  Suddenly, I had TONS of energy and motivation.  Honestly, installing tiles was probably more work and hassle than making tablecloths would have been, but I loved it!  Like really! (and it was a fun applied math project for Emily.)

Obviously were not quite done.  It still needs to be touched up and grouted, but I'm excited with how it turned out.

I need to stop feeling guilty for not having other people's passions.  I have my own.  Mine aren't any less valid.  I need to beautify my life in ways that speak to my talents and interests and passions.  Life's too short to waste it trying to be everyone else. (Hopefully, I learned that one for good this time - or at least for the next few minutes!)

PS I'm so grateful for the quiet that homeschool allows us to enjoy upon occasion.

Family History...Sunday

I'm really bad at deadlines.  But, here I am, making amends.

This coming week, we are talking about the Mayflower.  My children (like about a million other Americans) are descended from John Howland and Elizabeth Tilley, pilgrims who came from England aboard the Mayflower.  Elizabeth, a child on the voyage and female, didn't sign the Mayflower Compact, but John Homeland and Elizabeth's father John both did sign it.  John Howland was either an indentured servant or a secretary for John Carver.  Either way, he was at the mercy of John Carver.

A few years before the Mayflower departed, John and the Carvers moved to the Netherlands to escape religious persecution in England.  John Howland grew up a Quaker but as an adult fully aligned himself with the Puritans and was even a deacon in their church.  In the Dutch country side, several families, the Van der Kas, the Koomes, and the Kraans (my dutch great grandfather's people) lived in a farm community not 10 kilometers away.  Another farm community was also home to Grandaddy Bredee's ancestors, but we have one more generation to trace back before the time of John Howland's residence there.  They were most likely in agriculture.  Maybe they even grew some of those gorgeous tulips that area is now famous for!  South Holland was, at this time, Europe's most populous area, but it's possible they passed each other in the street during trips to market.

The pilgrims made a speedy exit, however, after they observed their children mixing with the riffraff and adopting the local view of christianity.  In 1620, John and the Carvers left England aboard the Speedwell - ending the journey on the Mayflower after the Speedwell went down.  The seas were rough and everyone was ordered below deck...except poor John Howland who was ordered to deliver messages from Mr. Carver.  He was thrown overboard and managed to save his life by grabbing onto some rigging as he flew into the tumultuous sea.

The first winter at Plymouth buried half the settlers through starvation and cold.  Elizabeth Tilley's parents and aunt and uncle were among the dead.  The Carvers took her into their household.  Shortly after getting settled, all the Carvers died, leaving John a free man and the inheritor of their estate.  A few years later, he married Elizabeth Tilley.  He was 30 and she was 16.  ahem.  

Here is his house.  It is the only house of a Mayflower pilgrim that is still standing today.  Put that on the list of things I'm going to see when I finally make it to New England!