homeschool: grooming the green thumb

So, as I was writing my post the other day about wooden blocks, I remembered that I had once promised that once a week I would write about the various 'homeschool' activities we do around here.

And well, I got distracted and forgot.

(Like I often do.)

This past weekend, during our lemonade sales, my friend Mary came to visit us. While we were talking, Mary mentioned that she was really interested in my knitting posts, because she was teaching herself how to knit again. And, what ever happened to my knitting posts?

(Mary, it was really nice to see you. Thank you so much for dropping by. Here are the knitting posts I've written so far. Now that the weather is starting to get cooler - hahaha who am I kidding it was 96 degrees today, HELLO Fall Solstice! - I'll start up on that knitting thread - note the pun - again very soon.)

So where was I?

Let's see ... Charlie's cooking blog.

No, no. That wasn't it.

(But that will be soon. I promise.)

Oh yes!

Homeschool activities.

What I have discovered is that the more "real" life activities you can get your children involved with, the more likely they will enjoy it. For instance, the kids have a lot of fun washing dishes. So I'll pull up a chair to the sink, fill it midway with warm water, load it up with nonbreakable items, hand them sponges and soap and let them have at it.

We're talking MINUTES of soapy, watery fun.

I have also solicited the children's help to care for plants both inside and outside of our home. But because I think it is important that they have tools that are sized just right for them, I purchased children-sized watering cans, gloves, trowels and spades.

Does this sound idealistic?

It totally is.

But please, stick with me.

The children have a small watering can that they use to water the indoor plants each week - and I have them spritz off the leaves and wipe up any excess water that might drip on to our hardwood floors. Whenever the leaves on the plants start to turn brown or we need to cut off wilted flowers, I'll hand the children their blunt-edge scissors and they help me prune.

I believe that having children learn about plant care is a valuable life experience. Not only are you teaching children respect for another living thing, you are teaching them that with nurture and care, something can grow and thrive.


(Or, get hacked back to it's roots.)

I like having the children work in our flower gardens because it provides them a great opportunity to be outdoors and combat 'nature deficit disorder'.

Our children absolutely love examining all of the life that is teeming within the garden, just outside of our door. Worms, caterpillars, beetles and snails.

Working in the garden gives children a wonderful excuse to get dirty and pull weeds out by the hand full. But don't feel too discouraged if the weeds that they are yanking out are actually your imported herbs.

There is definitely a learning curve for children, and a patience curve for any adult that must be obtained in order for multi-generational gardening to be a success.


I love to see our children working with plants - and they love it, too.

But don't expect that gardening will be a full day activity for children.


Because like all things, after a while, they will get distracted.

And soon, they might start telling stories like, "I once caught a fish THIS big."

And you might wonder where in the world your child gets his short attention span.

(Surely it couldn't be me.)

the pink lemonade project

If you're ever in need of a good fundraising idea, might I suggest a lemonade stand?

But to make it really successful, you might need to gather up several sets of triplets ...


Dress them alike ...


And set up shop in a busy pedestrian location.


Then, lead half of your similarly dressed children around the grounds in a "parade" while they carry homemade signs which advertise your cause...


And have the other half remain at the lemonade headquarters, looking adorable.


If you bring your fellow merchants ice cold glasses of lemonade, they might be so appreciative that they give you a show...


Or paint your face (and hands and arms) with glitter.

Keep in mind: the goal is to make money, so you don't want to eat ...


Or drink too much of your product.


It's great if you have some bruise-resistant fathers available to play with the children ...


So that mothers who wear pink pirate hats (that they had to pry out of their four-year-old daughters hands) ...


Can sell lemonade ...


Until they pass out cold.

All told, we made and sold about 20 gallons of lemonade which works out to about 300 cups.

There were so many highlights of my weekend. Watching our beautiful, healthy children run around and help drum up attention for this important cause was one. Seeing people generously contribute to something that has impacted so many of their lives was another. But the woman who had a mastectomy 12-years ago, that embraced me in a tight hug and thanked me - with tears in her eyes -was the most awesome experience of all.

Whenever I would ask people which cup size they preferred, more often than not, they would look at their chests before answering. Several women would wistfully say, "You know I always wanted a "D" cup!" and this weekend, it brought me SUCH JOY to tell them, "Well, today is your LUCKY day!"

do you wish for an "A" cup or a "D" cup?

Charlie baked almost 400 chocolate chip cookies yesterday and we were up, late in to the night, individually wrapping those almost 400 cookies, in pretty little bags with bright pink ribbon.

This morning, we are taking off for Seaport Village, where we will rendezvous with my triplet walking moms, to have the most awesome lemonade stand, ever.

There will be bracelets. And cookies. And pink balloons.

ALL proceeds will go to our team's Breast Cancer 3-Day fundraising efforts.

(Did I mention that all of the links are now working on my post from yesterday regarding bracelet sales and the awesome giveaway? If you haven't had a chance to check that out - please do. Because if the giveaway ends up costing more than the donations received, it will be a very sad day indeed.)

If you live in San Diego, please come by today (or tomorrow) and say hello.

You won't miss us since the entire family will be dressed in pink.

We'd love to help fill up your cups.

(That's just a little breast humor for you on this beautiful Saturday morn.)

favorite thing friday (and 994 silicone bracelets)

**Edited to add: Because someone was fiddling around with their blog settings, they inadvertently turned off all the comments. Oops. That's definitely not the thing to do on a day when you launch a new contest and in order to participate, people need to leave a comment.

The problem has been rectified and those responsible have been sacked.

If you were unable to leave a comment previously, you can do it now. Thank you. An abundance of apologies. Also: May the sun shine on your spirit, always.

*** Edited to add (part deux): I have been awake since 3:45 this morning and have driven more than 300 miles in the past 14 hours. And now, for reasons that completely elude me, my computer is having a tantrum. Until I can fix the link in this post that would take you directly to my fundraising page, please click through by clicking on the button that is brightly present on the left side of my blog that reads, "I'm Walking 60 miles in the Breast Cancer 3-Day!"

Those responsible for sacking the people who have just been sacked have been sacked.

(Name that movie!)

Thank you again. Another abundance of apologies. Also: May those that love you, love you and may those that don't - may God turn their hearts. And if he doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so you can tell them by their limping.

******

When I was a child, my best friend's mother was a Montessori teacher.

I always loved going to Amy's house, because she and her brothers had the most wonderful wooden toys to play with. But what I remember most of all, were their wooden blocks. They were smooth, solid blocks that were fun and easy to handle. And even though I didn't know the first thing about geometry or proportions, I knew that I loved playing with these incredible toys.

It might sound crazy, but I clearly recall playing with my friend's blocks, and a feeling of peace would descend over me. The great Maria Montessori nailed it when she wrote,

"The toys and materials in the home and school for this period of development should be of the very best quality to call forth self-respect, respect and care from the child toward the environment, and the development of an appreciation of beauty."

Even before I became a mother, I've been looking for the same quality blocks. And although you can buy toy blocks just about anywhere - I had no luck finding any that had remotely the same appeal as what I remembered from my childhood. I was beginning to think that maybe I'd dreamed up the whole "proportional, beautiful, good quality" block thing.

(Just like I had dreamed up the notion that my family had promised me a pony when I was 10.)

But then. A few years ago, thanks be to the Glory of the Internet, I stumbled upon a company that makes high end wooden toys. They use solid maple and the corners are smooth. They are proportional and beautiful and although I was 36-years old at the time, I couldn't wait to have my very own wooden blocks and build something magnificent.

With the children, of course.

Because these blocks were really for them.

So, I ordered the starter set of blocks - that came in a beautiful roll away cart - and when they were presented on Christmas morning, I felt like I had provided my children (and husband and myself) the best gift of their entire lives.

Our blocks are kept in a central part of the house and it is no exaggeration to say that our children play with them every day. Sometimes, they build things like towers and bridges and roads and tunnels - and sometimes they hide stuffed animals beneath the blocks and pretend that they are in caves.

Every so often, the kids will dump all the blocks out and have fun piecing them all back together like one huge, interactive puzzle.


Seeing my children embrace order and organization, does things to my brain that I just cannot adequately explain.

The fact is, these blocks encourage creative imagination unlike any other toy that we own.

I love these blocks.

The kids love these blocks.

And if you are between the ages of 3 and 100, you will love these blocks, too.

Which is why I am giving away a set.

Because I need to catch up to my fellow teammates on their outstanding fundraising efforts, I am going to be giving away one Introductory Set with Storage Chest.

These beautiful blocks are valued at $305.00 and would make an awesome Christmas / Hanukkah / Enter the Holiday Here, gift for anyone on your list.

Here are the details on how to enter...

For the past several months, I've been trying to figure out how I can host raffles on my blog without breaking any laws. The only thing that I can come up with, is that for every $5.00 donation people make directly to our fundraising efforts, I will send them a silicone bracelet and enter their name in to a drawing to win a prize.

So, you aren't really entering a raffle - you are buying a bracelet.

(Or 20. You can give them to everyone you know!!)

And, you are being entered in to a drawing to win a prize.

Is there an attorney in the house?

If my interpretation of the law is wrong, and what I am doing is illegal, please don't tell me.

To buy a bracelet and be entered in to what I believe is a totally legal contest - please leave me a comment on THIS post telling me the amount of your donation and what size and color bracelets you would like.

• The size choices are large (8 3/8" around) medium (7 3/8" around) or small (5 7/8" around).

• The color choices are hot pink, forest green or royal blue.

Now, if you want to enter this contest and make a $50.00 donation (so that you will be entered 10 times), but you only want one bracelet (and not 10), just tell me in the comments what size and color you want.

Or, if you only want a bracelet and don't want to be entered in to the contest at all (because you already have an awesome block set or don't like blocks at all), leave me those details in your comment.

Then, and this is the most important part, go make a $5.00, tax deductible donation, by clicking through to the button on the LEFT side of my blog that reads, "I'm Walking 60 Miles in the Breast Cancer 3-Day!!"

If you need to make up a pseudo name to protect your identity, that's fine by me. Please just make sure that the name you leave in your comment on THIS post matches the name that you leave on your donation, so that I am able to figure out who is who.

Was that confusing enough?

Fantastic.

(Please send me an e-mail if you have any questions. I'll get back to you as soon as I can.)

Winner will be announced Sunday, October 4.

That's 10-4 big buddy.

Over and out.

my motivation

I've already written before about my Uncle Bill.

I've written that Uncle Bill is our son William's namesake, in large part, because when my parents were going through their divorce, Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill turned their home in to a safe haven for my family.

I've written that although Uncle Bill was diagnosed with cancer almost five years ago, and he was told that he only had three-months to live, he has surpassed all of his doctors expectations. In fact, of all the patients that he was in clinical trials with for various medications, Uncle Bill was the only one that survived.

I've written that he believes he can do anything that he puts his mind to, so long as it is on his 'to do' list. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, Uncle Bill visited a hypnotist to help him get his mind around the disease that was plaguing his body. Shortly after that, Margaret tasked her father with building her a new house. Which he built. He then planted a vineyard with his grandchildren - in hopes that the money generated from grape sales, will help fund their college educations and give them a jump start on life.

And then he did a whole lot of other things.

Different projects and tasks to keep his mind busy and his body going.

Although he has Stage IV cancer and was in the midst of treatment, Uncle Bill committed to being at the finish line when his daughter Margaret completed her first marathon. Although he had broken his hip in December, he climbed aboard a plane, flew 3,000 miles across the country (and back again) - took a cab - a train - and a bus so he could be there.

He was at the finish line with the biggest smile I have ever seen and not just because his daughter had successfully completed 26.2 miles, but because she was on a cancer crusade that raised almost $15,000.00 for research - treatment - outreach and education.

Last night my cousin Margaret called and for two hours, we talked about her dad. We talked about the flowers that he would bring to his daughters on Valentine's Day when they were teenagers in school - and .... so much more.

Uncle Bill has an extraordinary gift for making people feel special.

He genuinely listens and is interested in children. He has a deep compassion for those who are down on their luck. He has a talent, unlike anyone I have ever met in my entire life, to make you feel like you are important. When you are with him - he makes you believe that you are the most valuable person in the world. He makes you believe in yourself.

And he is able to do all this, because he sincerely believes in you.

Jim has been asking my mother for years to get married. But it wasn't until recently, that my Mom finally said yes. Two weeks ago today, Mom and Jim drove out to visit my Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill for a visit and while they were there, Mom decided that everyone needed a mood-booster.

Because my Uncle Bill is such a hopeless romantic, and because he has been such a pillar of strength for my family, and because my mother apparently had a marriage license she was carrying around in her pocketbook (!!), she and Jim decided to tie the knot, right then and there. With my Aunt Grace officiating the wedding ceremony and my Uncle Bill serving as a witness.

It was just the four of them.

Two of them are sisters.

Three of them have known each other for the past 70 years.

Four of them are now married couples.

All of them are best friends.

It was incredibly special day for everyone involved.

(My Gracie with her namesake, my Aunt Grace)

When people ask me why I would complete a 60-mile walk when my toenails still haven't healed from a marathon I completed three months ago, or how I have the courage to keep reaching out and asking for donations, or why, during dire economic times, I would put my own money out for fund raising events (when my husband is trying to spend it all on a start-up business), I tell them, "It's easy to do when I think of what the people I love have to go through."

If my Uncle Bill can fight as hard as he has, I can fight too.

One day, we will find a cure.

So. Who wants a bracelet?

what's in you wednesday

My mother once told me that you never know when an accident might occur and you need to make a mad dash to the hospital. So for as long as I have been a mother, I have tried to make it part of my standard operating procedure that before I step foot out of our bedroom in the morning, I am dressed and ready to take on the day.

But this morning - things didn't go as well as planned.

While I was still in my pajamas and we were in the midst of breakfast - and I was home alone with the children because Charlie had run off to the dentist (and then needed to visit with his insurance agent and attorney) the doorbell rang. And as is customary around these parts, whenever the doorbell rings, the children charge the door because they believe that whomever is standing on our porch, is carrying with them a bag full of candy and toys.

It's important to note that I wasn't the only one who wasn't dressed for the day.

When the doorbell rang, William was wearing only a pajama top, Elizabeth was wearing her nightgown inside out (not sure how or why, since I know she had it on correctly when I put her to bed last night), Carolyn was wearing a gymnastics leotard, three sizes too small and Henry was (in fact still is) naked. Because I can't keep that child clothed to save my life.

At the door is a delivery man from Fed Ex.

In his hands, is a box.

I bring the box in the house and the children are so excited. "OPEN THE BOX!" they yell. "OPEN THE BOX!!" While I am looking for a pair of scissors, they are guessing the contents.

Alas, it is not a bicycle - nor a pony - nor a rocket ship - nor 500 ice cream cones.

Within the box are 1,000 silicone bracelets.

These are the silicone bracelets that I ordered thanks to all of your input.

These are the silicone bracelets that I will be selling in an effort to help our 3-Day Breast Cancer walking team achieve our fundraising goals. (Details on how to order will follow, soon.)

These are the silicone bracelets that will hopefully, subtly, inspire anyone who wears it. Because on each of the 1,000 silicone bracelets there is the simple phrase, "BE AMAZING!"

(Which I thought sounded more upbeat than, "Don't Be A Sluggard!")

The children are so excited because there are bracelets in forest green - royal blue - and hot pink. But mostly in hot pink because I think more women than men will wear them - but also available in blue and green because I liked the colors and think that they are nice and macho.

There are bracelets in large sizes, medium sizes, and small sizes ordered especially for little children's wrists.

Each child claimed a bracelet in their favorite color.


Charlie came home from the dentist and claimed a bracelet in his favorite color, while drinking coffee and reflecting on the State of Our World.

And then, I put the box of 994 silicone bracelets up HIGH above my computer hutch so that they were not rapidly distributed throughout the house, garage, yard and car.

I felt so overcome with excitement at our new silicone bracelet supply, and the Pink Lemonade Project Stand / Bake Sale (where Charlie will be selling his homemade chocolate chip cookies) that we will be holding at the popular Seaport Village, this weekend.

I felt so overcome with excitement about the walk - the women on my team - and the GREATER purpose of what we are trying to accomplish. So I sat down to write a quick e-mail to my fellow triplet walking moms telling them that good gracious, 994 silicone bracelets is a lot!!

We will sell bracelets at our Lemonade Stand for The Cause!

We will sell bracelets to doctors and dentists and teachers and neighbors and coworkers to raise awareness for The Cause!

We will pass them out at church - and at the grocery store - and we'll have them dropped from airplanes as they fly over the city to raise awareness for The Cause!

While I was scheming all this ... while I was imagining a world free of cancer ... in the forty five seconds it took me to compose an e-mail to my friends (because I think faster than I type and I type lightening fast) Henry walked up and stood next to me.

And I felt something on my foot.

Something warm.

I looked down and Henry was holding in one hand, the receptacle for his potty chair. In that receptacle, was the most massive diarrhea blow out I have ever seen. My sweet boy had picked the receptacle up and brought it to me, to flush down the toilet. But in the process of doing so, as he walked from the back of the house to the front of the house, he spilled a substantial portion of .... you know what ... and created a river of .... you know what ... the entire way.

My eyes turned to the heavens, and I caught sight of the box of 994 silicone bracelets.

BE AMAZING!

The fact that I didn't chuck up my breakfast makes me believe that I am. But the fact that I am still in my pajamas at noon makes me believe that I have room for improvement.

*****

I have walked 30 miles this week. I have gone to the gym twice and walked right by the five-pound container of chocolate covered almonds at Costco without stopping.

How are you doing with your goals?

But wait - before you answer that, here's a comment from susieg, "Since Jan. my husband and I combined, have lost 224 pounds and we walk five miles a day."

WAY TO GO SUSIEG and HUSBAND!!!

(I think I may have found 10 of the pounds that you lost, but I'm working on it.)

OK. Now it's your turn.

welcome to the jungle

I can't believe I actually allowed ...

The children to stand on chairs in the kitchen...

And eat spaghetti directly out of a pan.

Worse yet ...

I grabbed my camera ...

And took pictures ...

And posted them on my blog ...

For the whole great big world to see.

(Note: We'd already had our civilized family dinner at a table with napkins. This buffet that the children are indulging upon, represented the leftovers that were sitting on the counter.)


Whenever I wonder why the children have questionable manners, I must think back on this.

It's entirely my fault.

I take full responsibility.

No... WAIT.

It's YOUR fault.

If I wasn't a blogger and didn't see a photo opportunity before me, I'd never allow this kind of behavior to persist.

In unrelated news, since they were three-years-old, our girls have shared a double bed and for the past two years, there has been very little controversy surrounding their sleeping arrangement. Except, for when one of the kids wets the bed and drenches both the wetter and the co-sleeper.

Oh! That reminds me of a tale.

Have I ever relayed the story of my sister, Janet?

Janet is my older sister and she and I shared a double bed when I was younger. Because I had a propensity for bed wetting in my early days, my mother would put a rubber sheet on the bed in order to protect the mattress.

Unfortunately Janet, who was 12-years older than me and weighed a good 50 pounds more, created a divot on her side of the bed. So whenever I would have that vivid dream of waking up and walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night to go potty, I would soon be woken by my sister screaming because of the puddle that had drained beneath her.

Oh, how I remember her waking up in the middle of the night.

"Mommm!!!! Jenny did it AGAIN!"

(It's a miracle we're as close as we are.)

OK, back to the present!! Back to my daughters!!

Over the past several days, there have been many arguments about which side of the bed the girls will sleep on each night.

For whatever reason, they both want to sleep on the EXACT same side of the bed, which isn't possible for obvious reasons. Even though each night we alternate whose turn it is to sleep on the coveted side of the bed, and even though they are penalized one night for fighting when it isn't their turn, arguments still persist. So tonight, as the girls were in the throes of their nightly debate over who sleeps where, I decided that I'd had ENOUGH.

I told the girls that someone was going to go sleep in MY room and they would be moved back in to bed once they fell asleep. Then I told my daughters that I was thinking of a number between 1 and 10. Whoever got the closest to the number that I had in mind, got to stay in their bed, whoever got the farthest away had to move in to my bed.

The number I had in mind was four.

I asked Carolyn to go first and she looked at me for a moment before tentatively replying, "Ten."

Thinking for sure that she would lose because there was no number greater than six digits away from four ... I asked Elizabeth to go next.

Without hesitation she gleefully shouted, "FOURTEEN!"

And that is why she is now sleeping in my bed.

With a calculator under her pillow.

soul food: beware the sluggard

This past Spring, I started to record on my blog some of the notes that I took during our weekly church services. It's important to interject here that the "notes" that I take are actually recorded on an outline that is handed out within the program. So please don't be fooled in to thinking that I am so efficient that I am capable of jotting down everything from the service.

Anyway - I began recording these services, on my blog, partly because I wanted to preserve the message that I heard and partly because I wanted to share the message that I heard. All of the previous posts that I wrote from our church services are captured under my "Soul Food" label. With that, I hope that the message within this post helps to feed your soul.

********

Do you know where you are going in your life?

Do you know what it takes to get there?

If you aren't putting energy in to things that are important to you - they will deteriorate.

Your body.

Your relationships.

Your home.

Your career.

(Note: As I'm typing this, I can see out of the corner of my eye no less than four piles of laundry patiently waiting for me in baskets.)

Dreams die.

Hope fades.

We become accustomed to mediocrity.

You are responsible for now and forward.

Do not make excuses.

Maybe too much is going on in your life and you need to focus.

Maybe you need to create a To Do List, a Not To Do List, and a STOP Doing List.

What is something that you want to do?

What is something that you shouldn't do?

What is something that you should STOP doing?

If we are not aware of the condition of our life, it WILL deteriorate.

We will get turned inward and we will lose track of our greater mission. If we focus on things that don't really matter - soon, those non-important things become paramount to our existence.

Everything has a tendency to deteriorate.

The sluggard craves and gets nothing, but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied. (Proverbs 13:4)

1. Be aware of ENTROPY. (Oh, I know all about entropy.)

• Be aware of: a tendency towards superficiality, (don't allow stuff that doesn't matter to get under your skin. So what if your husband brought home Cheerios as opposed to Special K, even though you specifically told him to bring home Special K and not the cereal in the yellow box, but all he heard was "cereal in the yellow box"?)
  

• Be aware of: unresolved tension in key relationships, (don't carry around anger. So what if your mother said that your children are a wonderful reflection of your husband? You are the one that picked your husband - so he must be a wonderful reflection of you.)
  

• Be aware of: no time for celebration, (don't allow your chores to get in the way of having fun. When is the last time that you had a vacation? When is the last time that you opted for playing with your children over cleaning the dishes?)
  

• Be aware of: confusion of heroes and celebrities, (I'm really hooked on watching "24" through Netflix. Although he does play one awesome bad ass on TV, Jack Bauer is a celebrity, not a hero. But I could be wrong.)
  

• Be aware of: a loss of gratitude and a vague sense of guilt. (Are you spending too much time working on things like, say a blog - and not paying enough attention to your wonderful spouse? Does it annoy you when they ask what kind of ice cream you want and you feel like THEY SHOULD KNOW? And then you feel badly about being a grouch? Because COME ON. They brought you ICE CREAM.)

Be sure you know the condition of your flocks, give careful attention to your herds; for riches do not endure forever, and a crown is not secure for all generations. (Proverbs 27:23-24)

2. Be aware of OPPORTUNITY.

Beware of negligence and laziness.

Some people spend so much time thinking about what they want to do - trying to figure out how to do it - but in reality, they never actually move towards anything. Remember: there are seasons for opportunity, but those opportunities may not exist forever.

I went past the field of the sluggard, past the vineyard of the man who lacks judgment; thorns had come up everywhere, the ground was covered with weeds and the stone wall was in ruins. I applied my heart to what I observed and learned a lesson from what I saw... (Proverbs 24:30-32)


3. Be aware of RESPONSIBILITY.

Embrace the reality of your life - and accept the life that you are in.

Since the kids have given up their afternoon nap, my life has become a lot more challenging. Just because they have outgrown sleeping in the middle of the day - that does not mean that they have outgrown getting in to trouble at every spare moment. I still have the same number of things to do. But now that we are napless, I have two less hours, each day, to do them. As a result, I've had to shift my responsibilities in order to target those that are the most important. For instance:

1) Our children's safety is of utmost importance.

2) Protecting a hidden stash of chocolate chip cookies in my pajama drawer is a close second. Those kids have noses like HOUNDS.

Focus on what you have and do it well.

He who works his land will have abundant food, but he who chases fantasies lacks judgment. (Proverbs 12:11)

4. Be aware of EXCUSES.

I'll get in shape. One day.

I'll get my finances in order. One day.

I'll organize my house and closets. One day.

I'll discipline my children. One day.

I'll make amends with people who I've crossed. One day.

I'll work on my spirituality. One day.

I want to be generous, and become a better person, but I have to get through this (insert distraction here) first.

If not now ... when?

How long will you lie there, you sluggard? When will you get up from your sleep? A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest - and poverty will come on you like a bandit... (Proverbs 6:9-11)

Don't be lazy and keep saying, "There's a lion outside!" (Proverbs 26:13)

As a turn turns on it's hinges, so a sluggard turns on his bed. (Proverbs 26:14)

5. Be aware of SELECTIVE ENTROPY.

There are selective things in our own life that we just can't get around to. We need to, but we just won't allow the time for it to happen. We lack motivation and drive.

The sluggard is wiser in his own eyes than seven men who answer discreetly. (Proverbs 26:16)

Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest. (Proverbs 6:6-8)

6. Be aware that I may need to KICK MY OWN BUTT.

Entropy does exist. But it doesn't have to exist in your life.

So what exactly are you waiting for?

Are you waiting for someone to motivate you?

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as though you were working for the Lord and not for people. (Colossians 3:23)

What does it take to do the right thing? Too often it happens that we don't resolve issues so we don't engage our lives to the maximum.

If you are seeking to forgive someone - DO IT.

If you are seeking to do something you've consistently put off - DO IT.

If you are seeking to improve your life in better ways - DO IT.


If you are seeking to donate to the breast cancer 3-Day walk - DO IT.

Or, you can wait until our giveaways start ... later this week.

Who is excited?

I AM!

I AM!!

mommy gorilla

After reading some of the comments on my post from Thursday - and discussing the topic with my friends - it dawned on me that I should write a follow-up post clarifying a few things.

Most importantly, I don't condone hitting children.

Now, I'm not going to lie. I have doled out a spanking before - like the day that my children opened the door and let their naked baby brother out who ended up wandering far off down the street. But in my opinion, they were LUCKY that the worse thing to happen was a spanking to their bum and a bedtime at 5:00 PM.

My friend Debbie and I discussed the topic of discipline during our walk this morning. My friend's position is that a parent should never, ever strike their child. Sure, she has had many situations where she could wallop her boys, but she didn't. Because how can you teach respect to a child when you are hitting them? And once you start hitting - it becomes a very slippery slope of where the "spanking" might stop.

As much as I'd like to believe that I am a "controlled" spanker, I know that's not true. Whenever I have spanked our kids - I have done it because I was frustrated and lost control. There has only been one situation where our kids acted up and I told them that they were going to get a spanking and they needed to wait for it. And let me tell you, those 10 minutes leading up to a quick spanking were absolute TORTURE for our children. The wait was far worse than the actual spank.

When I was a child growing up, my mother had something that she called the "BLOOD SPATULA." I don't recall my mother ever hitting any of us with that spatula, but I do remember her yelling, "I'm going to get the BLOOD SPATULA!" and we would all run and hide. Whatever bad behavior we were doing - would cease as soon as mom would reach for her spatula that we envisioned would splatter our blood across the walls.

It was both the worst, and greatest, mind game of all time.

(I can just imagine my mother falling off her chair as she reads this, while thinking, "Oh No! She's telling the world about my Blooood Spatula!!!" How much do you want to bet she leaves a comment denying it's existence? And, I'll bet that my Aunt Grace leaves a comment denying the day that she broke a wooden spoon over my cousin Margaret's head. What made that situation particularly tough was that Auntie was actually aiming for Lisa.)

While I do believe that there are times when nothing gets a point across as efficiently or effectively as a swat on the behind, I'm never happy about it. Especially when I read parenting blogs that rave, "We don't hit people that we love and respect."

Oh. Well Then.

I must not love and respect my children.

In hindsight (no pun intended), with the one "controlled" exception noted above, the only time I've ever spanked our kids is when I have lost my patience. Likewise, the only time I've ever screamed at them is when I've lost my patience. When I reach a certain level of frustration, I resort to this crazy primitive beast, that pounds on their chest. But you know what? I think it's NORMAL that I act that way when I'm provoked.

Consider this: Humans are highly evolved animals. And when I think of animals in the wild, I think of lions and tigers and bears. Animals that have been known to not only bite their young, but eat them whole.

Why do you think that is?

When I wrote about losing my patience a few years ago, I was criticized harshly. "Shame on you for not having the same control you require of your children."

That's an excellent point.

Because in reality, when I am feeling calm - and controlled - I am much better able to handle children that act up. But I'm not always in control because I'm not perfect. I admit it. But I also try my best to improve it, every day.

Being a good parent is such tough work.

It takes patience - control - consistency and stamina.

Regarding Rebecca at the pool (and the boy at the beach), the parent should have removed the child at the EXACT moment they started acting up. I am convinced that if the parents had swung in to action fast to stem the outburst, the kids never would have been so out-of-control and violent.

Soo, the primary point I was trying to make in my post on Thursday is that a parent needs to establish themself as the alpha leader in a family. A parent, NOT a child, is the one who runs the show. That doesn't mean that you need to HIT them, or SCREAM at them.

It means that you need to be in control.

Consistently.

Every so often, I go a little overboard with the drama, in an effort to show the children that there is a very fine line between gentle mom and the CRAZY mom that emerges if they push me too far. If they are fighting over toys, I might pick up all the toys and put them in a trash bag and toss them in the garage for a week. I've been known to leave an event, immediately after we've arrived because children are misbehaving. I frequently do time outs until they calm down and apologize for their poor behavior. And for what it's worth, I do time outs for me, too.

And well - there are those times I pound on my chest and yell.

Because regardless of what any one might think, I think it's good that my kids are just a little bit afraid of me.

combating the brat

Last month, when we were in South Carolina, we went swimming every day.

One afternoon, we went to the community pool in my mother's neighborhood. When we arrived, we were the only ones there, with the exception of a five-year-old girl named Rebecca. Once we were in the water and playing, Rebecca asked if she could use Elizabeth's pink goggles.

Elizabeth, being the great sharer that she is (with children outside of her own family), happily obliged. But when 20 minutes passed and Elizabeth sweetly asked if she could have her goggles back, Rebecca wouldn't cooperate.

So Rebecca's father stepped in and said, "Rebecca dear, those aren't your goggles. You must give them back now, OK?" Rebecca replied, "NO. I WON'T GIVE THEM BACK. I AM USING THEM." And a scene ensued. A rather ugly scene. And rather than pluck the goggles from his daughter's hand, the father - who it turns out is a psychiatrist - told his daughter that if she didn't comply, she would be disciplined.

Because I am interested to see how other parents handle their children who are acting difficult, the father had my rapt attention. Especially since he was a psychiatrist and had received training on behavioral science. Surely he knew exactly what to do.

Everyone watched as the father approached his daughter and looking in to her eyes firmly said, "Rebecca, I am going to count to three and if you don't give the goggles back to Elizabeth, you are going to have ONE consequence."

Rebecca tried to swim away.

The father caught up to her and said, "ONE..." long pause. "TWO...." long pause. "THREE!" Then he said, "Miss Rebecca, you now have ONE consequence."

OK then! This should be fun!! What happens after one consequence - I wondered?

Rebecca still didn't hand the goggles back. So the father repeated the process until he was up to three consequences. By now, several minutes had passed and Rebecca's brat defiance level had increased ten-fold. My daughter was patiently waiting for her goggles to be returned and I debated getting involved. But then, I considered that the father was really trying to work the situation the best he could and I should sit back and take notes.

Eventually, he pried the goggles from his daughter's grasp and returned them. But within a matter of seconds, Rebecca took the goggles OFF my child's head. Because, as she screamed across the pool, she "WASN'T DONE USING THEM!"

There was a lot more drama and eventually - after several more minutes passed - the father took Rebecca from the pool. Rebecca's mother was sitting in a chair, and had been making small talk with us, when the scene began to unfold. She got up and started to pack up their gear as the father draped a towel around his screaming daughter's shoulders and then, turned to put on his shoes.

In that time, Rebecca threw the towel off her shoulders and jumped back in the pool. The father stood on the edge and patiently told her that she needed to get out. When several more minutes passed, he jumped in after her, and once he got close, she swung back her arm and slapped him.

Repeatedly.

Not only was I in disbelief, our children were in disbelief.

William, Carolyn and Elizabeth had turned to stare when Rebecca ditched her towel and jumped back in the pool, and when she struck her father, they audibly gasped.

Then they started with their commentary, "OH MY GOODNESS! Did you see what that little girl did? OH MY GOODNESS. She just hit her Daddy. SHE HIT HIM. OH MY GOODNESS. She is throwing a fit. That's not good. THAT IS NOT GOOD!! She is a NAUGHTY child!!"

The father carried a screaming Rebecca out of the pool. He told her that she was up to five consequences. He summoned his wife to help him towel her off and put on her shoes. And then, the two parents carried her - by her flailing arms and kicking legs - out of the swimming area, while yelling over their shoulders to me, "Goodbye! It was nice to meet you! Enjoy the rest of your visit!"

They were seemingly oblivious to their child's behavior. Like this is something that happens every day, and this is how they respond? They just pick their out-of-control child up by her arms and legs and retreat, while calmly repeating, "That's one more consequence, sweetheart. Would you like another?"

I was stunned.

Charlie was stunned.

Our children were stunned.

None of us had ever seen anything like that, before.

But then, a few days later, when we were at the beach, I saw an almost identical situation.

This time, it was a five-year-old boy who got in to a fight with his seven-year-old brother. Since I had been watching the kids play, it was clear to me that the five-year-old was in the wrong. He had stomped on his brother's sand castle and then tried to hit him with a truck when the brother retaliated by hitting his leg.

The mother tried to get her kids under control, by separating them. She took the seven-year-old down to the water and the five-year-old picked up a handful of sand and pelted his three-year-old sister in the face. When she tried to hit him with a long-handled shovel, he smacked her over the head with a pail. I was jumping out of my chair to intervene - when the mother came running back to break up the fight. She talked calmly to her children while they ran around her - trying to hit each other.

For a few minutes, she tried to diffuse the situation by sitting down and talking to her kids. But when the five-year-old started to swing at her, she patiently stood up, and walked back to the water's edge. It was at least another 20 minutes before she collected her belongings and tried to leave the beach, while the kids threw punches at each other and her.

I couldn't believe that any one would tolerate that kind of behavior. It took every ounce of self control to not get up and get those children in line, MYSELF.

I think that if someone tolerates poor behavior from their child - they will soon be tolerating poor behavior from their adolescent. And then their teen. And they might wonder at some point, why no one enjoys spending time with them anymore and in fact RUNS the other way when they see them coming.

In my opinion, there really are no excuses. And people who condone bad behavior and don't lay down the law are not only doing a disservice to themselves and to the people that have to be subjected to their offspring ... they are doing a disservice to their child.

Kids need to know how to act. They need to know who is in control - and they need to learn at a very young age - it isn't them. They need to know what is acceptable and what isn't. And I'll be the first to say, a child hitting an adult or calling them names is not acceptable.

Now, I'll be the first to admit, my children are far from perfect when it comes to their behavior. We have our fair share of issues. But I would never - and I mean NEVER - tolerate that kind of disrespect towards me - or any one else. At the first sign of our children disobeying me, they are REMOVED from the situation, immediately.

What that means is I do not allow where I am, or who I am around, to dictate the way that I respond to my children. And my children know it.

Or rather, I should say everyone knows it, except Henry.

At 26 months old, our little house ruler is learning that he isn't the ruler of this house. He is going through a phase of defiance and non-sleep and screaming and obsession that makes me want to shove in some earplugs, grab a bottle of wine, crawl in a hole and hide.

I don't remember the triplets being nearly this difficult.

Then again, they were off the apples by the time they were two.

(Edited to add: Has any one ever had to NEGOTIATE with a child regarding breastfeeding?? Doesn't that signal that it might be time to stop?!)

*******

If anyone is interested in appearing on the show SuperNanny, I recently received an e-mail from the Casting Producer, Shannon McLaughlin. They are currently looking for new families for the next season. You can contact Shannon at 323-904-4680, extension 1178, or via e-mail at SMcLaughlin@Shedmediaus.com.

You know, it just occurred to me. I'm not sure why she contacted us...

Perhaps I'm not doing as good of a job as I think I am?

OH MY GOSH.

Did someone nominate our family?!

Mom?

what's in you wednesday

Within the past seven days, I have walked more than 20 miles, despite my still-purple-from-the marathon-toenails, which I might need to have surgically removed. (Unless, someone has experienced this before and can tell me how long it will take for the purpleness to go away?)

In addition to walking to and from the store several times, I have been taking walks with my fellow MTM Walkers for Knockers teammate and neighbor, Debbie.

Yesterday we went for a walk just before dinner. Since our walk would coincide with what Charlie and I have dubbed "Witching Hour" at our house, I thought it might make things easier for my husband if I took a few of the children with me. And seeing as Henry and Elizabeth were causing the most trouble at that very moment in time, I loaded the two of them in to our beloved double BOB stroller and we set off.

For the next hour, all was calm. The children slept, Debbie and I got in a rigorous walk, and we traded stories along the way.

Immediately after Debbie and I said our goodbyes, I began walking back to our house. To get home, I needed to push my double stroller across one of the busiest streets in our neighborhood. Because it was early evening, the road was especially busy. There were several soccer games going on in a nearby park and people were hustling home from work.

I eased the stroller off the sidewalk and stood between two parallel parked cars, waiting for an opportunity to cross the street. Slowly, I began to step out in to the road, while leaning over the top of the stroller, so I could have a better view of the oncoming traffic. Just then, a silver car that I had seen approaching, zoomed past at approximately 40 miles per hour. The front tire of the BOB was probably five feet from the car when it went by, but the speed of it's passing shook the whole stroller.

Although the kids were unscathed, I was overcome with the most sickening feeling I have ever experienced. Or at least, the most sickening feeling I can recall.

In my mind, I could vividly see that the car clipped the front of the stroller. I could feel the handlebar get pulled from my grip as it catapulted through the air. My breath was sucked out of my body and my stomach fell to my feet. I looked up to see Debbie walking home, a solid 100 feet away, and I imagined that if the car had struck the stroller, it would have sent it flying at least that far.

I imagined the wreckage.

The aftermath.

I imagined myself screaming.

All day today, I have been haunted by the grisly "what-if" image. All day today, I have grabbed my children and hugged them. They don't understand why I am covering them in kisses and uttering thoughts about never leaving the house, again. They don't understand why I sat looking at them during breakfast, with tears in my eyes.

The truth is: we weren't hit.

But the mind can play some cruel tricks.

Like on Sunday when we went to church, and two men who were covered in tattoos and looked like they belonged in a gang, sat in our row. Now before the hate mail begins, I must say that I do my absolute best to not categorize any one based solely on their appearance. On more than one occasion, I have met people who dress the part of upstanding citizen - only to discover they are the biggest jerks around. Likewise, people who look ferocious, with body piercings and tattoos, come to find out, are the gentlest souls on earth.

But when the two men walked past me in church, and I could smell the alcohol on their breaths, and noticed that they wouldn't make eye contact, I felt a tinge of fear. Throughout the service, I kept trying to convince myself that after a long night of partying, these men had been led to church by a higher power and their spirits were receiving the nourishment they needed.

At the conclusion of the service, when it was obvious they weren't intending to take the whole congregation hostage, I felt even more convinced that God had guided them there.

Later, when Charlie and I were talking about the service, he confided in me that he was concerned the men had come to church as part of a gang initiation. Maybe they needed to shoot up a congregation of Christians? Or perhaps they were taking part in some terrorist plot?

What I hadn't realized, up until that point, was that while I sat in church - slightly concerned that the men might have ulterior motives - my husband was on the same wavelength. He had pegged them as bad and had already formulated how he would respond if they suddenly pulled out guns.

He would start yelling, "HIT THE DECK! HIT THE DECK!" and throw me to the ground on his left. Then he would launch off the chair next to him, and hit the first gunman. By then, the four strong-looking men that he had identified sitting behind us - and three additional men sitting in front of us - would hopefully be aware of what was going on and be in the process of mobilizing to take out the second guy.

Charlie looks like such a gentle man.

I'll bet no one would ever suspect he could kill a thug with his thumb.

Today, William has been under the weather. He hasn't eaten very much and is complaining that his tummy hurts. Charlie thinks that he looks ashen. I think that he probably picked up a bug somewhere and it's nothing serious. But once again, my mind plays cruel tricks.

What if it IS something serious?

Just the thought that my son's temporary loss of appetite might signal something more severe, causes my breath to be sucked out of my body and my stomach to fall to my feet. Now, I don't mean for my mind to be filled with dark imaginings. But after having lost so many good people to cancer over the past few years, the fears find a way.

I try to trust and have faith. I try to imagine good health and happiness. I try to imagine that Charlie and I will live to a ripe old age and our children will, too. But I know, all too well, that sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want it to. I know that people are hit by cars - gunmen appear in the most unlikely places - and illnesses strike without warning.

I know that the future is uncertain. I know that thinking about the worst thing that can happen and adjusting your behavior accordingly, is your best bet for staying safe. I know that advances are being made, every day, to combat many of the diseases that plague humanity.

And however small my contribution, I am so proud to be part of that effort.

Over the past week, my teammates have raised almost $4,000.00 for breast cancer research, education and treatment. And Debbie, who in addition to spearheading the idea of lemonade stands around San Diego County (which will debut next weekend), has just launched the Pink Lemonade Project.

It's been several months since I've exercised consistently. But over the past week, I feel like I'm finding my rhythm again. And although I know that I won't always feel like I'm on top of my game, I feel empowered this week in both body and spirit.

What about you?

******

And also, which stroller do you think would generate more interest for a giveaway?

This one?

Or this one?