purple books & pay for mommies

The real reason for this little post is so that I don't forget how crazy my conversations with my kids can be. 

In the space of fifteen minutes we can cover everything from sex to buffalo to why stay-at-home moms don't draw a paycheck.  Whew.  I can barely keep up with all of the rabbit trails.

Driving.

To doctor appointment.

*pass buffalo ranch*

Cambria:  We can't get a buffalo because we don't have enough room for it.

JD:  Well, I would like to be a buffalo. Or a snake.  Did you know that snakes have like 150 bones in their spines?

Both children agree that they'd like to be snakes.

Brief silence. 

Cambria:  Are Pastor Jake and Loren married?

(Well, they are expecting their third child, have wedding pictures hanging in their living room and both wear rings on their left hands. . . I wasn't at the wedding, but I'm pretty sure they're married. . .)

So begins a brief explanation of wedding rings.

Do rings on the fourth finger of your left hand ALWAYS mean you're married?

Well, no.

JD:  So say, if you saw a like. . . almost fifteen year old with a ring on their left hand they are probably not married, they just are wanting to look nice.

Umm, yes.

Mull over this information.

JD:  Well, you always know people are married if they have kids or if they're pragg-nent.

Ooh, choices.  I could let this one go.  I opt for a teachable moment.

Well, actually, you don't have to be married to have kids or get pregnant.  Remember what we learned in the purple books?  It takes sex to have babies and not everyone who does that is married.  It's God's plan to save sex for being married and everything works better that way, but people do have children without being married.    *whew.*

JD:  What's sex?

Ohhh, I thought we covered this in the infamous purple books (so dubbed by my family. . . I'm not sure these books are actually purple, but if you heard someone groan, oh, no, Mom got the purple books out again, you definitely knew what was being discussed).

Remember. . . what we read about the other day. . .?

Oh, yes yes yes.

*cross fingers that this won't be discussed at AWANA tonight*

Thirty seconds of silence.

JD:  God can see me right now.  He can see my thumb.  He can even see my math and my pencil.  And he knows what I will be when I grow up even though I keep changing my mind!

Me:  That's why it's a good idea to ask God for help when you're deciding what you want to do or be, since He already knows.

Cambria:  Well, I know what I want to be when I grow up.  A girl.

JD:  huh?!

Cambria:  I mean, a wife.

JD:  Well, that isn't a job.

Me:  Yes, being a mom and wife is a job, Jacob.

JD:  It doesn't pay money!

Good point, my son.

Cambria:  I could mow our lawn for the dad!  (by dad, she means husband)

Jacob:  You don't get paid for mowing your own lawn.

Cambria:  the future un-paid stay at home momma

(reading Huckleberry Finn on my e-reader out of sheer determination to have dibs on the device)
Jacob:  future. . . um. . . something.  I think it will involve making money.

This is me with my kids frantically trying to think up correct answers to their questions!

And car trips. . . home of the wildest conversations!

Oh, they crack me up!

homeschool humble pie

Once upon a time I said something glib along the lines of : yes, I am going to homeschool my kids, but it isn't going to consume our lives and I will not be one of those homeschoolers who can only talk about homeschool curriculum.

Why do I have to be humbled and proven so wrong for those rash youthful statements?

Teaching is consuming my life.

All I can talk about are books, libraries and curricula.

I wake up, get one cup of coffee flowing through my bloodstream, make breakfast, direct chores, and morph our dining room into a classroom.

We sit at the table, do devotions, and then start the books up.

A Kleenex box is still part of the decor.

We study, minutes (for me) flying by until lunch. 

Extra stuff in the afternoons, be it laundry for the millions many overnight guests we've had lately, cooking, errands, extra classes or just finishing up what we didn't accomplish before lunch.  Sometimes we don't finish until four.  So much for the lofty ideas of accomplishing it all in three hours.

By evening, after supper, dishes, visists to Daniel,  phone calls that have been put on hold all day, I am fried.  My brain feels about as big as say, a pin.  Which reminds me of Pinterest, which is the real reason I haven't blogged, but. . .  anyway.  I literally fall into bed at night.

I only have two kids to teach.

One is in preschool (talk about pressure) and one is in first grade.

This is only going to get more complicated.  But still, I love it;  I love the light bulb moments;  I love pouring into their lives.

I don't like eye rolls, sighs, tears, grumbling, or this comment on the way to science class:  "Hey Mom, I don't want to make you feel bad, but when I go to real classes like my art classes, they explain things way better."

But other moments make it so worth it. 

Note to me this morning: 
FoR u!

I <3 u

Thank you FoR clening My room so Much <3!

<3

JD

Or Cambria's thrill over learning to tell time and write her middle name and read the words YAY and ZOO today.

It is an exhausting, beautiful privilege to be with them. 

It is easy to forget how much children need love and time from their parents. 

After being with the kids all day, I am ready for a break from them and they sure act like they want a break from me.  (That's what the pool and trampoline and bikes are for.) 

Today after school, errands, and choir, Cambria was helping me make granola bars.  Jacob came in and asked to help.  I told him there wasn't anything for him to do, and that the granola bars were mostly done.  I suggested told him to go jump on the trampoline.  He was back after two minutes, asking to help again.  I agreed to let him stir something and he climbed on a chair with a happy sigh. " Really, Mom, I just wanted to be with somebody." 

I look at his little boy face and realize the gift  I've been given;  he wanted to be with somebody.  The somebody is me.  It's my joy;  it's my job.

Thanks, God.

*The only thing perfect about the last few weeks of school are the pictures I took on the first day.  The kids are unbelievably cute.  But, true to the humbling nature of my life, those photos aren't on my SD card anymore for some odd reason.  Hopefully they are safely uploaded onto Daniel's laptop, but since he is at work:  picture-less post.

{eight years}

Eight years together.  .  .

It's good. 

I think of the wild joy and beauty of first love and first kisses and first homes and the way his face looked when I walked down the aisle to spend the rest of my life with him.

I think of the crazy-high expectations of new brides and the sheer inadequacy of humans to meet each others every need. 

I think of the glitter {from our car - thanks groomsmen} we tracked everywhere on our honeymoon.

I think of the desire for our love to be perfect . . . for our marriage to be strong.

I remember red roses and a white veil and how much all of that rice hurt my face and my big strong man carrying me out of the church.

I remember my heart feeling like it would burst wide open with joy.



Fast forward eight years. . .

A lot of life has lost the glitter.

The rose colored glasses are definitely put away.

You know each other.

For some, maybe, that's bad.

For us, its so good.

No glitter, just reality. 

It's you and me, just liked I dreamed.

Reality is:

four days away to be together.

still loving kicking hotel room doors shut and hanging out the I'm too comfortable to be disturbed, please come back later sign. (Gotta love how different hotels phrase "Don't bother us.")

the freedom and security that comes from years together. . .  I don't feel like I have to stay at Best Buy and agonize over the second laptop decision.  I can leave.  He's still happy.  I can also come back an hour later and he still hasn't moved. 

that we both love watching nerdy financial corruption documentaries together. 

when he says you're beautiful . . . and  I'm one month away from having our fourth child.

staying together when life isn't glitter and roses.

I think of how easy it can be to want to throw in the proverbial towel and give up on the commitments that we made and I'm thankful that we haven't.

The reward of being with someone who knows everything about you and still chooses to love is incredible, unique, fantastic.  {thrilling}

So glad I married the love of my life!


I love you, Daniel!