Doing it all

          "How do you do it all?!"

           I hear this question most of the time when I tell someone I homeschool.  Rarely do I hear the "socialization" question, and NEVER when my girls are with me.  If you know my girls, you know socializing isn't an issue.  And it only takes about ten seconds to realize this.

          So I get that question up top.  Normally, I smile, and say, "I don't know how moms get their kids out the door on time for school."  In other words, I deflect.

          The truth is, I don't do it all.  I don't even try to do it all.  And quite honestly, I think it's time to stop asking each other that question.

          The implication is that, somehow, I am SUPPOSED to do it all.  But I'm not.  I can't.  I am one woman with three children who are where I am all day, every day.  Most days, that's home.  But they go with me to the store, the library, even some doctor visits.  To have blood drawn, even (and recently).

          The truth is, my house is most often a mess.  The "guest room" is unrecognizable at the moment, mostly because it has become storage.  My sewing room is a disaster, with boxes all over the floor, and projects covering the table.  I would give my left arm for someone to come in once a week, or even once every-other-week to clean for me.  I'm not a great housekeeper even when school is on break.

          I don't grow my own wheat, or my own cattle.  I am hopeless with plants.  My oldest now has a greenhouse.  I'm hoping as long as I stay clear, the plants will have a chance to survive.

          If I make my own bread, it is most likely done, at least partially, in a bread machine.  With store-bought, bleached flour.

          Snacks are fruit.  Whole.  Not arranged into pretty faces, or skeletons with cut up bell peppers.  And no dipping sauces, either.

          My clothes, and those of my husband and children, come from the store.  (With few exceptions.  I ADORE sewing, just don't have time for it.)

          I also don't work outside the home.  Getting my children out the door is a challenge, what with all the lost shoes and whatnot.

          Lunch is usually one of two options -- peanut butter sandwiches or vegetable soup.  Occasionally there's nachos, but not often.

          I do cook most evenings.  But there's always Costco pizza and Taco Bell on the Engineer's way home from work.  And I take advantage of that more often than I "should."

          I don't lapbook (I know, you've just revoked my homeschool mother card).  I don't scrapbook.  The pictures are almost exclusively on the computer still.

          I do, however, have three children with lively imaginations, who know how to talk to adults, how to be gentle with smaller children, and how to approach an unfamiliar dog.  The girls are inquisitive, boundlessly curious about everything in their world.  They know themselves and their strengths.  They are proud of their quirks, of who God has created them to be.

          I have a husband who is, without a doubt, doing the job he was created for.  And he's good at it.

          I know I am doing the right thing for my family and myself.  But I am not doing it all.  I can't.  I won't even try.  And I won't ask you "How do you do it all?"  Because chances are, you aren't.  You can't.  And you should probably stop trying to.

          Let's give each other some grace.  Grace to not look exactly like one another, grace to not be able to do it all.  Grace to not have it all together.  Grace to let our own personalities shine.

          Please, let's stop asking, "How do you do it all?"  It just isn't possible.  And the collective guilt is killing us.

When I am Forgotten... But Not Really

Today I heard good news from a friend about mutual acquaintance.  And I was happy for her.  And sad for myself.  And more than a little envious.

Oh, I don't want to take her blessing away.  I just want a similar blessing for myself.  Desperately.  I have prayed for YEARS for a miracle that would allow this blessing in my family's life.  I have cried, pleaded, begged for this same blessing from God for such a long time.

And still I wait.  So often, I feel forgotten.  So often, I feel as though there is no plan, no miracle for me.  I struggle.  I cry.  I sob and beg.  And still, nothing.  Silence.  No miracle, no promise, no hope of a miracle.

Sometimes, it's easy.  Sometimes, I can let life just go on as it is.  Sometimes, I get derailed by the wonderful blessings of others.  And it seems unfair.

Because God does not promise us health, or wealth, or happiness, or even our wants.  He promises that all will work together for good for those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.  But that good may very well await in eternity, not now or here.

Sometimes, all I can cling to, all I can cry is an echo of the apostles, "To whom shall I go?  You have the words of eternal life."  Where else can I go?  I'll admit, if there truly was an easier way, I'm sure I'd at the very least be tempted to take it.  Some days, I so badly want to throw in the towel.

But I'm reminded that this isn't about me.  It's not about what's in it for me.

"Q: What is the chief end of man?
A: Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."  (Westminster Shorter Catechism.)

That's what it's about.  Glorifying Him.  Sometimes -- OK, often -- I cannot see how He will be glorified in the circumstances, how His glory will shine through my situation.  I cannot see the good that He's working.  But then I look again -- it's my job to glorify Him through all of this.

Even when I feel forgotten.

Even when it seems unfair.

Even when what I long for, what I cry out about is a good thing, a blessing only He can provide.

Even when it seems that there is no plan.

Even when I cannot see the next step.

Even when I cry, beg, plead, and Heaven is silent.

I must -- I must -- glorify Him.  After all, He has the words of eternal life.  He's the only one who does.

"The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD." (Job 1:21b).

Encouragement

Dear Fellow Moms --
I see you in Target, in Wal-Mart, at the library, in the grocery store.  I see your online comments and blog posts.  You have a small family, a big family.  You breastfed, bottle-fed, or some combination.  You vaccinate, or don't.  You work outside the home, or are a full-time homemaker.  You homeschool, public school, private school your kids.

Your decisions are different than mine, but made for the same reason -- you are doing what you believe best for your family and children.  You are struggling with your choices, worrying that you are going to permanently ruin these amazing short people that God has entrusted to you for a time.

You sometimes cry yourself to sleep at night, worrying that one of the loud critical voices in the mommy wars will be correct, and you will wake up one morning and your children will hate you.

You are tired, tired of having the same conversation every single day.  Listening to the same fighting at the breakfast table.  Of teaching the same lesson for what seems to be the 437th time this school year.

Mostly, though, you are tired of having to defend yourself against attacks that come from people who do not know what went into the decisions your made, the research, prayers, tears, and finally surrender.  The faith that you cling to that God is ultimately in control, and that your decisions will honor Him for that reason.

I see you.  My decisions may be different than yours.  The particulars of my life are certainly different than yours.  But here's the bottom line -- God gave you those children to rear.  Not me.  Not your neighbor, not your cousin, not the friend-of-a-friend on Facebook who decided to "correct your thinking" on some decision or other of yours.  Despite the fact that she's never even met you.

I see you, and more important, God sees you.  He sees the struggle you have daily to serve this beautiful family, to be a servant as He has called you.  He sees your heart for them, which stems from your heart for Him.  And it is to Him you will ultimately answer, not to anyone else.

So, let's make a pact, you and I.  You go on living for your audience of One, and I will do the same, and I will encourage you along the way as best I can.  Maybe a smile.  Maybe picking up that pacifier that your little one dropped for the 963,082 time this shopping trip.  Maybe by educating my children about the differences of other children.  Maybe by crying in my car as my heart breaks for you in your struggles.  And you do the same.  I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, assume that you truly do have your children's best interest at heart, that you are truly competent to raise these small ones entrusted to your care by their Creator.  And you do the same for me.

Let's see each other -- truly see each other, and look past the superficial differences and to the heart of each other.  Let's stop the mommy wars, as much as we are able.  Let's be at peace with each other, in so far as it is up to us.  I'll trust you, encourage you, and cry for you at times, and you do the same for me, OK?

Let's fight this good fight together, teach our children to see people, not issues.  After all, if God had wanted sameness, He could easily have made us that way.  It seems to me that He likes the nuance, the beauty of the differences in His children.

Out to Dinner with the Doctor

Sunday evening, I took the Doctor out to dinner.  She is my "academic" child, the one who learns things so quickly, who I am not so much homeschooling as I am getting out of her way as she rapidly assimilates knowledge at speeds I cannot accurately describe.

And in all of that, I forget how young she is.  I easily forget that she's not even a year and a half older than the Cowgirl.

I forget how fun she can be, how silly and giggly.  I forget sometimes how much a child she is, and SHOULD be.  Because, well, she's still a child, still single-digits old.

So tonight, I let her have caffeine, and too much sugar.  And laughed and giggled with her as the 57 squirrels that run in her brain (normally in the same direction) jumped track and ran in 57 different directions at once.  And incredibly intelligent child hopped up on caffeine and sugar (a VERY rare occurrence in our family!) is a sight to behold!

But fun is what she and I needed most in our relationship right now.  She's often so serious, learning so much, and so quickly, that I think even she forgets to just be a kid.  She has big dreams and plans, but I don't want her to lose sight of NOW, of FUN, and childhood.  And as her mama, it's easy for me to let those things fall through the cracks, because I am a serious person by nature.  I am a goal-setter, a dreamer of big future dreams, too.  And I too, forget how to be fun, how to be here now.  She is so very much my child.  And I am so very thankful she is my daughter.

The Cowgirl and the Concert

My middle child, the Cowgirl, and I walked to a local church for a cello and viola concert/recital on Sunday afternoon.

This is my "quiet" child, the one who tells me that she likes the quiet.  Frequently, when I take her places without her sisters, she doesn't say a word in the car.  Her brain runs on a different channel, too, on a different frequency than mine or her sisters'.

Saturday, she was watching college football with her Daddy, another activity she enjoys.  Sunday was music.  Her interests are broad -- animals, music (particularly cello), and college football.  She is funny, silly, and oh! so entertaining.  She reads people quite well, uncannily so.  Her love for others isn't as exuberant as Fidget's, but more helpful.  She will quietly do what is needed, without much fuss or fanfare.  She looks for ways to help, for things to DO.

At the concert, she asked the cellist a question during a Q and A session.  This lady knew from her question that she played some kind of instrument.  I think the Cowgirl was a little embarrassed to be spotted like that.  She doesn't really like being the center of attention, but she sure does like having her questions answered, her curiosity satisfied.

The walk home was pretty typical for her, full of off-beat funny and a multitude of faces.  And excitement to be home, to be back with her sisters.  Because that's the other big thing about the Cowgirl.  She truly would rather be home than anywhere else.

Fidget and the Play

Fidget loves people.  Genuinely loves them.  If she has met you, she "knows" you, and will be over-the-moon excited to see you.  She WILL run across the room to hug you, probably knocking you a bit backwards in the process.  And people light up when she's around.  Even as a preschooler, she has the innate ability to make each person feel loved and important.  It's a gift, and a responsibility.

So, I took her to see a play this weekend.  One in which several of the people she loves best had roles, either on stage or behind it.  She sat through the play about like you'd expect a preschooler to.  She waved so excitedly at our pastor's oldest daughter that she momentarily "broke" character and waved a finger at Fidget while on stage.  That's her effect on people.

But afterwards -- OH! afterwards! -- she hugged everyone she knew.  She shouted names, helped fold and move chairs, hugged people again, met new people, and generally worked the room.

She doesn't get this from me.  This is NOT how I am.  I meet people, yes, and will speak to anyone.  But I am not the hug-everyone, remember-all-the-names, wave-frantically, light-up-when-I-see-someone-I've-met-once type.  I am more the call on me when things are bad and I will move heaven and earth to help friend, not the let's celebrate the fact that we saw each other friend.

God has given her a genuine love for people.  A love that makes them light up, feel special, and seriously look for her in a crowd.  Older kids and teens seek her out for hugs and smiles.  Adults light up when she walks in the room, because she is THAT excited to see them.  And she really, truly MEANS it.  It's not an act to manipulate.  It's real.

Oh that God would grant me the ability to love like my youngest!  Genuinely, and without reservation.

My Weekend

This weekend did not turn out at all the way I expected.  Saturday afternoon, I went to a play with Fidget, and then on Sunday, I took the Cowgirl to a cello/viola concert, and the Doctor out to dinner and some shopping.

Three very different activities, two of which were entirely unplanned on as of Saturday morning.  My wonderfully flexible husband allowed me to traipse off with each one in turn, and the time spent one-on-one with each was an enormous blessing to me, as I hope it was to each of them.

So this week, I will be sharing a bit about each child.  Not much, but a bit about how each outing went, and things that I see in each of them.  Why I am thankful for each of them in our family.

Building Up, or Tearing Down

Have you ever seen a building implode?  In mere seconds, a building that took months to build becomes a pile of rubble.  I know there's a lot of work that goes into it beforehand, to make sure that the building doesn't fall down on the neighbors.  But in the end, tearing down only takes minutes, or even seconds.

Building that building took months, or even years.

Let that sink in.  Building up takes far more time and effort than tearing down.

I can build up my brothers and sisters in Christ for years, decades even, and all that can be undone in moments by bad choices.

My witness can be decimated with just a few bad decisions.  And Christ's reputation is harmed.

I can leave friendships and family relationships broken and bleeding by my refusal to take the log from my own eye first.  It's really not that hard.

And yes, there is a time to tear down, as well as a time to build up.  There is certainly a time to tear down rotten walls, or poor foundation.  But then the rebuilding comes.  And it takes time.  Much more time that the tearing down.

Every day, I must decide if today is a day of tearing down or building up.  I must make a conscious choice as to whether or not I'm going to build up the foundation and walls of my husband and children, of my relationship with God.

Today, I chose to build.  It's slow work, sometimes painfully slow.  But one day, I will reap the rewards of the work, if I do not quit.  Maybe (probably), some portions will need tearing down one day.  No one is perfect, and I am certainly no exception.  But as God helps, and He allows, I will build up those around me.

I Am NOT Enough

There are several posts/pins floating around Facebook and Pinterest (and maybe other places, but I'm only on those two.)  It goes through various statements about "I am ...."  and ends with "And I am enough."

But that's simply not true.  I am not enough.  I am not enough by design.  I am not enough for my husband, my children, my parents, friends, brother and sister, and so forth.  I am not enough even for me!

I have tried the whole "being enough" thing.  And the weight is too much to bear.  I have tried to do it all, or at least give the appearance of doing it all.  I have tried so very hard not to need anyone else.  And I have failed miserably in the attempt.  And yet, I continued to try.  And worse, I looked to others to "be enough" at times.

Here's the thing -- there is One Who Is Enough.  But only One.

And my "not enough-ness" is designed to point me and others to His enough-ness.  My finite capabilities to meet needs, solve problems, and take care of things is not an accident.  God does not do things by accident.  He wants us to depend on Him,  He wants us to look to Him as our "enough."  And then, He wants us to point others to Him as enough.

So, if I set myself up as "enough," then I hamper others.  I put a stumbling block between them and God.  I set myself up in God's place in their lives.  And that is a very dangerous thing indeed!

When I claim to be enough, even for me, I make the claim to not need God.  But I am finite.  And the need is infinite.  I have limits, but the need is deeper, broader, and far more than my limits can reach.  You see, the true need is salvation, a relationship with the Creator.  And I cannot meet that need.  I cannot save anyone, not even myself.

I am not enough.  And that is the glorious, freeing, scary truth.

Praising in the Storm

Two and a half weeks ago, the Engineer spent four days and three nights in the hospital.  Starting on Monday, and ending on Thursday.  It took a couple of days to figure out what was wrong with him.

It started off with a fear of meningitis.  Then, tuberculosis.  The first was quickly ruled out (praise God!).  The second took a little longer...

Wonderful friends took the girls Monday evening (and then again all day Tuesday).  Monday night, I picked up my precious three girlies and was driving home.  I found myself singing.  Softly, almost without thought.

The Cowgirl asked me what I was singing.  So I sang louder.  I sang hymns.  The hymns that contain so very much rich theology.  The hymns that have helped inform my faith.  Hymns by men and women that have loved the Lord, clung to Him through adversity, the likes of which I may never face.  Hymns that stuck in my ears and in my heart.

I found myself, not just clinging to God, but praising Him.  Praising Him for who He is, for how He has gone before.  Through these timeless words penned centuries ago.  Words and melodies that link me to believers long dead, believers that have walked this path before me.  Not just to the hymn-writers, but to the centuries of hymn-singers, as well.  Fellow worshipers who have gone to these same hymns countless times, through adversity, and pain, and plenty, and mountaintops.

And this is why I mourn the loss of hymns in the church.  That link to the past, that theology learned through the music of the saints long past.  The idea that "if others can do this, so can I" that comes almost unconsciously.

Modern music is missing that -- that link to the saints.  It's not long-lasting.  No one in a hundred years will be singing the "praise music" we sing today.  I fear the push to make us "relevant" has made us merely worldly.  Instead of being truly different, truly timeless, we have settled for "cool" and "hip," both concepts that are bound, by definition, to time.

When nothing is different from what folks can find in the gym, or the country club, or even the casino, why would they choose the church? 

When my children go through hard times, will they sing the songs they hear now, ones long out of fashion by then?  Will they go to songs that are in vogue at that time?  Or will the long for something more -- something deeper, something that speaks of saints before clinging to God and the cross?  Will they long for a link to men and women with stories of perseverance through the unthinkable, of a God bigger than all of this life?  And more importantly, will they find that link?  Will it still be there?

Nice, or Kind?

I very much dislike the word "nice."  It brings forth images of people with no real life in them.  No opinions, no truth, no ideas.  I believe it's the foundation of Political Correctness, of "Your Truth" and "My Truth."

Kindness, however, is a part of the fruit of the Spirit.  Kindness is sometimes not at all "nice".  It sometimes requires hurting someone's feelings when there's been a wrong done.  Kindness steps on toes, extends grace, and comes from a heart of obedience to God.

Niceness is a self-centered plea along the lines of, "Everyone, please like me!"

Kindness does not care about being liked, but simply desires what is truly best for another person.

Kindness often involves hard conversations and awkward silences, allowing the other person space, and the Holy Spirit time to work.

Kindness is what drives me, as mom, to expect obedience from my children.  It is what pushes me to raise the standard high for them, to push them to try and not give up.  Kindness is what impels me to speak the truth lovingly to my children when they are in the wrong.  It is the same thing that protects them when others would harm them.

"Nice" is not what I expect of my children.  "Kind" most definitely is.

In the Wilderness

In the life of every homeschool family with more than one child, there is a day -- a day where the children bicker, where the end of mama's patience has been reached, where grace is needed more than ever, but it seems that there is less than ever to give.  When obedience is just a pipe dream, and mama begins to question her calling to this journey.

We typically call that day Wednesday.  At least so far this year, Wednesdays have been our wilderness.  They seem to last from the dawn of time until eternity, and every. last. minute. seems to be wrought with trouble.

I don't have any easy solutions.  No steps to stop sibling strife, or fool-proof ways to teach absolute obedience, or even just ways to make it through the day without major tears.  None.  And really, even if I did, it would only be management tools.

Because at the end of the day, the trouble is the heart.  And I cannot change their little hearts.  I cannot change my OWN heart.  I can only point them (and me) to the One Who Changes Hearts.  I can fix my heart on His, and pray that will spill over into my family, into our Wednesday wilderness.

I am not saying that managing behavior is unimportant, just that it isn't the main thing.  The main thing is the gospel.  Pointing little hearts to the One who can change them, mold them into His image. 

In the end, I pray that through all of this, my girls hear, see, taste, touch, and smell the gospel each day.  And when I fail (and I will, more than I will succeed), I pray that they can see true repentance and grace lived in a fallen world, with frail and imperfect people.

You see, we're all the same -- my children, me, you, your neighbors, their kids (and yours, too!) -- we're all sinners in desperate need of a Savior.  And pointing each other to Him is the most loving and kind thing we can do.

Tough Week, and Random Thoughts

It's been a tough week this week.  The Engineer has been in the hospital, and that means juggling the girls, hospital visits, updating family and friends (our family is all "away" from us), and trying to fit in school and housework.  Plus sleep...  So, forgive me if I'm a bit incoherent.

First of all, I have never been more thankful for my own mother!  When we were little, she let us "help" whenever we asked.  Even if that meant our "help" doubled or tripled her workload.  Why am I thankful?  Because her example has led me to do the same for my girls.  From the time they could say, "I hep, peese?"  I let them.  And this week, it has paid off in spades!  All those hours of letting tiny-littles load and unload dryers at a snail's pace, clean the lint trap, load and "unload" the dishwasher, fold washcloths, etc., have been time well spent:
The Doctor and the Cowgirl can run laundry from start to finish all by themselves.  Fidget cleans the lint trap like a pro.  While they haven't actually had to do all the laundry this week, it is such a blessing to be able to ask them to switch over a load, start a load, and empty the dryer, and know it will be done well and thoroughly.
The Doctor and the Cowgirl can do a load of dishes from loading to unloading.  Even Fidget can load her dishes, add soap, and start the washer.
The Doctor and the Cowgirl can clean a bathroom.  Without oversight.  It's not "white glove" clean, but certainly clean enough for company.
During a week of turmoil, this is a major blessing.  From my mom to me, many years later.  And I am grateful.

Another random thought -- night nurses are my new heroes.  They look after people at their most vulnerable -- sick and at night.  Any mom knows that nighttime is when illness gets worse, sometimes much worse.  These ladies and gentlemen perform many thankless and undesirable tasks day in, day out.  And generally, the only time they hear anything is when there's a complaint.  Yet, they keep working.  And I am grateful.

Those are my random (semi-coherent) thoughts for today.

Things I Love: the End

I love a good project.  You know why?  Because there is an END!  And, like any good project, this one is ending today.

Did I do all 30 days?  No.  I guess by that measurement, the project was a failure.

But, the purpose of this project was to make me focus on the things for which I am thankful, and to be mindful of showing love to those around me.  By that measurement, the project was a success.  Because I knew I would have to write about it, I was more mindful of things for which I am thankful.  And as I focused on some, I began to see more.

It also challenged me in ways that I did not foresee.  I realized how very blessed I am, and how very little I give in return.  That's a shameful admission, but there it is.

I need to be serving more.  I need to be giving of myself more.  I don't know HOW yet.  I don't know where, or to whom.  But I know there are plenty of people who need, who struggle for the basic needs.

In my day to day life, I am apt to focus on the short-comings, the things that nag at me, or needle me, or just bother me.  (That's a whole lotta "me" there!)  But, in truth, I have been blessed on this earth beyond what I deserve, beyond what I would have though possible just a few short years ago.  With these blessings is an expectation that I will share them with others.  But how?  That's a matter for prayer and consideration.  I am sure that as I seek His will, He will show me.

Things I Love: Fidget

Today is Fidget's birthday!  She's so full of fun and life and energy.  She's loving and kind, and has never met a stranger.  We are so blessed to have her as our youngest, and I can't wait to see what the next year brings for her.

Showing love today was "all about Fidget."  Starting the morning was French toast.  After that we went to the local children's science museum, and ate at her choice of restaurant.  Well, her second choice.  The first one was too expensive!  Then on to Costco for groceries, and then home.  So very grateful for this little human who joined our family not so many years ago!

Things I Love: Roses

We bought our house in January, when roses are not blooming.  Basically, we had thorny sticks in the "flower bed" when we moved in.  And the Doctor and I had a conversation that went something like this:
Her: "Mama, wouldn't it be great if one of those bushes had pink roses for you and Sarah, one had yellow for Mary, and one had purple for me?"
Me: "That would be wonderful, but, doll baby, lavender is the closest to 'purple' in roses, and they are fairly uncommon.  Don't get your hopes up."  (I had never seen lavender roses on the bush, just infrequently in stores.)
Her: "Maybe one will be red, then."
Me: "Maybe so."

Well, wouldn't you know it?!  When the bushes started blooming, there are at least two pink with creamy centers (one light pink, one dark), one yellow and one LAVENDER!  At least two of the bushes have yet to bloom, so we'll see what they are (maybe soon!)  I cannot believe the gift God gave my girl.  She wanted lavender roses, and God gave her lavender roses.  And this morning she said to me, "I like these better than red."


Today, I cut the six roses that were in their "final days" and brought them inside.  Normally, I would leave them outside, but I thought we needed a "pick up" after all the party planning, cooking, and cleaning that went on before and after the party.  The girls love "their" roses, quickly claiming their favorite colors.  They are a spot of beauty, I must admit.

Things I Love: Boiled Peanuts

Every year about this time, a box arrives in the mail.  It's from my parents, and it includes about ten pounds of raw, green peanuts.  And I boil them.  And we eat them, loving every minute.

Boiled peanuts are a delicacy known only in the South.  And as a Southern Girl, I miss them.  So. Very. Much.

And to show my love for others, I share them with my family. ;)

Things I Love: My Kids' Friends

We just had the birthday party for the Cowgirl and Fidget.  And I must say -- I LOVE their friends.  Those kids are amazing little people with amazing parents.  Young as they are (and there are some young ones!), they are just a joy to be around.  I am very thankful for them, and for their places in my girls' lives.

Showing love today was easy.  I worked in the church nursery, so that parents could worship without distraction from their babies.  Our church totally welcomes the tinies into service, but we also provide nursery for those who would prefer that time without distraction.  And I so enjoy that small act of service each month.  There truly is nothing quite like snuggling the littles for a couple hours.

Things I Love: My Kitchen

Tomorrow is the Cowgirl and Fidget's birthday party.  So I've been spending time in the kitchen today, baking goodies.  And I was struck by how much I love my kitchen.

I baked three cakes, a huge cookie (an entire batch in one giant cookie), and nineteen cupcakes all in one oven, all at the same time.  That makes me so very happy.

Though not large, my kitchen is a workhorse.  When we bought the house we're in, we decided I could get a couple new appliances for the kitchen.  So, I was able to get a double convection oven and an induction cooktop.  I am so very thankful for them both, and am constantly amazed at how well they work, how much they can do.  With counter space at a premium, having a smooth-topped stove has almost doubled the workable space.  It's not perfect, there are a few more changes I'd love to make, but I definitely love my kitchen.  And I will admit that's a first.  I've never had a kitchen I loved before.

Sooo, loving others.  Today, I am getting ready for the younger girls' party.  We are planning on nearly 50 people visiting us tomorrow late afternoon and staying through a cookout supper.  That means cooking and cleaning today.  Not because I feel the need to "impress" them -- they are our friends, after all, and all of them have children; but because I love them, and want to show them that.  One way is to make the house "nice" and have good food (and plenty of it, as there will be teen and near-teen boys there!)  They are taking time out of their busy lives to visit us and share our girls' birthdays with us, and the least I can do is make sure they are comfortable and welcome in our home.

Things I Love: the Cowgirl

Today is the Cowgirl's birthday!  I LOVE my Cowgirl.  I wish I could get "her" on paper.  Full of personality, she is fun, and fiery, and dramatic.  She knows what she likes, and doesn't care for surprises (or change).  She loves people and animals, and is amazing at finding ways to help without being asked.  She thrives on being with people.  At the same time, she is the quite one of our crew.  (Which by no means equates to "quiet" by a normal definition!)  But, unless she actually has something to say, she'll be pretty quiet.

Her brain works quickly, and uniquely.  Certainly not in the same direction as my brain!  As soon as you think you know where she's headed with something, she takes that "right turn at Albuquerque" that Bugs Bunny was so adept at missing.

So, Happy Birthday, Cowgirl!  The Engineer, the Doctor, Fidget, and I all love you more than you can imagine!

What are the ways we'll show the Cowgirl we love her?  Well, today will be packed!  We'll be eating meals she requested (pancakes for breakfast, tacos for supper).  Lunch will be PBJ at the zoo, where we will be meeting her best friend's family to spend the morning.  She already has her gifts from us (those chickens and their habitat are hers).  We do have one small surprise for her, but since it's Hello Kitty, I think it will be safe! ;)