Our Crazy Christmas Tradition

You know how when you do something for a long time, you don't realize it's weird until one day you are like, wow... that's really messed up.  Well, that is pretty much what happened this year with our Christmas tradition. 

Now before I go any further, may I lay a disclaimer out there (why do all of my posts seem to start with a disclaimer!?!):  I love Jesus.  And Christmas!  I love love LOVE it.  As for my husband?  Try to get him to NOT talk about Jesus - I dare you.  So we aren't just a "fair-weather Christmas" family.  Now that THAT'S out of the way, let me weave a little history for you...

When I was in 7th grade, my dad had triple bypass open heart surgery.  It was scheduled for early December, and he wanted to see everything decorated for Christmas before he went in to the hospital.    We decorated early that year - I'm guessing around Thanksgiving time. (We may have decorated early before this point, but this is the time I remember very clearly.) Now this was way back in the very early 90s, and decorating right after Halloween just wasn't a thing yet - most people waited until near Christmas to decorate and Christmas music wasn't played on the radio until December.

Another tradition we had was that our big celebration was always on Christmas Eve.  Christmas morning was just for Santa gifts and enjoying all of the presents.  (In fact, a special treat for Christmas dinner was SpeedyQ nachos because Happy Birthday, Jesus, these are awesome nachos!!!!) 

We're Fast & Friendly... and have amazing nachos!!!!!

So now that I have a family of my own, we follow a lot of the same traditions.  Thanksgiving weekend we go and cut down our live tree and decorate our house for Christmas.  We sing Christmas carols for the entire month of December.  Our big Christmas celebration is on Christmas Eve where we get a grotesque amount of Chinese food, open all of the gifts to each other, then head off to church.  Christmas Day is Santa gifts (3 for each kid), stocking candy, and a birthday party for Jesus (a good reason to eat cake.) 

And then... our traditions take a slight detour.  After opening the last gifts from Santa, and shoving all of the candy into individually labeled gallon-size Ziplock bags, something just comes over Jerry and me.  We look at each other, catching glances here and there... I see the look in his eye, and he knows I'm thinking the same thing.... THIS CHRISTMAS TREE HAS GOT TO GO!!!!!!!!! You see, after having a "live" (read: dying more each day) tree taking up half of the living room for an entire month, well, we just want that living space back.


This year was exceptionally executed.  We had that tree down before lunch on Christmas Day.  I used to feel self-conscious in the front picture window taking down the tree before the day was even over.  Used to.  However this year I am fairly certain that the type of tree we cut down was the rare Razor Needle Pine.  This thing was brutal.  Opening presents from Santa in pajamas was like a test of strength and endurance to anyone who dared to get close enough to the tree.  Normally the needles just poke, hurt, and fall out.  These ones stuck.  Like getting attacked by a porcupine.  It pretty much made our entire living room off-limits.  And when there are seven people living in one house, we need that space. 

That's right, angel that's about to fall off of the tree... You're coming DOWN today!

If it was just the tree coming down, it wouldn't seem that awful.  I have great reasons as to why it "should" come down as soon as possible.  Even though it feels a bit Castanza-ish, "We will take down the tree after the airing of grievances!" - I can rationalize why it is necessary.  But... it doesn't end with the tree...

And thus begins... the Christmas Purge.  

Ah yes, the Christmas Purge.   That delightful Christmas tradition where we go through the entire house top to bottom armed with garbage bags and disinfectant and we clean/organize/rearrange everything in sight.  I worked for twelve hours Christmas Day going through the three bedrooms upstairs.  Twelve. Hours.  And MAN, did it feel good!  Game pieces put in their respective boxes, broken toys thrown away, and garbage (GARBAGE!!!) collected out of every room.  Each room had at least one large black garbage bag full of junk to take out.  Forever leaving my home.  Never to come back...  At one point Ethan came up, saw me throwing things away, and got anxious.  "What are you throwing away, mom?"  Garbage.  "But what garbage?"  It's garbage, go play with your new Christmas presents!  (It all worked out though, because when I was done in their room and he saw that not only could he now CLOSE his closet doors, he could also see what was IN the closet, he was cool with it.)

The day after Christmas was spent entirely in the basement.  Cleaning, organizing, pitching junk, purging...  The kids went down after we were done and said "Wow, it looks like a mansion down here!"  Well, hardly... but thank you. 

We ended up with 15 large black garbage bags full.  Plus broken appliances, old rusted out filing cabinets, a large cabinet from the 60s...  It looked like an episode of Hoarders out there.  It.... was..... AWESOME!!!! (I was going to have Jerry help the garbage men today, but after garbage pickers came through it looked more like a *normal* amount - meaning it didn't take up the entire curb in front of our house anymore...)  Our house took in a deep breath of Christmas cheer, and exhaled an entire truckload of junk. 

So there you have it.  Weird? Maybe... Unorthodox? Perhaps.  The best gift that one anal-retentive, OCD, clean-freak can give to another?  Absolutely!

I once heard a comedian say that everyone thinks their family is normal -- until they go to college.  I giggle at the thought of my kids finding out what *normal* families do on Christmas Day.  It makes me giggle a lot....

Merry Christmas!  And no matter how you celebrate, may you have a blessed New Year!!!!!

Why the Elf is not on my Shelf

Disclaimer first:  I am not judging homes that have an elf.  Nor the parents that have adopted the elf.  This is simply a realistic self-examination as to why I should never be allowed to have an elf on my shelf.

By now I'm sure everyone is aware of the Elf on a Shelf.  From what I gather, this isn't a new tradition, although it is fairly newly revived and flourishing. 

I get the reasoning behind it.  Elf watches and reports to Santa.  Behavior modification tool.  I love it.  Be good kids, Santa is watching as is evidenced by that Elf over there.  Kids respond to visuals.

But here are reasons why that Elf is not on my shelf.

1) He is totally creepy.  That painted on psychotic smile? Yeah... I don't need those beady little eyes watching my every move.  Maybe if I worked out of the home... but the truth is, I am home pretty much 24/7.  I can't imagine walking around a corner and <BAM> creepy elf staring me in the face.  What is Santa bringing this year? A month of nightmares, courtesy of that creepy elf watching me.... I honestly bought a creepy elf as a joke for my brother-in-law because of how terrifying they are...

I've come to report to Santa... or kill you in your sleep. Either or.

2) Since I didn't buy one, I don't know all of the rules on it.  So I'm not certain if it comes with a "how to name the elf" rule.  Or a "you may not fight with your numerous siblings as a name is chosen" rule.  If it doesn't, it should.  Because 5 kids choosing one name for one elf?  I imagine somewhere in that process I would end up screaming "HE'S GOING TO TELL SANTA ABOUT THIS!!!!! CHOOSE A *(&@#$ NAME!!!"  Ok.  I probably wouldn't swear...  And there is NOT an option of more than one elf.  Not in this house.  (Heck, there isn't even a one-elf option at this time)

3)  I love my children dearly.  It's just that.... I'm not magical.  I'm not.  I see my friends posting awesome and cute pictures of their elves doing funny/cute/sassy/naughty things.  Know what would happen in my house?  Day 1:  "Mom... why did the elf not move?  He's supposed to move..."  And then I would end up lying about why he must have forgotten where he was the night before and returned to the same spot.  Day 2:  "Mom.... why didn't our elf move?"  Which would then be followed by another lie.  Until finally I throw my hands up (probably around day 5 when I've run out of clever lies as to why I suck at remembering things at night after being around children for 17 hours of my life...) and tell them that the elf must have died.  Which I'm sure would be traumatic.  For everyone.  I am not magical.  I forget things.  It is a miracle that the Tooth Fairy has actually arrived on the nights she is supposed to, and twice (TWICE), my daughter woke up during the exchange.  What did I do?  Did I quick pretend like I was tucking her in? Did I duck hoping she wouldn't see me?  Nope.  I finished the exchange (dollar for tooth) and asked if she wanted some apple juice.  Not. Magical. 

4)  Although I am not magical in the least, my children fully believe in magical powers.  Allow me to let you in on some of their wish-list items from Santa... "Butterfly wings" (easy enough - got some costume ones. Done.)  Next year - "REAL butterfly wings so that I can actually fly."  Oh.  Right...  Thanks for the clarification.  About that....  "A remote control with a button on it that will turn all of my Webkinz real."  So... you want all of your stuffed animals to come to life... yeeeeahhh...  Next!  "A wishing star."  Disappointment runs deep in this house.  I guess if Santa won't bring the things you want, just ask for a wishing star so you can take care of it yourself.  This year's list contains such beauties as "A shrink-ray gun, a teleporter, a 3DS"  Yes.  They want a shrink ray gun so they can shrink themselves to 1 centimeter (they are specific, at least) and then use the teleporter to break that whole time/space continuum thing.  The 3DS seems easy enough, except we don't to hand-held games in this house, and Santa isn't allowed to bring things against house rules.  So do you see why having someone that flies to the North Pole every day and talks directly to the Man in Red just *isn't* a great idea in my house??? 

5)  A lot of the shenanigans that these silly elves pull require making a mess on behalf of the elf, then cleaning up the mess once the children see how funny our naughty elf is.  No. Way.  I am at the point of psyching myself up to scrape the urine off the wall next to the toilet, and maybe scraping the "didn't quite make it to the garbage can" grime off of my floor.  The LAST thing I need in my life is one. more. entity. creating messes.  Nope.  No way. 

I suppose I could start a new trend with the elf.  Maybe the elf leaves ransom notes.  Maybe the elf leaves a note that says "Fold and put away all of the laundry if you want me to talk to Santa tonight."  Then "Put on your HazMat suit and clean this bathroom if you want me to tell Santa that you've been good." 

I might be on to something.  Maybe next year, that elf WILL be on my shelf....  Muahahahahahaha!!!!

An explanation

I am about to open a little window that I don't normally open.  I keep it closed not for any real reason.  Other than the past is the past, and if I keep thinking about the past, I might just run away back to college circa 1999 and never come back...   But I had a realization, and I think talking about the past, although borderline obnoxious, might shed some light on a question that I get fairly often.  Especially to those who didn't know me in college....  I am asked very regularly:

How do you DO it?!?!? 

In case you are wondering, it usually is in regards to having so many children with so many diagnoses and homeschooling and being so involved.  I think.  Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what it's about.  There are different varieties to the question.  But it mostly is "How do you DO it?" 

Now a nice, neat (true) canned answer could be Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."  And I know for a fact I have answered with this.  And I know for a fact it is true.

There are times that I don't have a great answer because simple enough, they are my children, so how could I NOT do it?  There are times that I don't have a great answer because I have that glazed over, took on too much and I hope we make it until tomorrow, look on my face.  There are times I don't have a great answer because to me, my kids are being horrible and awful and I just am not sure if the person asking is being sarcastic or not.... 

Then it came to me.  Sometimes I don't have an answer because it really is just who I am.  Who WE are (because I'm gonna throw Jerry in this little ring with me here...)  So here it is.  That rare moment where I peel back a layer and let you in on the hyper-nerd-spaz that is just who we are. 

Now there is a good chance that I've been a hyper-nerd-spaz my whole life.  But probably the best portrait of it was in the college years - so I'll head there for now.  I went to Michigan Tech to get a chemical engineering degree.  I was a nerd, and placed out of some classes, so after my first semester I had quite a few credits under my belt.  Spring of my freshman year, we were to map out the rest of our college career classes.  Easy-peasy.  Except... when I started mapping it out... I didn't have enough classes left to keep my full-time student status.  The way my degree was set up, I HAD to be there for 4 years, and the way my student loans were set up, I HAD to be full time...  Since I was paying my own way, I wasn't about to take crazy, unnecessary blow-off classes just to fill credit space (not on MY dime!!!).  So, I looked into getting another degree.  Also.  In addition to.  (In hindsight, this seems a bit ludicrous.  At the time it made perfect sense.)  The way our school was set up, a semester cost the same from 12 up to 20 credits.  So why not take 20 credits for the same amount of money?!?!  What a value! 

Anyway, I started looking through majors that I could dual-major with chem eng.  I don't necessarily like biology (although the thought of bio-chem is pretty cool.)  Yadda yadda yadda - I picked business administration.  I was pretty sure I could do this at the same time, and still graduate on time.  To be sure, I went and talked to my chem eng counselor guy.  I was all quiet and scared, Um, excuse me... do people dual-major?  "Sure, it isn't very common, but they do." Umm, is it possible to dual-major in 4 years?  And he answers (this STILL hits a nerve...) "Not in CHEM ENG!!!!" in the snobbiest, aren't we just the greatest, this is the superior major, so full of himself tone ever.  So once again, my Slovak stubbornness showed up to the scene... What a pompous jerk!  I'll show HIM!!!!   Long story short - I did.  I wish I could remember his ever-so-important name so I could nanner-nanner-nanner him... or better yet...

I did it in 4 years.... How you like THEM apples???

All that just to set the scene for my crazy schedule of college.  We still were on quarters (10 week terms), and so the credit count was just a bit higher than semester colleges.  However, on more than one occasion, I had to take my class schedule in to the Dean to get it signed, because I was taking more than the allowable amount.  I think my highest was 24 credits in a term.  I'm sure there is a transcript somewhere that can verify this. 

So here I am, a girl at a predominantly-male engineering school, taking a bajillion credits a term.  I also worked.  My freshman year I worked as a janitor mopping stairwells (glorious), but soon promoted up to kitchen worker.  And finally, to the coveted Card Swiper Lady at the entrance to the cafeteria.  I also worked as a grader for one of my professors (truly the best job ever).  My sophomore year, I began working in the Math Learning Center, tutoring and doing walk-ins (NERD ALERT!). 

At the end of my Freshman year, I was asked to be in a secret society.  Ok, ok... it wasn't a secret society.  But there was some crazy-nerd status that had to be reached to be invited to interview for it, so close enough... Blue Key National Honor Fraternity.  We planned Michigan Tech's Winter Carnival.  It's pretty hard core.  It also had the DREAMIEST member by the name of Jerry Rice.  We started dating soon after, and I came to realize that Blue Key was just a gateway organization.  It was my first... but it led to many, many other organizational involvements.  I think at one time I was in 8 campus organizations, having leadership roles in more than one. 

What I do know is that when Winter Carnival was in full swing, and I was taking a full credit load, and working, and other organizations, and being an awesome girlfriend, I literally had to schedule time in my life to sleep.  Up for an 8 o'clock, classes all day, working the hours I didn't have class, meetings all evening, homework, labwork, up until 2am. Rinse, repeat.  (Except for Thursday - Saturday, where there also may have been slight alcohol consumption and lots and lots of dancing...) I also believe that, although it is my favorite pastime, my body might not require sleep to function.  I tested this theory in college.  I further tested it in having 5 newborns... That fact just helps in managing everything, really.

I'm not going to totally speak for Jerry, but he was pretty much the same way.  Cramming every single minute full.  President of his fraternity, committee chair in Blue Key, Iron and Steel Society, and on and on and on....

It really was an adrenaline rush.  Being so busy that you can't even see straight.  Grabbing a Sobe Energy tea (back before Monster was invented...), a Diet Coke, or a Mountain Dew - depending on the time of day and/or energy jolt needed.  All nighters, crazy work loads.  And having so much fun.  We were that obnoxiously involved couple.  Check that - we ARE that obnoxiously involved couple... 

I struggle with sharing this because I really don't want it to come across as bragging.  I mean, I DO have a killer resume.  But honestly?  My current employer has not even asked for a resume.  They don't even know what one is...  I share this because it really does shed some light on the personalities behind us.  Gives some street cred to my self-proclaimed hyper-nerd-spaz label. 

So BRING IT, autism/arthritis/celiac/tree nut allergy/dairy allergy kids.  Is that all you got?!?!  Boom.  Nailed it.  (tee hee)

There are those rare moments when I think "Man.... what do people with healthy kids do with their time???"  Or those even rarer moments when both Jerry and I are together with only 1 or 2 of our kids and this eerie quiet and calm is there.  We look at each other like "This is so uncomfortable... this calm... quiet... easy to handle..."  

And to think... only 14 more years until it's quiet all the time and we can rest and relax. 

Who am I kidding... we are going to be those hyper-nerd-spaz, over-committed, super-involved retired couple.  And we are gonna ROCK it! 

Be prepared!

If anyone else's brain works like mine (scary thought) you might possibly be singing along with Scar right now... Be prepaaaaaared... 

I have been meaning to write for a while, but just haven't.  My house is a disaster, school has been long days of hard work, outside commitments are daunting, and I just don't like to sit at my trashed desk and be creative.  Except for today.  Apparently.

Anyway, there is a big victory that I wanted to share with the world (the WORLD!!!)  You see, I'm going to let you in on a little secret....  Ready?  Last year when I started homeschooling.... I had no idea what I was doing!  There.  I said it.  I bought the curriculum that I wanted (win!) but didn't really look through it.  Not until right before our first day of school. 

I can tell you what I expected to see.  I expected to see the happy workbooks that I had ordered for each child to come already broken down into daily assignments.  I can tell you what I did see, the week before school started.... not that.  Just workbooks of information and questions and tests with absolutely ZERO suggested endpoints.  Zero.  When do I end for the first day?  Your guess is as good as mine.

Now you may be thinking, "Yeah, remember back in our education classes where we learned about creating lesson plans?"  Oh that's right.. I didn't have those.  I can tutor calculus... or explain limiting reagents... pipes and valves, anyone?  <sigh>  So I winged it. 

I had a general idea of what to do.  I mean, I had been a student for 17 years of my life and have watched a large sample size of teachers do their thing.  I knew I wanted to get through a year of curriculum in a year.  We had goals... no worries...

Needless to say, last year was really really really really stressful.  I had no idea what I was doing, or when, or for how long... I got to a point where I would go through and create a weekly lesson plan.  It took a while to get to that point, though.  This is where I can sense real teachers gasp.  And I'm like, I know, right? Ha.... Sunday nights were awful - planning, grading... ugh.  And I don't even get paid for this!  By the end of last year, I was a good couple weeks ahead in lesson plans.  We managed.  It wasn't pretty... but we managed.  Kids learned.  I learned.  We passed.

Back to the point that I had a victory.  Victory!!!!  This year, I am proud to announce, that I went through BEFORE THE SCHOOL YEAR BEGAN, and made my lesson plans for the WHOLE YEAR.  The.  Whole.  Year.    I know exactly how many lessons I have to teach in every subject for every grade.  I can't even express in words how freeing it is.  It's kinda like this:

My heart wants to beat like the wings of a bird that flies!!!

Now if only I could figure out how to make spending every waking moment with my children to feel like singing in the mountains... Baby steps.  I should give that one some time.  Like 10-15 years....Then we'll sing in the mountains... all of us together...  in harmony!

Nobody makes me breathe my own breath!

It's been a while, and my brain is mush from being overcommitted and fall start up and school and sickie viruses.  But I needed to start back up the writing machine.  Anyway, something I read today reminded me of yet another quirk that I have, and I was wondering if it is an actual phobia or if I'm all alone on this one.

As long as I can remember, I have been unable to breathe someone else's breath.  If someone exhales too closely to my face, I either hold my breath or stealthily turn to the side to inhale fresh air.  I can't even recall how long this has been a phobia of mine.  As long as I can remember, I suppose. 

You might think that this doesn't happen very often.  And I guess if I were single, it would happen less... or if I didn't have so many kids...  But even before all of that - there are front-facing whisperers, close-talkers, dogs (dogs!), other oxygen-stealing beings.  You might be surprised how many things might exhale right in your breathing space. 

I tried finding the source of this.  There is no phobia that I could find.  I did read that carbon dioxide triggers a primordial fear of suffocation in mice.  Does my brain really pick up on the CO2 differences?  Or is it just yet another irrational fear?  

Look how happy breathing oxygen makes a person!

Usually I can get by with this not even being a noticeable issue.  Other times, I just look like a crazy person.  Snuggling with a child in my lap as they try to smush their cheek against mine (awwww... so sweet...). Only they can't, because I am constantly recoiling, trying to get my nose away from their dirty, already breathed breath. 

The biggest culprit of breathing my air?  My loving husband.  Snuggling up at bed time, it's like an intense tango.  He faces me, blowing his hot wasted air right into my oxygen-zone.  I scoot my nose to aim higher than his nose to still be able to breathe cool, refreshing, oxygenated air.  He notices the slight adjustment, and raises the level of his nose.  I pull my head further back, putting distance and a greater angle between my source of living air and the garbage pit of CO2 air...  he leans in to snuggle closer... Finally I turn my head and gasp.  Fresh, glorious, clean air!  And I turn over.  And go to sleep.  Although I won't bore you with mushy details, I have also adapted to a breathing technique similar to an Olympic freestyle swimmer used during kissing, lest I suffocate and die. 

See - I'm not crazy.  Right?  I mean, someone already BREATHED that air.  It's used.  It's not even the smell.  Or the warmth of it.  It's knowing that someone sucked the oxygen right out of it, and blew waste air where oxygenated air should be.  I can't be the only one with this, right?  I mean, it totally makes sense... right?  Right?!?!?  And don't be throwing "science" and "facts" at me... Nobody needs any of that now! 

Oh well.  I've survived this long having to fight for my own rights to oxygen and it's worked pretty well for me.  I suppose I can continue on my lone quest.  Wish me luck!

Kid-Hours

Admittedly, it's been a while since my last post.  We've been a bit busy... But it's a little more than just busyness.  You see, I have a special function in my brain.  I refer to it as Kid-Hours. It's something that I've recognized as I had more and more kids. 

I have been told that I must have tons of patience, having so many kids. Well, I suppose that might be true.  There are certainly a lot of demands with having 5 kids.  I hear "Mommy" about 3 times a minute - that can be trying at times. And yet my children still don't know what the real swear words are - I count that as a victory!  So yes, I have a huge tank of patience. 

But I have to. You see, this is where Kid-Hours comes into play. 

Kid-Hours is the product of number of hours spent multiplied by number of children time spent with.  (Kh= k x h)  Examples always help illustrate an equation...  Say you are babysitting 2 children for 3 hours.  Well, you will expend 6 Kid-Hours (2kids x 3hours = 6Kid-Hours).  If you are a stay-at-home mother of 3 and your husband is gone 10 hours (including drive time) for work, you expend 30Kid-Hours a day.  For me, my multiplier is just higher.  5 kids at 10 hours?  50 Kid-Hours.  I've gotten used to it (thank goodness, for my kids' sake!).  My meter just spins faster than most.  Generally it runs smoothly... or "smoothly" is probably more accurate... 

My brain allots patience like Consumers Energy monthly budget plan.  I wake up in the morning, and I have just enough to make it through the average Kid-Hour day.  This normally is fairly effective. Our house runs on a pretty tight schedule. 

On occasion I will get a call from Jerry that he will have to work late.  What happens in my brain is much like what happens when there isn't enough electricity to meet demands.  A brown-out.  Must... Conserve... Kid-Hours....  He might come home and ask silly questions like, "Are you aware that the kids are playing in the sandbox in their pajamas?" or "Did you know the kids have the hose in the garage?"  To which I unashamedly respond with a blank stare and a garbled, "huh?" 

This summer has been especially trying on my Kid-Hour meter.  I'm waiting for smoke to start pouring out of it and the springs to go flying.  Jerry has worked more Saturdays this summer than the past 4 years combined.  Unexpected spike in Kid-Hour usage.  He worked through July shutdown.  When almost everybody in the automotive world had a week off, he was doing 4am starts, working through the holiday, through weekends.... Kid-Hour OVERLOAD!!!! 

This past week was VBS at church.  I LOVE VBS!!!!  It's fun, and the kids have fun, and the songs are fun, and everything is so fun!  But by Friday at noon, I couldn't move.  So. Many.. Kids....  Couldn't. Move.    Brain.... tired!

Luckily this week is slightly less hectic.  I plan to pour some energy into re-filling the meter.  Writing a little.  Reading a little.  Planning ahead a little.  Locking myself in my bathroom and eating chocolate a little.  So hopefully by NEXT week, I can function and interact with society without looking like this:

"I'm sorry.  Your allotted Kid-Hours have expired. Shutting down."

Wish Lists

The Christmas LTD catalog arrived in the mail the other day, and my children have been painstakingly going through, page by page, with a pen.  Circle an item.  Write name. Circle an item. Write name.  They gather together around the catalog, a pinwheel of legs sticking out from the glorious offerings.  "As Seen on TV!"  "LTD exclusive item!"  "Time saver!"   

Some of the things they choose are fun.  Bed tents?  Awesome.  I remember when they came out.  I was too old to have one by then, but the thought of having a tent covering your bed?  The privacy!  The solitude!  The awesomeness!!!  There are currently 5 names listed on that item.  Hmmm... 5 bed tents seems like it might be overkill, and storing them whilst not in use might prove to be a nightmare...

Some of the items make total sense.  Naomi circled every available outfit for American Girl dolls.  Plus accessories.  (Note:  She does not have an actual American Girl doll.  She has the $17 version from LTD - I call them Faux-merican Girl.  She is blissfully unaware of the bank-busting counterpart.)    The glow-in-the-dark helicopter for Noah?  Absolutely.  A pack of flavored chapsticks for Faith?  Totally.  The waterproof weather radio / flashlight / emergency light for Josh?  Well... I guess...

Heck, there are things that I want in there - not gonna lie.  Woodwick Gingerbread candle?  I burned last year's until it was an empty glass jar.  I will definitely buy many more.  Green Bay Packers nightshirt?  Cute!  Fleece-lined tights?  3 for $9.99 - absolutely! 

But here are some of the items that I might question. 

Picture you are a 7 year old boy.  Looking through a catalog filled with everything you could ever imagine.  And you choose.....

Plush Microfiber Sheet Set!!!! It's like sleeping on a cloud!   Yes.  Circled, with "Noah" written on it.  Indigo colored.  A set of sheets?  Gotta say, I love the practicality of that kid... 

Here's another gem.  You are now a 5 year old little girl.  Obviously, you would choose....

This occupational insulated cup with a straw!!!  In case you can't see it clearly, the words on it say, "I'm a Beautician, Not a Magician!"  Is this somehow aimed at her mother?  Probably not - she is much more direct than using a snarky cup to get her point across...  ("I LOVE it!!!! It's purple!!!!") Well, my kids DO love cups with straws...

Then there are items circled that are sweet...

The wheelchair and crutches set for her doll. Awww, cute that the arthritis girl wants disability accessories!  Then she says, "Look how awesome, mom!  Now I can break her leg and put her in a cast!"  Ummmm...  ???  That's actually really disturbing, honey... Because mommy is picturing...

Naomi - playing with her Faux-merican Girl Doll

So now it is just a matter of going through the catalog and choosing from their wide-selection of wish list items.  Truthfully, I throw every catalog at them that I can to figure out what those crazy little brains of theirs want.  Less than two months before Christmas, 4 of my children will celebrate a birthday.  So if a set of micro-fiber sheets counts as a check mark on my to-do list... then, guess who's getting microfiber sheets!  And some lucky girl is going to get a purple cup with a straw that passive-aggressively insults whomever might be in the room with her! 

Now I'm off to find a different colored ink pen, so I can make my own requests known.  I saw there was a 100 oz wine glass with the words "Mommy's Sippy Cup" on it that is calling my name... Always practical, LTD... always practical...

Crazy Construction Conundrum

A while back, my family took a vacation to Gatlinburg, Tennessee for a family reunion / 50th Anniversary celebration for my inlaws.  It was a great time, beautiful in the mountains, lots of memories, lots of fun.  Having never stayed in the mountains before, it was quite the experience!  I could write and write and write about it; twenty people in the ginormous cabin, the game room, 5 people sleeping in my king bed, food, fun, fish.... 

But today I write about something on the drive home.  You see, we drove through Pigeon Forge to get to any sort of highway to get back home.  I remembered from our bumper-to-bumper ride IN that there was a construction zone, but hoped that leaving at 7am would alleviate some of the tourist traffic.  It did.  It also allowed for more sight-seeing on my part, since I was mainly focused on not hitting the bumper in front of me during the drive in. 

So as we near the construction zone, we see a sign: 

Kinda cool.  It allowed me time to think, "Wow... how awesome that they have to blast away a piece of mountain just to widen a roadway.  That must take a long time to approve a project like this one.  We are mainly concerned with filling potholes and laying asphalt as a quick fix in Michigan.  Imagine the meetings and planning that would go into this type of road project.  I say, it will be a nice road once this project is done.  Real nice." (There wasn't traffic, and the kids were still very quiet... got some nice thinking time in.)

Then a little further down, there was THIS sign:

Wait, what?  We passed it so quickly that there was hardly time for it to sink in.  I got a little panicky and thought of all of the electronics in my van running at the time.  My cell phone.  Jerry's cell phone.  Would the GPS be a problem? What about the DVD player?  Which do I start with?  Finding my purse to find my phone to shut it off?  How much time do I have??? 

Then - poof - we were through the construction zone.  I sat there confused.  I said, "Jer... did you see that sign?  The one that said 'Turn off cell phone'?"  He responded with an interested, "Hmmmm..." 

So now I'm a bit confused.  I'm still getting over the small panic attack. Glancing at the cars driving toward us - are they reaching for their cell phones? Looking in the mirrors at the cars behind us - no sign of anyone turning anything back on...  And I start to thinking...  scary, I know. 

This is a tourist town.  Tourist.  Not like small town, everybody knows everybody, the sign is just a reminder to everyone that already knows NOT to use the cell phone there... We're talking people from all over the United States who have never been there before.  One sign warning of imminent danger from something that no doubt everyone has in their car (I mean, even I have one...).  One sign!  One. Sign. 

So now I'm a bit flabbergasted.  There must be some sort of problem caused by having cell phones and 2-way radios in a blast zone.  Otherwise, why the sign?  Enter: my imagination...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Work crew in blast zone, somewhere in Pigeon Forge, speaking in slight southern accent)
"Hey Bob, you got them explosives set up yet?"
"Crate just got in... I'm about to start settin' 'em now."
"Alright.  We just gotta get a move on before ..."

            KA-BOOM

"Dang it!!!!  That's the fourth time this WEEK that those charges blew before we could use 'em!  Who has their cell phone on? WHO??!!"
(Everyone shakes head, shrugging)
"Maybe someone drivin' by forgot, sir..." 
"Well, did you put up the sign?!?"
"Yeah, I put up the sign."
"You sure you put up the sign?"
"Yeah, I put up the sign.  Right by the road."
"You SURE you put up the sign?  'Cause these charges don't blow themselves up!"
"YEAH!  I PUT UP the SIGN!!!" 
....
"Hey Bob - put in 'nother order of them explosives..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I thought, surely there is a different reason... Surely they wouldn't use a detonator that could be interrupted by something that everyone in their passing car would have on them... And if that really IS the reason for the sign - surely they would have more than ONE sign... Or another sign explaining the dangers... or an electromagnetic pulse like they use in robot movies to destroy the invading robots and save earth... Something....

Certainly that isn't the reason.  I searched it when I got home and found this conversation on Reddit:
Question: "Yesterday I drove through a construction zone that started with a sign saying "blast zone 1 mile", a quarter mile later a sign said "turn off two-way radios and cell phones"; can someone please explain how cell phones and two-way radios interfere with blasting sites? Also, since there was only a short distance between the warning and the site, what would the ramifications be if one does not turn their electronic equipment off in time" 

 (smart girl... glad I'm not the only one wondering...)

Answer: "Radio detonators could be set off by the signals from cell phones or radios, rare and unlikely but better safe than sorry when using explosives"
 
There has got to be a better way, right?  Please tell me that in all of our technological advancements, we have come up with a way to set off dynamite that a cell phone won't interfere with...  And if not,  maybe we go back to lighting a fuse?  That would be safer, no?


Although, I suppose any form of detonation has its dangers....

I am apparently very hip

As a rule, I pretty much don't like anything new.  Sure it takes a while for people to accept change.  I get that.  I'm not alone there.  I suppose my dislike comes from the fact that most "new" ideas are man-made, chemical-laden shortcuts that will no doubt in 20 years prove harmful to us.  And we as a people will be very surprised by these negative side effects.  It really doesn't take too much research to find examples of how we have destroyed ourselves with our improvements.  DDT? Medicinal breakthroughs, shortly followed by commercials of "Did you suffer _____ while taking _____?"  (There are more examples.  But my coffee consumption is not complete - so I'll just allow some personal reflection time to think of other life-changing chemicals that have later proven a horrible mistake...)

GrumpyCat.com with an opinion on passing trends

 (Ok, so maybe I just really love Grumpy Cat...)

So imagine my surprise when I hear about a "new" healthy lifestyle trend that doesn't involve chemicals.  It's called "earthing."  Have you heard of it?  I'll save you the google time if you haven't.  The basic gist of it?  You walk outside.  Barefoot.  There is some shady scientific studies about the electric grounding of the earth, and how we have become a society of indoor, shoe-wearing people having lost connection to the earth.  It is supposed to help most of your ailments.  I'm skeptical - but I'm listening. 

See, I've been practicing this magical cure for the past 34 years of my life.  Maybe part of me is a bit jealous that someone had the smarts to name it and market it.  Maybe I am like that lady in that one patent-your-idea infomercial "Cleaning with orange oil... that was MY idea!!!"  Maybe there is 16 years worth of "I told you so!" rumbling to all the people that have looked at me and said things like "Doesn't being out here barefoot hurt your feet?"  No! I am curing myself the hip way! 

If it ended with just walking outside barefoot, I would be less skeptical.  I really think that God did an amazing job with that whole Creation thing - and therefore would not be surprised that He would want us to spend time in it and pay attention to it. 

But wait!  There's MORE!!!  Of COURSE we would come up with a better way to go "earthing!"  No time to walk outside barefoot?  No worries.  For the low, low price of $199, you can get your very own Earthing Starter Kit.  <sound of screeching tires>  What?!?!  Yes.  You can BUY the power of earth.... Which is when the skepticism kicks in, right?  You plug the stuff into the ground hole in your outlet, and *voila* - you are "earthing."  There is a whole line of ways to get that beneficial grounding without actually stepping one foot outside!  Earthing mats for your feet while you sit at the computer.  Earthing sheets for your bed.  You can potentially be "earthing" 24/7!!! (if you call witihn the next 27 minutes...)

I envision the following happening at some point in the future... ~ ~ ~ ~ (entering the dream world inside my brain) ~ ~ ~ ~  An entrepreneur in New York City realizes the extreme benefit of earthing, and the total lack of available earthing space in the big city.  He builds a relatively small box, fills it with dirt and grass seed.... Earthing vendor: Complete.  He charges $35 for 15 minutes of earthing.  People line up around the block for a chance to go earthing!  The government gets wind of this site, and realizes it is not regulated.  Bare feet? Without a sanitation station?  The EPA and FDA get involved.  The vendor is fined.  His earth confiscated.  A new branch of government is created to produce rules and regulations regarding earthing sites.  People caught barefoot outside of a regulated earthing site are arrested and fined....  ~ ~ ~ ~  (exiting the crazy world in my brain...) ~ ~ ~ ~

Am I the only one who thinks the entire thing is just a bit too "Wall-E" to be real?  Can't you envision the pilot of the Axiom reading about it, and once they are free from the robot oppression, encouraging everyone to go earthing?  <sigh>

Maybe my issue with earthing is that I am not comfortable doing things that are hip.  I have a flip phone from the 90s that doesn't text, for Pete's sake!  More probable is that I am not comfortable with people getting paid cash dollars for this idea.  Maybe it's because I am barefoot and outside a GREAT deal of time, yet still have thyroid issues, aches and pains... my children are outside barefoot even more than me, and they have their own slew of medical diagnoses...

So although I will refrain from purchasing their amazing earthing products, I suppose for the time being, I will have to allow myself to be trendy and join the earthing movement.  Until they all move on to something else that will be a miraculous cure... then I'll return to being silly, lame Nett - walking outside barefoot when everyone knows that it's not cool anymore...

Crazy Baby Invasion; My body

I had a friend post something on Facebook today that got me starting to think about body image issues.  Namely my own personal image issues.  Then it got me thinking about why I have them, and how to change them.  I don't have answers, but it did spark the idea for today's writing. 

I know that I do not have an original story - many women have gone through similar or even more body-boggling times.  But here is my story nonetheless. 

From the year 2003 until 2010, I was either pregnant or breastfeeding.  In that 8 year span, there were approximately three months TOTAL that I was not pregnant or nursing.  3 months.  And in those 3 months, we were no doubt trying for another.  Pregnant for 9 months, nurse for a year.  Rinse. Repeat.  That's a long time.  A really long time.  My body was not my own for EIGHT. YEARS.  Almost an entire decade.  Eight years where someone was feeding off of my body - whether leaching on the insides or hanging off the outsides.  My calories were never mine - always responsible for more than just feeding me.  It was a strange thing, when I had stopped nursing the twins, to understand that what I ate was *just* for me.  Only me!  I wasn't really sure even how to do that! 

But I'm ahead of myself here....

In 2003, I got pregnant with Ethan.  I followed the "What to Expect" diets.   I ended up gaining 55 pounds that year.  I'm not sure where...

7 months pregnant with Ethan

The following year, 2004, Ethan was born in January. 8 lb 5 oz of adorable.   I wanted to lose the baby weight!  So within the next year, I lost 65 pounds.  Dropped an extra 10 - YES! 

In 2005, I got pregnant with Noah.  I gained 75 pounds.  I had read after following that happy little "What to Expect" malarky that your body is going to gain what it's going to gain, regardless of what you ate.  I tested that theory.  Come to find out, you CAN eat enough ice cream to make a difference.  I was 6 months in, and one of my docs (we went to a group OB) said, "Well... you've gained 40 pounds already...."  I was like, yup.  Keep watching, Doc... Ha!

Look ma! No hands! 

Sweet little Noah was born. All 9 lb 8 oz of him.  I joked that he came out with an inch layer of ice cream under his skin. 

In 2006, I lost 65 pounds.  Back to the initial pre-pregnancy weight, so I was good.  No need to be an overachiever.  Yeesh.

In 2007, I got pregnant with Naomi.  For some frustrating reason, I only wanted vegetables with her.  I ended up only gaining about 40 pounds.  Only a 40 pound weight-gain in a year.  Obviously losing my edge.  They did a growth ultrasound on me, because the doctors were concerned at the exponential rate that my babies' birthrate were taking... Meaning, Noah was more than a full pound heavier than Ethan at birth.  They were concerned that I would have an 11 pounder.  Naomi came in at 9 pounds even.  Dainty little thing...

Our computer crashed and I lost all pregnant photos of Naomi.  So here are the boys riding on Jerry's back.

By this time, I now have 3 kids, 4 and under.  Apparently, vegetable fat is harder to lose than ice cream fat, and I only ended up losing 25 of my 40.  Ugh.  I blame the fact that she was a girl... (and not the eating and lack of exercising after the fact.  I think that is irrelevant.)  2008 is the least impressive of my yo-yo weight saga, only losing 25 pounds... 

Then we got super-efficient at the pregnancy game, and started making them two at a time.  2009.  I have no idea how much weight I gained for my twins.  By the end of my pregnancy, I didn't fit on the scale.  Well, not facing forward.  My belly would bump the back of the scale.  I got weighed backward.  (At least they didn't bring in the big sling crane used to weigh whales...)  I think it was close to 70 pounds again. (plus the extra I didn't lose from Naomi)  I have no idea.   My body was ridiculous at this point.  Ridiculous. I could have gained more if there was room for a stomach in my body anymore...

What it looks like to carry two full-sized babies inside one stretchy belly

Josh and Faith were born November 3, 2009.  Josh was first, at 7 lb 12 oz.  Faith was 4 minutes later at 7 lb 6 oz.  Over 15 pounds of baby in there. Yowsa. 

So now I have 5 kids.  Aged 5 and under.  For one whole week, three of my kids were aged 1 and under (Naomi turned 2 a week after they were born.)  To say that "losing baby weight" didn't fall high on the list - well, there wasn't a list.  I was in survival mode.  I honestly can't say that I remember anything from that first full year.  (Thank goodness for Facebook statuses!  It's like being an amnesia patient, finding out what happened to me.)   I think after they turned 1, I put an effort into losing the baby weight. 

So here I am.  Three years into eating for my own sake.  And it's still strange! I am close enough to my pre-prego weight that I shouldn't care much.  Except I can't shake this feeling that I have to lose weight.  It was such a lifestyle for so long, that it's just hard to break.  In my mind, I think it rationalizes "Not pregnant. Must. Lose. Weight." Again, I don't have any answers to this, aside from telling myself that it's not necessary (which of course doesn't really work.)   At least I am past the point of posting bare belly profile pics of myself... Ha!

I just feel that it all deserves a quick recap, though.  So here is my snapshot chart.
2003 - gain 55 pounds
2004 - lose 65 pounds
2005 - gain 75 pounds
2006 - lose 65 pounds
2007 - gain 40 pounds
2008 - lose 25 pounds
2009 - gain at least 70 pounds

Pretty surreal, when you see it all like that.  No wonder my body doesn't know what normal is.  I have no grasp of what my adult woman body should look like in a steady-state.  I have no "normal" to return to, because for so many years it wasn't there. 

Not that I would ever even desire "normal" - what IS that, anyway?  A setting on the washing machine.  Exactly.

Beautiful Gardens and Why They Are Awful

The year was 2001.  I had a remarkable few months of life.  Within four months, I graduated college, moved, started a job, got married, and bought a house. 

I was 22 years old.  At the time, I felt like I was a for-real grownup.  I had years of experience under my belt.  High school - mastered.  College - done.  Husband - found.  Real world, here we come!!!

Now I realize just how young that is... wow.  22. Twenty-two.  Still a kid!  But I digress...

So I was 22, Jerry had just turned a mature 24, and we felt it was time to buy a house.  He was working in Flint, I was working in Warren, so we decided to cut the distance and look in Clarkston.  Until we, in fact, looked in Clarkston and realized we could afford a really nice shed.  Maybe a garage, if we stretched the budget.  But a house?  Ha.  Someone that Jerry worked with said if we wanted to find something affordable, look north of I-69.  Thus started our search.  We took one Saturday just to drive around aimlessly in the towns nearby.  The first time we drove through downtown Flushing, we fell in love with the town.  It looks just like downtown Houghton (GO HUSKIES!), which of course means it must be awesome. 

Houghton downtown

Flushing downtown

We found a realtor that we liked, and off we went.  In one day, we looked at 11 houses.  Doesn't seem like much, I suppose...  Except when you are looking at 11 houses in one day.  The tenth house we looked at was the house we ended up buying.  I remember hardly being able to get out of the car, having climbed in and out of the back of a Sunfire 9 times already...  but luckily I managed.  The house was awesome!  A 1970s quad level - what's not to love!!! (tee hee) And the yard!  Oh my.  It was delightful.  Beautiful gardens everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  So serene and relaxing...

The winner

I think this is called tranquility...

We bought the house.  At the closing, the sweet lady (original owners) that we bought it from handed us a journal.  A gardening journal.  (Hmmm?  Oh - thanks...) We moved in in November, 2001.  No need to care about gardens - winter is coming.  (Had I read the journal, I would have learned about winterizing and what needed to happen in November.  Thank goodness I didn't read that - it would have been a lot of work... Unfortunately, it cost us the custom sprinkler system that ran throughout the entire yard...)

That following spring, we had a rude awakening.  Things started to grow.  Lots of stuff.  Everywhere.  It was like we were being overtaken by plants.  I've read Stephen King.  I know about things coming to life and attacking - this was nothing new, but terrifying nonetheless...

As I started the non-stop job of weeding, I saw little signs telling what the plants were.  I didn't know what it was labeling, since I couldn't identify plant vs. weed.  I had a friend who liked to garden come over.  She pointed out "weed" and "not weed" to me, to give me a heads up when yanking things.  (But there were some stumpers for her, too)  We later found out that our house (well... THEIR house...) was on the Genessee County Garden Tour.  People would show up in a bus and walk through our beautiful yard.  Seriously.  Not a joke. By this point, I would find a little sign knocked over and play "eenie meenie minie moe" and place it in front of something.  It might have been helpful if things weren't labeled in Latin... no joke.  Latin. 

It became very apparent the amount of work that goes into making these gardens so tranquil.  The first time I was actually confronted with this reality was when we got a letter from our mail lady saying "If you don't trim the tree blocking your sidewalk, I will not be able to deliver your mail."  I wanted to cry.  We are supposed to trim things?  Uggggh...  I thought the weeds were bad enough...  now the plants need upkeep too???

Anyway, I just wanted to put out a warning.  If you are looking for a house, and you find one with a beautiful yard, DON'T BUY IT.  It's a trap!!!  Because soon you will be "those neighbors" with brown grass and a garden of tranquility that looks like THIS:

"I love how natural everything looks, with a touch of large plastic"

I spent nearly 40 hours this past week weeding, weeding, pruning, weeding, and spreading mulch.  FORTY. HOURS.  And this is in a yard of survivors.  After that first year?  That's all that's left.  Survivors.  We have removed 6 of the 13 beautiful gardens that graced our backyard.  Yes, there were 13 gardens in our back yard.  Sorry any Master Gardeners out there...  I'm sure we have done something sacrilegious... But if you would like to come to my house, you are more than welcome to come over and work! 

I apologize for the randomness and spaced out-ness of this post.  It seems I have spent forty hours in the heat and sun, and there is a chance it has negatively affected my brain.  (or it could be the 5 kids... or that.)  One last tidbit that I find amusing... every time I try to attack my gardens to get some sort of tranquility back, I always say "Thanks a lot, Adam" in my head.  Over and over.  Why?  Because this is HIS fault.  I mean, I get it.  A naked lady offers you fruit - you eat it.  How about a little self-control, Adam? 
"¹⁷ To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from it,’

“Cursed is the ground because of you;
    through painful toil you will eat food from it
    all the days of your life.
¹⁸ It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
    and you will eat the plants of the field."  Genesis 3:17-18

Thorns and thistles, Adam.  Do you want to know how many thorns and thistles I had to deal with?  Bags and bags and bags... Ugh.  Thanks, Adam.  Thanks a lot. <eyeroll>

But now, having toiled and toiled, please - feel free to stop by and see my beautiful yard!  In fact, we might just put it on the market, just to fool some other young kid into thinking this is a fantastic yard.... heh.  Heh heh heh.... Then at closing, I'll hand them a journal.  In it will be one word... "SUCKERS!!!!!"

Homeschool: Because what mother wants a clean home and alone time?

I have never really put out there the whole "why did you choose to homeschool" story.  Partly because I wasn't so sure myself.  So here it is.  The nitty gritty of why I am now a homeschool mom. 

First let me preface by saying that I had a mental calendar from the time that the twins shot into this world as to how long before I was home alone in my house....  5 years until kindergarten, then blissful, beautiful, time to clean and organize by myself time.  I can do this.  I can do 5 years...  We'll make it, somehow. 

Then a couple of years ago, there was a nudge.  I ignored it as best as I could.  Homeschool?  Only weirdos homeschool (we'll get to that later... ahem!).  Sometimes when God nudges, I think it's just to see if you are awake.  I was awake.  So I let it go. 

Then closer to Christmas time, the nudging got a little pushier.  I remember sitting in Noah's parent/teacher conference, discussing his behavior issues, and looking at his test scores.  I was curious as to what his reading level was, since he has been reading flawlessly and fluently since he was 4.  Well, there wasn't really an answer, because the schools only test to a certain level and no higher.  Oh.  Ok.  But (!!!) the computer lab program that they use allows for them to actually achieve their level with no limitations (phew...).  So that was good... at least twice a week he would have the opportunity of being challenged... and for the rest of school week, he can practice trying to behave in a classroom.  (I later found out at spring conferences, once I already knew that we would be homeschooling, that the computer program glitched out and nobody caught it - he had been stuck getting 100% on 1st grade for the entire year.  I wanted to scream...)  But still - we were back in November and I rationalized it.  Ok, we read at home a lot... he'll get his reading in... he'll be fine.  We're fine.

Then there was Ethan.  Knowing he was on the spectrum (that's another blog... here is one I wrote when we got the diagnosis http://nettandjerry.blogspot.com/2008/05/up-to-speed.html) we would have IEP meetings.  He was so high functioning that he never qualified for any services (which is awesome!) and we felt it was so important to keep him in mainstream school for the socialization that he would need to help him along.  But there were also some frustrations academic-wise.  His strength is math.  The kid has been doing multiplication in his head since before kindergarten.  No joke.  But he so very much LOVED the establishment of school, that it was never a problem.  No behavior issues here!  He will sit and learn how to add with no problems at all.  But seriously - math is my THING, so I knew we would just to math at home, and eventually when it was offered at different levels in school, he could jump into a high level. 

OH!  And I called the guy in charge of gifted/talented programming for the district.  He said his budget for the YEAR for that program was $36... and for me to let him know when I decided to homeschool because then he could lead me to some resources.  So those issues were there... just kinda lingering.  But if you are talking about challenging my children in math/reading vs. them not being all up in my business all day while I take care of 3 OTHER kids... No contest.  You're going to school.  But the homeschool seed was there.  Just needed some watering. 

Enter Christmas Break.  It was an awesome Christmas break, hanging out with the family.  The twinnies were 2 and old enough to be .. well, everything you expect 2 year old twins to be.  As it neared time for them to go back, Ethan started having anxiety issues.  What if he forgets to write his name on his paper... (This happened in the fall once and his teacher threw his paper away.  It affected bedtime for WEEKS with the anxiety. Thanks, Teach.)  So in trying to calm Ethan down, Noah started up.  He would cry and cry because he didn't want to go back to school.  It took too long and it was so boring and he wished he didn't have to go back (please keep reading, lest you think this is the reason we homeschool...)  What that DID do, was place the idea of "time" in my head. 

I started thinking about it.  The bus comes to pick them up at 8am, and drops them off at 4pm.  My children are gone forty hours a week.  A full time job.  I started picturing them wearing little bowler caps and carrying brief cases.  Which was funny.  But ridiculous.  40 hours.  Time.  Time was a big, big thing.  It started wearing on my heart.  They were gone from the time they woke up until the time I started making dinner, which is crazy-time in the Rice house.  Then dinner, bath, bedtime.  There was no time for family time.  There was no time to just BE.  Plus add in extras - more time.  Scouts, Upward sports, Wednesday church.  We really don't go overboard with activities, but when you are dealing with 5 kids and 3 hours of non-school time a day... anyway.  OH!  And an annoyance more than anything (but it really affected my brain) was "reading time."  Ethan had a reading log.  He had to read every. Single. Night.  Fair enough - we read a lot.  But he had to read by himself.  Out loud, so I could hear.  And some nights, when you have 4 siblings, that does not happen!  I asked him one time, "Hey, how about you get your reading time in at school, because I know you get done with your work early..." To which he responded, "No, my teacher said I have to read at home."  I was irritated at how this was teaching poor time management.  Sit here idle, and take your family time to read by yourself...

Then there was Naomi.  At the time she was in preschool.  It was Great Start preschool, which we LOVE!  It's like HeadStart, except you can get in for risk factors instead of just income.  Which is totally awesome, because my kids have tons of risk factors!  (Ha... I guess it would be better if they didn't?? But at the screening we were like, "She's got arthritis, a brother with autism, she's had speech and physical delays... we are so IN!!!")  Anyway, it's an awesome preschool program that was so much like Junior Kindergarten that we knew she would be ready for kindergarten!  Except she is young.  And she would still have days even in the spring where she would cry getting on the bus.  Luckily, we had an awesome and amazing bus driver (who even held her when she cried so hard she threw up on her bus....) so I felt ok sending her.  But then our district (I hear state-wide) went to all-day kindergarten.  All. Day.  My 4 year old (because her birthday is November 10).  Gone 40 hours a week.  No way, Jose.  Academically she was ready.  Emotionally she was totally not.  But there was no longer a Junior Kindergarten option - it went away with all day kindergarten. 

These are some of the head reasons why.  Maybe touched on a couple heart issues.  But the real, true issues had to do with prayer.  The nudging turned into elbow jabs, and things started to get real.  I would pray for a sign.  "God... if You really want me to homeschool, please give me a sign."  Then BAM.  A sign.  "Ok, God... that was nice.  But if You really want me to homeschool, please give me another sign." BAM BAM.  Another sign.  I would pray for specific things... "If You REALLY want me to homeschool, let one of my kids ask about it."  Noah one day, out of the blue, "Mom - what does homeschool mean?"  Good one, God.  "God, if you REALLY want me to homeschool, have my kids mention You and school together..."  Ethan randomly "Our principal said that we aren't allowed to mention God in school."  (I called the teacher and she never heard this, so before anyone freaks out...) (Also, I told him that he most certainly could!)  I was Gideon, facing a huge army (homeschool) and I asked for every version of the wet/dry fleece thing (Judges 6).  Here is a funny, quirky sign... I was like, hey, I remember my kindergarten boyfriend (don't you judge me!) - he stopped going to our school and was homeschooled... I'll see if he's on Facebook and ask him about it.  Yep.  He was.  And guess what - he is married and just got out of seminary.  Did he turn out ok? Of course he did.  <sigh> 

So some things to know for certain.  1) I have NOTHING against the public school system.  I was public schooled, so was Jerry.  We both loved it. I always feel like I should defend it when people find out that I homeschool. 2) Teachers are underpaid!  (I have always thought this.  If you question it, feel free to homeschool... you'll find out right quick.)  3) I didn't do it solely for academic reasons (although both boys grade-bumped at home - so it definitely is nice to challenge them in that way)  4) I didn't do it for overly-conservative Christian reasons (although there's nothing wrong with that reason)  5) I didn't really want this!!!!!  I didn't want to.  Asking for all of those signs?  It was because I DIDN'T WANT THIS TO BE THE ANSWER.  I was not joking when I said that I wanted some alone time.  Time to clean... time to watch the Price is Right.  Time to have coffee with friends.  God just had other plans.  I have since grown into it and accepted it.  But seriously this wasn't like "I know what I want to do. I'm bored.  I think I'll keep my kids home and teach them!"  6) Homeschool is NO JOKE.  Ugh.  I was literally held hostage to my kitchen table while twin toddlers ran rampant, destroying my home.  Laundry piled up, dishes piled up, the house was trashed.  7) I wouldn't have it any other way now.  I know this really IS what is best for my kids (like God knew that already or something... huh.)  I love that they can have swim lessons in the middle of the day and not during our family time.  I love that I can sit with them and teach them.  I love (most of the time) that I can deal with behavior issues as they come up.  There is so much molding and shaping that I want to happen with my children that I am now able to do. 

So that comment earlier about how I didn't want to homeschool because only weirdos homeschool?  I think of the winner of the National Spelling Bee, or the kid that whispers to himself after he talks... then I look at my kids and I giggle.  Those are MY KIDS.  Noah seriously repeats himself in a whisper sometimes (it's called palilalia and actually is common among children who are overly verbal and excellent readers.... who knew.)  Ethan, who will calculate how fast we are driving based on the distance vs time.  In his head.  I could go on and on - maybe a blog some day called "When Engineers Procreate" 

Whew - this was lengthy.  I am open to questions.  Or none.  I have next year's curriculum already in my basement, and I am already tweaking my plans so that it can be even more enjoyable than this year. (My sister is laughing right now... shush your mouth, Dar!)  Ok, so some days are really, really hard.  But we made it through, and to me, being obedient to the call on me was worth it.  And to those who have asked - yes, after the first year, I still am going to homeschool next year.  Lord willing!

The Deep Clean

Wow - with a title that interesting, who wouldn't keep reading!

About 3 times a year, I go through my house and do a deep clean.  Not a spring cleaning where everything gets washed... no.  More of a reorganization day.  Hopefully I have energy left after this to actually wash things.  It's debatable.


Not to bore you with all of the details - but I go through each bedroom, and create piles.  There's the "Boys room" pile, "Naomi's room" pile,  "twins room," "basement," "living room toy bin," "dirty laundry," and of course "garbage."  With 7 people in one house, things get all misplaced ALL THE TIME.  And my husband (whom I love dearly) is a stuffer.  He likes things to look tidy (NOT implying that I don't), so he will open up a bin, and put whatever he sees on the floor into that bin.  If it's on the floor - it's going in the bin.  Anything.  Anything at all... stuffed in a bin. 

I am a sanitizer.  I like things tidy, but I would much rather bleach everything.  Also, I will leave things all over the floor because I do not have the time at that moment to put things in the exact bin where they need to go. 

We live in a constant tension.  Stuffers and bleachers cohabitating.  I know.  Real problems. 

I'm rambling (couldn't be that I'm trying to avoid ... the deep clean?!?!) 

Before you judge me (Don't you judge me!), we do make our kids clean up their rooms.  But the thing is... they suck at it.  They try, and I appreciate it.  But sometimes (3 times a year, apparently) it just takes mom to go through and do it right.

So as I was upstairs and my 5 lovely children were downstairs watching television, I thought of some things that should NOT be said to me while I am doing this chore.  Things that I thought of, well, because they were said to me... In no particular order.

"Wow mom, this room sure is a mess.  You have a lot of work to do."  Thanks, Captain Obvious.  I was unaware. Now get. out. of. your. room. 

"Mom, you might want to start with my dresser - it's really trashed."  How did it get that way? Know what... nevermind... just get. out. of. your. room.

"Mom, can I have some ice water?"  Sure - just get a cup of ice water...  "But I want YOU to get it for me... pleeeeease?"  No.  No I will not.  <twitch>

"Mom, ______ won't get away from me on the couch."   Oh, did you ask him to move away from you?  "No.  Can you come talk to him?"  No.  No I will not. <twitch... twitch>

(Names have been omitted to protect the *innocent*) 

But to show what a saint I am married to, Jerry came home, saw the disarray of "Mid-Deep-Cleaning" and took ... wait for it ... ALL FIVE kids to the grocery store with him.  I am in my house BY MYSELF!!!!  Plus, to add frosting to the beautiful home alone cake, he is also going to put air in the tire on my van!  (I may have an irrational fear of inflating things. What if it explodes! Right in my face!!! How terrifying!) (It's an irrational fear - you won't be able to explain me out of it.  That's what makes it irrational...but thanks for the thought.)

Ok.  Off to continue.  I am 2 bedrooms in.  I can do this.  I CAN DO THIS!!!!  <Raaaaarrrrr!!!!>  (But I might just sit in the silence for a tad bit longer... it is really beautiful...)

The humble beginnings

Here it is, folks.  You've seen me post on Facebook about my *picture-perfect* life, and now here it is.  A blog to collect those moments that require more than a status update will allow. 

For those of you new - here's a little bit about myself.  I met my husband at Michigan Tech where we were both studying to be engineers (although I argue that we are both inherently engineers in all of our beings - the education or job thereafter are just natural effects of how we were made).  He asked me out at a Halloween party where he was dressed as Gene Simmons, leather pants and all.  I was dressed as a "twin" with my friend because there was a better party I was saving my good costume for.  Anyway, I said yes.

On our first date, we saw Soldier (hands-down the worst movie ever created) and went out for a Chocolate Chipper Sundae at Perkins.  I later learned that my then-first-date now-husband does not eat ice cream.  Or chocolate chip cookies.  This was a sundae combining the two.  During our chat over ice cream (which I unashamedly ate most of.  I was a girl at Michigan Tech - there was nothing to lose), Jerry asked me "What do you plan on doing with your degrees?"  (I dual majored.  I snuck a business degree in there, too) to which I answered "Well, I've already interned with GM. So I'll probably work for them.  But I plan on being a stay-at-home mom." 

BOOM.  First date.  How's that for bold?  But really - that's what I always wanted to be.  First date fodder?  Well, if you are efficient, then yes.  Why pull punches?  (If you question my boldness, feel free to Google "guy to girl ratio at Michigan Tech")

So here we are.  Nearly 15 years after that monumental first date.  We have since had 5 children.  And here I am, a stay at home mom.  It gets better - I now homeschool.  So those days where I am sitting on the floor, rocking in the corner because of the craziness that is our household, Jerry chuckles and tells me lovingly, "You're living the dream!  This is what you've always wanted!" 

There's more background I could tell.  But apparently my kids are hungry, and it's lunch time.  Why do they need to eat so many times a day!?!? 

To those that wanted a blog - I hope this doesn't disappoint.  For those that found this blog because you actually wanted to hear about a trophy wife, then I apologize.  You are a victim of my sense of humor.