I'm Putting in My Bid for Worst Mother of the Year

The kids and I had a fabulous morning.  

We were in the backyard for hours, raking the never-ending supply of avocado leaves, transplanting succulents, putting things away, washing down the sawdust piles and doing a general clean up.

The sun was warm, but not too warm.  

The shade under the avocado tree felt wonderful when we spread out sleeping bags to lounge and eat on.

We had watermelon and popcorn.

The boys climbed the tree.

Lilly swung.

I took pictures and enjoyed our last days as a 4-some.

And then we came inside so I could take a nap.

William laid down with me.

I told James and Lilly they could watch a video.

At some point Lilly came in and asked for crackers.

Not even half awake, I said, "yes."

A while later, I woke to find......THIS.

Empty cracker box on the floor, crumbs galore, that blank TV stare and her hand in the box of FRUIT LOOPS.
James looked at me and shook his head,
He knew Lilly was being baaaad.
But I just started laughing.
Like bent over laughing so hard that I almost peed my pants.  (not really that far from every minute of my day right now, but still)
How far I have fallen.
And I don't even care.
Because I am just too tired.  


I'm still laughing.  
At me.
And at Lilly.  Who found those Fruit Loops that I hid after the boys went camping.  
At James who wouldn't eat them without asking, because he's that kid.
And just..... all of it.
It made that last post, the one about being perfect, so very  true.
Things are going down hill fast.
Good thing I only have 3 and half weeks left.
Who knows what could happen?


And now, I have to take a shower so my husband doesn't come home to find me with greasy hair and wearing the same pair of sweats he left me in this morning.
I have small goals people.
But they are worthy.


Wishing you a wonderful 3 day weekend.
And, I hope you will take a moment to remember the men and women who serve and have served our country so bravely.


Love from,
Greta

Lilly's Toolbelt

I am deep in the throws of pregnancy.

I am nearing the end, actually.

I have never had a pregnancy feel quite so difficult at the end as this one does.

Aaron says I am always this tired.

I don't believe him.

Anyway, I have a mile long list that seems to be getting checked off very slowly.  

I don't have a lot of time.

Every afternoon I am absolutely devoid of energy and every evening I am so restless I can't relax.

At this point I am pretty certain we are calling this baby our last. 

(aaron would say VERY certain, but can you tell I can't go there yet?  it's all right, you can judge me.  but it is such a hard thing for me to imagine being truly done having babies.)

And so, I have a whole tangle of emotions flooding my already emotional state.

I feel like crying often.

Because as uncomfortable as I am right now, as much as I want this baby out NOW, for the acid reflux and breathlessness to be gone, and to be able to roll out of bed without groaning, I know I will miss being pregnant.

I haven't even let myself think about this being the "last time," because I wasn't ready to go there.

But now I am.  Not ready, but allowing myself because I am face to face with the end.

And I want to enjoy and remember this all.

But it's just not very enjoyable right now.

And so I just feel like a big, hormonal mess of tears and crankiness and sometimes a little bit of insanity.

My poor husband and kids.

What, you ask, does any of this have to do with Lilly's tool belt?

Nothing.

It is just further evidence of my chaotic state of mind.

There is a long list of things I want to write about, but I am just too tired to think.

These pictures are too cute to pass up, so I decided I'd post them.

Few words.  Little thinking.

There is a playhouse going up in our backyard.

Mostly it has been Aaron and James' project.

And I want to write about that because watching the 2 of them work together makes my heart melt.

But right now--I don't have the words.

Hence, Lilly's tool belt.

The other night, Lilly wanted in on the building action.

After bath time and wearing her favorite pink jammies, she headed outside and asked if she could be a builder too,

Daddy outfitted her with James' tool belt.

It was a little big, but she didn't care.
She also had her pink purse because a girl has to accessorize.

And, upon bending over with that tool belt on, the truth was out.
She is like the long line of tool belt wearing men before her.
She has the famous Eskridge crack.

See it?
Except it's cute on her.
(and no, she will never wear low cut jeans to show off that crack to the boys when she is a teenager.  please, just the thought is killing me)

Every time she bent over to do some work, her belt would fall and she'd hitch it back up.

But she still managed to pound a few nails in.

And, no surprise to me, she's pretty good at it.

Hoping for sleep.  

And a productive, or restful day tomorrow.

I'd settle for either at this point.

Here's to the last 3 weeks.  Let's just hope we all survive.

Love from,

Greta

On Being Perfect

There was a time when you seeing my house like this would have nearly killed me.
If you showed up at my door unexpectedly, I would not want to let you in.
I would be mortified.
Humiliated.
Embarrassed.
Because the truth would be out.
I, my kids, my home, my life are not perfect.


Being perfect is a heavy load to carry.
At least now it is.
It didn't use to feel that way.
But I am learning that the bigger my life gets, the harder it is to achieve perfection.
This revelation has not been easy to accept.
At times I still fight it.
But I am learning to let go.
And if you showed up unexpectedly at my front door now, I would probably apologize for the mess, I would be kind of embarrassed that I was napping in the middle of the day or that I hadn't showered yet, and then, I would move on.
Because I'm not perfect.
And I don't want to be.

When it was just me, I could live my life the way I wanted.
Eat in breakfast in bed.
Stay up late reading.
Spend my money how I saw fit.
I wasn't accountable to anybody.
I could keep my car clean, eat when I wanted, arrange my schedule just so and maintain my perfect, little life.


But then I got married and life became a little more complicated and a little bigger.
Now there were 2 of us deciding on how to decorate our little house.
I needed to make a dinner that both of us liked.
But it still wasn't that bad.
There were, after all, only 2 of us.


Keeping my house clean was a breeze.  
It might not have been decorated perfectly (it definitely wasn't) but at least it was clean.
Really clean.
When you live in a 600 square foot house, it is easy to keep it clean.
I cleaned the whole house 2 times a week.  
Vacuumed, swept and washed floors, wiped all counters, and stove, scrubbed the tub and bathroom, dusted, and changed the sheets.  It took less than 2 hours to do the whole house.
I was slightly insane about it. Slightly. (control freeeeeeak!)
But I felt better when things were "perfectly" clean.


Even after we had James, I still kept the same cleaning schedule.
With only 1 kid it wasn't that hard.


It was easy, too, to have a perfect kid.
It was easy to be the kind of parent who fed her kid the right stuff, never let him watch tv and made sure he never missed a nap and kept a perfect schedule.
I'm sure I was really annoying to a lot of people.
His face was always washed.
He always had on a cute outfit.
I never took him out with his hair unbrushed.
He was the most compliant, easy kid ever.
He did what I wanted.
He never had temper tantrums.  (i am not making that up.  temper tantrums were not his style)
When we said "stay in bed and go to sleep", he did.  Without a fight.
I looked like the perfect parent.  I was proud.
It felt good.

Then we had another baby.
Things got a little harder. 
But not a lot.
I was still on top of my game, even with 2.
William was another easy baby.
The boys shared a room without a problem.
They napped every day.  Religiously.
We still lived in our tiny house and I still kept it "perfectly" clean.
Oh there were moments, like this one, when I realized that things were not going as perfectly as I'd like.
And I tried not to let it get to me or be too embarrassed.  
I tried to listen to what God was telling me.
But most of the time, I still tried very hard to keep things perfect. 
I liked everything being JUST SO.


Then William turned 2 and figured out how to climb out of his crib.
We had our 3rd baby.
There were more of them than us.
Aaron got a lot more busy at work.
We moved to a bigger house.
And things started falling apart.

Just getting the kids to bed became a battle.  Well, really only getting William to bed.
Suddenly this problem we had never had before, (because we were the parents who had it all together and our kids were so good) became a nightly nightmare.
Those were long days and nights.
But we persevered.
And we learned a lot.  And it was worth it.


But it was still hard.  
All of it.
It is much harder to keep a house clean when you have more room, more stuff and especially, more kids.
I still had the same expectations, and was driving myself and the kids insane trying to maintain them.  Sometimes I let it rule my days.
It was not uncommon for me to arrive somewhere and realize I had not brushed the boys hair and they looked unkempt.
Faces were often unwashed,
What kind of mother lets her kids get in the car with unwashed faces?
Yeah.  That would be me.
We bought a house that needed lots of fixing.
Time and money became something we had a lot less of.
We experienced our first miscarriage.
We were having problems in our marriage.
Life was not at all perfect.
And a lot of it sucked.


The past year has been the most difficult in my life.
I have been angry, sad, hurt and lonely.
But I have also learned more and grown more than ever before.
Sometimes when we are at our worst, our lowest, our weakest, is when God can do the most in our lives.
I realized that I have a lot of pride.
I realized that I wanted to look like I have it all together.
I wanted my life to look perfect.


Why?
Well, who doesn't love it when someone says to you, "I just don't know how you do it?"
And you give that little laugh, and smile and say, "oh really, it's nothing."
But inside you feel like a million bucks.
It would be much more honest to say, "oh really?  Well, I don't either.  Because right now I want to strangle my husband and my kids and if I have to wash one more dirty hand print off a window I might just punch my fist right through it."
But that would not sound so good.


When my house is in perfect order, my kids all have on ironed dresses and button up shirts, their hair is brushed, my husband and I are not hiding resentment or bitterness, the kids do just as we say, no one has watched a Bob the Builder video in weeks, no one is begging for candy, heck they don't even know what candy is (james didn't until he was almost 3 because I was a perfect mom) then our whole life looks pretty darn good.
Right?


The weekend I had my miscarriage, my parents came up to take the kids for a few days.
My mom walked in the house and said, "wow, I know you are really having a rough time because this is the first time I have ever seen your house messy."
She wasn't trying to be mean.  
She was saying she understood how badly I felt and how much I was struggling.
(because if anyone understands the importance one can put on keeping a house clean, it's my mom.  she gets me)
I was not showered, the kids were a dressed in whatever was clean and everything  felt in complete disarray.
And believe me, I was embarrassed for her to see it that way.
My own mom!  While I was dealing with the loss of my baby.
I think of it now as such a sad statement about my priorities.
I tried so hard, for so long to look perfect.


But I'm not.  
It is all just a show.


Remember when Jesus called the pharisees "whited sepulchers"? (matthew 23:27)
Do you know what He meant?
He meant they were white and clean on the outside, but on the inside, they were graves. They were full of rotting, decayed flesh and dried up bones.


I don't want to be that way anymore.


Oh don't worry.  I'm  not just giving up.
All these pictures are from an afternoon when I had a rip roaring headache and laid down.
The kids watched a video.
They ate bananas in the living room.
They poured themselves orange juice.  In the living room.  (cardinal sin --they aren't even supposed to drink orange juice in there)
When Lil and Wil asked for a popsicle, I said, "whatever.  But don't eat in the living room."
So they stood in the window and ate popsicles instead.
They didn't want to miss the movie.


I took pictures of it all because I wanted to remember.
I wanted to look back and laugh.
I wanted to realize that none of those things really matter.
They are all things that seem to matter.  On the outside.
But here is the thing:
"Man looks at the outward appearance.  But God looks at the heart." (I samuel 16:7)


And so, I am working on the things that really matter.
I am working on my own heart.
I am working on the heart of my marriage,
I am working on the hearts of my kids.
I am learning to let go of pride and false pretenses.
I am learning that I have a long way to go.


I am learning the truth of this verse:
"You do not delight in sacrifice or I would bring it.
You do not take pleasure in burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart.
O God, you will not despise."
Psalm 51: 16-17

And sometimes, lots of times, there are piles of laundry on the living room chair.
And it's OK.
I get to it eventually.


It is my great hope that by being more open, and more real, I can reach out to more people.  
I can say, "hey, I know just how you're feeling because I have been there too."
Jesus didn't hang out with the Pharisees.  
He ate with the prostitutes and the tax collectors.
Because they needed Him.
And He was willing to love them right where they were.
The Pharisees thought they were perfect, and who needs Jesus if you're perfect?
I'm not perfect, and boy do I need Jesus.
And He loves me right where I'm at.


Love from,
Greta


PS. If you'd like to, I'd love your support of this blog.  You can vote for me here.  
Thank you so much!

The Great Tadpole Experiment of 2011 & Basic Tadpole Care

2 weeks ago, we went hiking here and we brought home tadpoles.

The kids were beyond excited.

I've never raised tadpoles and did not find it very promising that one of our 5 tadpoles did not last the ride home.  

The kids however, being eternal optimists, were sure the others would live.

Aaron came home and feared the worst (i think he thought i was cruel for taking these little guys away from their home and killing one already.  it's all in the name of science.  come on. get a grip.) 

So he and William made a quick trip to the fish store that is, randomly, right down the road from our house, to get supplies.  (more on those later)

He wanted the rest of them to live.

After 2 weeks, we've still got 3.

And they are the source of some great entertainment.

First thing in the morning we do a tadpole check.

We have to change the water every other day.
When Aaron told me this bit of news I was not too excited.
After all, one of the reasons we don't have a dog is that I deal with enough poop every day in my life.
I don't want to deal with any more poop.
Tadpoles poop a lot.
(those big black things are not their poop--they don't poop that much--those are the rocks from their aquarium.  all that other floating stuff is poo.  lovely)

 But it turns out changing the water isn't that bad.
And the tadpoles are happiest right after they get clean water.
That's when we get to watch them eat.
They eat lettuce.  

William, especially, loves to help me clean their home and feed them.

It's not surprising since he'd rather play with a worm all day than touch a dog.

I think he likes very small pets.  

And, given my current state, I must admit that watching these little guys swim around makes me giggle.
Watching William watch them really makes me giggle because I think of this story.
If you haven't read William's Fish Story, read it here, right now.
It will make you smile, maybe even laugh, and will be a great start to your Monday.

Despite the poop and the little bit of extra work on my part, I am glad we're raising these little frogs.
I love for my kids to learn in real life.
If these guys actually make it to froghood, it will be a biology experiment the kids won't soon forget.
And, if it is any indication of how attached I've actually become to the tadpoles, I'm actually worried about their care when I go to the hospital to have the baby.
Is Aaron going to have to come home just to change tadpole water?
Probably.


Wishing you a happy start to your week, from the tadpoles and us.
Love from,
Greta


If you haven't voted for me at all, or yet today, remember, you can go here to vote.  I appreciate it!
And if you have no idea what I'm talking about, go here to find out.


Basics of Tadpole Care  (what we know so far)


1.  Tadpoles like clean water.  Change water every other day.
2.  You must de-chlorinate the water before you put them in it.  Even the smallest big of chlorine will kill them.  The fastest, easiest way to do this is with drops from the fish or pet store.  Just a few drops will rid the water of chlorine almost instantly.
3.  You must adjust the tadpoles to the new water temperature before you place them directly in the clean water.  To do this, you put some of the old, dirty water and the tadpoles in a small plastic bag.  Set the bag in the  clean water, making sure it does not tip over.  Leave the bag in the water for about 30 mins.  Then carefully place the tadpoles in the new water, trying to keep as much of the dirty water out of the tank as possible.
4.  Tadpoles like to eat lettuce.  All the research I did said this and we've found it to be true.
I boiled a few leaves of lettuce (it's too hard for them to eat it fresh) and then froze it.  Each time we clean their water, we break off a few, tiny pieces of frozen lettuce and drop them in the water.
The tadpoles go to town.


That's it so far.  If any of them make it to the next stage in their journey, I'll let you know what we learn about caring for them then.

Tell Me a Story

When I first began blogging, I just wanted a place to keep a scrapbook of sorts.
"Real" scrap booking wasn't working for me.  
I was hopelessly behind and frankly never that satisfied with the results.  
My scrapbook pages seemed more about cute paper and stickers, a few pictures and very little writing.
It was the pictures, and even more so, the writing that I was really after.
I wanted to tell stories.


I always have.
There is an old home movie of me--you know the reel to reel kind--standing in our driveway with a quiet neighbor boy a few years older than me. 
My dad asks him to say something and he stands there for a bit, holding the little microphone, searching for some words.
Impatiently, I grab the microphone out of his hand and say, "I know a tory."
I was 3.


How marvelous would it be if you had the stories of your grandmother's childhood, your mother's, your father's, your own?  
Wouldn't it be fun to know the things they loved to eat and the mischief they got into?
Like the stories in Farmer Boy, one of my favorite books.  (yes, still)


Storytelling is in my blood.
I grew up hearing these kind of stories from my dad.
He is a master story teller and the tales of his childhood are epic.
The bombs he made, the (stolen) corn he sold door to door, (hard to believe he's a pastor now) the time he got run off the road by a bus when he was riding his bike to kindergarten, and so many more that still bring a smile to my face.
Every night we begged, "tell us a story daddy."
He always did.  
And I remember them all.


I am not a story teller like that.
At least not verbally. 
I tell stories on the page.
And the more I do it, the more I love it.
The more I want to encourage you to write down your stories.
This is your family history.
You might not be riding in a wagon across the prairie, but to someone, your stories will matter.


The thing that has astonished me in the nearly 2 (i think it's 2 years, or maybe 3--i should check) years that I have been writing this blog, is that my stories matter to you too.  
I am blessed beyond measure to know that the real stuff of my life, the raw stuff, the funny stuff, and the sweet, simple stuff that connects us all speaks to you.
If my words make you think, make you smile, make you cry, or inspire you to celebrate the little moments of your life, then I am telling the best kind of stories.
And it makes me happy.


All this is leading up to some shameless begging on my part.
Will you vote for me?
I saw this contest a while ago.
I didn't bother entering.
I mean, the top contenders have published books and been on tv.
That's not really where I'm at.
But it's been on my mind.
So I decided, why not?
I entered today.


Will you vote for my blog?
If you do, I'll give you a cupcake.

Well, in spirit anyway.


Go here to vote for me. 


If you are so inclined, share my blog with someone else who might like it and they can vote for me too. (just hit the share button on Facebook.
(i told you, shameless.  i'll be putting in my bid for the presidential election next) 
After you vote,  look around a bit.  There are some pretty fantastic blogs out there.
Go read some stories and be inspired to write your own.
Oh, and you can vote every day until June 8th.  
I know you don't have anything else to do, or anything.  But if you think about it....

  

Thanks for being here with me.
Love from,
Greta

Sharing

April, May and June are crazy months around our house.  

There are 4 family members with birthdays, our wedding anniversary, Mother's Day, Father's Day and soon there will be another family member with a birthday in June.

It can be a bit overwhelming.

The boys' birthdays are a few weeks apart.  
For the first few years we had separate birthday parties for them and I thought nothing of it.
That was what I was supposed to do.  
It was their day to be special.  It was all about them.
It's the one day of the year that they don't have to share, right?


But then, there was that year that we were living at my parent's house during both of their birthdays.
Aaron was here, working away getting the house ready, and by the time we moved in, it was past both of their actual birthdays.
I decided that this year they were going to have to share a birthday party.

I felt like the worst mom ever.

It really seemed like a terrible thing to do to them.

Especially since it was really about what was more convenient for me.

Guess what?

They didn't mind a bit.

They have the same friends.
They like the same things.
And they share everything else in their life.
This is no big deal.
We've been doing it ever since.


This was the 3rd year they've shared a birthday party.
They don't seem too scarred.
I am pretty sure they will not go to therapy for this later in life.
I could be wrong.  But I'm hoping.


The thing I've realized is that I would much rather emphasize sharing on this day than not.
I want them to know they are special, of course.
But I also want them to understand some important life truths that are a lot more important than expecting to be king for a day.


1.  Parties cost money.  
Daddy works really hard to support our family. If we can save money by sharing a party, then we are showing Daddy we respect how hard he works for us. And we are being good stewards with our money.  When I was little, I got to choose between a party or presents.  We couldn't afford both.  That's real life.  They need to know that.  I told them.  And they got it.
2.  Parties are a lot of work.  
Rather than expecting the world to revolve around them, even on their special day, they need to realize the amount of effort that is being put into a party that is just for them.  I don't think they should be kept in the dark about this. Rather, we all get ready for the party together.  They help clean up the house and the back yard. They help blow up balloons and make the goodie bags.  We're a family; we help each other.
Doing it twice is twice as much work.  It's OK to do it once and share the load.
3.  We live life together
This one is really important to me.  Our kids have always shared a room.  By necessity.  But I am glad.  I think it helps them adapt to the real world--a world that doesn't revolve around them.  
And they share toys.  The boys know who got which Lego set for Christmas, but they play with them all equally.  They have always shared toys, books and everything else, and that is just the way we do it.  Lilly gets a little wiggle room on this because they are not interested in her ballet tutus.  But there are toys of hers that they play with, and they all take turns on the swing (she, of course has the hardest time with that) and they even have to share the bathroom.
It is just the way we do life around here.
This does not mean that they can just take a toy out of each other's hands all in the name of sharing.  However, we also don't say, "he can't ever play with that--it's mine."  It might be later instead of right now, but they end up sharing stuff because it's kind.  And kindness is big around here. 
I know as they grow older, they will want privacy and more of a sense of personal property.  I will try to be as sensitive to that as I can.  But I also hope that living this way will give them a solid foundation of selflessness rather than selfishness.
Let's face it, our kids live in a world where they have far more than they need.  It is tempting to give them everything they want, but it is not what is best for them.  What is best for them is to learn that they are not the center of the universe.  They are a part of it.

I'll be honest, when they started talking about their birthday party, they initially asked for separate parties.  Even though I knew sharing a party was the best thing for them, I still worried they'd be hurt or upset.  But when I explained why they would have one together they understood.  
They did not argue or complain.
I am grateful for that.
And in the end, this party was another success and lots of fun.


I know someday things will change.
But for right now, this works for us.


Maybe you disagree with me and think I am screwing up my kids for life.  I'd like to know your take on it.  Or maybe you have other ways of teaching your kids these same life lessons.  I'd love to hear those too.  
And, you should know, on each child's actual birthday, they get a cake and a couple of presents from Mommy and Daddy.  I make them a garland (cause I can't celebrate anything without a garland) and they usually get to pick a favorite meal.  It is a special day.  
So see, we're not totally depriving them.


If you're interested, you can see all the party details over on my other blog.
I do love to throw a party!
Love from,
Greta


PS.  I am happy to share that I am guest posting on Faith Blogs today. I'd love it if you show some support and go take a look.  Thanks!