who's who? tigger edition

“The wonderful thing about tiggers
Is tiggers are wonderful things
Their tops are made out of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs
They're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy fun, fun, fun, fun, fun
But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is I'm the only oneI'm the only one.”  (source)

These Who's Who?  posts have been so much fun for me!  Alas, I fear they may be drawing to an end - but I couldn't resist one more round.  So here you go: Who's who? Tigger Edition.  Can you tell my boys apart?

The answers are coming on Friday!

like mother, like son?

Sometimes I worry for my boy.

He's so very much like me, in many of the ways I am uncomfortable with myself.  The quality which has stood out to me lately is how we both tend  to respond to friendships.  We have the inclination, when we find someone with whom we really seem to connect, to form a strong bond to that person.  To count on them, miss them when they're not around, wonder what they'd think of this, that, or the other thing.

And I suppose that's not necessarily bad...

But it leaves one so open to being hurt.  Perhaps it's human nature to be forgotten when there is a distance or passage of time.  Or simply to be replaced.  Maybe it's something everyone goes through.  Being burned - forgotten, abandoned - by a friend.  Putting yourself out there, believing you've found something special, then finding that it wasn't so special to them.

So when I see my son put his heart and soul into a friendship, I find myself trembling a little.  I watch, hoping he won't have to feel the pain of rejection ... not just yet.  I bite my lip against warning him not to "come on too strong," not to "overstay his welcome," not to make himself tiresome.  I stay silent, hoping.  Hoping that the burden I've carried won't become his.  Praying that the ways he reminds me so much of myself won't necessarily mean he'll walk the same road.

Swallowing the lump in my throat.  Letting go.

Friendship - real friendship - is a funny thing.  It feels like such a gamble.  You risk so, so much.  But the payoff may make it all worthwhile.  Is it true, it is "better to have loved and lost" than not traveled the path at all?  In spite of everything....

of boys and blueberries

I went out to the yard in the afternoon to check on the blueberries.  There are four bushes against the back fence.  Like four siblings, they are alike and yet distinct.  The bush on the far west is the one I always seem to approach first.  It is full and flourishing, its branches heavy with berries.  Many were ripe and blue, ready to be folded into pancake batter, blended into smoothies, or simply popped into watering mouths.

At last I stepped away from the westward bush.  I moved down the short row, peering and choosing.  When I got to the bush on the east end, I stopped short.  It is smaller than its sisters.  This bush is mostly leaves - some berries here and there, but considerably fewer than the other bushes.

This may be silly, but I spoke to it.  "Well there.  You're not doing so well, are you...?  Hmm."

But I realized that the only reason I made such a judgment was the obvious contrast of this last bush to the others. The others were heavy with berries in various states of ripeness.  This one, the smaller one, had berries.  It was healthy, green, producing.  It was producing fruit.  Still, when compared with the others before it - well, I guess you could say it wasn't growing at the same rate.

And I thought about my boys.

So similar, yet distinct.  Each with his own strengths and weaknesses.  Each individual, unique.  Growing, changing - but not always at the same pace.  It is hard not to compare at times.  The inclination is natural and strong, and yet...none of my boys is the standard for any of the others.

The God who created them knows them inside and out.  He knows the end from the beginning.  He knows, far better than I, strengths, weaknesses, and how both virtues and vices might be used to bring Him glory.  I must encourage each man-child (and my daughter too) to fulfill his own unique purpose, on his own unique timeline - according to the blueprint of the One who designed every shred of DNA and knows every hair on their heads.

I cannot ask them to fit the same mold, and I cannot hold any one up as the example to follow.

There is only One.

So I'll water, nurture...shine light in dark places.  I'll point to the Way and do a little weeding here and there.  But the ending?  I'll leave that to the master gardener, who understands this process far better than I do.

I'm so very glad I can leave it in His hands.

when the mice are away...

...the cat will clean.

My boys are gone this week: off to have an adventure at the coast with their grandmother. What, you may ask, did I do first after they left? I set to work.

Actually, first I had lunch. A girl must have her priorities, you know.

But after that, I set to work. My first task was to clean the sliding glass door - both sides. It was glorious, glorious to see the glass shining and clear...at least for awhile.

Don't worry, I'm relaxing too. And this morning Elise and I had a girls' adventure which involved the library and some shopping. But still, it's lovely to do some cleaning, and have things stay (fairly) clean for more than a few minutes.

I think I'll do a little mopping today. I just love seeing those floors gleam...

copycat

Benjamin and Kyle came running up to me, flushed with arguing. In one boy's fist was a blue sticky hand.

"It's my sticky hand!"

"No, it's my sticky hand!"

"Mine!"

"No, mine!"

I took a deep breath and turned to my children. "Well, let's see," I said slowly, "I guess what we ought to do is to cut the sticky hand in half. That way, you each can have part of it."

My oldest son immediately grinned at me. "No, he can have it," he said, and turned away.

His younger brother grinned at me as well. "Yeah, cut it in half!"

Now, it was my turn to grin. "It's yours," I said, handing it to my oldest son.

After all, who am I to argue with Solomon?

toiling in vain

I was gathering laundry the other day. As I stepped into the closet in the room my two older boys share, I discovered Owen, my third son. He was on his knees, his back to me as I approached him.

"Oh hi, Owen," I said. "What are you doing herein your brothers' closet?"

"I trying to clean up."

"Really? Oh, well...good luck with that."

little angels?

Owen: "I an angel!"

Kyle: "No, Owen. You're not an angel. Angels can fly. You can't fly, Owen."

Owen: "Oh."

Kyle: "Angels have wings."

Owen: "Oh."

Kyle: "Angels know the glory of God."

Owen: "Oh."

[Silence.]




Owen is now Luke Skywalker.

p-r-i-v-a-c-y

I walked through the open door of the darkened bathroom, only to find my 5-year-old sitting on the toilet.

"Oh, hi Kyle. You're having a little private moment here in the dark?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I like to have private moment in the dark. Because then, even if someone comes in, it's still a private moment!"

the essential Star Wars

Kyle: "Mom, do you know who I'm pretending to be?"

Me: "Uh....well..."

(He waves his hand around in front of his face.)

Me, wildly guessing a Jedi, any Jedi: "Anakin!"

Kyle: "No...."

Ben: "Darth Vader!"

(Kyle begins to take noisy breaths.)

Me: "...who Anakin turned into! So we were both right!"

Kyle: "Yeah, that's why I started saying 'hoe, shhh"!"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Star Wars" has become a big part of our daily conversation around here. To make matters worse, we are working our way through Episodes 4, 5, and 6 on our family movie nights. Tomorrow is "Return of the Jedi." They're so excited, they can barely contain themselves!

I never, ever dreamed I'd spend so much of my mothering days discussing Jedis.

(secret) identity

"Who are you pretending to be?"

I get this question a lot. Not because I am inauthentic, but because my boys like to pretend. This week they've "been" Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, R2-D2, and so on. The current rage is "Star Wars," but they cover quite a bit of characters, believe you me.

"Mom, who are you pretending to be?" He shoots this question at me as I'm working to prepare our family's dinner.

"Um..."

"Are you pretending to be Princess Leia?"

"Yeah, that's it. I'm pretending to be Leia. However did you guess?" Must've been the chef knife and the chopped carrots that gave me away.

Some nights, I don't feel like playing along. During the busiest part of my day, I tend to be super-focused on the task at hand. I don't want to "be" anyone, I just want to be Mama-in-the-Kitchen. Mama-chopping-carrots. Mama-with-the-knife.

Or maybe not the last one.

I've been reading lately about behavior types. You know, the DISC assessment. Or the four temperaments: choleric, sanguine, phlegmatic, and melancholy. Fast-paced versus slow-paced, task-oriented versus people-oriented. I've read this particular book before, but this time I'm finding it so enlightening. I'm learning about my husband, my children, and myself.

I'll spare you the run down (though I will say that we have one absolute, no-doubt-about it, "I"/sanguine in our family....any guesses as to who that might be?). My point is that I, personally, tend to be very task-oriented (my love affair with productivity!) and yet am very cautious, wanting to do things just right (please don't quote me on this the next time you note the lack of dusting in my house).

And while that's who God made me to be, I need to be aware the ways the strengths, when taken to an extreme, become detrimental. I am resolving to lay down my work, and play make-believe more often. To sacrifice my longing for order a little, in understanding that my child does not share my drive...and to value the wonderful ways he is different from myself.

I'm ready to pretend.

I know it won't be easy. And I do still value order, work, and productivity. But my brood won't be little forever. So sometimes, I'm deciding to pretend I don't care that the laundry isn't put away. That I'm not three (four?) steps ahead in the kitchen. I'm going to play make-believe.

But don't expect me to look like Leia. We'll all just have to use our imaginations...

almost done

One. More. Game.

the famous pillow pets

Advertising. It's everywhere. And even children are quite susceptible to it. Case in point: we extended our cable last spring, and the boys fell in love with a certain children's television station. Before this, they'd mostly watched PBS when it came to TV. But this station had cute programs and so, with limits in place, we allow them to watch it.

Enter commercials.

Is it any wonder that they're called commercials? They are geared toward making a profit, and those advertising people are good at what they do.

And the plain truth is, my boys fell in love with Pillow Pets.


"Mom! It can be a pillow, or a pet!"

"When we go visit Grandma and Grandpa's house, we wouldn't have to take a pillow and a lovey. Just one, and it's a pillow too!"

"Mom, 'Just one touch is all it takes, and your child or grandchild will fall in love with his Pillow Pet!'"

"And, they're machine washable!"

You get the idea.

After months of changing the subject, it seems they weren't going to forget about this. So when Jeff spotted a display of the famous Pillow Pets in a local store, the wheels were set in motion.

I should say here that Ben and Kyle receive "compensation" (along the lines of allowance, but as per Dave Ramsey's suggestions). They both had some money saved, and when Jeff asked them if they wanted to spend part of their savings on Pillow Pets, they were so excited.

And they decided to each chip in $10, to buy one for their little brother too.


It's been fun to watch them. Ben was incredibly sweet, and even lent me his Bumblebee to sleep with on the night of my birthday.

It was pretty soft.

A week after their initial purchase, Benjamin and Kyle put their heads -and money- together again. This time, too, they bought with someone else in mind.


Yes, Elise now has her very own Pillow Pet. A pink-and-purple Unicorn. Because, you know...she's a girl.


She's not quite sure what to think of it yet, but her brothers are as pleased as punch. And when she gets older, I'll tell her the story of how they wanted to include her in their snugly, playful fun.

And in the meantime, my boys are learning that maybe, just maybe, it really is more fun to give than to receive.

please forgive me...

...but I just couldn't help but share a few of our soccer pictures from last Saturday. I was so proud of my boys!

Benjamin is #5! He was so excited that (although I don't have a picture of it) he got to play goalie for part of the 2nd game. My boy has always had a heart for defense.

Who knows which way they're supposed to drive the ball? Kyle does!

And he scored the first goal of his game, too!




Owen and Elise did great, too. I was so blessed. Owen even successfully used a port-a-potty! Let's face it, it's hard enough to relax in those things even if you're not a mere two years old...

Thank you so much for your prayers!

top ten reasons I'm glad my boys are back

10) Elise has someone to entertain her again!

9) Hearing my son's stories about all the missionaries he heard at Wi-Ne-Ma Christian Camp.

8) Listening to the songs they learned while they were away.

7) Their cries of utter delight when they discovered their newly re-organized playroom!

6) Hugs.

5) The sweet smell of their hair after they had baths last night.

4) Kisses.

3) A renewed sense of richness as I look around the table.

2) I'm now stretched beyond myself again, which allows me to grow in nurturing and love.

1) We're all together again, just as we should be!

brave, fierce, and strong

My heroes.

top ten positive things about being boyless*

*My three wonderful boys are off having an adventure with their grandparents this week. Thus, I've decided to celebrate a few things about their absence.


10) When I clean something, it will pretty much stay clean.

9) I can ruthlessly sort through their toys, without the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

8) We'll go through way less food.

7) I'll do way less laundry.

6) Someone else will bear witness to their squabbles.

5) I get a vacation from potty-training.

4) I might actually find time to exercise!

3) "Just Us Girls"outings.

2) The chance to "play" in the kitchen.

1) Anticipation of a super-sweet reunion...because absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

on a break

We are officially on a break from homeschooling! Today was the last day of our "spring" term. We celebrated with buttermilk pancakes, real maple syrup, and the option of remaining in pajamas all day long.

Can I share a dirty little secret with you? Promise you won't laugh? Okay.

I'm afraid of taking a break.

There, I said it. I, who counted down the days to summer vacation as a child. I, who was terrified to take on the job of schooling my children, at home.

Yet there's the truth of it. I have a pit in my stomach even thinking about a vacation from school.

The reasons are varied. Mostly I suppose I'm anxious about losing our momentum. I mean, even after a long weekend it's sometimes hard to get back into the swing of things. Also, we had some structure to our weekdays as things were, and it's a bit hard to imagine what the hours will look like during the next few weeks.

A lot of requests to play the Wii, I imagine.

I know we'll be fine. Whatever ground we lose, we'll get back. The boys are doing great, anyway. And our break is only scheduled for about a month - when I planned out our school year, I did it in three terms, each around 3 months long. It made the most sense with a mid-year move, followed by a new baby (and the following postpartum time). And right now, it feels like a good fit for us.

So it'll be alright. It's just the unknown stretching out before me - there are butterflies in my stomach.

But for now, we're going to enjoy the weeks off, pray for true summer to arrive (it's quite tardy this year), and spend time just relaxing together.

And really, I think that's going to be fine by me!

cooking lessons: an update

The big boys and I have continued on in our "cooking lessons." After our first venture, making graham crackers, we've delved into pizza (complete with a soaked crust), raw milk ice cream, lemonade, and (homemade, of course) chocolate pudding.


We're having fun, although relinquishing some control in the kitchen is still a stretch for me. But I'm getting there, and Benjamin and Kyle are getting some good experience.


I was thrilled to recently discover a homeschooling textbook written by a Real Food blogger! Originally offered for high school-aged kids, next month Kristen Michaelis at Food Renegade will be offering Real Food Nutrition and Health For Kids, which is targeted for children ages 3-8! I could not be more pleased or excited. We will definitely be adding this to our school time!

(fresh Lemonade, sweetened with stevia)

In the meantime we'll keep plugging along. Next on the list are nut butter, coconut bark, noodles, french fries, butter, and...the things they want to make goes on and on and on! Pray for me, people...

heroes

Years ago, when I would imagine my future life as a mother, I never, ever guessed that my children and I would spend so much time talking about superheroes.

Spider-Man. Batman. Ironman. Superman. And oh, so many more.

There are discussions about who has which suits to put on (we can thank video games for that aspect, I believe), who can walk in hot lava. Who can walk in toxic waste. And of course, who has the ability to fly.

We regularly cover who has which "powers," tools, and abilities.

A few years ago, construction trucks were all the rage in my home. Today, it's superheroes.

Now, heroes can come in many forms. Some wear Spandex and sport capes. Some have super-suction ears, and some are heroes because they "lend a helping hand." (Thank you, Veggie Tales!)

And heroes can be other kinds of individuals, too. A songwriter who pours out his heart with vulnerable and touching nakedness. Someone who gives selflessly of their time and possessions. One who offers to hold a baby during a church service, to give a weary young mother's arms a much-needed rest. A hero can be a person who fights for to save lives...or a friend who has fought the good fight, and is living out the few days left to her as best she can.

My hero can be the friend who listen with empathy, or the one who bravely says what I don't want to hear. And I've certainly found a hero in my husband: the funny, sensitive guy who volunteers, works, frets, and sweats for what he believes is worthwhile.

Heroes come in all shapes, sizes, and abilities. I think the key is being willing. Noticing a need. And most importantly, acting in love.

Because not every hero wears a cape.

⁸Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. ⁹Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. ¹⁰Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms. ¹¹If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen. --1 Peter 4: 8-11

get him!

Yes.

This is how we spend a lot of our time.

Wrestling builds character. Right?!