July 4th!

If you ask my kids what their favorite holiday is they will tell you it is a tie between Christmas, and 4th of July. I must admit I share their enthusiasm for our Independence Day celebration. I love large gatherings full of tradition, and so, it would seem, do my children!

Our 4th looked rather dull for many years. I grew up helping my family in their business on Fisherman's Wharf, where the firework display insured a high volume of traffic. We stayed open late, and often watched the fireworks from the back office windows. These were neat times of camaraderie between coworkers, but nothing you can really implement with an entire family (and certainly not with Leah). Later, the 4th just happened to be whatever was going on, with no fixed destination or design.

Then in 2001 we went to the Monterey beach called Windows on the Bay with our church FBC, and spend the entire day having a blast. Hannah was 2, Bethany was only 6+ mos old but both loved the event. We had a big cooler with everything (and it's brother) inside, along with 11 thousand incidentals. Bethany mostly sat on laps, Hannah dug in the sand, and pretended to like the idea of getting her feet wet in the water. We were hooked. And somewhere in our hearts we knew we would make this day happen each year.

Some of the highlights since then have included: 2003, when Caleb was a mere 3 weeks old; and then in 2004 I was only 3 weeks from delivering Leah; 2006 gave Hannah a sharp pain, when she stepped on a piece of glass and sliced her foot right when the fireworks were about to start! But over the years we have never regretted the decision to trek down to the water for the entire day. In fact, we look forward to it with great anticipation!

Of course, being who I am, we can't just go without preparations. I have a detailed packing list that gets slightly altered each year (nursing newborn? potty training?) but overall it has held its worth in our home. This year the highlight was the portable potty that we borrowed from my mom. In the past we brought our little child's potty for inside the tent, keeping the trips to the nasty public porta-potties to a minimum for our small children. But this year I knew we needed something more. For reasons only God's sense of humor could fully explain my bladder has been as flat as a pancake since the pregnancy test came back positive. I knew I was in trouble. Two options unfolded before me: dehydrate myself to death OR pack the portable toilet. Since I am now writing this I think you can guess which option I chose. The funny thing however, is that everyone else in our group came to love me for the porta-potty too! It sits high enough to allow an adult comfortable use, and has sealed chambers to make management of it very sanitary. So, without naming names, we had several partakers of our tented bathroom... not to mention Leah some 25 times (and myself at 24).

Anyway! Christopher always gets to the beach at about 6ish to stake out our spot. Our pastor, and sometimes another die-hard man meet him there, and help him lug our stuff to the sand. This year his buddy Mark stayed with him during the early morning for company. I arrived at about 10:00ish with all the kids. The day was absolutely beautiful, and all the children enjoyed time in the water. We also got smart after too many issues with random burns, and forgotten reapplications of sunscreen, and bought all 5 their own swim trunks with matching rash guards. Had we really been cool we would have ordered them online, and gotten cute "girlie" colors for the girls. Nevertheless, they were a great decision for both modesty, and sun coverage. No burns this year!

We hope that you had a wonderful 4th of July. If you are looking for a little variety feel free to join us next year. We would love to have your company. Just beware - after a full day at the beach... EVERYONE is exhausted!

Happy (belated) Birthday

It might appear that Caleb is getting an awful lot of air time these days. It is just the way it seems to work out. Inevitably one of our children becomes the star of the show for a few weeks, and right not it seems to be the boy. This post however, is late in coming so I really can't be blamed for favoritism.

Caleb turned 4 on June 10! He is now a big boy, and gets to do some neat big boy things that he couldn't do when he was merely 3. We started the celebration with Caleb's request of a trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, with his siblings and friend of his choice. Travey-my-brother (otherwise known as Travis) won the coveted honor, but only after Kayden (who is 12!) was found to be out of town. We all had a wonderful time, and I would gladly show you a picture of our adventure, except I forgot to take the camera. I do have a sweet shot of Caleb and Travey, taken by Travey's mom, at a playdate just recently.

We did however, get a great shot of the Big Boy being allowed to stay up with the girls for story time before bed. This is something I do just about every night, and Caleb has been asking to join us for months. Christopher and I thought it would make a neat "turned 4" privilege, and began preparing him for the big night a few weeks before his birthday. He was SO excited. The day of his birthday the only thing that consistently kept coming up was how he would be able to stay up with the girls now. Alas, the reality versus the fantasy are two very different things. We are currently reading through the Narnia series, and Caleb could not sit still for even a few moments. He was lost in the story, couldn't follow the plot, and asked a million little questions that pertained to nothing. Daddy took the following picture which sums up the entire event.

Still, 4 years old! He really IS our big boy (even though he wants this new baby to be an older brother).

Vincent van Gough, Claude Monet, or Caleb Randall?

In case you don't have the artist's eye to understand the above statement, let me enlighten you.

First, the smattering of dots represents rain. The smaller yellow in the bottom right hand corner is obviously the sun. This should not be confused with the larger yellow, which is God. The earth sits between the sun, and God - specified by red. Above God is a large box (no universe is quite complete without one). And finally the pièce de résistance is the hippopotamus (I knew you were waiting for me to address it) in the upper left hand corner. The hippopotamus' earring is just below, using anther dynamic brown shape.

Now that you are versed in art, take a few moments to stop and recognize it all around you. Maybe you can learn to draw with such passion, and feeling. Of course, you will have to give up everything you know about how to hold a writing utensil.

PG is on the Map!

There is a blog that I love to visit called Strangers Among Us. I have it listed in my links on the right ------------> See?

A recent post has a wonderful picture of a couple of Strangers in good ole Pacific Grove, CA. Check it out!

Nuts...

Hole In Your Head

Caleb has a hole in his head. Seriously.

Maybe I should back up a bit and explain.

Several days ago I was walking downstairs when I heard Caleb sob up to me from the family room, "Mama, I got a hole in my heard." Now, I don't know what you other moms think about when your son says this, but I must admit my first reaction was probably not as appropriate as you might expect.

"Really Son. How'd that happen?" I don't go for the whole drama thing.

"I tripped on Hannah's foot, and I got a hole in my head." By this time I've made it into the family room, and can now observe the hole in his head. Sure enough, he has a round surface wound on the top of his forehead. As he delicately probed the area he was quite convinced the circular scratch was a hole.

"Hmmm, well buddy it looks like you have a pretty good hole in your head."

"Yep."

So he is now very proud of his holes, and gets them rather regularly. Not boo-boos. Not ouchies. Not scratches, cuts, scrapes, or owies. Just holes.

Last night he was wrestling with Daddy when he accidentally got a good scratch on his forehead from Daddy's fingernail. When I noticed it a bit later I asked him what happened. Christopher motioned to his finger in the background, so I already recognized the truth of the wound's origin. However, Caleb's rendition, created on the spot, is much more entertaining.

"Oh, I got another hole in my head."

"How?"

"Well, I jumped off a surf board into the ocean (jumps up and down for good measure, so I understand how big his jump was), and a shark came by like this (makes a swimming motion with his hand), and he had a needle, and he shotted the needle out of his mouth (makes that boy shooting sound, and zooms one finger towards his face, representing the flight pattern of the needle), and it hit my head (plants his finger square onto the hole)."

"Really?"

"Yea. So now I have a hole in my head. Again." He sighs, rolls his eyes in resignation, and then goes back to playing with the girls.

Man, life is rough when you have a bunch of holes in your head.

ps - After I took this picture Caleb wanted to see it. "Ouch," he says. "That must have hurt! How'd I get it?"

Classic.

Soap Box

Ever get those emails that tell you to forward it to your 10 best friends, to show them how much you love them? What about the ones that say you will pass this on only if you believe in God, and really care about social justice? My favorite are the legislative updates warning us of impending capitalistic greed, the ones sharing how the US Postal service is currently working on a bill to charge people for their email use - because the government of the United States has nothing better to do with its time. And let's not even go into why it is impossible for Victoria's Secret to track your forwarded email so they can send you that free gift card.

Now, I agree there are some funny jokes going around from time to time (even though by the time you send it to me I guarantee I heard it 4 times before). And it can be hard to pass up that really great awareness email about breast cancer (yes, clicking on the button on their website does help fund mammograms for impoverished women, but it does not fund an entire procedure with every click). So let me clear up a few things about those forwarded emails...

COPY
PASTE

It is really simple. Why do people think we enjoy taking 30 minutes of our time opening 19 other forwarded emails within that email to finally get to the actual text? And I won't even mention the scrolling, and unintelligent babble from 2000 other people forwarding the email, creating a piece of artwork with the <<<< and broken sentences I must decipher. Can I also say...

BLIND CARBON COPY

I would imagine you are not a big fan of learning your phone number has been scrawled on the bathroom wall at the local bowling alley. Yea, I feel the same way. I have received so many random emails from people I don't even know because they just added names to their address book off some forwarded email that had my email in it. Nice.

I tell you all of this because my life has been altered by my emails. You see...

I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about cyanide in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet towel with every envelope that needs sealing.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Laima Veski) who is about to die for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I can no longer buy gasoline without taking a man along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer use plastic in the microwave because it causes cancer.

And thanks to whoever told me how I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face...disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan.

I no longer have any sneakers -- but that will change once I receive my free replacement pair from Nike.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

Thanks to my email, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my toosh.

And, thanks to my email's great advice, I can't ever pick up $5.00 I dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

Oh, and don't forget this one either! I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!



So you see my concern for you? I just don't want you to end up like me. And if this was difficult to understand then...

Click Here

Yummy

Our homeschool support group has an Advancement Ceremony each year to honor the students, and their labor over the previous school year. Hannah and Bethany participated in the program, both reciting scripture during the "Tour of Talents" portion, and receiving certificates for their completion of Kindergarten and 2nd grade, respectively. We also had dinner, enjoyed fellowship with other homeschooling families, and laughed a lot at how cute several of the smaller children were while presenting their songs, verses, and poems. It was a great evening, and a lot of fun for everyone there.

One of the pleasures I had was to cook the dinner, and with much mercy from God it turned out well. I thought I would post the 2 most requested recipes here, because I am always looking for new (read easy) ways to cook good food! I hope they bless you.

Perfectly Sweet Carrots

1 lbs carrots (thinly sliced and peeled or whole baby)
1/2 cup chicken broth
3 Tbs sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 Tbs butter
2 tsp lemon juice
pepper to taste

In large skillet bring broth, salt, 1 Tbs sugar and carrots to boil. Cover, reduce heat and simmer until carrots are almost tender (about 7 minutes).

Uncover, bring to boil again and reduce liquid to 2Tbs, stirring constantly.

Stir in butter and remaining sugar and cook until carrots are tender and glaze is golden (2-5 minutes)

Remove from heat, add lemon juice and pepper to taste. Serve warm.


Green Sauce Chicken Enchiladas (I can't take credit for this one... Michaeldavi's mom gave it to me)

1 whole chicken, poached and shredded
1/2 to 1 onion (depending on how much onion you like)
1 can (10oz) cream of chicken soup
~ 1 cup Las Palmas (or comparable brand) green enchilada sauce
1 can (4oz) Ortega (or comparable brand) diced green chilis (not Jalapenos)
1/4 to 1/2 sour cream
~ 1/3 to 1/2 can (10oz) evaporated milk or reg milk if you don't have evap.
grated cheddar and jack or mozzarella cheeses
flour tortillas

Preheat oven to 375 degrees and prepare 9x13 baking dish with Pam.

In sauce pot combine soup, sauce, chilis, sour cream, milk, and heat slowly - do not scorch. Taste for "bite" and consistency. Add more green enchilada sauce or milk to spike or smooth the taste. Keep to side.

Saute onion in olive oil or Pam, add chicken and cook on med-low until thoroughly warm. If chicken is too dry a few Tbs chicken broth or some of your sauce.

Pour a few Tbs sauce into bottom of baking dish to coat bottom.

Place 2-3 Tbs chicken, 1-2 Tbs grated cheese (not too much), 1-2 Tbs sauce into each tortilla and roll. Stack enchiladas closely in bottom of pan. When the first layer is done spread sauce over all the enchiladas, making sure sauce coats all of them, and tuck some between each enchilada. Do not drown them though! Add one more layer. Coat this layer with sauce, as the first, but sprinkle cheese on the top.

Cover and bake for 20 minutes. Uncover and bake for 5 more minutes. Serve immediately. Makes about 16-20 depending on size of enchiladas.


Enjoy!

iMama

I am not just a Mama. I am an iMama. Living in the 21st century with small children presents some rather unique, and often comical situations. Teaching little ones about technology can result in bizarre circumstances that make you think, "this is really weird." But then the reality is, we live in an age when modern conveniences are used every day!

For instance, my children -

-know how to play and change a dvd in our multi-dvd player.
-use the microwave to reheat food.
-play with my iPod (what kind of a name is that?).
-understand which button works the remote for the van lock.
-don't freak out when they call someone and are told they have to leave a "voicemail".
-unload the dishwasher, but don't actually wash dishes.
-haven't got a clue about audio tapes.
-think nothing of our cordless phones.
-call sites on the world wide web dot coms.
-want email addresses.
-ask to use the cell when we are out of the house running errands.
-have their own computer, that's not a toy, or useless keyboard.
-never look at the ground when you say "mouse".
-realize that my debit card is more valuable than the less than $5 cash I usually carry in my wallet.
-ask to play on my Palm, and don't think twice about what my hand is doing.
-go to daddy explaining that a toy needs new batteries.
-think high-quality computer animation (read - Pixar), has always been the norm for children's entertainment.
-tell me to charge it when they ask if we can do something, and I explain it is too expensive for us.
-don't get it when someone with a film camera visits, and they can't see the picture right away.
-know the term computer crash, and recognize the blue screen of death (they even encourage me to reboot).

So how do you instill the "old fashion values" of hard work, and honesty when it is so easy to have computers, machines, and automated processes do it all for you? I certainly do not think that we have the corner on the answer. But we have learned a few lessons along the way. Lessons like-

-purchase toys that use motor skills, and good ole kinetic energy (read - Caleb's inexhaustible supply of movement).

-make strong boundaries on computer game time.

-allow only one dvd per day (albeit Ben Hur *wink*)

-establish chores that require participation in household management.

-read to the kids.

-have the kids read to us (the assumption for both of these is books, not the back of cereal boxes).

-ask questions that require more than "yes" or "no" answers, and be willing to give in-depth answers back. In other words, participate in quality conversation.

-play board games together.

-invite friends/family over, and show hospitality through example.

-pray and read the Bible together.

The last one I can't stress enough. I believe the best thing we can do to anchor our children in a world that says, "have it your way, and have it now" is to teach them practically, emotionally and spiritually the greater worth to be had in life. We are not here for our own whims. We are not here to make the fastest buck, and then merely die. We have purpose. Meaning. Value. We teach our children about their calling every day. What a treasure to see them realize that there is a point beyond getting their own way! A treasure worth losing your life for, in order to find it.

Me and George W. - we got a good thing goin'!

I really truly enjoy George W. Bush. I may not always agree with his policies, or actions. But I do believe he loves the Lord with a depth and sincerity the White House has not seen in centuries. He is a genuine human being, who makes mistakes. But I am proud of our President, warts and all, in a way that I can not say about previous Presidents.

One of the "warts" I especially enjoy is the way Bush communicates. Why? Because I do the same exact thing! But instead of just giving a few good friends another laugh, Bush is made out to be an idiot.

Now mind you, I feel passionately about the English language. I love it. I have a degree in it, for goodness sake. I most especially love vocabulary, and it can really grate on me when words are used incorrectly. But I sincerely enjoy idioms that are misplaced, or mangled in delivery. I have a penchant for it myself. For instance, while trying to get my head around a certain expression in our vernacular I finally blurted out,

"You know, I am an animal of routine."

Christopher stared long and hard at me, expecting my second head to pop out at any moment. When it didn't, he said, "What are you talking about?" I, of course, was stunned that he was not more educated in colloquialisms, but assumed it had something to do with that computer degree. Then I realized my own blunder, and between gasping for breath from laughing so hard restated my position.

"I am a creature of habit."

You can imagine how relieved he was that I did not have a second head. But only Christopher truly appreciated our little moment because it was not aired nationally during a televised debate for nuclear disarmament. If it had been, the following poem would surely apply to me.

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER by George W. Bush

I think we all agree, the past is over.
This is still a dangerous world.
It's a world of madmen and uncertainty
and potential mential losses.

Rarely is the question asked,
Is our children learning?
Will the highways of the Internet become more few?
How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.
I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.
I know that the human being and the fish can coexist.
Families is where our nation finds hope,
where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family!
Knock down the tollbooth!
Vulcanize society!
Make the pie higher! Make the pie higher!


You go George! I am right behind ya.

Red

Leah wakes up every morning wearing nothing but her diaper. It should not be supposed that she goes to bed every evening in this same state. I distinctly remember watching a cute, fuzzy, pajama'ed girl get carried upstairs by Daddy just last night. If memory serves, it was the curly-haired one, which can only mean Leah. So what happened to her clothes?

I asked her this morning.

"Leah, why don't you have any clothes on?"

"Ummmm, red."

"You took your jammies off because of red?"

"Yep, red."

"Do you like red?"

"No."


I am not sure which of us will need more therapy.

Sick and Tired

You hear that phrase a lot. I don't personally like it, and don't generally say it very much. Although I am guilty (what parent isn't?) of resorting to it when my children have pushed the boundary too far.

I am sick and tired of... fill in the blank -
clothes on the floor.
dishes being left out on the counter.
cleaning up after your messes.

But right now, I must tell you, that I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. This particular pregnancy has really wiped me out - and we are only in week 11! Seriously, I have never experienced morning sickness like this in my life. I have never been this fatigued, this exhausted, this unable to consistently cope with the affairs of my household. It is epidemic.

Why am I sharing all this? Well, besides the subtle, and maybe not so subtle cry for prayer, understanding or encouragement *wink*, I am learning that I can only be responsible for what God calls me (often through my husband) to take care of, and not what anyone else thinks I need to be doing. It is a liberating freedom to know that I am not responsible for managing the expectations of everyone in my sphere of acquaintanceship. The problem is that I continue to battle laying hold of this truth and walking in it. So rather than taking the nap when I should, I push myself to take care of something less important, become stressed and irritated, feel lousy, and bite my children's little heads off. YIKES!

In our society this is what is said about moms... They should be able to:
~~make 4-course home cooked meals every night.
~~keep all the laundry pressed, folded and delivered to each drawer and shelf in the home in a timely manner (that means Caleb's favorite shirt should be clean every day).
~~plan spontaneous outings while simultaneously manage to be organized for every foreseeable circumstance.
~~sing 3 originally composed lullabies for the baby every day.
~~read great works of literature to older children, and explain all the nuances of plot, vocabulary, context, and larger life applications for each sentence.
~~sew a minimum of 1/2 the households clothing, or if this is impractical spend countless hours searching second-hand and clearance marked racks at stores to always bring her family the deals.
~~maintain personal beauty and health through regular visits to the gym, hair salon, manicurist and beauty supply store (spending a total of $10 per year).
~~be willing and available to meet every need within her children, relatives, husband, friends and the local girl scout troop trying to raise funds which, incidentally, will cease to exist without her help (well, maybe the cookie drive isn't that hard).

Did I mention stay sane?

Ha!

The list could go on and on. Moms working outside the home, moms home educating, moms with sick little ones who need special care, moms running a home without a husband, moms trying to keep it all together.

One of the blessings I wanted when I met Christ was the, "my burden is easy and my yoke is light." Do you feel that way regularly? A book I am reading shared an invaluable insight about this struggle, in women particularly. Jesus was alive for about 33+ years. He died before Rome was overthrown, world peace attained, and all the crippled, blind, broken people healed. That is quite a laundry list to leave for tomorrow... especially as a perfect man capable of doing all those things in a single breath. So what gives?

Very soon before Christ's arrest, and final crucifixion he says to God, "I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do." (John 17:4). WOW. So God didn't intend for him to take care of all the things that were left undone, even when his own disciples thought he was not nearly finished.

Whose expectation am I fulfilling? Am I caught up in people-pleasing and not God-pleasing? What is more important, a calm and rested spirit with a few things to do around the house, or an immaculate home with an irritated attitude and sad little children? I know the answers to these questions. But subtly it is easy to see how others, while believing the "right" answers too, still place expectation on you to do it all.

Well, I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. And since there is not a dern thing I can do about being sick and tired physically, I am going to do whatever I can emotionally, and spiritually to stay healthy. And that might just mean you get to come over and see my laundry sitting in piles waiting to be folded. I am not going to feel guilty any more! *wink*

P.S.

I am typing at nearly 45 words per minute so far! You needed to know that in order to make it through your day.

I Was Hit

I received this little ditty in my inbox today, and thought I would pass it along for all moms to enjoy.... consider yourself "hit".

PRETTIEST MOM
You've been hit as a very pretty Mom

Before I was a Mom-
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry about whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom-
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom-
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put them down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew this was what it would feel like to love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom-
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom-
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

Can't See Me

Our darling daughter Leah loves to get into trouble. Mostly she just wants to do things her way, and not worry about things like... rules. She is by FAR our most precocious child. Her latest doing is not only hysterical, but applicable to our lives as well.

Leah can not understand that the dirt in our backyard is off-limits.

Now, a bit of story here so you can fully appreciate this boundary. When we first moved into our home the back was literally bark. The previous renters did not want to bother with yard work, so they laid down black gardening tarps, covered those with redwood bark, and left a small perimeter around the fence for a "planter" (that was overgrown with weeds). It was probably nice when they first did it, but by the time we moved in the bark had deteriorated, exposing much of the tarp and underlying dirt. It was filthy. The kids could not play outside because they would get splinters from the bark, and come back inside absolutely covered in wood chips and dirt. We decided very early to replace the bark with grass. So a few months after we moved we paid to have the backyard sod with grass - from one end to the other. No planters. No decorative borders. I wanted only grass for clean, soft outdoor fun. However, we (mistakenly) did not sod a small strip on the far side of the yard where the picnic bench sat. It was only some 3x9 foot long stretch, and between our large smoker, and picnic bench it was covered. I didn't want to pay for grass that would just die from lack of sun. I should have gotten rid of the smoker and picnic bench for the sod. It could have saved me so much heartache. But then, you would not have this story. See, God really does work all things out for the good of those that love him. All of this to say, the tiny strip of dirt has never ceased to be a constant struggle with the kids staying OUT OF IT. Back to the story...

Last night Leah was using a small cup to scoop dirt up and then dump it at a different location in the yard. I watched her from our family room and called out that she needed to stop; the dirt was off-limits.

She did it again. I warned her that she would be spanked if she continued playing in the dirt. She dropped the cup and left the scene - for three minutes.

The next thing I see, Leah has picked up the cup and is moving towards the dirt again. I have a clear view and I watch her intently. She glances towards me and we make eye contact. We both know what she is trying to do. Now, get this... instead of dropping the cup and walking away, (like any of my other children would do) Leah proceeds to place her entire left hand over her eyes so she can not see me. Then, never turning her back to me, she works her way over to the dirt, bends over and, keeping her eyes covered so she can not see me, fills the cup with dirt!

I, of course, went immediately outside to stop her latest rebellion, but because her eyes were covered she did not see me come near her. When she thought she was a safe enough distance away from the actual deed she lowered her hand and literally started when she saw me standing not two feet from her. She dropped her cup and said, "You not spank me?"

Yep. She got spanked.

But don't we do the same thing? I was telling my mom and dad what happened, when my mom said, "Kind of like what we do with God. We think if we don't look at him, he can't see us."

I am trying to take my hand away from my eyes today so I notice the "warning look" BEFORE I get spanked.

Blogger's Block

I am sure you are wondering what has happened to me over the past several weeks. I assure you, nothing devestating, or even remotely compelling to my not being on here. In fact, several blog worthy events occured during my writing absence that I am sorry you were not able to enjoy. The plain truth is that I have Blogger's Block.

I am convinced this is as valid as any "writer's block" but maybe even more difficult to overcome. Because I blog about our every day life (I still can't believe you actually read about our every day life) there are potential posts happening all around me, every day. The material for writing is really unending. And in the moment I am inspired to sit down and share the latest anecdote. But then life in Odd just seems to happen, and my priotities get shifted to other things (like laundry), and I find myself, once again, entirely unable to call upon that part of my brain which houses important information, like language skills. And really, I don't think you want me to blog in Toddler-ese. Although I am quite fluent.

So, today I decided to simply babble, hopefully share some of the bigger events in Odd, and get past my Block.

To be honest, one of the reasons I have been less than talkative is a quandry I am in over how to announce our latest news. With that grand and sweeping statement, let me just tell you now, that...

Yes, we are expecting a new little person in November.

Well, you ask, what was my quandry? I will tell you. Do I make the annoucement as I just did, with no big hoopla or attached statement on our religious convictions which brought about this 6th child? Or do I offer our entire treatise on why children are a blessing, birth control is for "sissies" *wink*, and God has better control of our lives than we ever could, so why not trust him with the big stuff and not just the little things, like eternal salvation? How do I expose our heart for a large family without thrusting unintentioned condemnation upon you for your beliefs and conviction, while simultaneously remembering that this is our Odd, not yours, and we make no apologies for where God has taken us - we love it! Can I simply state that God has indeed been good, and we are with child at the pleasure and mercy of our Lord? Can you believe that we are welcoming of this life, with no doubts that it is the best for us; but yet understand that in our humaness it can still be hard to battle morning sickness, budgeting, space, sibling relationships, and the mounting displeasure of those whose philosophies contradict ours in so many ways? Can I say, I am feeling really terrible today, and not get the "cute" response of: Well, you are the one that decided to have another? Or when I am overwhelmed with a day of discipline and child training have something other than the encouraging words of: You do know how this happens, right? What about the immediate assumptions that: we must be done; we are only trying for another boy; this one was an accident; we are on government aid; my children do not feel loved... and the list grows and grows.

Do you think I don't hear others whispering? Do you think the jokes, and passive aggressive inuendos do not hurt my feelings, causing me to feel like a social leper? Did it somehow happen that we became unaware of exactly how many children we have, the state of our home financially, emotionally, and the cost it would take on our whole family if we were to be blessed with a new person?

Do you honestly believe we thought about our decision?

Do you honestly believe we hold to a conviction that calls us to die to self, pick up our cross and follow the One who was willing to lay his own life down for those that did not even know how to love him? (Matt 10:38; Rom 5:8)

For unto us a child is born, and you shall call his name Immanuel, God with us. (Isa 9:6; Isa 7:14)

One child makes all the difference.

The 3-minute Rest

Caleb takes a "rest" each afternoon. This is very different from a nap in many ways. For instance, nap starts with "N" whereas rest starts with "R". The finer nuances would be almost impossible for you to understand.

Anyway, each day after lunch Caleb is instructed to go potty, and get into Mama's bed. He actually gets into both Mama and Daddy's bed but for reasons which only therapy will discover he calls it "Mama's".

The rule is that he needs to sleep, or stay in the bed, for a minimum of 2 hours. He usually manages this task rather well. And ever since he was convinced that his hero, Michaeldavi (distant cousin to Michelangelo), took "rests" to grow strong he is on board with the necessary pain of growing big. Sometimes however, it doesn't always go to plan. Like today.

1:00 - Caleb begins his rest.

1:45 - Caleb tiptoes downstairs and tries to steal himself into Mama's lap before she has a chance to notice the time, or the lack of pillow-face on her son.

"Son, you have not been in bed long enough to get up. You need to take a good rest."

"But I did!" whines Caleb, becoming so overly emotional that all chances for his argument about being well-rested have left the building.

"No buddy. You haven't even fallen asleep yet."

"But (his favorite word to start any sentence) I was up there for a whole minute."

...hmmmm

"A whole minute?"

...he nods his head emphatically

"Son, you know that a rest is longer than one minute. How long are your rests?"

...sniffles because he knows he is on his way back upstairs

"3 minutes," and breaks into sobs at the idea of THREE WHOLE MINUTES.

He is now fast asleep in Mama's bed.

Entrepreneurial Skilz

Hannah and Bethany have entrepreneurial skilz in their blood. Because of this destiny, they are constantly working out ways to take advantage of the average Joe. How can they market a product that costs them next to nothing, while making a maximum profit margin, thereby freeing them from all money-making chores in our home. The latest is to manufacture a drink sure to please everyone...

"Regular"
Vanilla and Chocolate ice cream, melted
Chocolate chips
Mix and serve in a cup
$10 per serving

"Premium"
Bubble Gum ice cream (to make it soft)
1 cup syrup
A little bit of cream (if you want it super creamy you put in a lot, if you want it just a little bit creamy you don't add as much, and if you want it medium then you just put in a medium amount)
Crunched up cherries
Add a little milk (1/2 a cup)
Chocolate and Vanilla ice cream (crunched up for the topping)
Mix in the blue Thatsa Bowl with a whisk
Serve in a cup
$15 per serving

They are already working on crowd control to manage the demand.




(It only took me 16 minutes to write this - that's like 12 words a minute!!!)

Typing

It is now 1:03 PM and I am beginning this post. I say that because I am learning to touch type, and I am going to measure how long it takes me to finish this thing.

I bought a typing program for myself and Hannah in hopes that I would finally stop the "four-fingered wonder" typing I have been doing for ever. It is very hard to commit to working on touch type when you CAN type faster the "other" way. Hence the reason for starting Hannah now - she won't have to unlearn any bad habits (hopefully). (It just took me 4 tries to get that last period instead of a comma - thought you might like to know). Of course, Hannah's lets her "rollerblade" while mine just uses repetition to instill muscle memory. I think I might have gotten a rotten deal!

So you will all need to be a bit more patient with me as I work to integrate my new skills into my email and this thing. BTW - Christopher already knows how to touch type... so he can't use this excuse when trying to explain away the lack of posts *wink*.

It is now 1:17 and I probably could have typed this whole thing in under a few minutes the old way. But generally speaking I don't think that is too bad. (Other than that drat period again. Can't we just use commas?)

You Are Not The Mama

We have a saying in our home that goes something like this, "You are NOT the Mama." It is said nearly every day, and usually multiple times every day. We say it to Leah when she is scolding Mary. We say it to Caleb when he makes choices for himself contrary to our rules. We say it to Bethany when her rule-making takes on an air of superiority over her siblings. But we mostly say it to Hannah because, while she is my most responsible child, she is also my most self-righteous and autocratic child. She mimics my tone and word usage in explaining offenses to smaller children. She has a tendency to "take care of" little things that crop up between her siblings, and when you add this penchant to a somewhat high-strung personality (our next favorite phrase for her is, "Settle down Hannah, it is going to be fine.") it makes for an exasperating combination - both for me AND her younger brother and sisters.

One of our primary tools for explaining the issue behind her actions (and motivation) is that God did not give her the authority over her siblings that she tries to claim. I do not have the right to tell my children what to do because I am arbitrarily older. There are several adults I can think of right now that have no business commanding my children (or any children, for that matter). No, my authority was given to me by God, in His word. Ephesians 6:1 says, Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. And in Colossians 3:20 we are told again, Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord. The Bible does not say, Children, obey your older sister, for she is always right. Thankfully it doesn't say parents are always right either! *wink*

Well, the other day I was once again reminding a little person that they, "were not the Mama" when it struck me that a spiritual parallel can be drawn in my own life. How many times do I make decisions based on what I want and not according to God's rules (Caleb)? How many times do I scold the younger, weaker believer (Leah)? What about the rule-making I impose on my family because it needs to be done "my way" (Bethany)? But mostly I think of the countless times I claim authority over situations, people, and decisions which I do not have any right too (Hannah). Yep, God is saying to me, "Trisha, you ain't the Mama."

The Bible says in 2 Samuel 22:28 "You save the humble, but your eyes are on the proud to bring them low." Ouch. I find myself asking God, "Do you really mean you will bring them low? How low? Like low enough to recognize my, err I mean their mistake? Or low like all the way down?" He answers with this in Leviticus 26:19, "I will break down your stubborn pride and make the sky above you like iron and the ground beneath you like bronze." Um, okay. I think I may be seeing a pattern here. So what you mean is that if I continue to walk in pride, assuming that I know all the answers, making all the rules according to my understanding and ways, taking glory and honor that are due to you for myself, then you will need to discipline me, bring me low, and make my circumstances difficult to remind me that, "I am not the Mama." Revelation 3:19, "Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent." I think I may be getting it.

Psalm 32:5, "I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,' and you forgave the iniquity of my sin." God is SO good. I don't deserve to be loved by Him, and yet I am! Perfectly, wonderfully, completely accepted by The Creator. And yet, He loves me too much to allow me to continue wallowing in unhealthy attitudes and behaviors. Can I hear an amen?!

Rugboarding

The Prince and Princesses of Odd are pretty clever and creative. They are also pretty resourceful. Since we live in Odd and NOT in the Land of Plenty, they have learned the spiritual discipline of being content, doing without, and making due with whatever resources are available. Case in point - rugboarding.

Yes, you read that right - rugboarding (btw - this is their name for it, not mine). I'm sure most families probably have some version of this game. All game variants have the same basic building blocks: slick cardboard and carpet. Our version uses, as its raw materials, those handy packaging boxes leftover from $400.00 visits to Costco. Those visits where we buy FOUR boxes of breakfast cereal, each box containing two bags each of cereal. Those cardboard boxes make awesome rugboards. We've also discovered that giant coloring books (about the size of a three-year old child) also have very slick covers that make great rugboards.

When I was growing up, my sister and I had our own version of rugboarding that involved the stairs. We've thus far successfully kept OUR children away from lots of craziness on the stairs, praise the Lord! My mother bought a set of new speakers, and my sister and I jumped in them and ROCKETED down the stairs at supersonic speed. The experience is probably not wholly unlike what it would be like to ride over Niagara Falls in a barrell. But, I digress.

Praise God you don't need Disneyland, Chuck E. Cheese, Nintendo Wii and HDTV to have a good time...just a slick piece of cardboard.

Just think of all that space you could save in your recycling bin outfitting the world with rugboards!!!

3 year old logic, by Caleb

Mama, I wish that our house was made out of ice cream. Oh man, it would be sooo good. And I would eat it with Daddy, because he loves ice cream, like me.

But if you ate the house then you wouldn't have anywhere to live.

I wouldn't eat the house. I would just eat the ice cream.

But if the house was made from ice cream then you would be eating the walls and floors when you ate the ice cream.

No, I would just lick it at night. I wouldn't eat the house. Silly Mama, you were just joking that I would eat the house.

Yea, that must have been what I was doing.

Blah Blah Blah

I have a tendency to say, "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." 5 times. No more, no less. My children hear me say this rather frequently. For instance, if I am in the laundry room with the washer going, and Christopher is trying to talk to me from the kitchen I just yell, "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah" so he knows I can't hear him. I also use it when I have forgotten something important and Christopher is reminding me of it, as if to say (and completely in jest) - Yea, you thought that was important but what do you know? It earns me a huge grin with TLs (tickle loves) every time. Now, you might be wondering why I needed to give you this back story. Or perhaps you think this IS the story. But you should know me better than that... there must be a better punch line than TLs. There is.

My mom, aka Nana, was over for dinner this past week, and asked me when I was going to, "start school back up again?" I explained a little about our work with delayed academics, and she was satisfied, but curious to know when I might start working with addition and subtraction concepts for the girls. It was a definite moment when what I believed was put to the test - when was I going to deal with those very necessary concepts? But the truths of our conviction also held steady, because we HAVE dealt with those concepts through baking, educational computer games, well even the addition of each new sibling. I explained this to my mom, and even extolled how the girls had taken addition to the natural next level and begun to do multiplication. My mom was excited to hear this (this is your hint to be amazed at how cool my kids are too *wink*), and even tested them with a few simple problems. The girls did very well (although we have not covered multiplication by 0 - so don't test them on that when you come over).

Hannah was especially animated in explaining how any number, times 1 was that number. And somehow this led into a conversation of adding 1 to very large numbers, things like 2067 plus 1. Hannah and Bethany both were becoming very proud of their answers so my mom decided to really push the limit.

"Okay Hannah, what is 465,371 plus 1?"

Hannah didn't even skip a beat.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, 2."



I think that is a MUCH better punch line than TLs. Right?

Your "Official" 2006 Randall Newsletter

I am writing to give each of you a thorough updating in the Randall home, whether you like it or not. I generally enjoy, with great timeliness, musing about the last year in my life. I print it out on cute card stock, with some variation of pine trees and snowflakes, and postmark it in mid-December. Last year I managed to get an e-newsletter out (we were about to have a baby!) but Christopher was rather under impressed, and stated he thought the printed word held more warmth than the computer-screen version. So this year I had every intention of seeing to it that our family's high-flying adventures were put down in red and green, and mailed via Uncle Sam. So I ask you, "Did you receive your Randall Newsletter?" That's what I thought. I would have been surprised if you'd answered, "yes" since I never mailed one. But I digress.

I realized I was losing an opportunity of the very vehicle I use to blabber about my family anyway. Christopher agreed anything was better then nothing *wink* and so here I sit, on January 24th, 2007, at my computer, while my husband and children are at church, and I am tending to an unwell child. Shall we begin?

At the time of last year's newsletter we had not delivered our 5th child, 4th daughter, Mary Ellen Randall. She came to us on December 27th and was a joy from the start. She is now 13mos old and can almost walk. Her heart is captured with music, smiles and bread. She has 7 teeth and is currently working, err screaming, her way to an 8th.

Leah is 2.5 this month and if you want to better understand her whimsical ways just peruse the blogs here. Her vocabulary becomes more detailed almost daily, and her favorite past time is to yell. If you doubt me, please come over for an evening. She will wrap your heart around her pinkie, but she will do it at the absolute limit of your eardrums.

Caleb turned three in June and was sorely put out that he did not get another birthday in December, "like all the girls". His desperate need to be a fireman was replaced this last year with a passion for worker men, i.e. the men who work large construction equipment. We are undergoing a rather substantial overhaul of our area and he gets to daily witness forklifts, back hoes, bulldozers and the like. He was also introduced to "his team" (the A's baseball organization) and flatly refuses to honor his father's LA Angels. Nana bought season tickets and Caleb will be there with his A's hat, shirt, shorts and probably trying to bring in his calendar! I try to encourage Christopher, perhaps it is only a 3 year old thing? He does sleep with his hat, though.

Bethany had her 6th birthday on December 23rd. 6 years old! I can hardly believe it (and don't even get me started on Hannah being 8 - but that is the next paragraph). Our little girl landed smack in the middle of childhood, and I only blinked once. She has met a girl in our homeschool group and made fast friends with someone outside of her sister's influence for the first time. We switched bunk positions and now she gets the top! Her heart for reading is growing and she is a whiz at math, but nothing touches her culinary skills. She loves to help in the kitchen, and will certainly be making delicious meals in just a few short years.

Hannah maintained her spot as eldest by turning 8 on December 30th. Nice of her, huh? LOL But "eldest" is the best way to describe her. She runs a tight ship in our home (sometimes a little too tight) but I could not get by without her. She is incredibly responsible and enjoys helping out very much. Her desire for academics has not stopped and her reading skills are through the roof. It has actually become a point of concern between me and Christopher because finding content appropriate books that are challenging has become a serious endeavor. If you have recommendations please pass them my way (I love series, where you know you have the next 5 books already taken care of! But I would appreciate any suggestions!).

I continue to homeschool and really love the time I get each day with my children. We practice delayed academics, which means right now I focus more on character training, and inter-personal relationship building, rather than the 3 Rs. However, it is truly amazing how much conventional training slips into life when you are willing to answer questions, and take advantage of teaching moments. As a result, both girls are at or above grade level for their respective ages.

Christopher and I are still serving in our local church, First Baptist Church of Monterey. Christopher accepted a second term as Elder and I cheer him on. Along with this commitment Christopher is a Leader for the Cubbies Club in our AWANA program, and occasionally teaches an Adult Sunday School unit for 10-12 weeks. I am involved in our Ladies Bible Study and continue to host the monthly scrapbook get-togethers (we are hard core, going from 6pm to midnight every 3rd Friday of the month. I love it!) We really enjoy our church home, and love our brothers and sisters there like family.

So what else can I tell you? We are all healthy (except Mary, who, as you remember from the beginning of this post is home feeling icky). God has richly blessed our home, and provided for our needs over and above our expectations. We are truly grateful for each of you and the story line you added to our narrative these past 365 days. Thank you for your love, support, encouragement, timely Christmas cards *wink*, and prayers. We think of you often and hope that our paths will continue to cross throughout 2007.

The Randall Family

Christopher, Trisha, Hannah, Bethany, Caleb, Leah & Mary

Phonics, or The Study of How I Learned to Mispronounce Words

I learned to read using a new-at-the-time system called phonics. In theory it was a great advantage to the "see and say" method previously used because it taught readers to evaluate diphthongs, navigate usage rules, and ultimately provide a far superior store of readable words because one was not confined to only the words previously memorized - you could read whatever you could "sound out". At least that was the theory. Now, before I go further, let me assure my adoring public *that's a big wink to my mom, husband, and few militant friends that read my babbling on this thing* that I do use phonics in teaching my own children how to read. It IS a superior method to "see and say", where whole words are memorized and then read in the future by remembering the letter order for that particular word. And there are a myriad of rules for how phonics must work (like the "e" at the end of a word changing the vowel from short to long so we don't pronounce "like" as "lick" or "ate" as "at"). But I don't remember a lot of my pronunciation rules (the 150 that there are - that is only a mild jest) so I am forced to bungle my way through and it is only a matter of time before I come up with some real doozies.

While reading C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia to my children I kept pronouncing the name of a certain constellation in the Narnian sky as Lee-oh-pard (pard rhymes with lard). For instance, "The children gazed upward, remember the Lee-oh-pard from their other adventures and finding vast amounts of comfort in its friendly twinkling." My husband finally said to me, "What is the name of that star again? How do you spell it?" So I spelled it -

l - e - o - p - a - r - d

"Huh, you know Trisha most people pronounce that leh-perd."
Smart alec.

My husband and I read out of the Bible most nights. I read out loud while Christopher listens. We were recently in the book of Numbers which can be very aggravating because of the long lists of names which have NO respect for our phonics rules. For example Numbers chapter 1 verses 5-15 reads, "These are the names of the men who are to assist you: from Reuben, Elizur son of Shedeur; from Simeon, Shelumiel son of Zurishaddai; from Judah, Nahshon son of Amminadab; from Issachar, Nethanel son of Zuar; from Zebulun, Eliab son of Helon; from the sons of Joseph: from Ephraim, Elishama son of Ammihud; from Manasseh, Gamaliel son of Pedahzur; from Benjamin, Abidan son of Gideoni; from Dan, Ahiezer son of Ammishaddai; from Asher, Pagiel son of Ocran; from Gad, Eliasaph son of Deuel; from Naphtali, Ahira son of Enan." Can you imagine being told you had to ask these men to help YOU? Whatever project you needed help with would be done before you ever got their names pronounced. Well, after tackling this fine passage I was feeling rather proud of myself, and my phonetic prowess when I began to read in 2 Chronicles 21:16 about a group of people at war with the Israelites. This is what I said, "...and of the Air-a-bee-inz who are near the Ethiopians." Once again my smarty husband, who is not even looking at the passage, says to me, "You mean Arabians?"

I could continue, but why humiliate myself even more? Suffice it to say, I am Hooct ahn fonicks!

What If...

Questions you might be asked if you own a 3 and a 1/2 year old... (especially mine, who phrases them exactly as you see below)

What if the whole house was covered in napkins?
What if monkeys jumped onto the road? Would they break it?
What if my skin ran off me?
What if I flew into a tree and got stuck?
What if I ate dirt?
What if there was a big split in the sky and clouds came out?
What if the whole road was red?
What if I couldn't go fast enough for the lawn mower to eat me?
What if my pants were dry?
What if I stayed on the couch ALL day?
What if I ate a gorilla man who came and knocked at our door?
What if my hair was so, so, so, so cutted that it was short?
What if I only ever could wear shorts, ever?
What if my arm grew so big it could take up this whole room?
What if, when I am big, I slept in the dirt and worked like worker man?
What if I grew so big that I was bigger than Daddy?
What if I could lift our whole van?
What if I had new shoes that were red?
What if I ate all my food and even then had something red on my plate?
What if Mary cried?
What if I took my Lightning McQueen car and rolled it over our street and it broke the cars?
What if the whole house had pencils on it?

This coming from a boy who recognizes that zoos are for spiders. Why else would we have zoos?

Breakfast Theater

Did you grow up with cartoony placemats that you looked at during all those meals of liver and onions? You know the ones I am talking about - Smurfs, Batman, Care Bears. Well, they are still alive and well at the local Wal-Mart and my children are in love. Walk with me through the following scenario...

We were buying a few items at Wal-Mart not too long ago when Leah spotted a rack of vinyl placemats bearing her much loved Care Bears. They are STILL around even after some 20+ years. Anyway, she gawked, pleaded, looked tortured as we walked past and finally said it - "Weese Mama". How does one say "no" to that? So we circled back to the rack and she immediately thrilled to holding her very own ($1.97) Care Bear placemat. When we caught up with Daddy and the others Caleb asked, "Can I get one to, Mama?" Sure. Caleb (and Bethany, rather surreptitiously) went to check out the rack. They both came back satisfied, one with Superman and the other with Strawberry Shortcake (I'll let you figure which went with whom). I turned to Hannah and asked her if she wished to pick one out too. Nope, she wasn't really interested.

The following morning all placemat owning children were ecstatic to be getting ready for breakfast. In case you are an unfortunate who has never tasted rice chex out of a bowl perched atop a flaming pink rendition of fluffs all comically named after sweet smelling vegetation; or seen your lunch staring at you from above a masterfully depicted scene of certain worldly catastrophe but for the muscle-bulging hero using large quantities of unknown substances to fuel highly efficient brain cells - well, you don't know living. But I digress.

I heard the kids getting giddy over placing their bowls on their mats and wondered if Hannah was regretting her decision of the previous night. So far so good. They were eating. My curiosity got the best of me...

Hannah did not forego the pleasure of a placemat. In fact, in her industry she picked one that we already owned and was contentedly reading it below her breakfast.

Relative orbital paths of each of our (9) planets, along with information on each planet's atmosphere and chemical make-up. The back is better - it tells her about the different types of satellites, from man-made to natural moons and also distinguishes between the different stars and novas seen in our galaxy. Nice.

Are ya still there?

Okay, okay... so I have been remiss. I can at least blame shift - Christopher was supposed to post a rather epic piece on his journey to the highest point in the contiguous United States. If you razz him about it he might finally finish it and get it on here *wink*.

So, what has been happening in our life, as of late? Hmmm... what hasn't happened? In our family there is always something going on. But the following post should give you a good helping of Odd after so long a fast. :)

It's STILL Coffee

As an update to my previous post I have learned the following -

Pumpkin Pie Spice Frappucino (the cold, slushy version) can be made with cream instead of coffee. I will have to check it out.

Also, my friend Jill, the one that shall not remain nameless since she caused my addiction to Chai, has been explaining to a few people my aversion to coffee. She received the following response

Has she tried decaff?

Ummm, yeah.



IT'S STILL COFFEE

It's Coffee

The local coffee mega-store (which shall remain nameless) introduced a new flavor recently: Pumpkin Pie Spice, Latte or Frappuccino. I have been eyeing it for some time and wondering how much I might like it. But before I launch into my findings (which you must recognize are note worthy) let me give you some back ground on me... and coffee.

I grew up like many of you, I would imagine, with a mother (or father, as the case may be) who drank coffee just about every morning. She still does. "Nothing like that first cup of coffee, " she is known to say. She is a coffee purest and drinks it black. I have overheard many people compliment her on her coffee. I have distinct memories of my mornings beginning with the sound of the automatic coffee mill grinding the beans before brewing them at exactly 6:05am. My mom transferred her creation into a thermos promptly after brewing so the bottom didn't burn but the temperature stayed ideal - hot. And each night she set the whole process up for the following day's ritual. On the weekends she would sit in the over-sized lounge chair in our living room, watch out the window for any happenings on the street, read the previous week's worth of papers and magazines, and drink her thermos of coffee. I slept in, so she was always up before me. But every Saturday looked almost identical to the one before - me shuffling out at 10am to see my mom buried under papers (ostensibly stacked "read" and "unread" on either side of her legs, which were stretched across the ottoman) with Albert our dachshund curled between her and the chair and her thermos of coffee sitting on the floor with her cup perched on the table lamp next to her. This was adulthood. It embodied everything I found utterly boring or unappetizing. Somehow I knew that I would have to start liking these things before I could grow up.

I have still been unable to complete this rite of passage. And as a result my nearly 10 years of marriage and 5 children do not cut the mustard in making me feel like an adult. If I could sit down for one Saturday, read an entire newspaper, and drink a pot of coffee, I truly think the heavens would part and I would be accepted into the Fraternity of Adulthood. Oh well. You see coffee doesn't taste like it smells (and the French Roast my husband likes can stay in France for all I care). My mom says it does. My girlfriends who drink coffee say it does. My husband says it does. They are lying. It doesn't. If it did, I would drink it. So needless to say Starbucks, or any other shop painted in muted tones with too-obvious hints of Parisian sidewalk cafes, had gone rather unnoticed by me. I didn't worry about how much money I was spending at them. I wasn't embarrassed that the barista knew my name AND my order before I could take my place in the back of the line. No, I was naive. Innocent. Free.

Then my dear friend, Jill (she shall not remain nameless since it is to her that I owe my utter destruction) introduced me to Chai. Just the name rolls off my tongue like butter. It is a tea with a heavy spice component making it taste very similar to pumpkin pie (without the pumpkin, as Jill would point out - she dislikes pumpkin pie). I liked it the first few times I had one. Then I began to learn the ways of the Jedi in ordering my Chai. The Starbucks version of Chai is actually a Chai Latte, meaning they mix a liquid tea & spice concentrate with milk and water. If you omit the water, it lends itself to a creamier and richer drink. I like that. Then I learned that for a Tall they use 3 pumps of mix, Grande equals 4 pumps, and Venti is 5 pumps. If I added an extra pump to the drink, I got a zing of flavor. I like that, too. The barista now knows my order - a five-pump, no water, grande chai latte. But I haven't entirely capitulated. And after my experiment with the Pumpkin Pie Spice Latte, I am in no danger of totally selling out. So now we may return to the original post...

A couple of weeks ago I noticed the new flavor being tauted as a "slice of Paris." I have been to Paris. That is beside the point. The point is that I like pumpkin pie and its spices, and I LOVE Chai (which is, as I stated above, pumpkin"less" pumpkin pie). So I asked the barista what the difference was between a Chai Latte and the new Pumpkin Pie Spice Latte. The following is a general gist of her response:

"The Chai houses a more dynamic and robust spice blend, using a base more like allspice or cloves, while the Pumpkin Pie Spice has a subdued flavor with hints of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. They each have their own distinct taste."

Huh.

I was a chicken to try it then. But just today I decided I was going to find out what this, "...subdued flavor with hints of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger" was all about.

IT'S COFFEE. Yea, coffee. I took my first sip and about spit it out. I took another sip, still gross. Coffee. In my utter forsaking of the coffee world, I had forgotten that a latte traditionally means espresso with milk. Espresso - the mother of all coffees. When I asked for a description between the two drinks, the gal forgot to mention that the Pumpkin Pie Spice Latte was ultimately a base of espresso. No wonder her appraisal of the flavors were more "subdued." Um, yea. You simply can't overpower the taste of espresso with a few drops of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger - I don't care if your cinnamon does come from Madagascar.

So, I am once again reminded that I am still not an adult. Who decided drinking coffee and reading the newspaper was grown up, anyway?

Personality

Leah has many idiosyncrasies that make us laugh heartily on a daily basis. For instance, she can not allow the buckle on Mary's bouncer seat, or swing to remain open. The INSTANT (I mean this quite literally) Mary is removed she is seen bent over and re-buckling the clasps. It proves annoying when you are trying to get the baby back in the seat.

Leah loves to love her baby dolls and insists on bringing one down every morning (usually every time she comes downstairs from anything). Did you hear that... every trip a NEW baby doll must be brought downstairs. So each night the gang rounds up all her dolls and carries them back upstairs to start the process anew the following day. She carries the doll hooked in the crook of her elbow and pats its head cooing, "s'okay".

We have to keep Leah locked in her crib using a special tent or else she would be out in a jiffy. And since she can't climb out she has taken to jumping up and down while in. She can do this for hours. And of course her favorite time is not at nap time when she would not be bothering any one, but rather bedtime after the girls have crawled in and the light is off. Oh, and she squeals with delight while jumping.
Jump
Jump
Jump
Abeba da goo buds
Laugh
Jump
Jump
Nice. We have tried scolding, spanking, ignoring, laying her back down, scolding some more, ignoring some more, another spank... it doesn't work. She goes to sleep when she is ready.

Leah sucks her thumb and cuddles, which is so precious and completely disarms us. She knows our weaknesses and has no qualms in using them to her advantage. Daddy will play "chase" with her and when she has had enough she just turns around and puckers up for him to give her kisses (a rare treat for him) which successfully stops his game. When she wants my attention she turns me towards her, using her hands on my chin or pushing against my legs so that I am forced to acknowledge her. She does not accept defeat gracefully.

Recently her words have given her a new weapon in the fight for absolute dominion over our family. She hones them to a razor sharp edge. And if that doesn't work volume does. Just yell louder, more. Just Yell Louder, More. JUST YELL LOUDER, MORE. You get the idea.

Christopher and I often wonder what we would do for entertainment if we didn't live in Odd. It would be boring to go back to checking the newspaper for show listings. Heck, who needs a movie - we have front row seats to comedy, tragedy and drama every 5 minutes.

Recipe Exchange?

I recently hosted a Pampered Chef party and purchased several new pieces for my collection. My enthusiasm to use the cookware has led to more baking and recipe experimentation than usual in my home. Add to this my "mother of the year" award for baking mini cookies with my girls on Sunday (we used their bakeware set given to them at Christmas and I even let them crack the eggs) and you can begin to see that the children have baking on the brain.

Especially Bethany.

"Mama, I have a new recipe for you that I think would be really good."

"Oh yea, Bethany? What is it?"

"Well, you start with some water and you boil butter into it, until it is all melted. Then you grate some yellow (cheddar) cheese and some of that hard cheese that you can cut using that special thing you could have bought from your cook party you had - what is that?"

"Parmesan?"

"Yea, parmesan. So you grate some of that with the special cutter (you would have to buy that one, but I would cut it for you because I loved that cutter and when I get married I want one of those. So you can just buy me one when I get married.)"

"Okay."

"Then you put the yellow cheese and the, what's it called again, parmashun? Yea, parmashun cheese into the water with the butter and you let it cook in the microwave for about 10 minutes. But you don't want it to cook for too long."

"Of course not! "

"So after you take it out of the microwave you mix in some flour, and some of that special chocolate we used for my cookies. What was it called?"

"Baker's chocolate."

"Yep, that's it. You mix in some of that and then you crumple ritz crackers into it and stir it up. And after you stir it you put in just a little bit of salt and sage. And then you put it in the oven and you bake it at, ummm, about 50 degrees for 2 hours. Doesn't that sound delicious?"

You have no idea, Bethany.

Nope, let me change that - Digger Man

Caleb really enjoys checking out the men and their machines at construction sites. So while we were driving home, passing yet another construction site where a real live "Scoop" machine was working, he asked me, "Mama, can I be a digger man? I wanna ride Scoop and dig big holes." What is a mother to say?

First, I would love to encourage my son in all his pursuits. But I would also like to keep him from being a hamburger flipper at the local fast food joint for the rest of his life (can I hear an "amen"?). I want him to be secure in a job that can provide for his family. Do I want him to be a successful businessman? What about retirement benefits? Does college automatically insure a quality of life otherwise lost to digger men? Hmmm...

The bible is silent on what is a good job and what is not. Of course I would never want him running the local mafia group, but then I think the whole Thou Shalt Not Steal (or that other one about murder) pretty much nails that case closed. It does however, say that we are to do all things for the glory of the Lord (1 Corinthians 10:31). I think if we had workers, both blue and white collar, who were more concerned about doing their jobs to the glory of the Lord we would ALL see a huge difference. It is not difficult to imagine just a few examples of how our world fails to meet a quality of excellence because people were not willing to put their 100% into their job. Selfishness is the biggest inhibitor. Sacrificing the time and energy it takes to be good takes selflessness. You have to be willing to make your employer rich while accepting the wage he gives you (which is often substantially LESS than the profit he is making off of your work). You have to be willing to use discernment to understand when you might need to stay late to make sure the report is done correctly. You must accept your approval from a source other than your co-workers and sometimes even your boss. People like to shirk responsibility with others. If you are pulling your load you can bet others watching you are going to feel convicted, and angry. "How dare you make me look bad" is a statement often times expressed by an outraged worker who has the hand of God-given guilt upon them. And even business owners who want to deal shrewdly, and immorally with clients will get their noses bent out of shape by your integrity. But...

The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7b)

So what do I want for my son? I want him to be a mighty representative for the Lord. In whatever he does I want him to have a joy that comes from a passion for Christ. I would love it if that could include something he enjoys (although we are not guaranteed job happiness in scripture). And so, for now, I am going to encourage my little boy's pursuits in whatever direction he chooses (minus the mafia).

"Of course you can be a digger man, Caleb."

Sigh, "thank you, mama, for letting me be a worker man."

Thank you, Caleb, for reminding me that it really isn't about the prestige of having the "right" job.

Band Man

We went to the Monterey County Fair for my 32nd birthday - August 15th for those of you wondering - and as a result, Caleb has completely redirected his life. He wants to be a Band Man. Specifically, he wants to play the banjo, like a particular band man he saw at the fair. He is quite smitten. The musician, Charlie Hurley, made my son's year by giving him a CD. We now listen to it daily. Perhaps Caleb can inspire future firefighters during their long and arduous battles with his pleasant tunes upon one of his numerous banjos. He still wants to go back to the firehouse. And he asks me daily if I remember him going in the first place. When I assure him I do remember he says, "Hmm, Mama?"

"Yes, Caleb?"

"I want to be a band man."

Okay.

In Case You Were Wondering

While I was writing my previous post on our trip to the firehouse, I through it would be neat if I could include a link to the Carmel City Fire Department. I did a quick search on trusty Google for Carmel Fire, and while nothing specific to the actual firehouse came up, the following caught my eye. Take a look.

In case you were wondering... Carmel City Firehouse is putting together a cook off at the Carmel Farmer's Market on August 26th. The Market is open from 7:30am until 11am. According to the blurb on the website, firefighters are going to put together their favorite firehouse recipes for our enjoyment. I thought this would be a GREAT way to reintroduce the firehouse to Caleb. And he would get to see his friend, Captain Bruce! I emailed Christopher the info to see what he thought of it. He agreed it sounded like a blast! Perfect, just check a few details, get my ducks in a row, cross my "t"s and dot my "i"s, ad nauseum...

Umm, slight problem. I don't recognize the location from the MapQuest map. I figured it must be on the outskirts of the city where I am not as familiar with street names. I think, "I will just zoom out until I see Ocean or Carpenter. That way, I will have some bearing on where exactly we need to go." I scroll out. This is what I see.

CLICK HERE

Yup. Carmel, INDIANA. Needless to say, we won't be able to make it to the cook off.

Firehouse!

We have officially trumped Caleb's interest in fires and firefighting. How so, you might ask? Simple... get really excited yourself about showing him a firehouse, buy him a special firefighter outfit complete with his own name, and make special plans to have a privately guided tour through one of the neatest firehouses on the peninsula!

We visited the Carmel City Firehouse on Saturday, July 30th for over an hour. An old family friend is a captain for the station and he personally showed us in, and around, this neat historic building. We got to climb into engines, check out the equipment, and even hang out inside an ambulance. Hannah has decided, as a result of her conversation with "Tall Dave", the paramedic, that she wants to study medicine, too. Bethany wore a real fire helmet, and Leah learned how the blue uniform shirt firefighters wear on duty looks like it is buttoned but actually is made with snaps! Mary was content to be held, cuddled and loved. So what about Caleb? This was, after all, HIS special birthday treat.

He whined. He fussed. He simply refused to really engage in any of it. Our dear friend, Bruce, cajoled, begged, pleaded, manipulated and bribed him to take a picture with him. We had hoped Caleb would become more interested in his own fire outfit once he saw the real thing - we were wrong. We thought maybe Caleb would want to really check out the inside of the fire engines since he is so fascinated with them on the street - we were wrong. We figured he would be enthralled with a real firefighter, and want to try on his gear and helmet - once again, wrong.

He did enjoy the trip and was not scared of the firehouse. He repeated over and over again how much he liked Bruce. He would blurt out, "I like you." It was usually expertly timed right when we had all given up hope of engaging him in anything. He was fascinated by the fire gear... on Bruce. But even with the visit not following our Hollywood script we all had a really neat time. It was awesome to see how the children recognized the danger these men and women place themselves in for our benefit. I really appreciated how much "Tall Dave" explained and talked to Hannah on her level. None of the children felt slighted or patronized. All the firefighters were genuinely willing to share this passion they have for helping others with my small brood. And Christopher was able to relive a lifelong dream of going to a firehouse and checking out all the cool "stuff".

Oh, one more thing, as soon as we got home, Caleb informed us that he wants to go back! Of course.