in solitude, little girls

Malin quickly picks up on what makes the people in her life happy. Last night, all 4 of our children went with Roger in the church van  when he left early to go pick up kids. Before Malin climbed in, she hollered up the hill at me like she was giving me a gift, “Mom, now you get to be all alone!”

And now, once again, here I sit alone at home, happily printing title pictures onto promotional DVDs while my husband is off on a date.

I helped his little date get ready for her time with him. I exchanged her shirt for a cute one that wasn’t smeared with brownie batter, and braided her hair with most of her curls hanging long and free at the ends. And they’re off to run errands and eat at McDonald’s. (Unless he persuades her that she really wants something else.)

About two weeks ago, Roger took Avery into town with him so I could finish up some baking with no interruptions. When we first asked if she wanted to go, she wanted to stay with her mommy. Then when I changed my wording and asked if she wanted to go on a date with daddy, her outlook changed completely and she couldn’t wait to go. She had a nice time with him and they even stopped at “the place with decorations” (her words) – a farm down the road that gets all dressed up for autumn and gives tours and hayrides and sells fall produce.

Then last Tuesday, Roger took me out for my birthday. A day or two later, Avery was lounging on my bed, chatting with me while I put away laundry. She asked me, “What did you and Daddy do on your date?” I started off, “We went out to eat…” but didn’t get any further. Her smile completely faded, she dropped her little head down and started to cry. “Mine wasn’t like a date! We didn’t go out to eat!!” (This wasn’t a spoiled brat cry; it was a tired and extremely disappointed little girl who had been duped into running errands with her daddy under the guise of it being a “date.”) It almost broke my heart.

I carried her off to bed, promising her that sometime after we got back from Oklahoma, her daddy would  have some errands to run in Jackson and this time, she could go along with him and he could take her out to lunch for a real date.

This morning, I asked her if this was the day she was going on a date with her daddy. I said, “Do you want to go in the study and ask him?” She just shook her head, then said with a smile and a 4-year-old’s confidence, “He’ll tell me.”

So they’re off enjoying french fries and the play place, and I’m making my way through a slab of cold meatloaf and telling myself that it probably is time to go to that website and pick out my microwave so Roger can call up Jackson Electric and order it. The only thing is….. was it whirlpool? Or am I going to waste my time browsing through the wrong website? One of the most frustrating things in my life is wasting time on the internet. (You don’t understand this feeling if you only use high-speed.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just as an inconsequential point of interest…. did you know that Presbyterians is an anagram of Britney Spears? Rearrange the letters yourself – it’s true. I know because I learned it from David Crowder.

not a summer wrap-up

I’ve practically ignored this blog all summer, and it only seems fitting that right now I would sit down and write up a nice concise and entertaining little summary of the past few months for you. But…  my mind never does seem to work the way I want it to after something momentuous. I might get sappy. Or just ludicrous.

I do know of three words that describe my summer pretty well: Overworked and Underpaid.

Seriously though…. For me personally, this has been the best summer out of our 9 years here at Bethel Camp. I really, really enjoyed my hours (and hours and hours and hours) in the kitchen. I enjoyed the people at camp more than I’ve ever been able to before. I think what I love most about working in the kitchen is that you’re right there in the center of things. Not technically the center, because the campers are never there. But staff members are always walking through, and I get so many chances to talk with them and laugh with them and find out their favorite things.

For some reason this post, which was supposed to get right to the point of telling you 2 kid-stories, has meandered off the path and blathered on about myself and my concepts of summer-ness and….. I must be my own favorite topic.

Wesley has had some sort of stomach bug this week. He threw up Sunday morning at church. It was in the middle of the service, while Roger and I were up front reading scripture. I didn’t even notice! I thought I heard someone coughing in the bathroom, but I never dreamed it was my own flesh and blood, retching out his misery. I got to play the martyred part of the sweet nurturing mother who says, “Let me take you home, baby.”

All Roger did was clean up the mess all over the bathroom door and floor.

That man’s a keeper.

By Monday morning, Wesley was feeling good enough to go to school, where they had his favorite food for lunch: mashed potatoes. He found out after eating them that his stomach wasn’t ready for solid food yet. His little friend Brianna found out too – as she happened to be sitting right in the line of fire. Wesley was sent to the kindergarten room to lay down and wait for Roger to come get him. Brianna joined him so she could get cleaned up.

What would you say if a little boy in your class threw up on your back? Brianna was very calm about it. She said sweetly, “I don’t mind. That happens to me all the time.”

Kid story #2………

On vacation with my family 2 weeks ago, we went to Linville Caverns. I’ve gone on cave tours with friends and with my family when I was younger. But I don’t think I’ve ever experienced it in a family group with 9 children under 10. It gives you a different perspective.

Before we bought our tickets, someone went in the gift shop and came back out to tell the rest of us the cave rules. No backpacks… no flashlights…. etc.  My brother Joel was like, “Just because I have a flashlight doesn’t mean I’m going to turn it on.” (He has a little one he carries all the time, and he didn’t see the need to change that just to follow someone else’s rule.)

We were all grouped at the cave entrance, meeting our tour guide, and waiting to go inside. My nephew Wilson, saw the tour guide’s flashlight, and in a quiet moment, made the big, loud announcement: “My daddy has a flashlight with him!”

What can a tour guide say to such a friendly rulebreaker?  Something like….. “That’s a good thing.”

Then we got inside the cave, where the first thing you see is some fish swimming in the water beside the walking path. Wesley asked the tour guide, “Did you buy those fish or were they already here?”

Farther in, the guide (Jeremiah) told us a story about 2 college kids who had gotten lost in the cave years ago, and finally made it out alive after two long days in the dark. Wilson thought over that one a while and then told Jeremiah, “I bet they were spies!”

Sometimes it’s nice to be presented with a different point of view. (The tour guide surmised with Wilson that they were probably Russian. I bet he never had that conversation before.)

Cleanliness…next to Godliness??

At breakfast this morning, the girls and I were looking at a beauty pageant winner on the back of the paper. Since they were commenting on how pretty the little girl was, I decided it was a good teachable moment for me to let them know how their daddy and I feel about beauty pageants. I ended it with the statement, “Beauty is not the most important thing in the world.”

Malin looked at me, shaking her finger for emphasis, and said, “No, God is the most important thing.”

And Avery, who has heard every late-night rant in our messy house, finalized the lesson with: “And cleaning up.”

girls, girls, girls

Yesterday Malin, Avery and I had a girls day out with our friend Debbie. She treated us to lunch at Pizza Hut, and then totally spoiled my girls at Wal-Mart. She had told me that she wanted to take us out to lunch because she wanted to buy each of my girls a dress.

That’s not exactly what happened.

We went into the girls clothing section where she proceeded to throw everything that my girls wanted into her buggy, and then paid for it all. It really was a lot of fun. I honestly have never taken my girls shopping like that. We get so many nice hand-me-downs that I occasionally buy a pair of pants or a dress or an outfit – but that’s it.

It was fun to come home with our bag of loot, and my girls love wearing their new clothes.

When we first got to Jackson, I was standing in the parking lot getting ready to get into Debbie’s truck, Malin looked at me and said,

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (loooong dramatic pause)……. You look like a teenager!”

She’s figured out how to make a woman feel good about herself. A week or two ago, we were standing in the kitchen, working on cherries together when she said to me,

You don’t look like a mom. You look like a teenager.

I told her how nice that was, and how that’s the kind of compliment that can make any woman happy. So she took it a step further and said,

Next time I see Mam-Mam, I’m going to tell her, “Mam-Mam, you don’t look old enough to be a grandma!

girl talk

I hope Malin doesn’t get upset with me for writing this one here, but it was just too cute…

We have a counselor here this week named Elbert. He’s a really attractive guy, he has a great heart, and he’s lots of fun to have around. For some reason, last evening Malin and I were talking about him.

She said, “I don’t know why, but I just keep looking and looking at Elbert.” I said something about him being really good-looking. She thought about that a second and came up with a verdict of her own.

“He’s handsome. He’s probably the most handsome boy I’ve ever seen.”

My 5-year-old has good taste.

more accomplished at 7 than at 31

Look what I found the other day. I’m not sure what I was looking for in my folder of old school papers, but I ran across this and thought it deserved to be shared. It’s a pretty impressive resume for a 7-year-old, huh? Thanks, Mom, for hanging on to this for me.

I generally don’t claim the ability to sew any more.  If I have to spend my time being nit-picky, give me words. I’ll format your documents, design CDs or proofread your letters and  stories. But ask me to figure out the tension on my sewing machine so I can turn out a straight seam, and I will think of a hundred other projects that need to be done first. Like giving my toenails a French manicure or reorganizing the camp kitchen…

something funny

About 2 weeks ago, some neighbor’s dog came along in the night and left a disgusting brown pile right smack in the middle of the driveway. It was almost in our pathway as we walk down our driveway and up the rock steps to the dining hall.

We couldn’t help but talk about it some that day. I didn’t want my girls to step in it, so every time they were walking that way, I’d tell them to “watch out for the dog poop!”

Sometime that afternoon, the UPS truck came and delivered a package. I noticed after he had gone that the pile of poop had been flattened and most of it had (I guess?) been carried away on his tires. I pointed that out to Avery and said I was glad that the UPS truck had come and cleaned that mess up for us.

There was still a mark there in the gravel as proof that his tires hadn’t been completely thorough in their clean-up duty, and Avery would often comment on that as we walked by.

About two days later though…. she noticed that it was completely gone. Her theory of what had happened??

“The UPS truck came back and cleaned up the rest of the dog poop!”

 

And today it was Malin’s turn to make me laugh. She came up from a fun hour of swimming in the creek with the proclamation:

“I know how to make homemade water – get ice, put it in a cup, let it melt. …. Someday I want to try that.”

insanity

Oh wow. Do you want to see something really insane?? Go to www.costofwedding.com and enter your zipcode. Evidently, the average couple in Clayhole, KY spends about $18,000 on their wedding and the average couple in Asheville, NC spends closer to $26,000. That doesn’t count a honeymoon or an engagement ring.

I’m curious about where they got that Clayhole statistic. With a little help, I could probably name every person who lives in Clayhole… They also mentioned that 96% of couples in Clayhole spend less than that average, and 4% spend more…. whatever.

The thought of spending that much money on a single day blows my mind.

If I’d had that much cash to spend when I was 20, we would have had the same wedding, but a nicer car.

The thought of all that blown money (and the knowledge that I have 2 daughters who will have their own wedding day dreams) makes me even more appreciative of Malin’s bedtime prayer tonight. She decided to make up her own prayer song this evening. It was pretty typical of Malin – thank you for my sister and brothers and mother and father and birds that sing and sunshine etc. etc,  all in a little-girl-operatic voice – until after the elaborate ”ah-men” when she added a sweet PS. “You are my only love.”

Is that precious or what?

So, here I sit…

…at 6:07 am in a hotel lobby, blogging. Random. Ironic. Waiting for hot water for tea. I never have trouble sleeping in the morning… unless I’m worried about not being woken by an alarm…

Also random… the first thing I did this morning was drop my tube of conditioner into the toilet. I’m just thankful that my roommates are faithful flushers.

As I was lying in bed (not sleeping) at 5:30 I was remembering a conversation I had with Avery the other night. When she and I walk together after dark, we have interesting conversations about our “statues.” Does that confuse you as much as it confused me? We talk about how my “statue” is longer than her “statue” … and as we walk farther and farther away from the light, our “statues” get longer and longer….

The other night our shadow talk segued into growing up talk. Avery said, “When I’m a mommy, then you’ll be a kid …. and you can play with my kids … and be their Grammy …. and rock them to sleep … and Daddy can rock them to sleep … and Judah can rock them to sleep and Wesley can rock them to sleep and Malin can rock them to sleep….” 

I suggested, “And what about your husband? Don’t you think your husband will rock them to sleep too?

“Yeah… but… I don’t know who my husband will be! When Judah grows up… maybe he’ll be my husband. Because I LOVE Judah!!!”

(That’s right, baby. Keep on thinking your brothers are the best boys in the world for a few more years.)

Don’t look what in the mouth?

At bedtime tonight, Wesley wanted me to feel the new tooth that is just getting ready to fill that cute gap in his mouth. My first thought was (Gross.) “I don’t want to put my finger in your mouth.” But he didn’t care, so I felt it anyway.

It reminded me of when his first baby teeth were coming in. I remember running my fingertip along his gums and feeling new teeth rubbing against my fingernail. My thoughts at that moment were something like… “If it’s broken through the gum, is it officially through? Can I record it in his baby book today? Or do I need to wait until it’s all the way through?” First teeth are exciting for a mommy. Even a nursing mommy. Every milestone is exciting.

Tonight when I told him that it reminded me of feeling his first baby teeth, he rolled his eyes like I was being a disgustingly sentimental woman.

But I think he liked it.

 

Those crazy couriers…

Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night
Could stay these couriers
From completing their appointed rounds

When I pick Judah and Wesley up from the bus stop, they take turns sitting in the front seat and checking the mail. Yesterday (an even-numbered day) it was Wesley’s turn. Imagine the overly dramatic pout on his face when he realized that the only mail in the box was outgoing, and there was nothing for us to take back to the house with us. Here’s what he said to me:

“This mail lady is getting sloppy. She’s getting sloppier and sloppier. First she was giving us someone else’s mail, and now she’s not giving us any mail at all.”

There is some truth to that…. Our erstwhile mail carrier was arrested recently for driving under the influence and has lost her license. A relative of hers has now taken over the mail route. I saw her not long ago when I ran down to the mailbox just in time to send some letters off with her. She shifted that long cigarette between her lips as she greeted me and handed me the mail.

I waited til she drove around the curve before I put it back in the box for my little boy to retrieve after school.

 

Little caregiver.

After lunch today, I started a pot of coffee and Roger went out on the little green porch to enjoy the beautiful weather while he waited for a cup. Malin loves to fix her daddy a cup of coffee. (Which is ironic, because that’s something that I love to do for him too. But I guess there’s no one I’d rather share the pleasure with than my daughter.) She was outside chattering to him, and then she came in and asked me secretively, “Mom, is there anything I can comfort him with while he waits for his coffee?”

I don’t know if “comfort” was really the word she was wanting or not, but it was sweet. And that’s Malin for you. She loves to take care of people. When Shaun & Wendy were here Monday morning for our weekly meeting, she wanted to fix a cup of coffee for Shaun and carry it to him instead of him having to get it himself. Several times this week I’ve seen her get a drink for Lily and then hold the cup for her as she drinks.

Our ladies group spent a couple of months studying Spiritual Gifts, and ever since, I’ve been more aware of specific strengths that I see in myself and in other people. I know it’s early, but I’m going to go ahead and say that I think Malin has been given the gifts of service and hospitality.

I handed her Roger’s favorite bar of 85% chocolate and she looked very pleased when she came back in with the rest of it after he’d broken off his square. I never did go out there and sit with him. I think that’s what he was really waiting for, but there were just too many dishes…

That Avery girl…

….she makes me laugh.

She walked in the house today with 4 or 5 little blue plastic sharks bundled up in her dress. She dumped them out on the desk and said to me, “Don’t worry. They’re not real.”

Freedom!

My children are thoroughly loving this spring weather.

Out behind our house, there’s a large puddle (i.e. “the duck pond”) from the water that constantly runs down from the hill. Our duck enjoys the regular supply of water, and the frogs and toads used to enjoy it as well. These days the little guys don’t make it long enough to cool their toes in the water. (Roger just commented on how fat the duck is right now.)

For the last few years, the puddle has been a great science lesson – we’ve seen the whole reproduction process taking place before our eyes. Last year we got a great little video clip of our oldest three capturing many frogs in a blue bucket – all in little stacks of two. Except for the one lonely little frog who was trying desperately to get out… The rest seemed pretty content in captivity.

It was also last year that Wesley completely grossed me out by filling a bucket with strings and strings of slimy toad eggs in a bucket and carrying them up to our deck to show me. (Toads lay their eggs in strings and frogs lay their eggs in clusters.) He had his sweet little-boy hands in that bucket running his his fingers through that slimy grossness. I’m trying to think of an analogy for toad eggs – my best shot is: being sick and throwing up really snotty, mucusy vomit. Roger says it’s more like throwing up tapeworms. Either way it’s pretty gross, and that’s what my Wesley was playing with.

That was a pretty putrid tangent. Sorry.

The main point today doesn’t really have anything to do with the frogs that used to grow in that puddle of water. This afternoon, since the boys (and Malin) couldn’t find frogs in the puddle, they decided to bring some in. They found some somewhere and dumped them in the water – of course they were gone not long after.

Then this evening, just before bedtime, our family went down to visit Eldon and Ella June for awhile. I guess on the way down, they found a little tree frog. So Judah ran up to camp and got a Cool Whip container, poked holes in the lid, and put a little water and a nice-sized rock in it and brought it down. Wesley and Malin had gotten to Eldon and Ella June’s house before we did, and they had carried the frog inside and were proudly showing it off to our kind hosts. Neither Eldon nor Ella June seemed to have any problem with having the frog inside the house, so… once Judah brought the container in, and it was secure under the lid, I decided not to worry about it either.

I probably should have. It’s practically inevitable that the frog would escape. It was getting to be time for us to go when I saw Judah peeking his head through the banisters and looking around on the top of the piano. When he saw me looking at him, he smiled and made a goofy face at me. Then he came down the stairs and told me very quietly that the frog had gotten out. I encouraged him to go back and keep looking. Surely it hadn’t gotten too far. I was hoping to keep this quiet and not let Eldon and Ella June know anything until (unless) it was absolutely neccessary.

They looked a little while longer, and then Malin walked over to Ella June and asked her very earnestly, “Ella June, have you seen the frog?” Ella June said (so innocently) “Yes, I saw it. You showed it to me.” Malin asked, “No, do you know where it is now?” Ella June (again… innocently) “Yes, they put it in that container.” And then Malin made the big announcement.

I couldn’t gauge Ella June’s reaction. Was it horror or humor when she asked, “How do you think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight with a frog in my house?!”

They very kindly let us know that it was just fine if we didn’t find the frog. I didn’t want to take them up on that offer, but… it happened. We searched for the frog, but we had to leave without it. It was a tiny thing, and brown. Everything in their house in brown.

Eldon is pretty sure that it won’t smell as bad as a dead mouse.

I’m pretty sure that my children won’t be taking live creatures into anyone’s house again.

The frog is pretty sure that he was treated with injustice.

I agree.

wesley – 7 years old and still funny

I made a new soup recipe tonight – Tuscan Bean and Sausage Soup – it was really yummy, and 5/6ths of the family loved it. Wesley, the not-so-surprising 1/6th who didn’t like it, had to be given 4 minutes… or else… to finish his bowl. He ate that soup diligently, and as he was finishing, he looked up at us and said, “This soup is tearing me up.”

I laughed. We all laughed. To which he said, “Malin and Avery don’t even know what that means. They shouldn’t be laughing.” We thought about it a little bit, and then Roger admitted that he didn’t know what it meant either – not in that context anyway. We asked for a definition and Wesley told us that it meant, “It’s making me mad!”