Chesed

All this sorting / fixing up / selling / moving stuff has turned my brain from hyper to ADHD status. I misuse words, forget what I’m saying in the middle of a sentence, call the boys by the wrong name constantly, and feel completely inefficient. I start posts and can’t finish coherently, so here’s a dump. Some day I will be back to normal. For now, you never know what all is going to be included.

Funny, exasperating boys.

Oh, my. They are my life and the cause of my premature aging all rolled into one energetic, noisy package.

One minute I feel like I’m shouting. The next I’m laughing. The next I’m rolling my eyes. 

Liam’s vocabulary is doing the most fun explosion. He’s grasping bigger concepts and I hear his language development start happening as he tries to follow us. So we have conversations like this on the way home from town as we drive past the Dollar Tree.

Adam: “I HATE Dollar Tree. And Dollar General.”

David (calmly): “I hate Walmart.”

Liam: “I HATE mushrooms.”

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He picks up a word and uses it all the time. At completely random moments of the day he will look at me with big sober eyes and say, “I feel nervous.”

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He is totally into faces right now and describes women like this, “She has a very nice face.” He’s totally smitten with a few girls he keeps trying to describe to me and I cannot figure out who they are. When I told him to show me he said he will just tell me in a secret when he sees them so no one will laugh. He also says David’s face is nicer than mine. It’s always special being the well-loved mom.

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Speaking of being loved, Adam is so done with my cooking. I will admit, I’ve gotten into a rut. We eat a lot of repeat menus from week to week because I just don’t have enough free brain cells to follow up on my pinterest leads at the moment and even less desire to crack a cookbook. Between the overload and Liam’s confines, well, if you want rice and beans or a huge salad, or roast beef or sweet potatoes of some kind, you’re pretty likely to get them at some point if you stay for a week. Adam is thrilled with all the carry ins he’s been attending and he doesn’t hide his reason in the least. “Oh, GOOOOOOOOOD, because now I won’t have to eat your food.”

It got funnier. One night as we were getting ready to say bedtime prayers David asked each of us what we wanted the others to pray about for us. I was way too tired and said I just couldn’t think of anything that night. Adam piped up immediately, “Well, we could pray that you would cook better food.” I literally howled with laughter.

The problem was, it wasn’t a one time thing. I woke up to the fact that he was an incredibly ungrateful child. A while ago I was working very hard to make sure I actually cooked things for breakfast … mostly breakfast casseroles and baked oatmeal or cooked oatmeal or scrambled eggs …. trying to get one step further from processed foods this time in the name of cereal. Adam complained every single morning about wanting cereal. And almost every other day he was complaining about the food in his lunch. Well, with everything else taking over, we are back to the land of cereal in the mornings (at least for him since he hates my homemade granola) and, you guessed it. He peers into the cereal cupboard and complains about wanting something else.

It gets worse. Pretty much every clothes purchase gets a rolled eyes and an, “I don’t like that one.” And if I come home and didn’t get anything for him, he nearly tears up.

Today I said, this is it.  If this were only about solving frustration at our house now, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  But suddenly I saw Adam’s life flashing in front of me as a completely ungrateful, life owes it to me adult.  After a pretty pointed talk on ingratitude I told him that if this continued I would not be buying one single thing just for him for six months. And if something came up that he needed, he would simply do without. I talked to him about what God thinks of ingratitude. He can voice an opinion about what he likes but he cannot just complain about everything he gets in every shape and form. I talked to David about it when he got home from work and he took it a step further. For every complaint about breakfast, Adam will be eating cooked oatmeal for a week (his least favorite breakfast). If he complains about lunch, there will be plenty of leftover hot food, but no chips or cookie. If he complains about supper, there will be a week of rice and beans (which he loves, but he hates eating the same thing again and complains wildly) and if that doesn’t cut it, it will get changed to rice with stew beans (which he hates). He asked Adam if he thought this was fair. Adam said, “Yes.” I also told him that if I hear gratitude voiced for something, it will redeem a meal. He can’t just sit and spin off five random thanks because he knows he’s in trouble though. He so rarely expresses any thanks or gratefulness in any shape or form.  Even when given something extra special, he has to be prompted to say “thank you.”  Life completely revolves around him. And half the time I don’t think he even knows what he wants. He just wants whatever he can’t have. So, it’s a deal.

I knew he was terrified of the new deal, but he took it with fortitude. We talked before dinner because there were going to be mushrooms. “So Adam, tonight when there are mushrooms, what would be a nice way to talk about them instead of saying, ‘I HATE mushrooms?” He hemmed around and finally said, “I will eat these mushrooms.” I’m not interested in lying or forced love of something he actually doesn’t like. I just expect respect. “How about, ‘I would be happy to share these mushrooms with anyone who wants some’?” David suggested he ask about how many he needs to eat. Adam nodded. Nothing prepared me for what happened when we sat down.

“Mommy, I would like to try one bite of that hummus (he hates it).” Oh, how I cheered.

And a minute later, “I think I’ll eat all of these mushrooms tonight.” I could not believe it. But I just smiled quietly when one mushroom later he offered to share the rest after all and I gratefully obliged.

This afternoon Christy was asking me if we’re still having table manner troubles. Oh, you bet we are. And then she gave me the greatest solution from (drum roll) pinterest. Put a little toy pig on the table. Any person caught displaying poor manners gets the little piggy beside his plate with a quiet explanation. At the end of the meal, whoever has piggy in front of them needs to clear the table. Cha ching. Adam thought it was the greatest idea ever. And oh, how relaxed and happy our table time was tonight between moves of piggy which were always met with giggles from somewhere. Absolutely stellar. Liam cleared the table, and I was secretly relieved. Adam had a lot on his plate for one day!

I’m really curious about how this is going to play out.  Adam was so respectful the rest of the day, but what surprised me even more was that he voiced pleasure about things occasionally.  I think he’s going to knock this bad habit yet!

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On Thursday I suddenly realized we had twenty-one days til the day we thought we’d have the house ready for market. TWENTY ONE! David would have to go without sleep from now until then in order for that to happen. It does not help at all that his new clients suddenly need meetings on his off time. He defends them saying they work five days a week until 5. I said he does, too. Apparently it doesn’t matter. He works until they’re finished talking. Oh, well, vacation is coming. And hey, the grounds will look $10,000 better later in March anyway so it may be God’s way of keeping us held back, biting impatiently for no reason. The good news is, we ARE making progress. How is this for a little living room wow factor?

Before:

(Still haven’t found a good one of the wall pre-built in. Obviously I was avoiding it in pictures!  Here’s a little bit of perspective.)

After:

Remember the white leather furniture? We didn’t buy it. I was sad for awhile. I’m not anymore. It honestly would have been the most perfect thing in this living room ever. But I am equally convinced we’ll like this set better for our next house so I’m living without regrets.



And while I am a huge fan of Adam and Liam’s artwork, I am an even bigger fan of David’s. Can everyone just say wow, wow, wow?! Is it not awesome? He is truly amazing. The realtor who came by to give us feedback on the house said she doesn’t think doing the built in will add that much.  I said, “You underestimate my husband’s work.”  Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t.  After touring our house, guess who she called when she had a small house fire in their bathroom? 

I adore the furniture feet and the drawer hardware makes my heart do faster than normal thuds. The first night after he installed the main shell we turned the recessed lights on and sat in the dark talking until twelve. It totally made the living room grow up. Aaaaaand, please don’t miss the fact that my Christmas gift 2010 end tables now also have drawer hardware. The carpet that bulged within two years of being laid is re-stretched and I will be very happy to spread the word on who NOT to hire to install carpets in this area if you need a reference. Not only does he lie repeatedly about when he is coming and when he will have the job done (all while telling you he’s too busy going to prayer meeting), he does very shoddy workmanship. David stretched it himself this time because aforementioned carpet installer refused to come back and look at it. Everything is cleaned out, the walls, light, and trim has been washed. With a bit of touch up paint and some window washing when it warms up, we have one room ready to go.

I totally felt like my mom when I made the pillows for the sofa. I *adore* this one on Pottery Barn, but the price not so much. I had leftover fabric from the chair we reupholstered and I thought of my mom and said why not? She never spent a lot of time thinking about why she couldn’t do something. She just figured out a way and did it. I grabbed Adam’s brown craft paint and one of the boys’ paint brushes (sometime I want good brushes in the house, not a $5 multi-pack) and brushed away. It’s not perfect and it’s better to look at the Pottery Barn version and then go iron for an hour and then look at mine, but the resemblance is there. What I want to know is this, why when I make square pillows that are exactly square pieces of fabric do the corners puff up like owl ears when I stuff them?

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It’s crazy cold outside.

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Adam is trying to invent a new airplane.

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It makes me want to cry when we tell our neighbors that we are moving and they get so sad. It happened again today. The truth is, I’ll miss them terribly. No, we don’t know all of them, but the ones we do are the kind you just never want to give up. When N and A were here for dinner last month, N almost convinced us to just rent the house out instead of selling it. I’m 90% sure we’ll sell; but one of the biggest reasons I’d want to rent is the great people who live around us.

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I have about six adorable ideas for Valentines Day. I wish this year I could be the cool mom who carries them out.

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Today at church the pastor talked about how we often think that when Moses came down off the mountain with the ten commandments and the people were dancing around worshiping the calf, Moses was so angry he threw the stone and broke it.  He thinks Moses came down off the mountain and saw the people worshiping the calf, he knew the first commandment said “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” and he instantly knew that the knowledge would condemn them to death.  God hates idolatry.  Moses threw the stone out of love and pity for the people.  David and I were discussing it on the way home and had no idea Adam was listening until he broke into our conversation.  “Mommy, I always thought Moses came down and saw the people breaking the law (figurative) so he broke the law (literal stone).”  Is there possibly anything more precious and fresh than hearing a child’s perspective and logic?  I adore that child.

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On Friday I spent most of the day with my friend, Tamseela, who grew up in Pakistan and moved here a few years ago when she got married.  We had a crazy, fun time together talking and laughing and shopping for curtains for her house.  Her cooking is fantabulous!  Have you ever had anything made with fresh ginger root?  It is truly amazing.  Maybe Adam’s prayers are coming true.  I’m definitely feeling a bit more inspired about the kitchen. 

How do you EVER decide where the balance is between living out of fear and ignoring caution?

How do you EVER decide when you’re looking for too much perfect in a church and when you should keep looking?

How did Mennonites get sooooooooooo hung up in church membership that you can’t just get out of one? You have to transfer?

Why can people not learn to be kind?

Why is there so much silence when there should be words and so many words when there should be silence?

Why when I finally feel like staying up late to type do I have to face getting up at 4:45 to go to the gym?

Raaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I am in a mood.

…. about being allowed to paint when you are sick?

…. about a fun game of Rummicub?

…. about a three year old who vacuums the kitchen (and stacks the new rolls of toilet paper in the bathroom vanity, dusts the baseboard, organizes the toy food, and asks, “What else tan I do fo’ ‘ou?”)?

…. about more sunshine and mild temperatures in winter than I can remember in a long time?

…. about discovering that I have enough credits to enjoy six months of xanga premium? (goodbye ads, hello protected posts)

…. about the smell of a new bag of eight o’clock coffee?

…. about realizing the tea has gone sour in the frig which means I really am cutting back on the habit?

…. about feeling achey and flu-like and realizing it is the first time we’ve been sick all winter?

…. about finishing up some major projects (even if there are still a dozen to go)?

…. about a book that stirs your passion, motivates you into action, cuts through the drivel of your cobwebby vocabulary, and leaves you with just the right amount of tension at the lack of resolution in the end …… even when the story had absolutely nothing to do with things you are passionate about. Odd, I tell you. But I like it.

What made you happy this week?

It’s been a little quiet here. Not here as in our house, because quiet only happens at nap-time. Quiet as in this little space I’ve carved out to ramble. Quiet doesn’t always mean there is nothing happening. Sometimes, like a too quiet preschooler, it means a great deal is happening under the surface. Apparently one of the few things that stops my overactive tongue is a big load mentally.

If you’ve been here before you know that we are selling the house we built and dreamed of living in for a lifetime. You know that we are moving to another state, pulling up our fairly established roots and heading North. A few of you know that we are in the process of finding another home church. Granted, that normally goes with moving, but this is different. There is no established church at camp. Plus, we’d decided (literally three days) before we were asked to move to camp, that it was time for us to move on. If you’ve ever been Mennonite, you know how involving this is. To add to the strangeness of attempting to jump into a church for about four months and call it home, we are still sitting in limbo, not knowing where to go. It feels as though we have been led out by God, but have not yet clearly been led in anywhere else. Unless as David says, “maybe we’re just being stubborn and not hearing it.”

In the past, I’ve read the story of Abraham and marveled at his ability to walk in faith. I wondered what it felt like to leave his family and the place where he belonged (assuming he felt he did). I wondered what his friends said, or didn’t say. I think about him a lot today. But unlike the yesterdays when I wondered what it felt like, today I draw strength from his example of unwavering faith and courage. From seeing the way that following God is more important than knowing the destination. Even if that looks odd to other people.

I find it odd to feel so free in the middle of so much unknown. Will our house sell? I don’t know. When will we move? Whenever the house sells. What house will we live in there? I don’t know. Will there be room for our things or do we need to get rid of a lot? I don’t know. When will we have another baby? I don’t know. What church are we going to join? I don’t know. How long will we live at camp? Other than needing to stay for two years, I don’t know. It could be two. It could be ten. It could be a life time.

“I don’t know,” is really not what we had in mind for our lives. We were settled. We love Virginia and where we live. I dreamed of summer cookouts with the friends the boys had known all their lives. I knew exactly which dentist, pediatrician, family doctor, and gynecologist I liked best. I loved our local library and the postal clerk makes me smile every week when I go in to ship books. And while I definitely dreamed of less winter, I could very happily have lived in this house for the rest of my life. It’s a comfortable life. My security gland purred like a fat cat.

When everything first upended, I could not believe how many facets of our life it touched. Yet strangely, I don’t feel completely out to sea. There is a strange mix of sadness and freedom. Sadness for the things we are losing coupled with a tinge of adrenalin for the adventure that lies ahead of us. Because the not knowing, doesn’t mean it’s going to be awful (even though I still fear mildew in the next bathroom). The “I have no idea,” changes to “Who knows where we will be in ten years?” If God did the unexpected once, who is to say it won’t happen again? Suddenly, holding the plays in our life loosely feels a little like the adventure of turning twenty and wondering what you are going to do in life, only with the added benefit of ten (never mind how much plus) years of perspective and of knowing God does not leave you in a lurch. My control freak tendencies have gone latent and the born for adventure streak I’ve missed for years has arisen out of darkness. I still cry some days, and I definitely wail about a few lifestyle changes, but overall, I am crazy excited.

I can’t wait to see how our house plays cards on the market. Will it be snapped up in March and we’ll be forced to do a rushed, premature move? (I pray not) Or will it sit idly with nibbles and quibbles and stall us for months? (Nerves of steel, please) Who will be the next owners? A family with young children like us who love the spacious bedrooms and walk in closets, the swing set in the yard, and the patio for a pool or retired grandparents who love all the space for entertaining and the custom moldings? Or maybe a family right in the middle who will convert the unfinished part of the basement into a home gym or media room and the laundry room into a mini kitchenette. Will they keep the garden and it’s loads and loads of compost or will they seed it in or turn it into a blueberry patch? Will they ever let us come back to visit?

How will the boys adjust to moving? How will Adam adjust to homeschooling? Will we get to keep up with our awesome neighbors who have also become our friends? What will it be like to live in such a socially isolated community? What positive changes could happen in our little family (don’t reverse that question!)? What new friends will we learn to love that we would have completely missed out on by staying here?

Only time will tell. For now, I am strangely happy with being the girl on the move.

It’s been a crazy afternoon. The last few days when Adam gets home from school, all bad behavior breaks loose. There is a rebuttal for everything I ask. There is wild, hurtling of bodies and touching of many things that should be left alone. There is fighting and rough play that ends up hurting and just too much too much too much. By eight o’clock tonight I. had. had. it. They were going to bed at regular time whether or not they got to see daddy who was coming home late.

A goodnight prayer and bedtime hugs and kisses and I felt like I could be a mom again. I heard sweet whispers upstairs. At least they weren’t arguing so I let it pass. Then I heard little footsteps in the hallway. “Mommy, it ooks ike dere’s a tocodile in my bed, but dere’s not.”

Liam has suddenly developed fear issues. It started with a bang one night when he woke up screaming, sweating, and completely panicked because there was a black face in his room. It took hours, literally, to calm him completely. By then he had Adam freaked, so I slept with Adam and David took Liam to bed with him. The next day he had a full-blown panic attack coming up the steps in full daylight. I held him for awhile, read stories, and then for the rest of the day kept him right beside me without making a big deal of it. I thought it would be better to keep him with me til he wants to venture out then to separate us and have him screaming again. So everywhere I went I said, “Come, Liam, let’s go change the washer and dryer.”

For the most part, it ended. Except at night. I talked to him the next day and told him what dreams are … that sometimes they are of scary things and we call them nightmares and sometimes they are good things, like maybe that we are in a boat fishing. And it feels and looks exactly the same as if it was really happening, but it’s not. It’s only happening in our minds. He smiled and seemed to understand. So now he sometimes tells me he saw an elephant on our front porch. And sometimes at night he says he is afraid of animals or that he sees them.

Tonight my oh-so-weary-of-constant-rudeness-checks heart completely melted.

“Do you want Mommy to come upstairs?” I asked in response to the crocodile statement.

He said yes and hiked his brave little self back to bed even before I got there. I flipped the hallway switch to give him a little more light and flopped onto his bed. “Liam, shall I pray and ask Jesus to help you not see the crocodiles?”

Liam: “Oh, yes. I p’ayed al’eady by myself, but it’s so dark the tocodile is still dere on du bed, but it’s not.”

Me: “Would you like if I would pray, too?”

And so I prayed. That Jesus would help his mind to rest. And that He would send angels of peace. No sooner was my amen out before Liam started his own little prayer. And like always, he thanked Jesus for everything instead of asking. “Fank ou dat du tocodile isn’t dere. Fank ou for sending angels. Fank ou dat I tould not be dared anymore. Amen.”

I don’t know why in the world I thought I was tired of being mommy today. I could do this forever. At least until tomorrow afternoon when the after-school fiasco begins again.

I wish I knew which month our house will sell so I would know if I have time to do lots of projects or only the very most important.

I wish I knew that I would never be so dumb again as to think we want to re-upholster a chair.

I wish I knew if we will ever have another boy child so I knew whether I should save some clothes or get rid of everything outgrown before we move.

I wish I knew what house we will move into when we do move so that I would know how much I need to downsize, what color and size the interior rooms are, and whether I will need to get rid of half my dishes and the bed in the guest room and the treadmill and where in the world we will store all the boxes of Marital Bliss books we sell.

I wish I knew what it is like to live at camp.

I wish I knew what homeschool curriculum I should order to give Adam the best education possible. I never, ever planned to homeschool and my brain is shooting in too many tangents.

I (kind of) wish I knew how long we will live at camp. No wait, maybe I don’t.

But tonight, I REALLY wish I knew if white leather furniture is impractical. We were looking at used brown sofas for a practical, no fuss option with the boys. And then we both fell ridiculously head over heels in love with this set (ignore the blue green chair in the foreground).

David has taken a turn for the practical since we’re home. Mostly he is afraid I will fuss at the boys constantly for dragging in dirt (valid issue). My emotions are sitting in that most-comfortable-ever leather sofa wanting to cross my fingers and think it will all wipe off. If it’s hard to keep clean, I really don’t want it. If it stains easily, I don’t want it. But what if it really wouldn’t? What if the boys could come in from their dirty garden play and sit on it and I could wipe it all off at the end of the week?

I just wish someone would hand out the wisdom of the ages. Or even a snippet of good advice. What do you think?

Let me remember what a treasure you are.

Except that today isn’t really “normal.”

I finished up the cleaning and laundry yesterday and the chair project on my list for today came to an abrupt halt when I realized I still didn’t have the correct size cording.

It’s grey and lazy outside.

It’s quiet and blissfully less-pressured inside.

It’s not freezing cold.

The cardinals are not so shy at the feeder.

It may just be one of my favorite days in December.

(6:30 this morning, no kidding)

(ready for school on time … unlike yesterday)

(mixing brownies … are you the mom who is in never in the pictures? Go take some. One day your children will wonder what you looked like)

Congrats to three happy people:

Giveaway #5: Ordinary Days, Upstairs the Peasants are Revolting, Downstairs the Queen is Knitting
winner: Cheryl! I emailed you for your shipping address. Congratulations!

To those of you who didn’t win, you can order any or all of these directly from Dorcas or on Amazon. See details here.

Giveaway #6: Marital Bliss
winner: deansgal! Please message me your address. Congratulations!

To those of you who didn’t win, visit this page or your local bookstore or Amazon.

Giveaway #7: Life is A Gift
winner: AngelAsh_86! Please message me with your shipping address. Congratulations!

To those of you who didn’t win, you can order directly from Jennie. See details here.

To all my mom friends … whether you’re dragging or bouncing this cloudy Monday … I mixed up the Irish blessing just for you:

May your floors stay clean for an hour
May your oven clean itself
May your laundry fly back into drawers
May you feel inspired for supper
And until bedtime comes
May your voice be graced with patience
And your children know your love.

LIFE IS A GIFT

I feel wordless. This book is unbelievable, yet it’s a true story. It is heart-wrenching grief and the ability to live with great joy.

I would rather not tell you the story, because I hate when someone robs me of the element of surprise in a book. Caught between that and the deep emotions I felt while reading, I’m left with few words to give you. So I will say this.

Jenny Miller is my new hero.

She has walked places in her life that most of us would quake to think about. She shares the story of her life and her journey with God through it all in a rich, honest, powerful, vulnerable way. Yet, in spite of the fact that her pain tops most of the ones we live with, I never felt any vibes of “well, I should just be grateful that I only struggle with xyz because she has it way worse.” We all have those moments of total surrender to God. Of giving up something we desperately long for. Because in those moments of surrender, we truly find God. So even though her story is one no one would ever wish for, her story also makes her so easy to relate to. At the end of the book I had this enormous urge to call her and ask her if we could go out for coffee again. Totally bizarre since I’ve never talked to her in person and she lives thousands of miles from my house.

It’s a story of tears. Of learning. Of profound gratitude. And most of all I am overwhelmed by her tremendous desire to see good in life. To make it beautiful. To live well.

Jenny, thank you. Thank you for writing your story to share with the world. We are richer because of it.

Here is the introduction:

“The only sound is my blades cutting across the ice as we leisurely skate toward the far end of the arena and round the corner. We spin and twirl as if trying out for the Olympics. Only a little more slowly. And a lot less gracefully.

“I whirl my beautiful daughter’s wheelchair around so she faces me. ‘Happy Birthday to you,’ I sing softly, breaking the silence. Her eyes widen. ‘Happy Birthday to you.’ Her eyes begin to twinkle. ‘Happy birthday, dear Courtney ….’ I hold out the note and her face breaks into a grin. She’s beaming. ‘Happy Birthday to you.’

“We take off again, the wind whipping through our hair as we enjoy the ice and the rhythm and each other. We have the rink all to ourselves, and we take full advantage, singing and laughing and sharing secrets.

“Just for today, we pretend there is no such thing as disease or disability. We choose to believe that life is a gift and embrace wholeheartedly the beauty of this day. We relax and reflect and remember …..

“Remember the lessons of faith and life we have learned. Remember the amazing grace of our Father as we walked the journey set before us. And remember the God moments we’ve encountered along the way … some full of joy, others full of heartache, but always undeniably from the hand of God.

“All because God sent three darling little girls into my life and changed me into the person I am today. I wish you could meet them. Not just meet them, but truly become part of their lives and allow them to be part of yours. I believe it would change you, too.”

To enter: leave a comment on this xanga post. You can earn a second entry by linking to facebook or your blog. Come back and leave a second comment telling me you did so. If you do not comment with a xanga or facebook identity, please check back when the giveaway ends or leave your email address so that I can get the books to you. Giveaway ends Thursday, December 8th.

And just for fun, a gift basket idea:

I did this basket as though I were going to give it to my friend, Jeanne, mom to Benjamin in my children’s book, My Brother’s Keeper.  Although the truth is, she is the one who called me two days ago to make sure I had this book because she wanted to order it for me if I didn’t.  But IF I were giving it to Jeanne, I would want to include a pretty scarf and a starbucks gift card and a note that includes the words, let’s go do something fun tomorrow.  Because somehow it feels just like something Jenny would do, knowing how much a mom like her just needs to get away sometimes to regain perspective.

To order your own copy: visit this page.

Good luck!

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