Unplugged II

We didn't make it to church tonight. We're just too sick. Matt, anticipating this outcome, set aside a few ashes to use for a little Ash Wednesday service here at home tonight. (He's the one in charge of getting the ashes for church, so he can do that.) I had planned on soup supper for dinner tonight. Instead, I made tacos.

While we were eating, the kids began talking about the t.v.
"Daddy, the t.v. isn't working. Why isn't the t.v. working?"
"Because I called the President and told him to turn off our t.v."
"You can't just call the President!"
"You can when you want your t.v. turned off."
"Little kids need the t.v.!" "Yeah, we need the t.v. to entertain the little kids!"

Then Daddy asked Elizabeth if the electrician had come to do the wiring for the septic. "Yeah he came, but the t.v. stopped working before that."

Looks like we'll have some 'splainin' to do tonight. In fact, I just heard Daddy say, "I said, we will discuss it in a minute." I'd better go join him.

Unplugged

Most of my family, including myself, are sick. Really sick. I've been fighting a cold for almost a week now and each day I feel worse than the day before. Joel woke up screaming last night at midnight. He was holding his ear and saying, "Owie! , Owie!" I gave him some Advil. When we got up this morning, his ear was draining. Poor baby. I took him to the doctor's instead of going to Bible study.

When I got home, I had two men to feed (septic tank workers), a messy house and enough "to do/to be at" items on the rest of this week's docket to make me weak in the knees. After changing messy diapers and getting things relatively squared away around the house, I settled down for a much-needed quiet time. I slept hard for and more than an hour.

When I awoke, I glanced at the clock and realized it was time for Rachael Ray to start cooking. "After a day like today," I thought to myself, "I need a little t.v." I pushed in the power button. Nothing was on the screen except white snow--on every channel. Oh yeah. How quickly I had forgotten my lofty Lenten idea--giving up t.v. Matt's been wanting to pull the plug on the t.v. for a very long time. I still wanted the option of watching Rachael Ray cook and seeing the big eyes of the big winners on Antiques Roadshow. Matt thinks most all the t.v. programs these days have "very little redeeming value." I agree, but I still wanted the "just in case I'm sick or I have 3 littles all by myself" option of watching the tube. Kind of like the "security" of holding on to that one last credit card.

I talked to a friend this past weekend at a mother/daughter retreat that Gracie and I attended. She said her family had finally taken the plunge and "unplugged." She said her kids were more content and her home was, in general, "much more peaceful." Sunday morning while I sat in church it came to me, "Turn off the t.v. for Lent." I told Matt last night he could turn off the t.v. if he wanted. I thought he would do it after Ash Wednesday services tonight. I thought, "On the way home from church, he'll probably explain to the kids that we've made the decision to 'unplug'."

This afternoon's vain attempt to get a t.v. fix was a deja vu moment. Five years ago, I told Matt the Lord had told me we were to get rid of cable t.v. (something he had wanted to do for a long time). I was in my first trimester with Lydia and horribly sick. I called Matt that day at work and asked him why the t.v. wasn't working. "You told me to cancel cable," he said. I literally pitched a fit. "I meant AFTER I was feeling better! How do you expect me to get through this pregnancy without the Food Network or HGTV?"

"And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell." Mark 9:47

This afternoon I read about a homeschool mom who keeps a spiral bound journal open in a public area in her home. She and her kids write down little "graces" the Lord shows them throughout the day--a way to cultivate gratefulness. So I decided that I would replace the t.v. with a journal, a journal of gratefulness for the abundance the Lord shows us each and every day. My first entry will be "Thank you for a red-haired girl practicing her piano so diligently."

(For those of you wondering, we will still have DVDs to watch, but this will force us to be more disciplined and choosy about our t.v. watching. For my part, I doubt I'll have any great desire to watch another episode of "Daniel Boone" :)

Sumo Baby

Behold The Sumo Champion Wrestler;
A massive gourd and holder of the title.
Many have tried, but none have beaten him;
A fact that is particularly vital."

Defer! Defer!
To the sumo champion wrestler!

Defer! Defer!
To the champion, to the champion
To the champion sumo wrestler!

(Lyrics from the Veggie Tales movie, "Sumo of the Opera")

Busy

Matt and I painted our bathroom Monday night. We went to bed at 11 p.m., then got up early yesterday to put on a second coat before the men arrived. Jude has been sleeping terribly (even more terribly than usual) and I finally realized the antibiotic hadn't done its job of getting rid of his ear infection. Today we got another round of antibiotics to treat not just one ear, but two. No wonder he (and we) haven't been sleeping. I told Matt that if a doctor examined me, I was sure he would declare me legally dead.

Lots of work is getting accomplished around here, though, as evidenced by all the guys who come in to ask a question, then go out for a bit more work, then come back in to ask another question. The installation of a revolving door on this house might be in order. And I naively thought that none of this would disrupt my daily schedule.

Our friend Wayne from church was finally given the go ahead to get started on the new septic system/drain field, which he did on Monday. We had to jump through a lot of hoops to get the ball rolling, but thankfully we won't have to pay for this job as the septic system failed before we moved into this house.

We've been through this process before at our old house and we haven't been looking forward to it. We're especially disappointed that even though we tried desperately to save one of our big maple trees from having to be cut down, we weren't able to do it. The tree roots would interfere with the new drain field, so the tree had to be cut down. The kids were thrilled with the excitement as Wayne's chainsaw ripped into the trunk. When the tree finally fell, it was gushing sap. I was pretty sad about the whole thing, but the loss of a tree is better than not having a working septic system.

Wayne also tore out some overgrown shrubs and a couple of dead trees. Today all the tree branches that won't be cut up into firewood were chipped. Wayne is great about including Paul in as much work as possible. Paul announced to me tonight at the dinner table that Wayne let him put some limbs into the chipper earlier today. I shuddered as my brain went into hyper "Mommy Alert! Mommy Alert! Child in Extreme Danger!" mode. I wasn't here today when the "incident" occurred, otherwise the"incident" wouldn't have occurred. Wayne was just telling me yesterday what a relaxed mother I was. CORRECTION--I'm not THAT relaxed. Really though, Wayne is very good about making sure the children are safe while he works and I have the utmost confidence in him (at least I think I do :). Most of the time, Paul was made to stand up against the house while the chipper was running.

The bathroom is coming along nicely. The guys have been battling the flu, so things got slowed up a bit. Everything will pretty much be completed by Friday. The tub may not be here by then, but everything else should be done. The shower was reinstalled today. We ordered a new basin, but we were able to save the old shower walls, so we were happy about that.

Yesterday we had a surprise visit from our missionary friends who will be returning to Guatemala next month. I just invited them right into the chaos and we all sat down at the kitchen table and had tea together while all the kids played outside. After they left, the kids and I loaded into the van and headed to the restaurant to meet Matt and about twenty other family and friends for a surprise birthday party for my sister-in-law.

I was able to get the Bible study this morning, albeit a bit late. Our friend Lorie even stayed with the kids longer than usual so that I could get Jude to the doctor after Bible study. The Lord is so gracious in providing for all of our needs. The Bible lesson today was about Moses moving all the Israelites through the wilderness. The principle was about how God is a God of order and that as Christians, our lives should be orderly as well. I haven't felt very orderly lately, but if God can get 2 million+ people organized, I ought to be able to to the same for my little family. I'll add that to my "to do" and prayer lists and in the meantime, rest under the shadow of His wings. "But you, O Lord, are a shield for me; my glory and the lifter up of my head." Ps. 3:3

Here are some pictures chronicling some of the happenings of the last few days:
Wayne cut down the stump that was next to our back porch. Yeah! It's been an eyesore for me ever since we moved in.

The big tree on its way down.
The kids on the downed tree.
The girls playing "prairie" yesterday. Wayne asked them who was Mary and who was Laura. Then he pointed to Lydia and said, "I know who Nellie Olson is." I thought she kinda looked liked Carrie, but I know her personality is more Nelliesque ("my way is the best way"). Good thing she's so darn cute.
Paul (a.k.a. Davey Crockett in the woods of Tennessee)
Jude after his big sister Lydia got to him. "Look, Mommy, Jude likes wearing these goggles!" As if he had a choice in the matter.

Big Boy Joel Bob Turns 2

Joel turned two today. He's the main source of entertainment for our family. His personality is really starting to emerge. He's got quite a sense of humor and loves nothing better than to get his siblings laughing. He's an absolute delight, even though he is finding a bit more trouble lately, which is par for the course for a little guy his age. We celebrated Joel's big day by eating lunch with his godparents after church today. Then Grandma Jane, Grandpa Tom, Auntie Em, cousin Raphaella and friend Bob came to the house to help us sing "Happy Birthday." Joel spit on his candles to extinguish them. He must have thought it the most appropriate course of action since he was wearing the fireman hat he got as a present.

Valentine's Day

Today we spent our Valentine's Day in a most romantic way--we painted our bedroom together. When Matt put the first strokes of paint on the ceiling, I panicked, believing I had chosen the wrong color. "You'll love it, Melissa." (Translation--"This paint is custom-colored and non-returnable--the decision has been made.") When I started cutting in the walls, I panicked again. Once one wall was covered, however, I relaxed. I like it much better than sponge painting and wall paper border.

I told Matt it looked like caramel, he said it looked like butterscotch (that's his favorite flavor.) "You say 'tomato,' I say 'tomahto.' " After a time of letting all the kids have a turn with the paint roller, we shooed them all out so we could finish the job. We hardly talked at all. I think that's how you know you truly love someone--when you don't have to fill the silence with words.

My friend Julie delivered a basket filled with seven homemade caramel apples, Valentine candy and caramel chex mix to our house about mid-morning. It was a really neat surprise and a life-saver for me since I hadn't planned anything at all for the kids for Valentine's Day.

We didn't have to worry about dinner preparation after painting all day because we met for our monthly extended family dinner at Matt's parents' house. It was a great way to end Valentine's Day--surrounded by a big loving family.

Here's Lydia enjoying a caramel apple (the caramel part, at least):

Big Egg

Even though our chicken flock is now very small, the three hens seem to be producing fairly well, especially for winter time. We're getting two to three eggs a day. Today Paul brought in this egg, likely a double yolker. I'm sure the hen who laid it let out a few cackles during the process.

Convicted

As a child of God, the Spirit convicts me of my sin. He is always a Gentleman, never overbearing, never shouting in my ear, "You're a failure! You've done it again!" He just quietly points out to me a word I've said in anger, a critical thought or a wrong attitude I've had.

Yesterday as I joined the other women who attend Bible study with me in the praise and worship of our King in song, I felt the conviction of the Gentleman burning in my heart. He brought to remembrance the way I had automatically jumped to the worst conclusion about a person the day before. I had assumed I knew the reason for his behavior, but I was completely wrong. There I went again, assuming the worst, instead of believing the best.

The Gentleman also pointed out the wrong attitude I had displayed in a very small and insignificant matter--the taking down of the wallpaper border in our bathroom. As the border stubbornly refused to come off after a couple hours of work, I became increasingly frustrated. I started to panic at the idea of getting yards and yards of border off of our bedroom walls by Friday so that we could begin painting on Saturday. "Who would do this to their walls?!" I blurted out as Matt walked into the bathroom. "People who like wallpaper border, Melissa, " was his quiet response. There are people all over the world who would love a house with four walls, let alone walls with wall paper border decorating them.

Then verse three came around and as I sang it I prayed the words to my Heavenly Father, asking His forgiveness for my wandering off the path, yet again.

        O to grace how great a debtor
 daily I'm constrained to be!
 Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
 bind my wandering heart to thee.
 Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
 prone to leave the God I love;
 here's my heart, O take and seal it,
 seal it for thy courts above.

Thank you Father, for your abounding love and freely given grace.

Brotherly Love

Last night as we were readying the kids for bed, Joel decided to hop into Paul's bed. He snuggled up next to his big brother, pulled the blanket up around his little chin and contentedly sucked on his binky (yes, I know, he shouldn't even have a binky, but that's another battle for another time). I saw a little smile underneath that bink. He was in a blissful state.

Paul wasn't at all excited about the prospect of sharing his bed with Joel. I said, "Let's just try it out Paul. When Joel falls asleep, I'll move him to his crib." A few minutes later Joel broke the peaceful nighttime silence with his incoherent babbling. It was his usual before-bed dissertation, the subject of which only he knows. Paul said, "Moooom, I don't want Joel to sleep with me until he's two!" (Which, by the way, is Sunday.)

It's in the Genes

Today the guys grouted the tile on the floor in our bathroom. I had picked out a color called "latte" for the grout. I learned after doing the bathroom at our old house that it's better to have a darker colored grout because it doesn't show the dirt over time the way a lighter grout does.

The grout looked exactly like I thought it would when it went down today, but over the course of the day as it dried, it became lighter and lighter.

I said to Paul (mostly just because he was there, not because I thought he would have a response), "I don't know, it looks so much lighter than I thought it would." "It is what it is, Mama," he replied.

When Matt got home, I told him I had been dumpster diving looking for the empty package of grout to see if the guys really did use the "latte" grout. He said, "It doesn't really matter, Melissa. It is what it is."

I let out a laugh. Like father like son.

Goings On

The whole family (except Grace) has been sick with the crud that Lydia brought home. Daddy missed two days of work. I woke up this morning with grand plans to paint the master bed and bath and then realized I felt too yucky to do much of anything. A well person might get the aforementioned project done in two days, but a sick person might just give up and go to bed (which I did).

Here's some pictures of what's been going on at our house the past week:

Paul "going green" by using a Huggies box to make a fighter plane.
Our shower (or what was left of it) after the guys tore out everything with mold on it--gross!
The bed where Jude and I slept for a couple of nights. We got this old cast iron bed from the farm where my grandpa grew up and stored it in our barn for six years. Matt had the bed painted for me for our anniversary back in October. We finally found a newer, clean mattress on Craig's list and now it's my temporary sleeping spot until our bathroom is done ( after giving birth to six children, I no longer have a bladder of steel). The guys were kind enough to put our toilet back in place for the weekend, which is good because I miss sleeping beside my sweetie.Paul has been stuck like glue to the two nice Christian men who are redoing the bathroom. They let him pull out nails, be a tool gopher and answer his endless questions about why they do what they do. They even took Paul on their lunch break yesterday and treated him to pizza. Man stuff--Paul is in heaven.
My birthday tulips are blooming, providing a little spot of sunshine to brighten up the foggy days we've been having.

Feminism

Is feminism all it's cracked up to be, or have we been sold a bill of goods?

Here's an interesting article on the subject.

Original Sin

As a mother of six, I'm very aware of how my childrens' inherited sin natures can be clearly seen at very young ages. "The gimme" syndrome roots its ugly head even in a baby who is only months old. Tonight, the kids and I witnessed our own sweet little Joel exhibit this syndrome.

Matt was gone as he had a meeting at church. Since he bears the brunt of the bedtime routine, I usually resort to using tricks to get the children in bed. (O.K.--I'm also by nature sinful and unclean. I'll call it what it is--bribery.) I got out the box of chocolates the neighbor lady brought us yesterday and made the call, "Anyone who wants candy better get ready for bed and then be quietly waiting at the kitchen table!"

As soon as we opened the box, Joel began screaming. Then I said, "Everyone can have three chocolates." I gave Joel his portion, which he promptly put in his mouth. Then he stood up in his chair, chipmunk cheeks and all, and began yelling and waving his arms. "No, no, no!" He didn't want anyone else getting more than their fair share, which in his eyes, meant that they shouldn't get any.
I told Joel to quit yelling and to finish his mouthful. He chewed as fast as he could, yelling "No!" in between chews. I knew I shouldn't give him anymore, but I did anyway (chalk it up to fatigue=apathy). Then the sugar started to hit him. You could almost see his eyes roll back into his head. He held onto that last piece of candy, though. I said, "Joel, why don't you give that back to me. You're full." Nope, not gonna do it. Joel held onto that piece of chocolate as though his life depended on it.
I said, "Joel, have you had too much Turkish Delight?" To which he replied, "No!"

Passing the Baton

We all (eventually) realize that with age comes more responsibility. This has even led to a few tears in our house as a perceived negative to growing older. ("I don't want any more responsibility!!") But time marches on. And so the next in line must learn the ropes of their duties. --Matt

Dandy Lydia Turns 4

Lydia's birthday was yesterday. She's been counting the days to her birthday since Thanksgiving and when the big day finally arrived, she woke up with a sore throat--poor kid. She didn't eat a thing all day and finally took one bite of the pizza she had requested for her birthday dinner. She didn't even eat her pink-frosted cake. She was able to open and enjoy her presents, though. My parents, brother, sister and niece helped the rest of us celebrate.

I often get comments on Lydia's middle name, Dean. It's a family name. My great grandmother was named Edna Dean. My grandmother's name was Dorothy Dean. She didn't give her daughter (my mother) the name, but my mom named my sister Emily Dean. It's a bit of a family joke that if your middle name is "Dean" you must be strong-willed and independent.

I remember my Uncle Keith imploring me not to give Lydia the middle name Dean as she was bound to get the "Dean" qualities if I did (he was joking, of course). Well, guess what--Uncle Keith was right. Lydia's middle name is very appropriately "Dean." That Lydia--she's a dandy!