everydayMOM

My big fat photo archiving project

2012-01-26T20:10:00.000-06:00

During the last two weeks, I have been a little preoccupied with a big photo archiving project. It all started back on Jan. 2 when I completed my photo book for the year 2011.

I used to be a scrapbooker. In fact, my office is still packed with decorative papers, scissors, cutters and embellishments. But I am so glad that my days of cutting and pasting on paper are over! I am loving the amazingly quick, easy and high-quality digital photo books I can create in 24 hours, rather than 12 months!

After a marathon digital photo session on Jan. 2, I decided to get serious about going back and creating a photo book for each year of our family, starting with the first year I had digital photos.

The first thing I did was buy an external hard drive so I could store all of my photos in one place. I copied photos from older computers, my laptop, CDs, and my new computer. I created a photo library that now contains more than 20,000 photos.

While we have some digital photos dating back to 1999, it wasn't until the year 2004 that I switched exclusively to a digital camera. Our third child also was born at the end of 2004. But in October of 2005, my one-year-old computer crashed. The hard drive was fried. And I had no back up of the first year of my daughter's life!

I was so thankful that I had printed out about 100 photos of her birth and first few months. (WHAT a gift from God!!) So, to complete my photo archive, I have been scanning in all of those photos. (I already had photos for the first nine months of that year, but we bought my new computer the same weekend she was born, so we lost everything from that point on.)

The past few days, the scanner has been going constantly. It takes 4.5 minutes to scan one photo at 1,200 dpi. We all seemed to develop internal timers that would go off every 4.5 minutes, and someone would switch the photo!

Once I got all of those done, I decided to keep going. I scanned in all of the portraits we have taken since my oldest son was born. WOW! It's been so fun to compare all of the kids at different ages. And double WOW! It's amazing to see them grow up — literally — before my eyes!

Check it out:

2003, ages 1 and 3

2005, ages 6 months, 2 and 4

2005, ages 1, 3 and 5

2006, 2, 4 and 6

2007, 3, 5 and 7

2008, ages 4, 6 and 8

2009

2009, ages 3 weeks, 5, 7 and 9

2010, ages 6 weeks, 5, 7 and 9

2010, ages 6 months, 5, 7 and 9

2010, ages 10 months, 6, 8 and 9

2010, ages 1, 6, 8 and 10

2011, ages 1, 6, 8 and 10

2011, ages 2, 7, 9 and 11

2012, ages 2, 7, 9 and 11

Warm getaway and iPhoto tricks

2012-01-18T13:56:00.000-06:00

My husband's company gave him the day off work on Monday for Martin Luther King Day. It was kind of weird because this was also the first day back to co-op for our three older kids. Although their teachers had been giving us assignments for the past two weeks, they didn't have class. Monday was supposed to be their first full day back at their academic classes.

It feels like we have been running like crazy lately. I have had to work more hours than usual the past few weeks, and it seems like I've been working more on weekends. We decided to take advantage of the fact my husband was off work and make the most of it! So, we let their teachers know they wouldn't be at class, and we headed into the city.

I have wanted to visit the Garfield Park Conservatory since last year when a bunch of friends went on a field trip there. If I'm stuck in the snowy, cold weather of the Midwest, there's no place I would rather be than inside the tropical paradise of a conservatory.

The minute we walked in, all of the kids remarked about how they could smell the oxygen! It was nice and warm and humid. Two large rooms of the conservatory were closed because the roof was destroyed last summer by a hail storm. However, the five remaining areas that were open were a treasure.

The kids did a scavenger hunt to find certain plants, and then filled out a sticker sheet. My husband and I spent lots of time playing with our camera and testing out photo settings. We had a beautiful peaceful day, and we were so glad we made the choice to go there together as a family.

We took a ton of photos that we have been watching as a slide show in iPhoto. I was thinking how cool it would be if I could export the slide show, instead of posting the photos one by one. I did a quick web search and found out that you CAN do that in iPhoto.

It's as simple as clicking the "+" sign and then instead of creating a new album, creating a new slide show. Then, you just adjust your theme and music, add or delete photos and click export. I used the song "Where I Belong" by Building 429, which I just downloaded for free this week from the K-Love web site. (So, see... this blog post is just a wealth of information!)

I recently upgraded my iPhoto, so this was the first time we had used the "shatter" theme as a transition. We all love it and think it adds a cool effect to the slideshow.

So, here goes... Take a look:

Let the snowboarding begin!

2012-01-14T16:36:00.000-06:00

After several days of hard work, the snow boarding hill is ready for action.

We love having friends stop by to go for a ride down the hill.

Sledding or snowboarding...

It's lots of fun.

Sumner learned to snowboard for the first time!

Matthew is becoming an expert.

Watch out! Girl power!

The line can be long...

But it's worth the wait.

SNOW!!

Skating Rink Construction, 101

2012-01-12T16:55:00.000-06:00

Back in the fall, the weather reports predicted that this winter in Chicago would be one of the worst in memory. We were supposed to have more snow and more freezing temps in December than ever before.

We were excited. Last year, our entire family was converted from winter haters to — dare I say it? — winter lovers!? Of course, we still prefer summer, or fall or even spring. Winter is definitely not our season of choice. But we had so much fun last winter that we were kind of looking forward to it.

Our house was a winter sport wonderland last year. The kids figured out how to use recycling bins to pack huge bricks of snow and build tall snow-boarding hills. My husband built an ice skating rink in the backyard. And we had that awesome blizzard to provide a playground of snow!

When we heard the prediction for this winter, we decided to make our skating rink bigger and better than before. Our plan was to start construction Thanksgiving weekend and be ready with a pond full of frozen water by Dec. 1.

But then... it didn't snow. And the temperatures didn't drop. December was mild, and we barely got a dusting of snow. We couldn't believe it when the first two weeks of January felt more like spring than winter! We started getting used to playing outside in 40 and 50 degree weather.

Finally, the snow came today. CapableDad has been working overtime in the backyard to get the ice rink ready before the temperature dove into the 20s. Here's the step-by-step of this year's skating rink construction project.

First, we decided to move the play structure so we could extend the rink by 10 feet.

Next, he built a frame around the area, which is about 30 by 40 feet.

Our yard is fairly level. However, it does decline by about eight inches from the front to the back. To save on the cost of water, my husband put wood pallets in the back of the rink. He and two friends collected the pallets from all sorts of places.

The frame on the very back of the rink is about three boards high and it's only one board high on the front. The goal is to have five inches of water on the most shallow part of the rink.

They were working hard all day yesterday and into the evening. The temperature was in the mid-50s most of the day and the kids were playing without coats!

The guys put plywood across the pallets and then filled in the step to the ground with leaves and grass. The kids thought this made a great stage.

Next they had to lay the huge piece of plastic across the frame. My husband bought the plastic at Home Depot. One piece isn't wide enough, so they used duct tape to attach two pieces and secure the seam in the middle. This step is crucial. If you leave any gaps or holes, the water will leak through and you will spend hundreds of dollars watering the lawn!

They don't actually attach the plastic because it could pull and rip. They just laid it across the area and over the frame. As we added water last night, we tried to remove air bubbles and get the thick plastic to lay as flat as possible.

We filled the rink halfway last night. We got several inches of snow this morning, which added to the water level. It will take several days to freeze. We still need to add more water, which will help smooth out all of the bumps left by the snow.

I read that the temperature is supposed to get back into the 40s next week. We're hoping it's not true. We are actually cheering for more snow and more cold so we can put on our skates soon!

Family Rules project

2012-01-11T12:59:00.000-06:00

Like the rest of the world, I recently joined Pinterest. I have to admit, I find Pinterest to be overwhelming. I have yet to add one thing to my pin boards.

When I go on that site, it makes me feel like I should be doing more, creating more, organizing more, cooking more, reading more. I'm already so overwhelmed with all of the things on my to-do list that I can't focus on all of the great ideas other people have! I can only take it for a few minutes before I have to get back to work.

However, the other day, I was scrolling through and I came upon a project that immediately grabbed my attention. For several year, I have wanted to do a "Family Rules" project. I first saw the project here and then here. I really liked the idea, but the format seemed too difficult for my skill level.

Then, someone on Pinterest had the idea to create a Family Rules project using an easy-to-find photo frame and scrapbooking paper. This was totally up my alley! Not only do I love scrapbooking paper, but I really love playing with computer fonts. So this was perfect for me!

I have one wall in our dining room that is totally blank. I took down the framed artwork last year when I painted, and I never put it up again. Now that we use our dining room primarily for doing school, the framed art just seemed too formal.

When I saw this idea, it got me thinking of how I could make that wall functional and fun, yet creative and cute. I haven't finished the piece that goes in the middle yet. It's going to be a display area for the kids' artwork.

On one side I will hang the Family Rules frame and on the other side, I'm going to hang this:

It has one section for each day of the week. I can use a dry erase marker to write on the glass to give us a quick look at what is happening during the week. The photo shows what it looks like without any writing on the glass.

When I finish the middle part and hang everything I will take a photo.

These are the rules I chose for our Family Rules frame:

Here is an up close view of the days of the week in the other frame:

OK... so now I just have to hang everything! Hopefully, I'll get it all done soon and can take a photo of the finished product.

Sky high

2012-01-09T19:00:00.000-06:00

Today we joined a bunch of home school friends at an indoor trampoline place. The kids had a ton of fun! They had big spaces full of trampolines. Even the walls were trampolines.

The boys spent the entire time on the dodge ball court.

Alayna loved jumping in the foam pit.

Even Jayda got in on the fun. She has stopped complaining about her broken arm. After six days of being cooped up in the house, she was begging to go somewhere today. She only lasted about 30 minutes on the trampoline, but at least she was happy and smiling for a while!

Half way

2012-01-06T17:09:00.000-06:00

A few weeks before Christmas break, I told my daughter we were going to do some flash cards to review her math facts. Up until that point, she had been cruising through her facts and didn't seem to need much extra review.

"Oh, like when we used to homeschool?" she asked.

I tried to hide my puzzled expression.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Ummm. In case you haven't noticed, honey, we still DO home school.

But I actually loved her way of thinking. We are halfway through our new schooling arrangement, and I wasn't sure how my children would react to this idea of having teachers on Mondays who give them all of their assignments. My hope was that they would see me more as the mom who helps them get through their homework and less as the teacher who is giving them all of their assignments. Apparently, it's working.

This arrangement has helped me with a few of the aspects of home schooling that are hardest for me. I wanted them to be accountable to someone other than me to do their work. I have found that they try a lot harder to write a good research paper, for example, when someone else is grading it.

I wanted someone else to set the standard by assigning how much work we have to complete. Sometimes, I wish they had harder assignments. Sometimes I wish we could blow stuff off and go on a field trip. But overall, I have really liked not having the pressure on me to figure out what we need to accomplish in a school year.

I also wanted them to experience the fear and anxiety of taking tests. Now, they take tests on a regular basis in class and at home. Sure, we took tests before. But they never took their tests as seriously when Mom was grading them. I like them to experience the healthy stress of going to class to take a test and handing it in to their teacher.

However, I do love the home schooling life style we have been able to enjoy this year. I feel super privileged to get to be with them during the week and be part of the learning process. I also love our network of friends in the home schooling community. And we all enjoy the fun social stuff we get to do.

The week before Christmas, they had their first experience taking mid-term exams. I was nervous when my 5th grader came home and reported, "Those tests were my worst nightmare."

All of their teachers post their grades and assignments on a web site called Engrade. I get a message every time a teacher posts a message. I couldn't even bring myself to log in during the two weeks of Christmas break and go through all of the messages waiting for me.

When I finally HAD to look on Tuesday, I was pleasantly surprised. They did better than I expected in many subjects. The ones that were a challenge weren't a shock. And the teachers went easy on us with the assignments the first week after Christmas.

It gave us some extra time to enjoy this week that has felt more like spring break than the first week of January! We still don't have any water in our backyard skating rink. But hooray for 56 degrees in the middle of winter!

(And yes... that IS the 2 year old with a broken clavicle playing on the swing set like nothing ever happened!)

Broken

2012-01-04T15:39:00.000-06:00

I was in my office trying to get caught up on my work after the Christmas break when I heard a loud boom in my son's room upstairs. The kids had been playing a crazy game of hide 'n' seek and they had been running around the past few minutes. It sounded like one of them jumped off the top bunk bed.

I was on my way to tell them to calm down when someone handed me the crying 2-year-old. I thought she was just mad about something, but then realized this cry was louder and more intense than usual. I ran upstairs with her and looked in the eyes of one of our kids who had that, "I'm afraid if I tell you what happened I will be grounded for life" look.

The toddler kept screaming and pointing to her back. It was bright red.

"This is very important. You have to tell me what happened."

"She fell off the bunk bed."

My husband and I barely said a word as we ran to get her a clean diaper, coat, shoes and socks. During those moments, she sat quietly on a big chair in the living room saying, "I go-go. I go-go," as if she knew we were taking her to get help.

"Immediate care or ER?" we asked each other. Before I could even think, he had her in the van and was pulling out of the driveway. I wanted to be the one to take her, but he was already gone. Plus, he is really good at handling medical situations.

I will never forget the first year of our marriage when I broke my arm learning to roller blade. He found me lying next to the street and made a sling for me out of a towel so he could get me to the hospital. This little one reminds me of myself in many ways, although I didn't break my arm the first time until I was FIVE years old!

The three big kids and I paced around waiting to hear the news. One child was inconsolable for the first hour, blaming himself for not paying closer attention. The truth is that as the fourth born, that girl tries all sorts of stunts that none of our other children ever tried. She actually does such a good job keeping up with her older siblings and their friends that we often forget she's ONLY two!

After crying and praying and calming down, the four of us actually started watching a home movie of our littlest one. We sat there telling each other how much we all love her. We called and texted my husband over and over again, hoping for some news. We were so thankful that it wasn't much worse. The top bunk is a long way to fall when you are only 34 inches tall.

About an hour later, my husband called to say her clavicle was broken. "A clean break," he said. I don't like those words. They sound so painful.

The doctor sent her home without a cast, a sling or even a wrap. They couldn't put a cast on her because of the location of the break. They said she would just wrestle with a sling or bandage until she got it off. They were right. I tried immobilizing it myself with a blanket, and she fought with it until she could get her arm free.

The first day and night went better than I expected. Each time she moves her arm, she screams, "Ouch!" but doesn't seem to realize the solution is to stop using the arm. When she has a fresh dose of Vicodin in her system, you can tell that her pain is under control. When we approach the four-hour mark, she gets extremely irritable and cries out constantly.

The doctor said it should only take about 6 days for her young bones to heal. We are all super thankful that it wasn't much worse.

Our year in photos

2012-01-04T15:13:00.000-06:00

Click here to view this photo book larger

Shutterfly photo books are the new way to preserve your memories. Create your own today.

So, what else is new?

2012-01-01T15:59:00.000-06:00

This is probably the first year in my adult life that I am starting off a new year without even the slightest hint of a resolution. I'm feeling kind of boring and bland without any new goals or ideas for 2012.

Someone asked me this morning what was the best thing that happened in 2011. My struggle to answer doesn't mean I'm not thankful for absolutely every minute I had breath for the past 365 days. But it also feels like I finished a marathon that left me longing for quiet and solitude over grand plans and big ambitions.

The year had plenty of challenges. And yet the list of things for which I'm thankful is a long one: an amazing husband with a new job that is restoring some normalcy to our schedule, the three big kids who are growing up right before my eyes, the littlest one who gives us all a chance to relive the early years of learning and growing and see the world through those innocent eyes, an amazing community of friends who listen to me and laugh with me, and the chance to work from home doing all of the things I love.

Last year, my goal was to take a photo and blog about it every day of 2011. I made it 109 days. I'm glad for that first third of the year that I tried it and did it, and I'm glad to have those daily "journal" entries in my blog to remember all of those moments of 2011. I'm also glad that I was OK with giving up on that goal when I realized it was weighing me down more than it was lifting me up. My love of taking photos starting becoming a chore when I felt like I had to do it every single day.

At the risk of sounding arrogant or annoying, I decided to make a list of the things I accomplished in 2011. It's kind of nice to look back at a year that feels like a blur and remember that I'm starting 2012 as a person who is (at least a little bit) different than I was 365 days ago:

I learned a ton of new Photoshop tricks. A year ago, I didn't know how to "refine edges" or fill using "content aware" or master my "blending modes" or "create a clipping mask" or "rasterize type" or even use the "stamp tool." I have learned so much, which makes it more fun to build on my base of knowledge to learn even more in 2012.

I also taught myself how to use InDesign. I remember sitting in my bed at night watching tutorials on my iPad so I could work on a project that required it. A few months later, I'm feeling like an expert in InDesign and can do quickly what felt like a monumental task last summer.

I've learned a LOT about video editing, thanks to a friend who has given me so many great tips. I would love to graduate beyond iMovie and use some more advanced video editing software this year to see what I'm missing.

I got a new camera lens that has helped me work on my photography skills. I would like to purchase Adobe Lightroom this year and learn more about photo editing, as well as create a better system for storing my photos.

I started shopping at Costco. Doesn't that sound like the most hilarious thing to include on my list? It's actually an accomplishment for me because I don't like to grocery shop. But it's symbolic to me of the fact that I've been more on top of stocking up on the food we need so I can do a better job feeding my family.

I organized a lot of my recipes on allrecipes.com. I started using their more advanced features to create my meal plans and grocery shopping lists. I'm still sporadic in this area, but I feel like by the time my kids all graduate and move away, I will FINALLY be on top of my meal planning. :)

I ran nine miles. Yep, that's right. I ran nine miles in one year. I realize some people like to lump their miles all together and run them all at once. I ran my miles one at a time. I walked and biked a whole bunch of other miles, but for some reason, the ones I ran seem more important. My hope for 2012 is to run more miles than I did in 2011. And, thankfully, the bar is super low, so hopefully, I'll be able to accomplish that. :)

I blogged a lot less in 2011. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. I'm working on creating a photobook from all of my photos from 2011, and I love incorporating my blog posts into the book. In that respect, I wish I had blogged more. I would like to post photos and write about my family at least once a week in 2012, but I also realize it's harder than it looks. I don't want my effort to chronicle my memories to get in the way of enjoying the moments.

I made some new friends, renewed some old friendships and realized that I need to invest more in the friends I have. The year started with some difficult news for a dear friend. It's ending with the news that some of our closest friends are moving away. This kind of stuff makes me want to kick the curb, curl up in a ball and yell, "Not fair!" But I know God has a plan with all of this, and I'm trying to enjoy the people He places in my life the best that I can.

I made my marriage more of a priority. I realized how easy it is to get so caught up in the needs of the kids and the demands of keeping things going and forget the one person who is most important to me. This is definitely something I want to keep working on in 2012.

Well, it's kind of funny that in making that list I realized that I do have some goals for the new year. I'm also starting things off by going on a 40 day spiritual journey with my church. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens when I make it a priority to read the Bible and pray every single day.

What about you? Do you have big goals for 2012? Did 2011 turn out the way you had hoped? What's on your list for the new year?

The dry erase table

2011-11-26T20:05:00.000-06:00

Our family loves to doodle. The kids go through dozens of sheets of paper each day filled with drawings and doodles and cartoon characters. When their friends come over, they often all sit around drawing together.

So, this weekend, we have been working on converting our basement into a bedroom for the two boys. We have been sorting through tons of stuff to clear out an area that my husband used as an office, as well as lots of storage bins full of photo albums and toys and papers.

One of the items in the basement is our old train table that the boys used to play with back in the day they were obsessed with Thomas and all things train. For the past few years, they have been using the table as a place to build their Lego projects.

I decided to move it upstairs and convert it into a dry erase craft table. I was envisioning a place where they could sit around and draw with dry erase markers, color on paper or play games.

I started by covering the table with white contact paper. I was convinced that dry erase markers would wipe off clean. BUT I was wrong. So, I covered the contact paper with laminating sheets. (By the way, if I did this again, I would probably go shopping for some rolls of laminate so I didn't end up with so many seams. I also saw dry erase paint at Home Depot, but it got really bad reviews, so I decided to try something else.)

I then found dry erase decorative circles that I adhered to the top. As you can see from the photos, the kids couldn't even wait for me to put the top on the table before they started doodling!

My son and I both tried to draw Animal from the Muppet show. This is my attempt.

The drawers are now stocked with stacks of white paper and construction paper. I also found an awesome set of broad tipped dry erase markers that came in some really cool colors.

I'm not sure how long the dry erase table will stay in the middle of our family room. But we are having fun with it for now!

Tales of the two-year-old

2011-11-22T21:49:00.000-06:00

Our "baby" is just a week away from her second birthday, and every day with that girl in the house is a new adventure. You would think that after going through this stage with three others, we would know what to expect when it comes to living with a 2-year-old. Not so.

This girl is full of life. She is learning so many things so quickly that it keeps us all busy trying to stay one step ahead of her. One of the unique things about her is her absolute adoration for baby dolls.

Her big sister has a big basket full of baby dolls that have barely been played with. Jayda has taken over this stash, and she lovingly cares for each of the babies, as well as a toddler can.

She often carries one under each arm as she walks around the house. One of the babies might be hanging upside down by a foot by the time she makes it down the stairs, but she coos, "Aww, ba-by," in such a sweet way that it would melt even a plastic heart. She cuddles and rocks the sweet baby in her little mama arms and then one second later throws it full force onto the hard-wood floor, its head making a loud, "Bang!" on impact.

We started allowing her to sleep with a baby doll about a month ago. Each night, she demands that more and more babies be placed in her crib with her, until she now has about 10 dolls lined up at the end of her crib. Each one must be carefully tucked into bed under their blanket before she will relent and go to sleep herself.

She usually wakes up in the morning screaming because SOMEONE! has tossed all of the baby dolls over the rail and they are lying on the floor too far for this sweet, loving toddler mom to reach.

But one of the babies stands out among the others as the most beloved of the plastic-headed children. Jayda has no way of knowing that this baby is a prized Bitty Baby from the American Girl Store, but she must have a sixth sense for the best in baby dolls.

When Jayda's big sister was about 4 years old, she gave this baby the name, "Dasher." (We have no idea why.) And even though Jayda STILL calls all three of her older siblings the same name — "Ah-bee" (as in "Everybody") — she clearly calls her baby doll, "Dash."

She carries Dasher around under one arm and carries her baby doll sleeper under the other arm. Dozens of times throughout the day, she hands me the sleeper and hands me the doll and demands, "Clothes!" Just as I'm about to close the velcro on the back of Dasher's outfit, she screams, "NO!" and pulls the outfit back off.

So, Dasher spends most of her day in nothing but the cloth fabric that makes up her torso. Jayda loves to put wet washcloths on her head and when she does, she insists on putting one on Dasher as well. Here's a photo of the two of them in their, "HOT!" (Hat!)

Today, before the toddler could give me Dasher's sleeper and insist I put it on before ripping it off, I found a babydoll outfit in the basket of baby stuff. Jayda had never seen Dasher in this outfit, and I could tell she was quite impressed to see her baby doll dressed in such cute American Girl style. This lasted about an hour.

That was when Jayda brought me Dasher and began yelling, "Clothes!" This time, however, she was pulling at her own clothes. She screamed and jumped and gestured and yelled until I took off her clothes. Then she pointed at her diaper and yelled, "Pee! Pee!" until I removed the dry diaper.

Then she pointed at Dasher and insisted, "Pants! Pants" pointing to her own legs. She would not be satisfied until I took the doll-sized pants off the baby and put them on the her.

I wish I could publish the whole photo so you could see her facial expression. But here she is with the baby doll pants around her ankles. She would not give up on wearing them until she had fallen down several times trying to walk around like that.

And that, my friends, is a day with our 2-year-old. Always an adventure. Always something new. Sometimes a little frustrating. Often crazy. Always a laugh.

The beginning of us... the end (with photos!)

2011-11-19T14:57:00.001-06:00

There are so many other things I could write about that happened during the next two years. We would go to extremes to see each other. At least once a month, he would call me on a Friday and tell me he was headed my way. He could drive the 590 miles in about 10 hours.

(This photo was taken in Kent's apartment in Mississippi. You can almost see that he is wearing The Ugly Shoes. Now I'm noticing that my shoes weren't exactly pretty!)

I would visit him as often as I could. I would convince my dad to give me a plane ticket. Or I would pack up my red Sunfire and make the long trek myself. It took me about 12 hours to drive all that way, past St. Louis, through the tip of Missouri and part of Arkansas, through Memphis and finally across Mississippi.

I bought a CD player "boom box," and I would check out audio books from the library. The books only came on cassette tape at the time, so I couldn't play them in the CD player in my car. I filled the front seat with D batteries so I could keep my boom box going as I listened to book after book on that long drive.

I have always loved to ride my bike. Once we started dating we started riding mountain bike trails. Kent would leave Mississippi around 4 p.m. on Friday and get to Springfield around 2 a.m. Somehow, we had enough energy to ride the mountain bike trails on Saturday.

(Here we are after a ride in Springfield. Our bikes were always covered with mud. This photo was taken in front of the garage to my apartment, "The Berkeley.")

We would enjoy every second of that day together, but the whole time we had this sense of impending doom that Sunday was on its way. Usually around noon, he would say good-bye and begin that long drive down south.

We also liked to play tennis. Several times, I would leave Springfield on a chilly day in early spring and we would play tennis all weekend in shorts in Mississippi.

We loved the warm weather in the south. But neither of us ever adjusted to the culture in Mississippi or the heat and humidity in the summer. The first time I went to visit him, we walked into a restaurant for lunch and saw his co-workers sitting together at a table.

"Look at that!" one of the guys announced. "Kent's got himself a woman."

I was so embarrassed.

(This photo was taken in Jackson, Mississippi. I thought it would be hilarious to take a photo in front of that big monument to "The Confederate Dead of Mississippi.")

After about a year making the Mississippi commute, he had the opportunity to take a job in the Chicago area. While we would still be about four hours apart, it seemed like next-door neighbors compared to Mississippi.

From that very first weekend when he made the unexpected trip to Springfield, we both knew we were meant to be together. We just knew. We had barely started dating, and yet we had known each other nearly all of our lives. I knew his family and he knew mine, so that alone gave us a jumpstart in our relationship.

He moved to the suburbs in October and that next June we got engaged. On Nov. 15, 1997, we were married. We had dated just over two years and had lived in separate towns the entire time.

I can't imagine my life without my husband. He is my rock.

I'm the one who is always out there, pushing the limits and trying new things. I'm not afraid to learn something or try something new. But I always seem to doubt myself or need reassurance.

He always puts me at peace. When he's out of town for a long period of time, I start to go crazy without his calming presence. He keeps me grounded. He helps me see the good in me. Sometimes, he seems to understand me in a way that I don't even understand myself.

We've been married and been parents for long enough that sometimes it's hard to remember that life was ever different. But once in a while, I glance at him and remember seeing him ride his BMX bike in sixth grade or walking across the field in high school in his football uniform.

I remember sitting in the back of his dad's car shouting out directions or The Ugly Shoes or the drive to Mississippi. I think about the Thai restaurant or The Berkeley or riding our mountain bikes around Springfield.

It's hard to believe that those two people are parents with four children. It's hard to believe we're even responsible enough to keep things going sometimes.

It's fun to remember those days.

It's good to remember when life was so much less.

I'm so thankful for today that life is so much more.

The beginning of us, part 6

2011-11-18T17:05:00.001-06:00

The plane ride from Columbus, Mississippi, to Springfield, Illinois, took less than two hours. But it was plenty of time to replay that scene hundreds of times in my mind. What had happened?

After all of the anticipation of those weeks and months of e-mails, followed by endless phone conversations, finally resulting in that fun first date, how could it end with me telling him he was a jerk?

I already knew that this guy had an extremely dry sense of humor. I have always had a sarcastic sense of humor, so I totally got it. One of the things we liked about each other was that we made each other laugh. But I had such a hard time deciding when he was serious that I had asked him to use a code (the symbol ~) to indicate when he was being sarcastic in his e-mail.

I assumed those parting comments were his dry sense of humor, covering up the nervousness of saying good-bye. But I would have preferred honesty at that moment.

By the time I got home, I already had an e-mail with the subject line, "the jerk."

He said he liked the fact that I was strong enough to say what was on my mind. He deserved to be put in his place, and he was glad I had done it.

OK.

I really didn't expect that response.

At the end of that week, I got a Fed-Ex package. It was April 14, and he had paid for an overnight delivery of my birthday card. That really wasn't necessary.

No seriously, it wasn't.

My birthday wasn't until the following week, April 21. He had gotten the dates mixed up and was so afraid he would miss my birthday that he sent the card Fed Ex. I hardly had the heart to tell him that he was a week early.

**

A couple of weeks after that I got a call saying he was in Chicago. He had gone on a business trip and left his car in southern Illinois where he and his co-workers all grabbed a train up to Chicago. He thought maybe he would drive a few hours out of his way and come by and see me on his way home.

It was the worst possible time he could come to visit me. It was during the final days of the legislative session, and it was assumed that, like all of the other reporters, I needed to work pretty much around the clock to cover whatever happened.

I was always functioning in "survival mode" that time of year. I would eat on the run, sleep very little and work until late in the evening. I was stressed enough just trying to get through my life, at that point. But there was no way I was going to delay this visit. I was surprised and excited that he was actually coming to town.

I scrambled furiously to clean up my apartment. Springfield is a town with so much history, and it still has streets lined with historic homes. I lived in a four-flat apartment building that was probably built around 1940. My apartment had gold patterned wallpaper and thick shag carpeting. The kitchen had the original stove and refrigerator. I held my breath every time I used a match to light up that gas stove, hoping the whole apartment didn't go up in flames.

I could look past all of that though because of the thick solid wood molding, the built in bookshelves and the sunroom on the front. Instead of a shower, I had a clawfoot tub, and the place used radiator heat. Above the front door was a plaque that said, "The Berkeley."

To this day, we still talk about The Berkeley. That place had so much character. It instantly brings back great memories of our early days of dating.

**

I was working when he got into town.

I remember standing outside the Pressroom on the mezzanine level of the Capitol, waiting for him to walk up the steps. I worked in an office with a group of men who were going to have a lot to say if I came walking in with this visitor.

Instead, I showed him to the gallery of the Illinois House of Representatives and helped him find a seat. He would have to hang out there until the session ended for the evening, and I could go home.

I told a few of my other female reporter friends that this guy had come to visit me and was sitting up in the gallery. I tried to point him out from where we sat in the press box on the House floor.

I came back a few hours later to find him mesmerized. He had made a few friends who had kept him company while he got a first-hand view of how laws are made in the state of Illinois. Much to my surprise, he wasn't bored or anxious to go home. He was loving it.

**

I took him to a Thai restaurant that was a popular hang-out with and all my friends. The restaurant was a total hole in the wall. The waitresses were mean and would yell at you if you didn't order fast enough. But the place was always packed. The food was amazing.

Unless, of course, you are someone like my husband. Someone who loves meat and potatoes. Someone who really doesn't like Chinese food or Japanese food or Thai. I had no idea at the time how much that restaurant must have been outside his comfort zone.

The only thing I actually remember about that meal was that I was trying to get to the bottom of why he had traveled all the way from Mississippi to Chicago and then went out of his way to visit me in Springfield. Why was he there?

His answer was simple and straightforward.

"I had to see you."

Little by little, he was taking his chisel and hammering away at the bricks and mortar I hid behind. He was chipping away at a little hole to my emotions.

I was learning that he was a guy who didn't mess around. He didn't play games. He was exactly who he was. He didn't care what anyone thought about him, but that didn't come across in an arrogant way. He was just completely OK with who he was.

He wasn't interested in mind games or playing with my emotions. I asked a question. He would answer.

"You had to see me?" I repeated.

Chip. Chip. Chip.... Clunk. One brick down.

This story is almost done...

The beginning of us, part 5

2011-11-16T12:38:00.000-06:00

We started talking almost daily, and I was loving this relationship. It was completely safe.

We spent long hours on the phone or e-mail, just getting to know each other. He asked me about my day. He made me laugh. It didn't matter how I looked or what I was wearing. There was no risk involved.

I still don't know if the next part of the story was fabricated, like the e-mail address, or what was going on behind the scenes.

My parents told me that they had decided to go to Mississippi for a tour of the antebellum homes that happened every spring in the town where he lived. They asked me if I would like to go along. My dad traveled so much for his job that he had tons of frequent flyer point. We could all fly down, and Kent could show us around.

I still don't know why, but Kent's parents were going to make the trip, as well. They lived in Cincinnati and my parents lived in southern Illinois. The four of them knew each other, but they had never been close friends.

It seems funny now that both sets of our parents planned this trip. I think I found out later that they had actually called each other and plotted it somehow. Whatever the case, I was very nervous about meeting this guy in real life, not to mention in front of both sets of our parents! We would all meet at the house that was the start of the tour of the antebellum homes.

"Do you think we'll even recognize them?" I asked my mom.

"Of COURSE we'll recognize them!" she said.

I actually noticed Kent's mom first. I couldn't remember what she looked like, but as soon as I saw her, I immediately remembered her.

The first thing I noticed about Kent was his shoes.

He was wearing white Nike basketball shoes that had a thick black stripe down the side and black shoe laces. They were laced very loosely and the laces hung open at the top.

They were the ugliest shoes I had ever seen.

To this day, we still refer to them as "the ugly shoes."

In a way, I was impressed that he would wear such ugly shoes. I had probably spent hours choosing what outfit I would wear for that moment. I thought it was kind of cool that he was so self confident. The shoes said it all.

Other than that, I noticed his big smile. He was smiling constantly, and I could see he had already used that big smile to charm my mom and dad. He took such an interest in everything they had to say. He asked my mom questions and listened intently as she answered.

I wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as I thought I would be. It was like we had known each other our whole lives. And I guess that makes sense because we really had known each other most of our lives.

The six of us piled into two cars and began driving around town to see all of the beautiful homes in this small town in northern Mississippi. Kent and I sat in the back seat of the car with his mom and dad.

The two of us were using a map to try to navigate around town. We were both holding the map and he would point out where he thought we were. I noticed that his tan fingers were bent in funny ways. He told me that between playing football, baseball and just doing crazy boy stuff, he had broken nine of his 10 fingers. Apparently, he let most of them heal on their own. I thought those bent fingers were the coolest thing.

We were driving his dad crazy trying to give directions from the back seat. I think he actually had to pull over for a while because he was so frustrated with us shouting out, "turn left!", "turn right!"

For the next few days, it seemed like I spent more time with my parents and Kent's mom than I did with him. We would wander around and look at the homes. We met his mom for lunch. Kent and his dad always seemed to be busy playing golf.

Finally, it was the last evening of the long weekend we would be there. The phone rang in my hotel room. He asked me to go to dinner.

It took me a minute to process this. You mean, just you and me?

I hadn't lived with my parents for eight years at that point, but I still had this strange feeling I should ask permission. I was finally going to escape my parents and his parents and all of those old Mississippi homes.

He picked me up in his black pick-up truck, and we headed to a Mexican restaurant. He had been so quiet when we were with all of those parents. Now that it was just the two of us, he talked non-stop.

We talked and talked and talked that night. It was probably 3 a.m. when he finally dropped me off and headed home.

I had to leave the next morning.

I only had one problem. My parents had reserved two hotel rooms — one for them and one for me. They left me a note the next morning to tell me they had to leave early for the airport. I was stuck there without a car.

I called Kent's apartment to ask if he could give me a ride. His mom answered. He was still sleeping, so she would come pick me up. We must have gone by his place to pick him up on the way to the airport. The only thing I remember is that just as I was about to board my plane, he made some comment along the lines of, "Well, have a nice trip. Maybe I'll see you again some time."

I didn't think it was funny.

I looked him in the eye and said, "You are such a jerk."

Then, I turned around and walked onto the plane.

The beginning of us, part 4

2011-11-16T07:30:00.008-06:00

I had my modem set to check my e-mail once an hour. Many times I couldn't wait though for the computer to wake up from its sleep and the modem to start its screeching. I had put myself OUT there, and I was a nervous wreck.

About 24 hours later, I heard that familiar voice.

"You've got mail."

I can't remember exactly what his message said. I know he asked me some questions about where I had been the last eight years since we graduated from high school. So, I had to write back. I made sure to wait at least an entire day before sending my reply. I didn't want to seem too interested.

I was living in Springfield, Ill., at the time. I was a newspaper reporter, working in the state Capitol Building. One of my main "beats" was the Illinois Department of Corrections. I had been covering a death penalty case and somehow the subject came up. For several e-mails, we chatted about the death penalty. I didn't really care if he was for it or against it. I was just impressed he had some thoughts about it.

He lived in a university town in Mississippi, and he was proud of the fact that he had managed to get a password into the Internet on campus. That was what he used to check his e-mail. At some point in our string of conversations, I realized he also used the university's Internet to look up some of my articles on line. He was spying on me.

For the next few months, we would e-mail almost daily. One time, I didn't get an e-mail for several days.

"That's it," I decided. He must have met some cute Mississippi girl and forgotten completely about me. When he finally wrote back three days later, he apologized profusely. He had been sent on a work trip to Texas and couldn't write. He checked for my message the minute he got home.

Really?

This was perfect. I had lived by myself for five years already, and I was accustomed to having the freedom to do my thing: hanging out with friends on the weekends, working late when I needed to, going for bike rides in Washington Park, meeting up with my reporter friends or their wives for our "book club," meeting people for dinner.

I could come home and have some interesting conversation at the end of the day. I was starting to settle in. This was nice. Then he asked me if he could have my phone number.

"Oh, no!" I thought. "This could ruin everything."

Things were going so well. Did we really have to destroy our relationship by talking on the phone? What if he turned out to be a complete idiot in real life? I wasn't excited about this new phase, but I knew I was only prolonging the inevitable. At some point, we would need to talk. I mean, really.

Reluctantly, I gave him my number. He told me he would call me on Saturday. I tried to stay away from my apartment as much as possible. I wanted to make sure I missed his call.

When I was home, I would try to talk on the phone so he couldn't get through. I definitely didn't want him to get the idea that he could just call me any old time, and I was going to be there to pick up the phone.

He left a message.

He didn't sound too bad.

I called him back at a time I knew he would be at work just so I could listen to his answering machine.

OK. He sounded normal enough.

I called it a few more times, just to be sure.

When he finally called back, I couldn't handle the suspense any longer. Caller ID hadn't even been invented yet at that point, but I could tell who was calling. My stomach was full of butterflies when I picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

To be continued...

The beginning of us, part 3

2011-11-15T05:41:00.000-06:00

I had only set up my very first e-mail account a few months before that. I was in the habit of asking people, "Do you have an e-mail address?" just as a novelty back then. I was always happy when someone wanted my e-mail address, but I was especially curious about this request.

My husband and I were actually married for several years before we realized my dad had tricked us both. We were telling this story together and when we got to this part, my husband said I had asked for his e-mail address.

"I DID NOT!" I insisted.

"That's what your dad said!" he replied.

I was so mad at my dad about this. He had not asked for my e-mail address at all. And I certainly had not asked for his. But we were already happily married at that point, so I had to get over it. Now, 14 years later, we both laugh at this twist in the story.

Anyway, this was before I actually had The World Wide Web. I had e-mail and the limited functions offered by AOL, and I thought it was the greatest thing ever. All I needed was more people who had discovered e-mail in my life so they could send me messages.

It had already been a few weeks since I had handed over my e-mail address, and I still hadn't received any messages.

I assumed my dad hadn't succeeded in delivering my e-mail address, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I started typing. I tried to make my message as nonchalant as possible.

"I know we haven't talked in eight years," I wrote. "I just thought I would say hello."

The truth was I couldn't remember ever having spoken to him at all, not even one time in my life. This probably doesn't sound like much of a statement. But we grew up in a small town. We went to a small high school. We had common friends. He played football with my brother. He went to prom with one of my good friends. Our parents knew each other.

And yet. For some reason. I could not remember ever having spoken a single word to him. He might have been the only person in my entire graduating class that I literally never spoke to.

It wasn't that I didn't like him. Our paths just never seemed to cross.

He was an athlete. I was the valedictorian.

He played football, and I was in the marching band. Even though he wasn't a big guy, he was fast, and he scored lots of touchdowns as a running back. I was so busy marching around with my saxophone or socializing with people in the bleachers that I hardly had time to notice the people running across the field.

He also played basketball and ran track, but baseball was his sport. I played tennis and worked on the school newspaper. (That's me in the photo, holding my tennis racket like it's a guitar. Some things never change.)

I also signed up for every club I could in an attempt to get my photo on as many pages as possible in the high school year book. While I spent most of my time trying to fit in with the "popular" crowd, he was content to hang out on his grandfather's farm on the weekends.

I wondered what he would think about getting an e-mail from me?

I clicked my mouse. The dial-up modem went through its little sing-song chorus. Errrrkkkk-Eeeeekkkkk. "Connecting," the status bar said.

I clicked send.

**

To be continued...

The beginning of us, part 2

2011-11-14T17:43:00.000-06:00

Thinking back, I guess it had to be that way. I might not have ever wanted to take a risk if it hadn't been for that lie.

I was 26 and had kind of lost faith in the male species that God had placed on planet Earth. For several years, I had simply gotten into a habit of staying pretty emotionally aloof in relationships. It was safer that way.

You see, I had dated the same person all the way through college and then for another year after we graduated. I was convinced we were meant to be. But when he dumped me for the last time, it was because he had met his future wife. Three months later they were engaged.

I didn't want to be hurt like that again. So, I built a wall that was so tall and so thick that no one of the male gender could possible find even a tiny hole in my fortress. I had plenty of male friends and several people I either hung out with or dated, but no one I wanted to expend the emotional energy upon just to be crushed again.

I distinctly remember the first time the subject of You Know Who came up. I was standing in the kitchen of my childhood home helping my dad wash dishes after dinner.

"There's this really nice guy who works for me now," he said. "I think you should meet him."

I asked him to tell me the guy's name.

"Of course, I KNOW him," I replied. "We went to high school together."

That was the end of the conversation. I really didn't need to know a whole lot more. Men, in general, were bad enough. A boy from high school couldn't be worth my time.

But my dad had other feelings for this guy. My dad thought he was perfect. He loved him so much that he made him the head of his department in a factory they had just purchased. A factory in Mississippi.

That's right. My dad loved him so much and wanted me to date him so badly that he shipped him off to Mississippi.

My dad would fly down to meet with him at least once a month. They would have lunch together, and I would hear reports about how wonderful this guy had turned out to be. My curiosity was starting to get the best of me. But what could I do now that he lived 590 miles away?

I assumed it was completely true when my Dad told me the news: "Kent would like your e-mail address."

**

More coming soon...

The beginning of us

2011-11-14T05:13:00.001-06:00

Capable Dad had been working outside all morning, trying to trim back the trees, rake up the leaves and get the yard ready for the cold winter that is on its way.

I was carrying my tenth basket of laundry up the stairs so I could spread it out on our bed and organize the mass of clean clothes into neat piles of t-shirts, socks and underwear. We crossed paths in the middle of the kitchen. He was on his way to the basement to retrieve some random tool. I was balancing the white laundry basket on my hip.

He gave me that half smile. His eyes were laughing, as if to say, "Can you believe this is how we spend our Saturdays?"

He didn't need to say a word. I heaved my basket up the stairs, thinking about how far we've come. Thinking about our life before. When weekends meant sleeping late. Taking unplanned trips to Wisconsin. Going out to dinner and watching movies.

Remembering when life was so much more.

Before we owned a home. Before we were parents. Before we had four kids. Before we had mountains of laundry and school work with the kids and closets to clean and faucets to repair and a lawn to maintain.

Remembering when life was so much less.

It made me think back to the beginning. I guess that's normal when an anniversary comes around. It's always fun to remember the beginning. And so, in honor of ours, which happens to be on Tuesday, I thought I would write it down.

**

It's always hard to answer when people ask us how we met.

I mean, I guess we probably knew each other back in the days of Little League or Junior League Football or BMX racing. I know he had to have been on a team with my brother or played on a field nearby at some point, but I don't really remember.

Maybe it was in our Communications 4 class in high school. We were two among a graduating class of 151 and yet, strangely enough, that's the only class I remember ever having together. I'm sure there had to have been more than that.

I guess you could say our relationship started with our first date down in Mississippi.

But both of us always tell the story the same way.

It started with a lie.

**
To be continued...

Is there any such thing as too many boots?

2011-11-12T07:18:00.000-06:00

This is the time of year that I start wearing my snow boots and winter coat inside the house, all day long. I get so cold every day when we are trying to do our school work. I turn up the heat, I drink hot drinks, but nothing seems to help. My feet are still cold!

I have tried every combination of thick socks and house slippers, but nothing seems to work. My feet still get freezing cold unless I have that nice thick rubber sole separating me from the cold floor. I try my best to survive, sliding around in three layers of socks. But finally, I give in and put on my winter boots.

I know this is horrible. Even though I make sure my boots are CLEAN, I'm still concerned all day long that I'm spreading boot germs all over the carpet and the hardwood floor. But the alternative is even worse. When mama is cold, everyone feels the chill!

So, I'm hoping I've found the key to save me from six months of freezing feet and to save my house from being trampled. Here is is. The indoor house shoe boot:

This thing could save my life. Not only does it look very warm. It's cute! I think it's going to look awesome with my "home schooling outfits." Only a slightly crazy home school/work-at-home mom would worry about finding a house shoe that will go with her jeggings, but I think this one is perfect. =]

I've already sent my husband the link to the Old Navy web site where I found these and begged for them for our anniversary, which is this week. I would secretly like them in every color combination.

And while we are on this very important topic, can I just say this:

I really thought there was no possibility I could need a new pair of boots this winter... But they come in black, too.

Oiy.

In-be-TWEEN

2011-11-10T10:55:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I became the mom of an 11-year-old.

We had a great day celebrating our sweet, tender-hearted, super creative first born. And yet, I did have a few melancholy moments of realization that my baby is growing up.

I have been trying to cope with some of the changes that come with being the mom of a Tween. I'm a little nervous about adjusting my parenting style to navigate the waters of this awesomely wonderful, and yet confusing stage lodged between kid and adolescent.

Here are just a few of the adjustments I've been trying to make.

Now, my kid can engage in deep meaningful conversations with me. And at other times, I will ask him a question and he will give me that silent stare that tells me he doesn't want to talk about it.

When it comes time for gifts, he's still a kid that plays with toys on some level, but it's hard to find anything that's not "babyish." And yet, I'm not quite ready for a wish list that includes nothing but electronics and clothes.

A few weeks ago, I was shopping for his Halloween costume and realized that it was nearly impossible to find something in his size that was cool, but not too creepy. I went to six different stores to try to find something that would work!

He's still young enough for a kids' meal in some restaurants. But it's usually not enough food to really fill his big-boy appetite.

My kid who has always been up at the crack of dawn is now the last one to roll out of bed in the morning.

I've always bought the majority of my kids' clothing at Children's Place, but I have to shop carefully to make sure I only buy him shirts and jeans that don't look too "kidish." Now, he has outgrown nearly everything in the store.

He still seems comfortable hanging out with a few of his close friends who are girls. But he gets embarrassed if he "gets stuck" sitting at the "girl table" in class.

I'm trying to give him more freedom to make certain choices for himself. But he still asks mom for permission out of habit.

He's very responsible in taking care of his younger siblings. But he's not quite to the point of being a babysitter. And yet, many of our babysitters are only a few years older than he is.

I guess it's good for both the moms and the kids that we have a few years of being in-be-TWEEN. It's helping me ease into the next stage that will be here before I can blink!

You, me and technology

2011-11-08T13:26:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I was at church early setting up my stuff in the hallway. Someone grabbed me and pulled me into the auditorium.

"We want to see what you think about something."

I looked at the screen where the media team displays the words to the songs we will sing during worship. Behind the words were moving strips of colors. Lights were fading in and out. I had to look away. My head was spinning. I felt like my old friend, Vertigo, wanted to pull me down a spiral staircase.

"I don't like it," I announced. I actually thought that by saying this, it would just confirm what they already knew: This was a bad idea.

Instead, the other three people standing around me looked at each other. They gave each other a knowing look. They all seemed in complete agreement that it was fabulous!

"I hate to say it, but I think it's an age thing," one of them told me.

Ugh. That was hard to swallow. Up until that moment, I really did not realize that this group of people saw me as being so much older than they are. I don't feel older. But it wasn't really the outright statement about the obvious truth that I'm 10 to 15 years older than the people in that group.

It was the implication. It wasn't so much my chronological age. I just wasn't hip enough to understand. I wasn't cool enough. I wasn't with it.

I try hard to stay on top of technology. I'm always looking for ways to try to make things more appealing, either through graphic design, video, color, glossy paper, background music, web design... whatever!

I like to think of myself as being forward thinking. I would say that, in general, I'm a visionary. I love to try new things, think of new ideas, dream of better ways to do things. I couldn't believe that I really thought I was on top of things and, in fact, I didn't have a clue!

Later, one of the guys explained it to me.

People in their mid-20s and younger are so accustomed to seeing flashing lights and moving graphics on a screen that it significantly adds to their "experience" if that is part of what is in front of them. It's not just that it's an added element for them. Something is actually missing without it.

So, they were right. It WAS an age thing.

I realize that people born 15 years after me have had a different life experience due to the fact they have been immersed in media and technology from birth. Let's face it! I didn't even have an e-mail account until I was 23!

In our home, I am probably over-the-top strict about limiting the amount of time my kids spend in front of a screen. And yet, they are inadvertently exposed to more flashing lights, moving graphics and background noise as children than I ever was on purpose.

I was glad someone explained this to me. Now, I DO get it.

As it relates to church, I was probably feeling the same way that day that my parents did 30 years ago when the church wanted to replace hymns with "contemporary" songs like "This is the Day." Now, it made sense to me. I had no desire to stand in the way of something that might really matter to a younger generation of people (even if it did make me want to close my eyes and throw up right in the middle of a worship song!).

It reminded me of something I heard someone say recently about the way people communicate today. There are certainly lots of downsides to a near addiction to communication these days. It cracks me up to see a group of teenagers all hanging out together and every single one of them is staring at his or her smart phone because the joy of communicating with someone else is more important than talking to the person right next to them!

I will admit that I'm overly addicted to my shiny white iPhone that hangs out in my back pocket, alerting me with every new Facebook notification, every new text message and every new e-mail all day long. But I get equally as frustrated with people who believe that a phone call is the only "legitimate" form of communication. Just sending a text or an e-mail to say hello doesn't count as a real effort to reach out and keep in touch.

However, as this speaker said the other day, ignoring technology won't make it go away. Our kids are still going to set up Facebook accounts, or text their friends or use whatever new form of communication we haven't even considered yet.

We can pretend it doesn't exist because we don't like it. We can insist they only communicate with us the way we did when we were growing up. But the only person who would be missing out on communicating with them would be ME.

I hope I don't get to the point that I refuse to consider keeping up with changes in technology and communication just because I don't like them. I would prefer to friend them or follow them or facetime them or whatever I need to do in the future to spark communication, rather than miss out because I insist they only mail me a handwritten letter. :)

In the same way, we can ask people to come to church and only experience the same thing we did 10 years ago. We can ignore the real fact that a younger generation expects something different. Yep. We can ignore it.

And they will go find it.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic! What do you think?

Beautifully made

2011-11-05T10:17:00.000-05:00

We've had a hard week. Home schooling can test every iota of one's character. When you spend hours and hours everyday sitting next to your kids helping them with their school work, you learn that even a person who was born from your gene pool can learn and process information in a way that is so completely opposite from how you are made that it can be mind boggling.

You reach points where you aren't even speaking the same language. You are saying one thing. Your child can't understand. He is doing one thing. You can't understand. You want to pull out your hair. You want to cry. You want to throw in the towel. You want to give up.

I have to step back and remind myself that God gave my child a beautiful brain. It doesn't function like mine. It doesn't process information in the same way mine does. It can frustrate me because of my own inability to help. But I have to remind myself: That kid's brain is beautifully made.

I love the way that brain is always full of songs. The songs pour out right in the middle of grammar tests. There is uncontrollable humming during spelling review. God gave him a beautiful brain.

I love the way that brain is full of stories. The stories in his head are so much more interesting than his science text book. He can imagine historical characters embarking on adventures that are far more entertaining than the stories in his history book. God gave him a beautiful brain.

I love the way that brain loves to draw. The pictures flow out of his brain and onto a sheet of paper at every opportunity. There is no better place to draw a cartoon than on the scrap paper used for deciphering division problems. All of those numbers that dance around in the math book are confusing and take long stretches of time to solve. The drawings appear on the page without any thought. God gave him a beautiful brain.

My instinct is to wish I could rewire that brain. To make it function more like mine. But God knew better. He knew exactly how to create a beautiful brain.

The hazards of getting dressed for work when you stay at home

2011-11-03T08:55:00.000-05:00

This week, I am celebrating my 11-year anniversary as a stay-at-home mom. This has been the best job I could ever have hoped for. However, to commemorate this momentous occasion, I also want to point out one of the perils of going to work at home.

When I first started staying home more than a decade ago, it was difficult to motivate myself to get up and get ready in the morning when I had no where to go. Many times, I wouldn't even take a shower until right before my husband came home from work.

I have come full circle since then. Now, I know that I will feel better about myself if I get up and put on clothes that I like even if I don't have any plans to leave the house. I even complete my daily outfit with accessories, such as a necklace or a scarf.

But this can also lead to some significant dangers on the job.

Take for example, the long necklace. Now, we all know it's stylish to wear a long necklace. But look what can happen when you attempt to cook dinner! There is nothing worse — nothing! — than raw chicken on your long necklace!

Then, there is the fashion scarf. It is cute. It's stylish. But it is not a practical look for cleaning any part of the house that involves bleach. Just imagine what can happen when the long scarf meets cleaning the toilet. (It gives me shivers just to think about it.)

Finally, there's the cape. I love my comfy cape with the long, dangly fringe. But I cannot even tell you how many times I have nearly burst into flames trying to bake while wearing the cape. Just imagine the danger of pulling a pan of cookies out of the oven while wearing the long cape!

So, I admit, it is crazy to subject myself to this kind of danger on a daily basis. But I have to say it's worth it. When I lounge around in my PJs all day, I get grumpy. It's better to get up, get dressed, go to work and just try my best to survive the accessories!

What about you? Do you like to lounge around if you are going to work at home? Or do you prefer to get dressed for the day?

I give! The laundry wins!

2011-11-02T11:07:00.001-05:00

I give up. I'm conceding defeat.

After months of waging war against my laundry, I am finally ready to throw in the towel. Literally.

I feel like the dirty clothes in this house dominate my life. They stack up in piles. They beg to be washed. In fact, they stink.

I used to have somewhat of a grip on the laundry around here. Back when the kids were in preschool, I would set aside one day a week to do nothing but laundry. No playdates. No errands. Just laundry.

But as our family grew, it was no longer possible to do all of our laundry in one day. It wasn't physically possible for our washer and dryer to complete all of the loads in a 12-hour time period. And I wasn't willing to stay up all night.

So, I switched to the one-load-a-day method. Every day, I would wash, dry, fold and put away one load of laundry. The only problem was when I would miss one day. I would start to feel behind. I would skip another day. Soon, I was so buried in being behind, I would start to feel hopeless. Then, I would have to go back to Plan A.

That's when we went to the system of giving each person in the house one day a week to do his or her laundry. The oldest child was on Monday. The second on Tuesday. The third born on Wednesday. Then, the baby on Thursday (me), Me on Friday (me), my husband on Saturday and the towels on Sunday (me). I can't even remember what happened to this system. I think I just got tired of trying to remind people whose day it was and trying to nag everyone to get their load done to make room for someone else.

Over the summer, I simple gave up on the laundry. I watched it grow in tall piles and topple over the tops of the brown baskets that indicate the laundry is dirty. Children begged to be able to wear clean underwear. The boys' socks got so smelly I had to throw them away.

My husband tried to intervene even though I have fired him from laundry dozens of times. He CLAIMED that clean laundry — even when it's in the wrong drawers and not folded up to my folding specifications — is better than dirty laundry. Oh, he's always got some clever argument and practical reasoning. I still wasn't buying it.

I kept telling him he was fired. He would smile. And then the minute I left the house for more than two hours, I would come home to find him folding laundry.

As summer turned to fall, our laundry woes have only grown. I have tried to do a load here and there. But between home schooling, chasing a toddler, working a part-time job, cooking meals, cleaning the house and driving people from place to place, I simply don't have an extra 12 hours a day to devote to laundry. I just refused to do it. I would look the other way. Ignore it. Maybe it would go away on its own.

Well, I'm finally conceding defeat. We just can't live anymore in a house piled up with dirty clothes. I'm completely out of laundry strategies. So, I'm just going to take it slow and steady. One load at a time.

If you don't see me for a few days, please don't be alarmed. I will be washing. Drying. Folding. Putting away. And as soon as I get done with all of the clothes, I know there will be plenty more waiting for me. I'm devoting my life to laundry.

I'm going to get started right now. As soon as I finish this blog post. And help the kids with their school work. And make lunch. And clean up the kitchen. And put the toddler down for her nap. Yep. I'm going to get to it right after that. Unless something else comes up.

What about you? Are you on top of your laundry? Or feeling a little defeated?