It's Fine to be Nine!

Our crazy haired blue eyed baby turned 9 today. She's sensible, practical, funny, full of big dreams and she makes me so proud. I stole her and her pal, Emma away to go adventuring up a mountain side in our new rig, Rosie (a bright red 1977 Suburban) on a rainy day in April. We had a blast! We threw rocks, made wishes, built a campfire, saw wild animal tracks and thoroughly soaked in the deafening roar of the creek as it rushed down the mountain. Later that evening we ate salmon and rice with glazed carrots for supper. This is Bet's top request when she is ever given the option. Her daddy and I gave her her first compound now. It's a Lil' Banshee. We all target shot for an hour or so and then retired inside for carrot cake and cream cheese frosting while we watched Prince Caspian (again). Betsy Mae made me a Mama. She taught me so many things but mostly how to love and be loved. Her kindness toward animals and her tender heart for The Lord makes me hopeful that she will do well in life. I adore her giggle and her smile. But most of all I love the countless freckles on her nose. She's my girl. Always. 

Happy 9th Girl! 

Putting Things Away

I am not sure if it's been the long frozen winter months and the amount of boots, gloves, hats, scarves, and snow pants that clutter my small cabin. Or if it's the panick nearly every Sunday morning because we can't seem to find one cowboy boot for Ty or Sally is aimlessly wondering around with 2 left sweater boots in her arms. It could be the boys' "speed shoes" (which are brilliantly named so by their Pal, Judah) laying under the table or in the deep dark whole of the toy box. It could also be Lou's ballet clothes and Bet's one ragged piano book  and their notebooks they use for Children's Church. And now that I think of it, it could also be the mountain of sweaters, hoodies, light jackets, heavy coats, rain coats, dress coats, and full on Walls coveralls, used for feeding the chickens and the pony in sub zero weather all stuffed into our lives. Sigh...

Regardless of which overstuffed, spilling over, lost and out of place items it is, it has got me thinking. Puting things away where they belong is really important. I have heard myself say this 1,437 times. I have heard it said many more times than that and I often find that I mutter it to myself when my bedroom gets beyond belief. "It would be so much easier to find what I need if it had just been put back where it belongs."

And this got me thinking about hurt feelings, lessons learned, and misunderstandings. When something happens and I get rubbed the wrong way or if I perceive that someone has intentionally hurt me, I should put my response back where it belongs. Sometimes that means throw it away, forget about it and let it go. Other times it could mean to step back for a second and just think about what happened and have it close enough to the surface that you don't harbor it as bitterness but it will be right where you put it when you need to try and resolve it. The part that I struggle with is the way I just put my reaction anywhere it might fit. Like stuffing ballet shoes in the bench full of wet snow gloves. Or tossing my cowboy boots in with the snowboots. It gets frustrating and confusing when we need something and spend too much time trying to find it. If I am offended or just plain hurt or if I misread something and just need clarity, I often just simmer down and in trying to "forget about it" or "let it go" I am actually tossing or cramming it in a space it does not belong in. Sooner or later I will need to find it to try and resolve the conflict and turmoil in my soul and likely settle a similar turmoil in someone else. But I will be hard pressed to find it. And when I do find it, it won't be in the shape I need it to be in. Like the shabby old piano book that should be placed in the piano bench, if it's carelessly shoved into a backpack or a shelf with other books or left in the car to be used as carpet, it won't be what we need when we find it. Things that are out of place can depreciate and lose their effectiveness. 

This seems a bit odd, maybe even far reaching but it makes sense to me. I have a handful of missing things that I have been searching for in my own soul and I just found one today. It's not what I need, it doesn't look at all like I remember and I have been unable to relate to someone God has put in my life because of it. 

For the sake of your busy life and the sanity of your own home or for the sake of your heart that will get hurt, let's put things back where they belong. 

The Littles Got Bigger Today

Today the three Littles made their own toast and buttered it. They ate nearly half the loaf because they loved making it. I gave them the basic instructions about not sticking metal objects in a toaster and where the nob should be placed so their toast would be done perfectly. I equipped them with a red sparkle plastic knife leftover from Lou's party so they would not have to find out for themselves the reason behind my instructions. Trae took the lead, which is surprising because Sally always knows best. But she submitted and watched to see what mistakes could be made. Ty waited patiently perched on a pink stool with plastic sparkle knife in hand. You see Ty is famous already for sneaking the butter and licking it. 

The maiden voyage of toast making was a fail but you would never know it. Trae was determined to be proud of his crunchy blackened dry piece of toast. He spread the soft butter with slick 4 year old finess and ate every bite. Sally  observed the unsightly piece of overdone toast and adjusted the nob to the far left. She didn't have to wait long because her toast popped up quickly. She too overlooked the barely warm bread and topped it proudly with plenty of butter. She too ate every bite. Now Ty was left to his own attempt at making toast. I watched as he stared at the twins happily eating the fruit of their labor then he took a look at the toaster and crammed his piece of bread in it. His little hands twisted the nob clear to the right and then back to the left. He then scratched his small chubby chin and took a good look at it again. Then he adjusted the nob right square in the middle. He used all the force his small 2 year old arms could muster and pressed the lever down. He stood back and watched patiently. When it popped he cried "YES!" then he removed the toast forgot all about the butter and crawled up next to his brother and sister began feasting on his perfectly golden toasted bread. 

This act of courage and new set of skills they put on build their confidence. Before I knew it the boys were hauling in firewood for me. It's like they knew that if they could make their own toast then they were big enough to haul in the wood for Daddy. 

Notice the "speed shoes" they are wearing instead of their boots. I overheard that they could work faster this way. And notice the great combination of gloves on their hands. This was just pure laziness. They didn't want to waste time digging for matching ones. 

It's a good thing when little people not only feel big but are actually being big. 

Lou is 7!

Emmylou Madison "Lou" is 7! She is a real live sparkle. She twinkles and smiles and loves the little things. The greatest sadness of her 6th year was that Ty Wesley became a "tod" (toddler). It really does grieve her heart that he isn't a baby anymore. But it grieves her heart more to see the look on my face when she subtly mentions the prospect of a new baby. I'll see if she can just borrow a baby here or there. I know of a couple coming this summer ;0)

Lou says the funniest things and has such a love for life! She is tender hearted and quick to forgive. She is a friend to anyone and has a heart for serving and learning new things. Tonight she announced that it was her last night being 6 and 1 centimeter. We chuckled and I made a mental note to review units of measurement next week. 

She has this fascination with Laura Ingalls. She dresses like her and carries a basket to collect eggs and wishes she could call the neighbor boy, Willie, when she is mad at him. She thought my new short Meg Ryan hair cut was TOTALLY AWESOME but her heart burst like a bubble when she realized I could not wear a bun like Ma anymore. What ever shall I do??!! Although she is sure that her daddy is just like Pa only he can't play the fiddle. I agree. 

She has just started ballet lessons and loves it deeply. She practices and practices. Grace and 7 year old girls don't usually go together but she is really something out there. I'm proud of her anyway. 

We have a special treat this year. My husbands grandmother (Maw Maw) is here to visit. She turned 75 on January 21. Her mother always made her a cherry nut cake for her birthday. After she passed away, Auntie Arvela made the cake. This year, I have made the same cake for my January baby. It's pink and fluffy and so fun! Heritage is priceless. When you uncover it, and if it's good and true, apprehend it and pass it on down. 

Here's to being 7 and to the little people in our lives that teach us big lessons. Happy Birthday Lou! 

If you had stopped by for coffee today..

If you had stopped by my funny little house for coffee today, you would have had to walk through various sizes of mud puddles and a small creek running through my yard. Green grass growing over the sceptic tank is a premature promise of Spring in January. You would have been met by Ranger, the pup, and his floppy loppy ears and nipping teeth. He claims the front porch and the entry way. I'm fixin' to give him the boot. I am rather attached to my front porch. Then you would have been greeted with an obstacle course of boots, shoes, chew toys and foam thingies that were part of the packing stuff in the new hot water heater. And finally you would have been stopped completely in your tracks by the mouthwatering aroma of banana bread. Only today, I was staring at 2, 1 1/2 pound loaf pans filled 3/4 of the way full with creamy flawless banana bread batter. It's not hard to do. It's actually very easy. And then I remembered my brother's funny appreciation for peanutbutter spread thick on fresh hot banana bread. So I warmed up 1/2 a cup of the trusty old staple and when it was melted and runny, I drizzled it on one of the uncooked loaves and then swirled it around with a knife. Talk about yum! Wow. This was unbeatable as far as banana bread goes. Try it and see. And then try it with your coffee. And then smile and have some one over. It taste better with a friend. I shared it with 5 little people, a handsome man and a pup. 

There is a love so sweet

I was 13 years old when I received the news that my faithful black and white little Tippy dog had been hit and killed on the highway in front of my house. I could hardly breath and I collapsed into strong arms and wept. Seeing her lifeless body, digging the hole, placing the cross and saying goodbye felt painfully natural. I grieved for her, my happy, bouncy, loyal friend. She never judged me. She never rejected me. She was always always there for me. I remember missing her the very most when I would come home. It just didn't feel right somehow. My broken heart healed and I moved on to another puppy and yet another puppy after that one grew old and passed on. I don't regret the love I shared with these 4 legged critters. They softened my heart, opened my mind, stirred passion and dreams in me. Likewise, I don't regret facing their broken and lifeless bodies and placing them in the grave myself. It was a part of the relationship. It was my responsibility to them, my friend. 

Today I found the lifeless body of a boy's best friend on the side of the road. My heart just sank and I felt sick. This big black Wolfhound/Lab/Cross was trusted my parents near and far to watch over whatever group of kids were there. While he kept a watchful protector's eye on each child, he paid special attention to "his kids". He could pull them in a sled like a team of Huskies. This, of course, made him famous during the winter months. I trusted him each time I dropped my own children off to play (even if he licked my hands and smelled aweful). Bear, dear trusted, brave and loyal, Bear... We will miss you old boy. We will miss you. 

Written in memory of Bear, Josiah Tafts black dog. 

We are all super heroes on the inside....

This is Ty Wesley. He can do anything, climb anything, unlock anything, break, fix and put back anything before I even know he's missing. Last night he served up about 2 inches of baby powder in his sippy cup to Ranger, the new puppy. The initial problem was that the baby powder was somewhere on the very top shelf in the bathroom and the next problem was that he shared his winnings without putting a lid on the said sippy cup. The only defense he had, besides this smile of his that closely resembles an angel, was, "Mama, it mell good!" Yes, it did smell good, so did the entire kitchen, the bathroom, the puppy and the boy. But shucks, he is just so cute!

The thing I love about his confidence and inhibition is the constant reminder that there are things we are all capable of, people we are all capable of being, obstacles we are all capable of overcoming and we just don't know until we try or until Life forces us into it. I have seen people face impossible situations and somehow come out on top and I often hear myself saying, "I don't know how you do it". But reality is, they must do it. They have to do it. 

Sometimes I get caught off guard by the general public's indulgence of open comments and criticisms of me and my 5 kids (all under 9 years old). One day while plowing through Costco, I had truly had enough. I'm not sure if it was the cart overflowing with diapers, wipes, and red wine or the Hello Kitty sun-viser I pulled out of my purse instead of my wallet at the checkout stand, but folks were extra chatty that day about how full my hands were, or how busy I have been or how it was better me than them. As I was looking up from the trail of tampons my littlest guy had been throwing behind me as we shopped, my eyes caught the unmistakable "potty dance" from my 4 year old blondy. Before I could even open my mouth some innocent but opinionated stranger felt the need to once again state the obvious. "Honey," she said, "you got your hands fuuu-uull. Sure am glad it's you and not me. Sheesh girl, I don't know how you do it." I paused, counted to 10 (really fast) and said, "Well I suppose I don't really have a choice. It's not like I can put one or two back now can I?" I said it very sweetly almost sickly sweet. Of course she smiled and walked on, glancing back a time or two. But I was right and so was she. My hands are full. But so what. I'm a super hero on the inside. But don't count on pictures of me dressing the way I feel. That would not be ok.