I, quite literally, haven't blogged in over 2 years. I try, on occasion, to feel guilty about this, but I just can't muster up enough remorse to force myself to sit down and do it. Try as I may, it just doesn't make it to actual reality.

Of course, I think about it all the time. It comes up in so many conversations with my friends. Laughing wildly at what our clever children have done or said, one of us will inevitably blurt, "This would be a great blog." Sometimes it makes it to the screen. But sometimes I over-think it and it loses its funniness and becomes a lot of mental work to overcome all the opinions in my head. Some of those opinions are my own and others are perceived opinions of others. So instead of causing myself all that trouble, I enjoy the moment for what it is and let someone else over-think it.

This is the same reason I rarely take pictures. When something wonderful is happening, I don't want to be preoccupied with if the camera is working right or if everyone is smiling and looking perfect.It may sound crazy to some of you who just simply put it on your "to- do" list.

For some people the to-do list rules their lives,but I have recently discovered the usefulness of such a tool.

My to-do list for today is:

Shower (check)

Cook and clean up breakfast (check)

Clean the bathroom

Vacuum the living room

Laundry

Put away the laundry (and yes, it is absolutely necessary to put it in writing)

Bake something

Take a walk

Keep working on my break-out session for my church's women's conference this Saturday

Read something fascinating to my children

Take pictures of them (I don't take near enough of these)

Drink coffee with a dear friend

Blog (check)

Praise Jesus all day long! (off to a good start)

organicinsanity

Squeaking or streaking?

I have decided my four year old son, third in the bunch, will hereafter be named Captain Jack, at least for blogging pur

poses. You see, he is a scoundrel through and

 through. But he will also just steal your heart with his charm. And, for me, all it takes is a look.

Last night he forgot to bring his pj's with him to the bathroom before bathtime. When he got out of the tub he remembered. Alas, it was too late. My friend the Vet was visiting for some home cooked food and a small break from studying. (She is a college student who has become not only one of my husband's students, but also a very good friend to me. She is going to vet school in the fall. We are so proud for her.) 

With a guest in the house, I wondered if he would be embarrassed and call for me to get him some "bednight clothes" for him. Nope. He just yelled, "Close your eyes! I'm squeaking!" And he ran through the room with his hands down to cover the essentials. We cracked up to see his little bare bottom, still a little wet, marching up the stairs. My little pirate. He definitely stole the show. 

Moments later he was curled up on the couch with Princess reading a bednight story. The whole scenario forgotten. No embarrassment, no shame, not even remembering his little faux pas. I'm not sure he ever knew how funny we thought it was. 

Wouldn't it be great to go back to that innocence? To be so comfortable with one's self. Don't worry I won't be streaking around trying to recapture that feeling. Haha! But really... to be so secure in the acceptance around you that you knew that even if you made little mistakes or colored outside the lines or forgot your bednight clothes, those who love you would turn their heads. Love and adoration would cover it up, even if you were uncovered. 

I'm so grateful to have someone who does that for me. I am trying to live in that grace everyday. I forget that I have a Savior who covers me. Lord, help me rely on you. Help me stand firm and trust your acceptance and forgiveness.  

The Princess

The Professor and I have one daughter whom we call the Princess. Not because she is all that is stereotyped as being princess-like. She can run with the boys and sometimes even out work the boys. She thinks jokes about bodily functions are funny. She gets dirtier in an afternoon of play than all the boys put together. She wrestles. She is one tough cookie.

But we call her that because she is so precious to us. We call her th

e Princess because we don't ever want her to forget the place only she has in our home. That God made her a girl in the middle of all these boys does not diminish how important she is. It magnifies it.

She is sometimes given over to the drama and will lay her head down on the dinner table and lament about why we have all these boys and why we don't have any sisters for her. Reminding her that God knows exactly the family of which she is to be a part seldom consoles her. These episodes are lessening with each passing year.

Maybe someday she will earn another name by who she is or what she becomes. (Don't we all earn those kinds of names some time or another. Good or bad.) But to us she is the Princess only because of what she means to us. It is not about what she does or doesn't do.

Ask a good question, get a good answer

It is amazing what you might learn if you ask. A lifetime (at least so far) of learning and I keep forgetting that to learn the truth one must only ask. And in my case, brace yourself with a cringe and a grimace as you wait for the answer. 

I have been, unbeknownst to me, grasping and guessing at what my children should be learning in our schooling process. I am a trained elementary teacher with specialties in reading and language studies.  I thought I was utilizing and designing curriculum individual to each child. Or at least a combination of what works for them with what works for me.  All wishful thinking. 

A girlfriend of mine who also homeschools told me she was reading a book that has challenged her approach to teaching her children. This particular book puts a premium on the love of learning. And so she related to me that she had interviewed each of her children about what they want to learn. I decided to copycat. I may not be doing anything original, but I don't mind giving credit to others.

So I interviewed each of my children about what they want to learn. Was I ever enlightened? 

Here is the Warrior's list:

I want to learn about:

dinosaurs

mysterious creatures like a jackalope and dragons

heroes of the Bible

Super Heroes

astronauts

how to use a computer

typing skills

Can I just join a computer club?

sewing

blacksmithing

woodworking

making a fire with just sticks

how to live in the outdoors

space

cooking

frogs

I want to pet ducks.

I want to conquer mountains.

I want to learn about trains.

plumbing

I want to do mechanics.

I want to learn how to hook up the Blu-ray player to surprise Daddy.

I want to be good at music like on the electric guitar.

dragons (We just saw How to Train Your Dragon last night.)

Expand my stomach so I can eat a lot, which is basically body parts.

I want to know how to grow stuff.

I want to be like Big Gramps (the Warrior's great-grandfather who has always gardened.)

I would like to work in a plant like Papa.

I want to learn to drive the skidsteer and the big 4-wheeler.

I'd like to drive the tractor.

I want to learn about the army

and how to be a good citizen.

Well, looks like I've got a thing or two to learn about this boy of mine. He is only eight years old and so many plans.  To go from petting ducks to conquering mountains. The simpleness of just being a little boy to the great and honorable ambitions of a man. 

Needless to say, I feel a bit ill-equipped to teach him many of these things. Fortunately, God already knows who he is to become and how it will happen.  And the Professor and I were hand-picked to help guide him on that journey. Wow! With all that in mind, who am I to question? 

In the moment

Isn't it ironic that this is supposed to be a snapshot of what I am doing in my life? Haha! I dont have any photos on here at all. YET! 

Before blogs it would never have occurred to me to document my cooking, my gardening, my crafting endeavors. But here I am, wishing I had pictures of just one of the times I made a fabulous glob of homemade mozzarella cheese. It was a beauty. Or if only I had taken pictures of the steaming golden-crusted bread I baked with homemade butter.

 I know. Who takes pictures of such things? A camera never seemed like kitchen equipment to me. I was too busy enjoying the spoils of my labor. I'm not talking about the taste of it even though it was out-of-this-world delicious.  Nope. I am talking about just watching The Professor and all the hooligans lingering in the kitchen and then making all the noises of anticipation waiting for the first bites. The Professor asking, "Is it done yet? Is it done yet?" I receive an affectionate peck on the back of the head. The hooligans, all four of them, huddled around the oven window watching the doughy loaf slowly transform. Trusting the outcome will fill their little bellies with the warm satisfaction of home, I hope. These are the moments I wish I could relive over and over again. 

You know the ooo's and ahh's that make any cook's heart sing. Then to watch them savor and enjoy my handiwork. "Mommy, this is the yummiest ever." "Mommy-made is the best." I am the heroine in the story. Just for a moment, I am June Cleaver, Donna Reed, and so on. For just one moment in a day of disaster after disaster I am who I want to be. I basked in it. My heart swelled because I knew, and still know, how fleeting the times are when I feel like I am exactly what I was created to be. 

So forgive me if there aren't enough pictures on this blog yet. I am learning to adjust my thinking to remember to take a few pictures now and then. After all, these moments don't last forever.

Where does one begin?

Does everyone who blogs start this way? I type. Words show up on the screen, as they should if everything is in working order.  But when I look up and read the words, they don't convey what I wanted to say at all.  

Is this how I want to be introduced to the world? This new world. A world where 80% of communication is erased from the equation. As someone who is very expressive, not having facial expressions, body language, audible tone and articulation makes communication like this challenging. I am suddenly, totally dependent on a vocabulary that seems to shrink a little more with the birth of each child and my typing (Thank you, Ms. Copeland). Yikes! 

And so I try to focus on all the things I wanted to share with my family, my friends and the small number of people who stumble onto these ramblings. So many things I want to share. And I have to ask myself, "Why? Why do I want to share?" I suppose the answer is simpler than I would like to admit. (I would like to imagine myself as a complex, mysterious, and spontaneous person. But, in reality, I rarely surprise anyone.) I really just want to be known, understood, connected with other people. See told you. Not very mysterious. I think most people want that. So if you'd like to peek in...Great! And if you'd like to comment even better!