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