I Used to Write a Blog

"So what you are actually saying...is that you USED to write a blog."

It happened after explaining to the English class that I regularly utilize a thesaurus when writing.
"Well, if I find time to write... I mean, I DO have a blog. In fact, you guys would probably like to read it...but I haven't really posted anything for 6 or 8 months..."
*mumble, mumble, talk to myself, forget that there are other people listening*

Then BOOM! *insert perfectly timed comment mentioned above - that struck right at my heart.*

Hmmm...he's got a point. Can I even say that I write a blog?
Can I smack this kid for pointing it out?
I'll show YOU, you snarky clever little 11th grade boy who felt the need to challenge me.
TA DA!
I am CURRENTLY WRITING a blog!
I win. You lose. That is all.

*sigh*
*shaking my head*
It took a confrontation with an adolescent for me to write something.
[sidenote: I just utilized a thesaurus to recall the word 'confrontation' rather than using the phrase 'pissing match' which was my first impulse. Those thesauruses really ARE wonderful. Sometimes, after spending my days with teenage boys, I need assistance to clean up my act and sound semi-educated.]
[sidenote to my sidenote: My boys just read the words 'pissing match' over my shoulder. It is a new term for them. They are laughing hysterically and spouting off about lighting fires and urine. It's not pretty, but it IS kind of funny. Oh my, there really is NO hope for me...or my children.]

I love teenagers. Truly, I do.
Intelligent, challenging, thinking ones are 'extra bonus' fun.
They keep things interesting and, apparently, push me to get things done.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea...At The Time

In honor of Father's Day...

Children: Ages 6 and 8
Soccer season was blending right into baseball season, and Clay, being a good dad, was in the front yard playing both sports with our boys.
Clay, also being Clay, decided that it would be GREAT fun to pitch a soccer ball to our small children so they could hit it with their aluminum baseball bat.
Micah, our cautious and thinking child, questioned the "brilliance" (and safety) of his father's new brainstorm and refused to be the guinea pig.
Evan, the apple which fell right at the foot of the proverbial tree, jumped up to volunteer.
The soccer ball SOARED across the yard as Evan's bat made contact.
Oh, what fun they had discovered!
Micah soon decided that success had been proven and that he needed to join the crazy.
(He may be cautious, but he knows not to miss out.)
He stepped up to the plate, swung away...and his bat bounced squarely off the soccer ball and ricocheted back into his head. The resulting bump grew so big and so fast that little brother broke down into tears at the sight of it. ("WHAT happened to Micah's HEAD???!!!???")
This mother's heart sank as wails reached her ears.
My family of boys entered the house, father holding one weeping child, little brother still traumatized.
My eyes met the eyes of my beloved. Mine questioning. His eyebrows raised...and I heard his famous phrase, "It seemed like a good idea...at the time."

Child: Age 10
My youngest boy, the animal lover, desperately wanted a pet he could snuggle.
Fish just weren't cutting it anymore. With our allergies, he knew he was fighting a losing battle if he tried to push for a furry friend...so he focused on the reptile family.
A snake.
Clay caught a snake as a boy...and permanently lost it somewhere inside the old farmhouse.
Clay's parents never knew about the arrangement, but since Evan's wishes were on our radar...Clay was NOT going to repeat that particular scenario in our suburban home.
No pets at the Rassi home - except fish. Conversation over.
Clay doesn't like to be mean. He prefers to lighten a tense mood with a joke.
Knowing this about my husband, please give him a LITTLE grace when you hear what happened next. (That's what I have to do - daily - as I remember that his heart is pure even when I don't agree with his methods).
***The next day***
I was walking down the hall, Evan behind me, when he started whining, "Dad told me I couldn't have a snake! He didn't even talk to YOU. He just said, 'NO'. He said the only snake I'm am allowed to have is a Trouser Snake."
I stopped in my tracks and lifted a prayer, "Please God, let there be an ACTUAL SNAKE called a Trouser Snake."
I slowly turned to look at my son and innocently asked, "Um, what's a Trouser Snake?"
He fought very hard to stay upset (he was trying to manipulate his way into his mother's sympathies after all), but a smile peeked through his eyes as he pointed to the place in his trousers that covers the natural "snake" that God attached to all Y chromosomes.
I sighed and responded, "I'm sorry you can't have a "real" snake, but that's just how it is...and you probably shouldn't tell your friends about that OTHER snake. It is kind of like Santa Clause. We'll let THEIR parents tell them all about it, OK?"
Then I shot off a text to my other half: "A Trouser Snake? Really?"
I could almost see him wince as he realized he was "caught". His response?
"Sorry. I wanted to distract him from the pet. It seemed like a good idea...at the time."

Now, let me share with you how the previous scenarios support that Clay is actually a GOOD father:

• Clay makes these parenting "faux pas" because he gets carried away HAVING FUN WITH HIS CHILDREN. He adores them. They are two of his very best friends...so he sometimes forgets that they don't have 30 extra years of life experience and maturity to be able to handle his humor. That's why there is grace. God gave these boys to my man. He is the VERY BEST THING FOR THEM. I'm not worried.
• As he jokes, our boys learn to rise above each situation and look at it from a higher (big-picture) perspective. They learn that laughter can get us through an awful lot of heartache...as long as we remember where our joy comes from. It's not from following rules and jumping through hoops. Joy is not found in perfection. (In fact, their dad shows them that we can LAUGH when we make mistakes...and learn from them rather than be defeated.)
• Clay teaches my boys to be leaders who forge their own trail, not followers staying in someone else's tiny little box. (Boxes are boring...unless you turn them into pirate ships or spacecrafts...or stick your brother inside of them...ahem.)
• He is teaching them how to take risks - ones that require God's help to navigate.
• They are also learning how to get back up when they (quite literally) get knocked down.
• Clay does everything authentically, without pretense...even being a father. My boys see who he REALLY is, not a facade. They hear him acknowledge (and sometimes even apologize) if he realizes that he crossed a line. They see him mature (honestly!) in areas of his life and lead them in brand new ways. Authenticity is one of the character traits that most drew me to this mate of mine. And even if it's a quality I question at times, it's one that I want my children to model.

I wanted to honor Clay this special weekend.
I could write a whole other blog about the things he is teaching my boys about being a godly husband, but our 15 year anniversary is next month so you can read about that then.
Instead, I hope I made you laugh and pointed you to God at the same time. That is how Clay was made to impact this world - and (in my eyes) he is beautifully living out that purpose.

Dueteronomy 6:5-7 
Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.

(And when you play Legos with them, or when you are jamming on musical instruments, and when you coach their sports teams, or when you are wrestling in the dining room, and when...) 

We Drink Dead People?

Photo Credit

Homeschooling Rassi boys leads to some interesting discussions...

Evan: Mom! Micah said we won't use up all the water in the world...but we CAN! Billions of people DRINK water so we might use it all up!

Me: No, he is correct. Water may get dirty or change forms, but it doesn't just disappear. Remember, we also sweat out water and pee. The Earth doesn't gain or lose matter, it just changes a bit during different processes. It all evens out.

Evan: The Earth DOES gain water. Our bodies are made up of 70% water, and BABIES are born! God makes babies and they grow and all that water is added to the world! People have babies ALL THE TIME.

Me: Yes, babies are made of water, but that doesn't mean water is added. They grow by taking water out of the world, but that doesn't mean that the world will run out of water either. You have to remember that people die too. Water from those bodies returns to the ground. It all balances out.

Evan: Oh yah. People do die all the time. Wait! *holding up his glass of water* Are you telling me that I'm drinking DEAD PEOPLE?

Me: Yes. Yes, that is what I'm telling you. Glad we got that all cleared up.

How I Decided I Was "Fat"

As I mentioned, I am on a diet. Again.
At least this time, Clay is joining me (which has its good points and its bad points, but we won't get into that - again.)
I am bound and determined that this will be the LAST time I ever diet. Ever.
After this, I will thank God for an abundance of fruits and vegetables, exercise regularly, maintain self control, and eat treats only on special occasions.
(Quit laughing and rolling your eyes. Oh wait! That's me.)

I have fought with my weight and my body-image for many years.
It all began when I was in 6th grade...
Actually, a LOT of my body image issues started in 6th grade - when all the other girls got boobs and I did not - but we'll save that for another blog.

Anywho...
In 6th grade, prepubescent me started chubbing up a bit (compared to the stick-thin little girl I had always been). We went to visit my grandfather, and I heard him say (with a somewhat negative tone), "Becky is packing on the weight."
Many questions and conversations followed over the next few days; and all of them started with me saying, "Mom, am I FAT?"
I had much need for my mother's reassurance. Thankfully, she provided it.
"Don't worry honey, if you were fat, I would tell you; and we would work together to make sure you were making healthy choices. You look good."
She's such a good mom.

Then, in 8th grade, we went to Delaware to visit my Aunt Belle.
She was 4 ft. something and had arms the size of toothpicks. (I still didn't have boobs, but I was temporarily past thinking I was fat.) When that dear ol' teeny-tiny aunt gave me a hug, the words that exploded out of her mouth were, "Wow, you have thick arms!"
As my face fell, my mom had to keep herself from hurling Aunt Belle across the room.
Mom saw it coming.
I have had issues about the size of my upper arms ever since.
I don't wear sleeveless shirts.
I say "no" to ADORABLE sleeveless dresses (unless I have a sweater to wear too.)
You can imagine how this has crippled me in the fashion world.
(Are you rolling your eyes again? Oh, wait, that's still me.)
It's amazing how I let off-the-cuff comments of other people impact my fragile self-image.
Can you say VANITY stinks?

When I hit college, my weight issues quit being a figment of other people's my imagination. I went to school and promptly gained the freshmen twenty. (No, it's not fifteen...I DEFINITELY gained twenty.)

I came home from my freshman year of college to this conversation:
Me:  Mom, are you wearing my jeans?
Mom: Why yes! They are so cute. Is that OK? You left them here while you were at college, so I figured you didn't really care for them.

Poor Mom, she had no intentions of ruining my life upsetting me. She was wearing THE JEANS THAT I STUCK IN MY BOTTOM DRAWER BECAUSE I LOVED THEM TOO MUCH TO GET RID OF THEM, BUT THEY WERE WAY TOO SMALL BECAUSE I HAD GAINED 20 POUNDS.

I dieted for the first time that summer and started the VERY LONG, NEVER ENDING battle I've had with food.
In three months, I literally walked my butt off.
I walked three miles a day while jamming to "Love of a Lifetime" on a mixed tape from my boyfriend (who, ironically, didn't last 6 more months). I also waited tables at Parasson's Italian Restaurant. (Yes, I lost weight while smelling Italian food for 30-40 hours a week. I was motivated and ate tuna fish most of that summer.)
My mom was NOT going to be thinner than me. Even though she is 3 inches shorter and quite thin, it was NOT acceptable to 19 year old me. My mom was OLD, after all, like FORTY. Ha!

Six years later...
I was getting married and had to go to a doctor to get birth control pills. I had never been to a gynecologist before, so this was hell on earth a bit of a traumatic trip for me.
I walked into the office at 4:00 in the afternoon (wearing jeans, a sweater, chunky brown shoes and maybe even a coat), and I jumped right on the scale with no qualms (and with ALL those clothes on). I was there for birth control pills, not a weight consultation; plus, I knew I was healthy and thin. (I caught me a very picky, very handsome man, after all).
I still know exactly how much I weighed that afternoon. It is burned on my brain. I have since looked at weight charts and found that I was indeed in the healthy range for my height. In fact, I was just about "ideal", but the horrible man doctor that I saw that day looked me right in the eye (after making me VERY uncomfortable looking at other parts of me) and told me that I needed to lose 5 pounds.
FIVE POUNDS!!
Can you see the shock on 25-year-old Becky's face?
If I could do it over, I would show up first-thing the next morning with an empty stomach and wearing a sports bra and spandex. I would jump on that office scale and yell, "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, YOU JACKWAGON!" - then give him a dissertation on the damage he is doing to poor unsuspecting women.
But my young, going-to-get-married-and-have-a-man-see-me-naked brain could only hear, "LOSE FIVE POUNDS". So, I started walking again. I didn't manage to lose the weight, but that little trip to the doctor helped solidify the concept that anything above the "ideal" meant that I was fat.

Well, this is getting a bit long and I'm still only in my twenties on this journey. That means I have almost twenty more years of warped thinking and crash diets to share with you. Since I will no longer write a blog series, we'll see if I actually get around to sharing them.
I still struggle with a lot of warped thinking, but I am slowly looking to God to give Him glory in my health rather than comparing myself with the world. I am also learning to focus on my purpose in this world - and that it has NOTHING to do with my vanity or what other people think of my current size.

*Er, at least I THINK I've made some progress (says the gal who is currently boycotting sugar and putting on shoes to go walking...)

Update: I DID write a second part! How I Decided I Was Fat: Part 2

10 Reasons I'll Keep Being a Girl

Such cute little PINK. GIRL. SHOES.
(good thing)

Clay started dieting 5 days after me.
He has lost 10 pounds.
I have lost 5.
If being a girl didn't have it's own perks, I'd quit right now.

Since I want to quit being a girl at least once a month, I have decided to make a "Top Ten" list of reasons that I like being THE girl in my house of boys.

1. All the boys at my house smell worse than I do (especially the big one). Sometimes it's on purpose, sometimes...not so much. Either way, I'm really glad I stink less than them.
2. I don't have to lift heavy things. Ever.  This includes suitcases, coolers loaded with ice, and shovels full of snow from the driveway. My 'men' are always willing to flex their muscles and take care of this little lady. (This may be part of the reason I haven't lost as much weight as Clay, but let's not discuss that.)
3. Boys tend to be hairy. My husband has to shave his face daily. Since his hands are more calloused than mine (and he isn't very observant) I can get away with shaving my legs a bit less often (which doesn't even require a sharp blade scraping my FACE). I also rarely get haircuts (long hair). Actually, my boys rarely get haircuts either; but that's because Clay tells them that "You gotta have long hair to play in a band!" Clay, on the other hand, gets his haircut often (even the few that keep sprouting on top of his head).
4. Girls have way cuter shoes and coats. WAY CUTER!!! Enough said.
5. Purses. Not one of my guys carries a purse. I like purses. I always have what I need right there with me, and I never get too fat for the purse to 'fit'. (Honestly, this is one reason I like shoes and coats too...you can gain 20 or 30 pounds and still feel adorable in the same cute pair of shoes, coat and purse that you had when you were "thin".).
6. In this house, being a girl means I get to blame submit to Clay for the big decisions. He carries a lot of the pressure that goes along with being a family. I get to spout opinions, encourage our gang toward the truth of God, and trust Clay to listen when something worthwhile pops out of me. He, on the other hand, gets the responsibility of leading us. Sometimes I really like that his logical, less reactionary brain has that role. (And I know if I was a man that I would probably have a less emotionally driven brain...but I LIKE my emotions.)
7. Speaking of emotions...I am the one that my boys come to for sentimentality. They snuggle me (probably because I'm soft due to the weight I can't lose - and less muscle-y due to never lifting anything). They have me kiss their boo-boos tend to their injuries, and they also know I will encourage them when they are hurting (instead of telling them to "wipe some dirt on it and get back in the game"). I get to experience a softer side of them that men don't always get to see. 
8. My 10 year old opens doors for me. Not sure where he learned this GREAT idea. He must have been watching out the window one of the 4 times a year that Clay and I go on a date. He is much more likely to let a door hit Clay in the face because it is funny than open it for him. Definitely a benefit to being a girl.
9. I don't have to climb ladders or get on rooftops because my "big, fearless men can do it". I accrued a fear of heights sometime around the age of 25. My husband has no such fear. And my youngest would have jumped from the top of the refrigerator to the floor when he was not yet walking if he could have gotten away with it. (Wait! If he wasn't walking, how did he get on top of the refrigerator? My husband put him there.) Just today, the little one was volunteering to go up in the attic above the garage and chase down mice...as long as he got to climb the ladder. 
10. I texted a girlfriend that I wanted to quit being a woman. I won't tell you her name because she might be mortified when I tell you that she texted this back: "Men have to deal with unintentional erections." I laughed out loud; and in one fell swoop, she convince me that I should indeed stay on my current team.

This post is linked to Many Little Blessings Top Ten

Slap Jack Times Two

Early in our marriage, Clay and I would play card games at night.
We learned quickly that Slap Jack was NOT a game to play if we were trying to strengthen our marriage.
You see, Clay was not as good at Slap Jack as I was.
Nope, he was not a sore loser.
In actuality, I was a sore winner...and had the bruises to prove it.

The goal in Slap Jack is to collect all the cards in the deck.
We would take turn flipping cards; and when a jack would appear, the first to slap it would win all the cards in the pile.
I would inevitably slap the jack first, but Clay's massive meat mallet hand would end up SLAMMING down on top of mine. He'd blame it on momentum, shrug, and reply, "I guess you just need to decide how badly you REALLY want that jack. Is winning WORTH it?"
I like to think of Clay as a protective, sweet man, who's competitive nature is nothing compared to the love he has for his woman. It's obviously a delusional thought, but it's where I live.
So...we no longer play Slap Jack - for the sake of our marriage and my delusional world.
_________________________

The other day, Clay and I were spending some quality time. (We have to work at it a bit more now that we aren't newly married and living in an apartment with nothing to do but draw, play guitar, and wrestle around naked after playing cards.)
We took a Sunday afternoon, let the boys play video games in the basement as long as they wanted and chose to INTERACT with each other. We talked and laughed and wrestled around a bit (fully clothed,  unfortunately, but we WERE in the middle of the sun-room and children could decide they needed hydration at any minute and emerge from the stairwell. We have no desire to scar them in that way - on purpose.)
Anywho...
It was a really good day.
At some point, I pulled out my iPhone to make a note. Clay decided to be annoying while I was trying to type and asked, "You want to play Slap Jack?"
Then, he started poking me and picking at me so I couldn't type.
I pushed the 'Siri' button. I planned to SPEAK my note so I wouldn't have to type.
He began yelling, "Slap Jack, Slap Jack," every time I tried to speak into my phone.
This is what I ended up with:
"slapjack flapjack topdeck Merbrook that ended typing slapjack or at the VA back out of me or Woodenshoe" (Woodenshoe? I no longer have any idea what I was trying to say.)

It is now Clay's goal to start a worldwide phenomena...
Every time someone starts giving their phone verbal commands, he wants SOMEONE to start yelling "slap jack" at them. It could be such a great, annoying trend. *shudder*

*sidenote* My husband can not hear the word phenomena or any other similar sounding 4 syllable word without singing it to the following Muppet song. I love that man.

Armpits

I've been up to my armpits this week in...well, armpits.
You'd think it would be a bad thing, but it's NOT.

Armpits have provided my family with HOURS of entertainment over the past few days. 
I'm not talking about this kind of armpit entertainment (which my youngest learned from his father.)

Instead, we found a new, much easier way for people EVERYWHERE to have musical armpit entertainment. (And when I say "musical"...I mean, my kids actually made MUSIC.)

Unfortunately, this discovery happened in the MIDDLE OF A HOMESCHOOL DAY. (I was reading one of my new favorite blogs My Life and Kids while the boys were doing actual work, and I just couldn't wait to teach them!) So, my children were distracted from improper fractions and ancient civilizations as they tried to focus on improper inventive methods for utilizing their new-found ability.

Music and race cars were two of the more creative ways that we smiled due to bendy straws.
I have video of them squatting and making faces and being quite gross as well, but you don't even need imagination to picture what THOSE look like. (Of course, those moments still made us laugh - a lot. I plan to sneak a straw into bed sometime this weekend and shock Clay with odd noises in the dark. It may not sound romantic, but he will be so attracted to me as we laugh...and laugh...and laugh. I just hope he doesn't "pretend" to have a straw...and answer me back.)
__________________________________________

Last night we had another kind of  "Armpit Moment".
Evan took the fastest shower ever known to man. 
I had asked him to hurry, but his timing was warp speed. 
So I wondered out loud - to his face - about his success at actually getting CLEAN.


"Mom! I'm probably cleaner than NORMAL. I made sure! Smell my hair!"
*I smelled his hair
"It's clean isn't it? Smell my armpit."
"No."
"But it's CLEAN."
If someone asks you to smell his armpit, the answer should ALWAYS be 'No.'
*I'm constantly looking for a teaching moment...and he handed that one up on a platter.
____________________________________________

And today, I have decided to quit writing my latest blog series: "Revelation Road: How Becky Is Getting Broken"
My attention span just can't handle it.
This doesn't seem very armpit-y, you say?
Wait for it...
Wait for it...
For me, a blog series is the armpit of my blogging world.
You see, I am only capable of keeping a theme 'fresh' for so long. Soon, all the hard work that it requires to keep my train of thought starts stinking up what started out to be something pleasant (like deodorant failing in an armpit).
I just have to give up, shower off, and start fresh.
(OK, maybe that's a bit of stretch to make an armpit connection; but I had something else to say, and I wanted to include it in this post.)

There were 4 main events that I planned to share in that little blog series.
They all led up to a big, wonderful crack in my bad attitude (a.k.a. Bad-itude) which happened on January 1, 2013. I knew it might not last, so I promptly instated a 2013 motto:

"Let the things that God is breaking, STAY BROKEN." 

(Notice it's not a resolution. My short attention span gets in the way of resolutions. I don't make them, because I WILL NOT KEEP THEM. But a motto, now THAT is something I can pull out of my pocket when I need it...without feeling like a big ol' liar when I don't quite keep it.)

Anywho...
The journey I took to January 1 is still pretty awesome, but I just don't feel like writing about it anymore.
This whole blog is full of posts where God has been breaking my self-centered will and helping it to line up with His; and I've had a all kinds of *NEW* lessons I've been learning in the past 6 weeks, but I haven't shared about any of them because I thought I should finish my "series".
I know I could finish the series later...and write other things now, but I still feel the expectation hanging over me.
So I'm being realistic about the small expectations in my life that I make into big deals...and the blog series qualifies. Bye-bye unneeded, imagined, unnecessary stress.
It's my blog and I can do whatever I want; and today, I want to laugh about armpits.

Christmas Laughs

Christmas just keeps getting better as our kids get older.
You see, our favorite form of worship is laughter...and our kids just keep getting funnier.

Last night, we went to the extended family Christmas Eve party.
Lots of home cooking, praising our Savior, and children performing.
Yep, it's a family tradition that kids must entertain the crowd.
They sing, they dance, they perform skits or read poems.
This year, our boys decided to shake things up for the older crowd...and brought electric guitars and drums. In true Rassi style, they also made us laugh a little - so the song didn't seem so long.
*sidenote* Evan IS singing; but with his cold, the microphone being too low, and the drums blaring...Micah was a bit surprised to hear that this sounds a lot like a solo.

Christmas morning has been wonderful.
Due to colds and late nights, the family slept in.
Well, everyone but me.
I got to spend time in the quiet, praising God - for becoming man, conquering death, and showing us how to live in this world.
That quiet time was such a wonderful gift, and then this little blessing showed up.

Evan has been working on his "Christmas Outfit" for a couple of weeks.

For years, the Rassi family has told hopeful little children (ornery too, since they are Rassis) that all they are getting for Christmas is "A glass of milk and a spankin' machine."
This year, each boy independently decided to wrap a special present to surprise his brother.
Micah spent an hour building his gift out of Fishertechnics.
He was giggling to himself and couldn't wait to see the look on Evan's face.

The motorized "Spanking Machine".

Unbeknownst to him, Evan was also full of anticipation. He was bursting at the seems to see how Micah reacted when he unwrapped the following gift...

Yes, it's a glass of milk...and our "spanking spoon".

In our house, a successful surprise must be followed by a giggle, an emotional sigh (these come from ME, of course), or a scream.
I'm quite glad they chose giggles this year (because I am also the main screamer).

The boys started off the gift-giving with their pranks, and quickly moved on to the "real" presents.
(Something they want, something they need, something educational.)
In the middle of all it, Clay and I opened up our gifts as well.
By the reaction (more a hearty laugh than a giggle), I would say that THIS was Clay's favorite gift of the day.

If you don't understand why this is funny. Go ahead, yell across the room, "What's Updog?"
See what your friends and family say...it might help explain.
If not, then make a comment below, and I'll explain it to you.

Well, Christmas is not yet over.
I'm off to cook and eat and giggle some more.
I hope you are all taking time to worship Jesus in your own special ways.
(And I'd like to recommend laughter as method that is always enjoyed.)

Luke 2:10 
But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people".

The blogs I haven't written...

I've started 16 different blog drafts.
Some of them have a sentence written down to spark words at a later time.
Some actually include a few paragraphs that I've been meaning to expound upon.
Some of them have been drafts for a very, very long time.

Since purging unused clutter is cathartic to me, I'm getting rid of all those individual posts.
It's time.
But since a few of them make me giggle...I've decided to share their "beginnings" with all of you.

Here goes:
------------------
I just walked by a hotel mirror (naked, because that happens when you are getting ready to take a shower), and I thought, "Wow! I actually like this mirror." Really?! Oh yes.
How did THAT even happen? I generally can't stand to see myself *ahem* in that condition.
It made me think of this ecard I saw on Pinterest.



Biscuit days definitely tend to outweigh skinny days lately (pun intended). Maybe it's because of all the biscuits I've been eating?
Oh well, it was such a nice moment to walk by the mirror and accept myself as I am. It was a rare moment...but I gotta say, it was a nice one.
------------------

I didn't plant a single flower this summer. Not one.

I have five empty pots of dirt sitting around the perimeter of my home which have weeds growing in them. (Two of them right by the front door announcing to the world that my INTENTION was to have flowers.)

Ironically, I smile a little when I look at them because I've been "set free".

(Free from jumping through that particular hoop anyway.)

I just couldn't justify it this year.

The money to buy the plants, the time to plant them, and the energy to water them twice a day in the 100 degree heat...not this year.

They will come again when the "why?" of their existence trumps the "why not?".

Maybe when my kids are grown and I need SOMETHING to take care of? We'll see.

This little scenario represents a bit of the journey I've been on with God.

A constant questioning, a consistent undoing, a continual releasing...

Clarity comes as I let go of my own expectations and the expectations of others.

Peace comes as I ask God the "why?" and "why not?".

-----------------

Wow, I need to grow up.
I was so brainwashed by my 1985 middle school classmates that the after-effects are still felt today.
(at least I'm blaming them since only a handful of them read my blog. Don't worry friends, you PERSONALLY aren't the cause of my immaturity...well, probably.)

So anyway, my 11 year old son just leaned over and kissed me and then cuddled with me - RIGHT IN FRONT OF OTHER KIDS!! 
Shocked? Me too! 
But here's the rub...this warped mother of his, internally cringed. Yep, I said it.
I kept hoping that the other kids wouldn't notice him actually LOVING his mother. 
I didn't want those junior high kids to turn on him! 
Plus, what if the other adults start to think he's a wuss? (He's not wuss. Not by a longshot. In fact, this act actually demonstrates his strength; but I know that most people are just as immature as me and they'd miss that.)

*Sigh* Maybe someday I'll grow up and be more like my 6th grader, but maybe I shouldn't hold my breath until that happens. Or worse, maybe he'll "grow up" and decide it's no longer OK to hug his Mama in public. *shudder* Let's not even go there.
-----------------

I force my opinions about food on others. I do.
For instance:

I don't want my friends to be close-minded about any food. 
Don't tell me you hate vegetables, you just THINK you do.
(Don't worry - I got your back. We'll make this work.)
Don't tell me you don't eat venison, I'll just hide it in your stew...OK, maybe I won't hide it. Probably I won't hide it...
Simply put, when I find out that someone has "issues" with a food or a food genre, I make it my mission to change their opinion. It's a sickness. I know.

Along that note, I have a personal goal to make sure that all my friends have tasted a raw turnip.
(Ah, c'mon...even my KIDS will eat these things!) 
Raw and with a bit of salt, turnips are a tasty little addition to a vegetable tray. 
I had never even tasted one until I was married...and I realized that I was missing out!
You see, my dad always said he didn't like turnips, so my mom never made them. 
(They had both only ever had them cooked.) 
Then, Clay opened my eyes to the flavor of a raw turnip.
I'm not a fan of "old" turnips, they get hot like a radish, but a "good" turnip is a real treat.
Trust me, you just need to come over so I can force help you to try one.
Turnips are similar to kohlrabi, but less sweet.
(Wait, don't tell me you've never had raw Kohlrabi! Maybe we need to eat those when you come over too?) 
I just don't want any of you to miss out on these healthy choices...even if you hate vegetables. 


My husband and I drag invite friends to restaurants which serve (good*) sushi rolls. We let them order whatever food they want, but we order sushi rolls (which coordinate with their taste preferences) and then we threaten to make a scene if they don't try one. 
We've got some pretty adventurous friends (or friends that bow to peer pressure as they imagine the names that we WILL call them for the rest of their lives if they wimp out choose not to partake) so all of them have given in and tried one.
(I should add: EVERY ONE OF THEM has actually liked it - so far.)
*Warning: Not all sushi rolls are equal, go with someone who has had it before. Go with someone who knows your tastes. DO NOT JUST ORDER A CALI ROLL BECAUSE THE WAITRESS TELLS YOU TO (like my friend Woody), because Cali rolls can really suck be a let down if you like flavorful food.

I drag my friends onto my diet bandwagons. It's a fact, I don't like to diet alone. It's so much easier to be excited when I have someone to be excited WITH. I'm not even sure it's possible for me to be faithful to a diet unless I feel like I'm cheating on a PERSON, and not just my waistline when I pick up a cookie. I've got self-control in SPADES when it comes to resisting sweet yummy treats for a friend...but none when it comes down to just me and my little taste buds. (It's part of my spiritual journey I'm still working on. Just imagine how much glory God will get when I finally conquer my infatuation with chocolate chip cookie dough!)
I've been eating "no sugar, no starch" this week...anyone want to join me?

-----------------
Well crud, that was only FOUR of the blog drafts I was hoping to purge (and this post is already getting too long).
I deleted a few others, so now there are only 6 more  taunting me waiting to be finished...
That's ALMOST manageable. We'll see.

No pictures PLEASE!

Photo Credit

My life would be easier without photography.
It may not be as well-remembered, but it would be easier.
Hmmm, without photos:

1. I wouldn't have guilt over scrapbooking (or should I say, NOT scrapbooking?)
2. I wouldn't get overwhelmed by the thought of ORGANIZING 10 million digital photos from the last 11 years (give or take).
3. I would never have a reason to think about how to hold my head "just so" to keep my face from looking fat.
4. I wouldn't have to come up with comical, clever little sayings to make my kids give AUTHENTIC smiles. (OK, sometimes I'm pretty funny and crack myself up, but sometimes it's a pain.)
5. I wouldn't have to see myself in photos and question the mirror that I look into each morning. (I KNOW my butt didn't look that big in those pants when I looked in my mirror - because if it had, I wouldn't have left the house in them.)
6. I wouldn't have to be judged by my photo Nazi friends as I DELETE MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF PHOTOS. Do you know how many cute photos I have of my kids? If it's not funny or painstakingly adorable - DELETED!
7. I wouldn't have to question my heritage. Was my great-grandmother a Satan worshiping heathen? Because when I look at most photos, I think I have her eyes - fiery red.
8. I would get to experience each moment as it actually happens rather than seeing it through a camera lens.
9. I wouldn't be irritated that my kids quit being cute RIGHT WHEN I GOT OUT THE CAMERA. Instead, I would just enjoy them being cute.
10. I wouldn't have proof of how thin I use to be or how much hair Clay used to have...
    Oh wait. I remember why I LIKE having cameras. Proof.

Linked to Top Ten Tuesday and Hip Homeschool Hop

7 Quick Takes

My husband was ready to leave for work and planned to drop off our youngest son at gym class on the way.

If they left immediately, they would be much too early for class - and no third grader wants to stand in the hall at school for five minutes when he can hang out at home for those extra minutes instead. They looked at each other, all dressed up with no place to go quite yet...

What could two red-blooded, testosterone-filled guys DO with five extra minutes? They decided to go ahead and go to the car...in slow-motion. The "race" was on. This is a real-time video. The stretched out voice in the beginning is my husband speaking S-L-O-W-L-Y, for effect.

I had to cut off the video before my little one slow-motioned himself right into the wall (on purpose). They were about to run me over! What a great way to start out the morning!

I love my husband.  

_______________________

Being a year (or ten) behind in scrap-booking is AWESOME.
When we initially took the photos, we thought they were ALL important and adorable.
Ten years later...not so much.
When I'm distanced from an event, it is much easier to delete photos and be choosy about which memories are REALLY worth saving. Plus, only the really funny or really cute photos get put in the book. (Those are the only photos they will want to look at when they are 30 anyway.)
My procrastination is effectively saving me time AND money!
I'm not wasting precious hours trying to figure out what to do with all 40 pictures from an event. I archive (or delete) the 37 shots of other kids that my boys don't even play with anymore (since they don't even remember their names), and I put in the 3 adorable photos that capture the sentiment of the day.
I gotta say, I love it when I'm accidentally brilliant. (Believe me, it doesn't happen often.)
________________________

The sun was shining and our boys were singing praise songs in the back seat of the car.
I looked over at Clay and our eyes met.
I'm pretty sure electricity shot through my body as we shared that knowing look.

That moment embodied so much of my bliss.
Connection at a deep, intimate level with my handsome man.
Peace that our children are on a path toward truth.
The immense love of God surrounding us all.
I want to remember that moment...and have many more like it.
_______________________

Having a recognizable car can be frustrating. 
I got pulled over a few weeks ago and realized that I couldn't just shrink down and hope nobody knew it was me. (For those of you who saw me and were "worried", the cop - who had to follow me for two miles before I realized that he was behind me - only gave me a warning.) Thanks for not (outwardly) mocking me.
Another "problem" I've had is that people keep waving from their NOT-SO-RECOGNIZABLE-CARS. I'm sure I've given many neighbors and friends dirty looks while trying to figure out WHO belongs with the waving hand in the black/blue/silver car that I just passed. If that neighbor was YOU, know that I'm not a jerk...I'm just confused and clueless.
_______________________

My 3rd grader occasionally yells at TV screens, movie screens, and computer screens.
He KNOWS the characters can't hear him, but he just can't help himself. He has to have an outlet for the emotions that he feels. I LOVE that.
He comes by it honest. As I get older and my inhibitions begin to diminish, I KNOW I will be that one lady in the quiet, conservative church who yells out when the moment hits her. I mean, I barely contain my "Preach It Brothers", "Woo-hoos", and "Amens" now.
________________________

My almost 12-year-old "GOT" the suggestive remarks that were made in the "innocent" kid movie.
We were watching the movie "Robots". I looked over at Clay when I heard the offensive comment. (It's what we do. We shoot shocked looks at each other or raise our eyebrows at grown-up humor when we hear it in kid movies) So as my eyes went searching for my husband's, I found my son looking right at me - with a sly grin on his face.
Doh! It's the beginning of the end. My innocent "baby" has gotten old enough to "get it."
________________________


Linked to teachingwhatisgood and hiphomeschoolhop and 7 Quick Takes Friday

A Turd-le?

In my life this week...
"Mom, look what we found crawling across the neighbor's driveway! Can I keep it?"

*sigh*
Do all Moms sigh when they hear that kind of exclamation, or is it just me?
I've been looking for a way to inspire my 3rd grader to WANT to research and learn.
Crud. I think I found it.
Stalling, I replied, "First we have to identify him, learn about his natural habitat, and see if we have what it takes to properly care for him."

We found a handy little website where we could identify our turtle by its shell. The results said that we found an Alabama map turtle. The Alabama part threw us off a bit since we live in Indiana and the "zone" this turtle lives in was a bit south of us. Needless-to-say, we questioned our results. Luckily, they had an email address listed and ENCOURAGED us to send photos so they could help identify our little friend.

While we waited for an email response, my little man named his new friend and fed him some carrot. (All the small turtles we researched had carrots listed as potential food so we tried some out.) We have a friend named Corey Tuttle, so at first he named his new buddy Corey Turtle...but then he changed his mind and started calling him TD. This name was short for TurDle. He is aware that the word turtle does not have a D in it, but that is how HE pronounces it, because he is nine - and everything is funnier when a turd is involved.

We were discussing whether or not I should post an urgent facebook plea: We need a large aquarium and a heat lamp for new family member. "Can anyone help a sister out?"

And then it happened...we got our email back:
Dear Becky,

This is a baby map turtle. I would try to explain to your son that the best thing for this turtle would be to be released back home in a nice, safe place. Then, it can grow up healthy and keep the local turtle population going. Most captive turtles do not survive long.
This little guy should go back home...where he belongs.

Best wishes,
Andy Highfield
www.tortoisetrust.org

I think there is a little part of me that loves Andy Highfield.
You see, in our research we learned that map turtles can live about 30 years.
THIRTY YEARS.
Of course, in captivity, they don't often thrive...so they die much sooner due to lack of proper care. Hmm, that doesn't sound much better.
As I felt the weight of "pet responsibility" looming and was processing our need to buy special equipment and dead flies or fish turtle food, the response from our trusty tortoise expert brought hope. (read: this could be a way OUT)
My son, with his 9-year-old-bleeding-heart, decided to let TD flourish in his natural habitat. We had a little ceremony and let him back into the wild - and I let out a very different kind of sigh.

This post is linked up with Weird Unsocialized Homeschoolers Weekly Wrap Up and Homeschool Mother's Journal

Top Ten: April "Showers"?

April Showers...
With soccer season in full stride and judo practices never stopping, there will definitely be LOADS of April showers in store for my two smelly little boys.
While others may assume April showers happen outdoors (with mud puddles and blooming flowers), all I can consider are the INDOOR April showers which bring interesting scenarios of their own:

1. Outdoor rain showers mean that my indoor bathroom showers will be caked with mud (which doesn't always get properly washed off of little bodies...and sometimes ends up on my towels.) *note to self: make sure the boys use the DARK towels this year.* 
2. A 'good side' to these frequent showers (perhaps the ONLY good side), is that my children are actually TAKING them. Without such constant involvement in sports, my boys just don't stink often enough. You see, unless they stink, I tend to forget to make them take showers (unless, of course, it's before Sunday church). Thank God, in so many ways, for Sunday church.
3. Added bonus: Regular showers mean that they are also regularly changing their underwear. It's so hard for them to remember something like that otherwise...I'm told.
4. With late night practices, our son who takes EXTREMELY LONG showers never seems to go to bed at his "normal" time. (I mean, he has to have a snack first too, right?)  Hmmm, do you think it's all part of his master plan? If so, I must find a way to foil his plans because it really cuts into my time of peace and quiet and no responsibility connection with my husband. 
5. I do have one son who is out of the shower so quickly that I have to smell his head to see if he actually used shampoo. It's amazing how often he "forgets" that showers are to get CLEAN  and not just wet. *Oops, I kind of mentioned that already...with my whining observation about the dirty towels.*
6. All this showering and sports playing causes a great increase in their laundry needs. I have their regular clothes AND their sports clothes to wash...and all that extra underwear. I might consider having them do their own laundry, but it's the ONE JOB in the house that practically does itself. It washes, it dries...and all I have to do is watch a TV show, listen to an audio book, or talk on the phone for an hour...and POOF, it's folded too.
7. Laundry is especially a problem with all the RAIN we get in the month of April. We have a well...and those OTHER pesky showers involving water from the sky (and small rivers in my yard) cause our water to take on a new "spring smell." With spring in the description, you might think it's a good smell...well, think again.
8. I also get a bit tired of daily nagging making asking my children go back into the bathroom and pick up their wet towels and stinky sports clothes. Don't they understand how hard it is on me to scold them that way? (And I'm sure not going to pick them up myself - they're "icky".)
9. Funny thing, wet towels on the bathroom floor are actually an improvement. We are one step closer to "correct." I used to find them on the carpeted floor in their bedrooms - the next day. Now they leave the towel in the bathroom...while they streak across the house to their bedrooms - naked. I think I might start inviting friends over at night...so they REMEMBER TO TAKE CLEAN CLOTHES WITH THEM to wear when they are finished.
10. April showers that happen outside make the grass grow. Maybe our inside April showers can bring some growth this season as well. Towels hung up properly, bodies cleaned thoroughly, Mom  appropriately thanked for clean laundry. *the sun is shining brighter and the birds are already singing just THINKING of that kind of growth*

Welcome April! I might complain, but I really do love your mud puddles, warmer weather, and outdoor activities...and I can't wait to see what else you may bring (that could be even BETTER than May flowers for this Mama.)

Linked up with Top Ten Tuesday and No Ordinary Blog Hop (buttons on the sidebar)

Laughing 'Til I Cried

On my birthday, Clay made me cry...from laughter.
6:00 a.m. and it was still dark.
He snuggled up to me and wished me 'Happy Birthday'.
We lay there quietly until he broke the silence and said, "I spit on myself in my sleep last night."
I lost it...and choked out through chortles and chuckles, "How do you know?"
"It woke me up. I was aware I was dreaming, I felt my my mouth fill up with spit; and I thought, 'I'm in bed - I can't spit.' and then I woke up when it hit my face."

That laugh was one of the best birthday gifts I had all day. It came from my toes and right out my eyes.
My handsome man could have kept that bit of information to himself, but he KNEW it would produce laughter. And in this house, it is practically a SIN to keep joy down...so out the anecdote came.
Boy, am I glad I married him.

The very next day, we were sitting at the breakfast table when I heard:
"Mom, I forget how to wrinkle my chin."
A perplexed look had to have crept across my face because I thought, "Hmm, how DO you wrinkle your chin?"
I tried it myself.
When I looked up and around, I discover all four members of our family with the most hilarious expressions on our faces...wrinkling our chins.

*Go ahead, look in the mirror and wrinkle your chin. Better yet, ask someone else if THEY can wrinkle their chin. Clay thinks you should also ask them to say, "Dur" when they make the face. Either way, just TRY not to laugh.*

This whole exchange was innocent enough, but it made me laugh until I cried...and then I just started crying. Right there at the breakfast table.
My husband's eyes got big - eyebrows raised. I had to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all and responded, "Guess I just needed a good cry. I don't know WHAT is going on with me."
I really didn't.

I still don't know what that was all about.
How does one emotion switch to another so quickly?
I could complain, but instead I praise God for the emotions He gave me. Because of them, I can easily cry WITH loved ones and FOR them. I can embrace their excitement and easily share my own.
And then, then there is the laughter. It comes easily - even in the middle of arguments, fear, or sadness.
All it takes is a clever comment and my emotions get distracted from the intensity of the moment. (As you could already guess, Clay REALLY appreciates - and takes full advantage of - that quality.)

Thank you Lord for those ever-changing emotions, a husband who handles them well...and thank you for laughter that leads to tears.

Ten Quotes from 3 Days

In a restaurant on our way to Toledo, Ohio, I heard myself say:
1. "Stop stealing his french fries - they are the only part of the meal he is actually eating (and you're making him mad)."
2. "Did you just move the table over so he would get TRAPPED under it?"
3. "Please don't tell him that he has to pee in a cup, let him out of the booth so he can use the restroom."
All of these statements were said TO MY HUSBAND.
I am not easily shocked; but on occasion, I do a double-take at what I hear coming out of the mouths of my family members (including my own).

When we got to our Toledo hotel, we discovered that neither of my boys packed a toothbrush. (They remembered DS games and movies for the car, but nothing they could use for hygiene). The hotel would have sold us a toothbrush for a measly $6...but cheap frugal that we are, we sent them to bed with stanky breath and grimy teeth and plans to shop the next day.
We skipped the store before our early judo tournament due to time, so one of my boys tried to use his halitosis for his benefit. He said, 4."I breathed on him in hopes that he'd pass out, and I could get out of the pin." Too bad it didn't work, we would gladly be skipping brushing for ALL future judo events.

When we finally had time to hit the local discount megastore, our 3rd grader found a toothbrush and begged  5. "It has my name on it AND it lights up. Please Mama, please, please, please can I have it?" (batting eyelashes at Grandma while innocently smiling at me. Did I mention that my parents came along on this trip?) I went ahead and bought it. (It's such a small price to pay for the joy of my offspring.) Oh wait, at the checkout, we discovered that the toothbrush cost us $6! I should have just saved myself the trip and bought one at the hotel.

My mother is quite conservative. I respect her greatly for her desire to bring God glory through her speech and actions. I am also VERY AWARE that my husband has a different view of what brings God glory...and I sometimes feel stuck between these two worlds. I'm not sure how many times this weekend that I said to ALL THREE OF MY MEN, 6."Oooo, please don't say/do/think that in front of Grandma..."

At one point in the past three days, my youngest son strode casually through the hotel suite living room on his way to the bathroom. He was buck naked and loudly announced, 7."I have to take a dump before I shower." Then, he proceeded to lock the bathroom door because he 8."needed some privacy." 
Does anyone else see the irony in this picture? I pointed it out to him...and he snickered.

We visited the Toledo Art Museum on our last day away - which was AWESOME (and free). While there, we were able to watch a glass blowing exhibition AND listen to some chamber music recitals (many musicians were blowing wind instruments). These two experiences sparked many comments and chuckles centered around the fact that  9."Toledo Art Museum REALLY blows." 


After returning home on Sunday, I was thinking about the bathroom I saw at the glass museum (and wondering if the glass sinks had been hand-made). I started mentally redecorating our own master bathroom and asked, "If we take down this mirror and replace it, where would we put this HUGE old mirror?" My husband (with toothbrush hanging out of his mouth) pointed into the bedroom - at the ceiling.
10. "No we are NOT hanging it THERE," I replied. (That'll teach me to dream about redecorating.)
_________________________________

These are just a few of the statements that I remember from our trip away. (The ones I can blog about without COMPLETELY losing all of your respect.)
I love my family and how much they make me laugh...even if their actions sometimes make me question my own ears...or mouth.

This post is linked up to Top Ten Tuesday and Hip Homeschool Hop

For me?

"Look what my yo-yo string did...It's for YOU!" 

I'm a sucker for a loving gesture...and he knows it.
Not that he isn't a sweetheart - he is...
But sometimes he does things JUST so I'll sappily sigh "Aaaaaw" and hug all over him.
He knows how to make an impact...and he plays me like a violin.


I am praying now for the day when he realizes that this super-power might actually work on OTHER girls  - who aren't his Mama. God be with us.

10 Things: Homeschool Blog Link-ups

This silly little blog-o-mine led me down a path where I discovered OTHER Homeschool Mom Blogs. They have blog parties where they link-up with each other.
At first, I thought it was genius! All those blogs in ONE PLACE.
Then, 10 hours later when my eyes were blurry from staring at the screen and reading blogs all night...I started to re-evaluate this whole process.
I still love the link-ups to discover interesting, fresh ideas - and (probably more honestly) some good laughs,  but here are some other discoveries I made while traveling through homeschool cyberspace:

• I want to KISS the moms who are SPECIFIC with their blog titles. If they label their link "Mod-podge activity for 4th graders" rather than "Homeschool Week #52"...they AT LEAST deserve a medal (since a kiss from me might be a bit off-putting to some.) No offense to the mothers of preschoolers, but I've been there, done that, and don't have time to read about it all again. I need to know which links are the most beneficial use of my time.
• Other stay-at-home-moms need adult interaction (and someone to be interested in their school activities) just as much as I do. (And I can be pretty hard up some days.) 
• In a list of blogs, I am much more likely to read a blog named "I School Crazy People" than something called "Biblical Mommyhood."   I have enough serious in my life. I'm happy to learn something new...but while you teach, could you try to make me giggle? 
• Some Mom-bloggers are just plain CLEVER. My school has gotten WAY more interesting since I started stealing learning from other teachers. The creativity in the projects is awe-inspiring. No, I should say it's actually enough to inspire...LEARNING. *big happy sigh*
• Speaking of clever inspiration, some of these homeschool bloggers are FUNNY. I am a much better sidekick than I am a headliner. I'm always ready with a clever retort, but some of these moms should go on the road. They approach a blank screen and leave it giggling with humorous homeschool fodder.
• I love Google Reader! If I find a fellow mom who "gets" me, I can get updates without having to re-find that little link over and over and over again.
• Reading "highlights of the week" from someone else's homeschool can be detrimental to a fragile homeschool mom psyche. (At least I GUESS it could be...ahem) Highlights don't often include bored moments, arguments, or assignment flops. Pretty photos of smiling kids and active, creative, inspiration can be hard to look at if your hair is sticking up on end and children have been sent to opposite corners of the house. 
• I find myself glancing down a blog looking for pictures and links that look interesting or helpful. (I guess I should make sure I include a picture or a link when I write my own blog if I want people, like myself, to stick around and read MORE.)
• I love Homeschool Moms. I love their hearts. I love their effort. I love their failures. I love their desire to help others. I love their adoration for their kids. I love their struggles. I just love that these moms let me climb into their worlds...and I hope a few choose to climb back into mine.

This list is linked up with Top Ten Tuesday and Hip Homeschool Hop

Weekly Wrap Up

In my life this week...
This post should just say, "Zzzzzzzzzzz...."

I'm tired due to excessive SUNSHINE. It makes me skip, and walk, and play, and clean...

No worries, it's a good tired...it's just my muscles revolting after months of lethargy.

At least it was a good tired for most of the week.
My husband has been gone, and today the tired took a different track. We ALL  (the boys and I) hit the "living without Dad" proverbial wall.
I need reinforcements. The boys need to wrestle...
We are tired of holding down the fort.

I started my week out laughing at this cartoon and ended the week feeling a bit like this Mom..:

Comic by Todd Wilson (author of The Official Book of Homeschool Cartoons)

My boys haven't had issues with fractions...but I have DEFINITELY felt that I might die trying before they "get" that I want them to LOVE each other in their responses...or clean up their sports equipment...or eat with their mouths over their plates...or quit complaining about writing...or...
I love a good laugh.
I love that this comic reminds me that I'm not dead yet...and I still have tomorrow - after Prince Charming returns.

This week in homeschool...
We supplemented our curriculum with a bit of Pinterest school.
I only recently discovered this handy little tool. Everything I stumble across on blogs or Google located in ONE PLACE? Jackpot!
So, here are some of the ideas that I stole pinned from others and USED this week:

We did sentence diagramming: 

Videos: http://www.english-grammar-revolution.com.

Worksheets and Reference Sheets:  http://www.a-z-worksheets.com/diagramming-sentences.html

We celebrated Pi Day (March 14...you know, 3.14)

We compared finding the perimeter of a square with finding the circumference of circle.

Found a great little lesson online which EXPLAINS what Pi is. Good times.

We made not one, but TWO pies on Pi Day.
Pumpkin for Big and Chocolate Peanut Butter for Little.
After EATING two pies, the circumference of our waistlines probably increased by AT LEAST 3.14...

And good thing Daddy is finally getting home...so he can "help" dispose of the school projects.


We had Art Club again this week.
I teach a once-a-month class to make sure my children do "proper" art on occasion. (They draw comics, build Legos and construct cardboard guns ALL THE TIME...but those only kind-of "count")

This week, the art element we covered was TEXTURE.
The artists we discussed were Van Gough, Jackson Polluck and Anselm Kiefer.
We also came up with ALL KINDS of methods for creating textures:

Crayon/Chalk rubbings

Torn/folded paper

Patterns and shading 

Found objects 

We talked about painting over the found objects to make them cohesive

Glue Art (draw with glue and let dry, paint over it
and put some shoe polish on it to help glue stand out)

Of course, we discussed:

Adding sand and grasses to paint (like Keifer)

Splatter painting (like Polluck)

And finally, I introduced them to a technique called

Quilling (or filagree) where paper is rolled to make neat things like this:

Click here for instructions
at Dick Blick 's website

I CAN'T WAIT to see the finished projects...and to spend this month MAKING them.
Woo hoo!

Things I'm thinking about...
I'm thinking that this blog gets really long on Fridays when I highlight the "extra" projects we do in a week.
I get so excited as I look back and realize all the fun we had (that too often gets forgotten under piles of worksheets and grading and whining about writing assignments).
I love being part of the learning process.
I love learning a little more each day myself.
Now, I'm off to blog-stalk and steal pin some more GREAT ideas from other teachers and moms who want the best for their students as well.