Friday morning honesty.

Someone asked me yesterday if I ever get overwhelmed. Asked during one of those moments when everything is going well, no one is screaming and it’s looking like I have it all together, I stumbled saying something like this.

“Oh yeah. But then you remove your emotions from the equation and just do the next thing.”

Emotions are tricky things. They cause me to sin, often, when it comes to my kids. Sure, we laugh, we love, we have a ton of fun together. But when it comes to things not going well and the emotions in those moments, sin usually happens. Since when does you not having your shoes on right now have to be about me? But it does. I’m angry, you’ve sinned against me, you’re making me late.

You’re making me look bad.

Yep. All about me. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it? Somewhere along the line, I’ve learned – mentally, anyway – that if I step back and do the next thing, ignore the emotions running through my loud mouthed brain, I can get through the moment without adding my sins verbally to the situation. And one day, my brain might follow suit, do the next thing that needs to be done, and skip the selfish tirade that threatens to add itself to the situation.

Pursing Godliness. Thankful for His grace as I grow and those constant little reminders that I cannot do this on my own.

Hungry? You will be.

After very nearly taking out a sparrow on our way home last night, I said, “That bird was almost toast!”

“Oh, I get it. Because the window is so warm today,” said my new front-seat passenger, who is learning all she can on driving from her new vantage point.

Not exactly. So I set out explaining what “toast” can mean. The first thing that came out was “creamed”. Really? Are you serious? How many food references can one language take? And why on earth do I, in trying to explain one weird English word use, do I throw another one out there so that now I need to explain two?

I challenge you. Talk only in concrete verbs for a day. No weird English add-ons. It’s really, really hard.

You’ll be toast get creamed.

Insulated underwear.

Long story short(er), I had a disagreement over how many coats one dear daughter needs, I made a declaration that one church coat is adequate and the other, unworn yet this year, needs to be in the tote for next year. Since the well-worn, much-loved coat has been worn for, ahem, 4 winters now, it’s getting on the small side. I said to finish out the year with the much loved coat and then next year the other can be worn. Tears. Tears. More tears. After spending the afternoon thinking the tears were over the coat headed for the tote and then finding out it was over me having declared that the loved coat cannot be worn for a fifth winter, I asked, “Do you think if I still wore the coat I wore when I was your age now, would it be cute?”

Giggles. “No! It would be like a bra on you now!”

And just like that, there were no more tears. Except for me. I laughed so hard I cried.

Imagine:

The excitement around here when Charlotte woke up dry. With diaper rashes often a problem for Charlie, she’s run around bare bottomed a lot. I’ve dug out the potty but not actually tried to potty train her. Something about 16 months old sounds a little young to me.

But she was dry! I plopped her on the potty and, wouldn’t you know it, she peed. Hooray!

And then she pooped in her high chair. Excitement over. Hello, bleach.

Chores.

My kids have to help with chores. It’s accepted as life around here. But the motivation, the lists, the checking on their work, the forgetting – it was all about to drive me batty. Methods of reminding are constantly evolving though. I made morning routines. For a while, it worked well. The kids each had a paper with what their mornings should look like, and in theory anyway, it worked.

Until they forgot to read their morning routines. Or lost them. Or, or, or. So we made new and improved morning routines. A binder was discussed and scrapped.

Yesterday, we instituted Chore Cards. Each of the four older kids gets a refrigerator magnet containing their plan for the day. Basically, 3x5 cards with steps for the day on them. When that job is done, it goes into the basket for another day. When your fridge magnet is empty, you have free time until supper.

So far, very good. The house is picked up, chores are done and we’re all getting some free time. If they need a shower today, it goes in their stack. Homework for Sunday school or co-op? In today’s stack. All of their chores except for the animals outside got moved to after school, removing all excuse for a late start at school. Ten minute speed cleans, where they set the timer and pick up as fast as they can for ten minutes, are spread apart, each kid getting one at a different time of day so the house gets picked up more often, is keeping toy mess minimal. I like it.

My fridge got wiped out. The broken egg that Mr. Nobody broke is cleaned up. The cabinet doors are cleaned, and the toilet paper roll is restocked. And I didn’t have to ask a single question or remind anyone. If it’s in the basket, it’s done. If it isn’t, your lunch isn’t served yet. So far, so good. Ask me next week.

*If anyone is interested in the cards I made, I can send you the Xcel file. Attaching it here isn’t an option, I’ve found.

Ten.

Ten years ago, I was eighteen years old. I was new to the state of New York, having moved to Long Island to take a job as a nanny. I’d been placed there with an agency.

Two weeks after I started that job, I was having a hard time finding a likeminded church. A friend from my home state of South Dakota encouraged me to go to New Jersey to the church she’d grown up in and where her family still attended. I didn’t think much about it until my friend’s mother called and invited me to come, attend worship, and spend the day with their family.

Awkward, but how can you say no to that?

So I went. I got lost on the way there more than once, lost again on the way home, had a great day with that family but swore I wouldn’t do it again. Being lost in the Bronx was a little more than this farm girl could handle.

Two weeks later, I received another invite. I went. I got lost. I met a cop in Queens who, despite living in New York City, did not know how to get to the bridge to get out of it.

But eventually, I got there.

And then…

I met a man. Tall, blonde, in a three piece suit, twenty-four and ever so confident, it was, well, “You’re too old” at first sight.

But then we all spent the day together. His family and I, all at his house for the day, and by the time I meandered around Long Island long enough to find my way home again, I made the “He’s perfect. Now I need to find someone like that… 5 years younger.”

But that was Sunday, and on Tuesday he called and asked me to have supper with him. Somewhere along the line I got over the (gasp!) six and a half year age gap, and now, ten years later, we’ve been married for nine and a half years and have six kids. We’ve owned two houses, moved eight times, and loved and laughed our way through ten years together.

Guess what? We even get to have a date tonight.

Happy ten years, my dearest Blaine. Ten.

the darndest things

Eden used to say the funniest things. Usually it stemmed from speaking beyond her knowledge of vocabulary. Today, we went there again.

Looking through their photo books, Eden saw a photo of Ruby with our hamster. “Oh! There’s our ger-bil.” Hard G. No “j” sound. She frowned at me when I told her the g was soft. She still doesn’t believe me.

That was promptly followed by asking about a photo of her with a Dora and Boots in costume. “That looks like it was at a carnivore.” Carnival, carnivore… you know.

Turns out, all those funny things return as she flips through yesteryear.

Sterling wants to know why he can’t jump down our five steps like Liberty, Eden, and Ruby. I told him it was because he was scared.

“No I am not!” Sure, Dude. “Mom, maybe I should practice.”

“Okay.”

“I’m scared.”

“Yep, I know Buddy. It’s ok. I don’t want to jump that many steps either.” He decided to start small and jumped down, one step at a time. Poor guy.