Go, Children! Run into the street!

Today, against every parental sensibility, we encouraged our children to run with abandon into the street. We do this every year, just after noon on the Saturday of the weekend that comes two weeks after Independence Day.

Today was the Borough Days parade, kicking off our local two-day festival. The parade is… oh, some might say rinky-dink. It features clowns, local politicians, a very small marching band, a couple of kids’ drumming and baton twirling troupes, a dance group (that somehow never seems to be, you know, dancing when it passes us, even though the route is less than a half-mile long?), and fez bedecked Shriners joyriding on their snazzy ATV’s, the kind equipped with an extra wheel in the back for popping wheelies. And, of course, the backbone of the parade: fire trucks and rescue vehicles of every size, shape, and color of the rainbow, all with horns blasting and sirens wailing. (Ok, so there are no violet fire trucks, but let me tell you that powder blue does make a fire truck look almost pretty.) And the best part! Many of the paraders throw candy in the direction of eager kids along the route. Hence the encouragement to my kids that feels so very strange coming out of my mouth. My kids react as if we never, ever, ever allow them to have candy except on this day.

Rinky-dink or not, we faithfully attend the parade every year. We kind of don’t have much choice. It passes right in front of our house. The arrangement actually has its advantages for those among us whose sensibilities are most offended by the rowdy vehicles, and tend to prefer watching the parade like this...


... and may want to move up to watch from the front porch. Or maybe from inside the house, near the window. Or perhaps may even prefer to retreat to the far interior of the house with their hands placed staunchly over their ears in attempted denial of the whole traumatic event. It’s good to have options.

The parade progresses to the end of the street, where the festival commences. Again, it’s nothing spectacular, but a nice something-to-do. There will be a talent show this year, along with a band playing each night, booths selling food or running games to benefit local groups, and crafters selling (?) their wares. Somehow these wares usually are comprised largely of anything that can be made from crocheted doilies or plastic grids stitched with yarn. I had no idea that there was a market for such things. While walking past them, I usually nudge my husband and hint that July is not too early to begin his Christmas shopping for me. Then I make triple sure that he knows I’m kidding.

The grand finale will be the fireworks in the park tomorrow night. I could watch them from a blanket in the park. I have a feeling, though, that I’ll be watching them over the trees, from an upstairs window, inside the house. Or perhaps I’ll even prefer to just read Fancy Nancy in the back room and try to forget about the whole booming thing. I'm sure Girly Girl will let me know what I prefer.

It’s good to have options.

Graceful

Have you met Katherine, who writes on her blog, Raising Five?

The name of my blog was loosely inspired by Katherine one day. She was asking her readers to let her know what kinds of things they were interested in, and what they would like to read about on her blog. In thinking about what really draws me to Raising Five, I realized that it wasn't in the subject matter exactly-- she writes mainly about her family life-- but in what is often plainly visible through it: grace. So many times when she describes how she responded (or should have responded--she keeps it real!) to an everyday interaction, I see it. That soul-expanding, life-giving , hopeful, heart-takes-flight release of God's grace, right there in the midst of everyday life. There it is! THAT's what it looks like, flowing outward, reaching into the mundane, touching others and drawing them in. (She's been at it again, simply and quietly inspiring me, with a couple of her posts this week.)

As I responded to her and typed the phrase "in real life," my brain simultaneously translated it to "IRL" in Typespeak, the native tongue of all hip modern keyboarders. ( That whole lexicon of text, e-mail and internet language deserves its own name, doesn't it? What should it be? And who gets to name it? Um, back to the post.) GRACE in real life-- "GIRL". Yeah, that's what this girl is after.

The grace and mercy that God offers, from ultimate salvation to the countless mercies bestowed upon us in love each day, are amazing. But his grace is also meant to flow through us, splashing refreshment, and inviting others to see and know God . What does that look like? What sometimes blocks both its reception and flow through me? What does it look like in perfect balance with discipline and justice? In parenting? In marriage? How do I receive and release grace in the midst of the roller coaster ride that is MY life? Ultimately it is God's spirit that produces and teaches me this, but he's long been in the practice of using object lessons, including ones sometimes found in others' blog posts. I recognize his teaching in the midst of them.

Beyond that, what drew me to the merging of "grace in real life" and the word "girl" is something I can't even articulate very well for myself. It has to do with the life journey I've been on. It's deep and meaningful, I tell you! But unraveling all of that might require a major online therapy session and far too many run-on sentences, even for me. I'll spare you, and stick with the half-baked explanation, ok?

So, GIRL. Grace in Real Life. Now, MY blog, instead of exhibiting the grace of God in full flow as Katherine's does, may be more likely to reveal God's merciful grace, as in, "If God can extend mercy and grace to THAT train wreck, surely He'll persevere with me."

Either way. May it be real and somehow show the real Him.

What in the world?

So... something has been bubbling in my mind and spirit in recent months. Despite a busy time and other plans for blogging when I did finally find the time, these past few days I have felt strongly compelled that I need to write what I'm hearing from the Lord. I have prayed, lost sleep, and resisted, but tonight I finally sat down to wrestle it all into words. I've never spent such time, thought, and effort on a post. After three (!) hours of work, with a conclusion finally in sight, something suddenly went "ding," and the whole post draft disappeared from the window.

Does this happen regularly on Blogger? Did I hit some mystery key I've never seen before or do something dumb? Is it ever retrievable?

Can someone more experienced in blogging please explain to me what may have just happened here on a technical front? On a spiritual front, I know you're not the ones to ask!

WFMW: Out of the Kitchen in Five Ingredients or Less

It's Wednesday already? Time flies!

Speaking of time, one place I do not like to spend much time in the summer is the kitchen. This week's edition of "Works For Me Wednesday", hosted by Rocks In My Dryer, tells me that I'm not alone in that. We've been asked to share recipes with five ingredients or less. Finding one that actually has five ingredients or less was tough... unless you count cereal, which none of YOU would ever serve for dinner, right? Or fruit smoothies, or eggs, or leftovers...

One easy thing I do: Throw some boneless, skinless chicken breasts into a crock pot with pre-made barbecue sauce in the morning. If you have an extra moment, browning the chicken with a bit of flour first can help the chicken to stay moist and flavorful. Serve on buns as chicken sandwiches with fruit, salad, chips, or whatever you have on hand.

But I'll bet you've thought of that one already.

Here's one we fall back on a lot, year-round. There are technically seven ingredients, but I promise that it's easy because it's a recipe for which measuring is totally optional. It's forgiving.


Lasagna Soup

The name comes from the pasta used: mafalda, found in the dried pasta section of most grocery stores. It looks like mini lasagna noodles. It’s not crucial to have that exact shape of pasta, but, of course, the name of the recipe won’t make sense without them!

One recipe is not enough for the 6 of us if I serve it as dinner by itself, but it is fine if served with bread, salad, etc. I generally double these days-- those boys are growing!

For just one recipe:

–Brown a pound of ground beef.

–Sprinkle generously with some form of quick onions (onion powder, dried minced onions, whatever you have) and a quick shake of salt.

– Throw in a little dried basil, maybe 1/2 teaspoon.

– Add a can (14.5 oz size) of *Italian seasoned* diced tomatoes.

– Add somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 cups of beef broth.

– Add mafalda. You choose how much. If you add a smaller amount of the pasta, it will truly be soup. If you add a lot of pasta, it will absorb much of the broth and be more of a noodle dish.

–Boil about 10 minutes, until pasta is cooked.

– Serve with a generous sprinkle of parmesan cheese (for those not casein free at our house!).

It's very quick. Like many pasta dishes, it's even betterthe next day, too!

Everyone likes this at my house, which is a miracle. I don’t feel the need to serve anything else with this if it's "one of those days" and I don’t have the energy. Ya got yer' vegetable (They say that tomatoes are a fruit, but they seem quite vegetable-y to me.) meat, starch, and dairy. By the old food group guidelines, you’re covered in one bowl!

If You Give a Mom a Cabinet

Have you ever noticed how remodeling, organizing, and cleaning projects rarely stay neatly within their own borders? One thing often leads to another.

Re-organize one area, displace some items which need to go somewhere else, re-organize that someplace else, displace more items...

Tackle a cleaning job , notice the dirty area under it, clean it and discover major grime in the area next to that...

Attempt to remodel one thing and suddenly realize that the things surrounding it no longer match or look very worn by comparison. And one room flows into another, you know...

These projects can have a way of flowing and spreading until you're engulfed by an ocean that you never even saw on the map! That's where I've been lately. I've been paddling furiously on a raft in the middle of an ocean of all three project varieties. S.O.S.!

If I ever reach shore, I'd love to share with you the very special story of our adoption. Amazingly, I've never written it down in its entirety. It is something that I have promised myself I will do before becoming totally embroiled in planning and launching the new school year, so you'll either soon read the story, or read of my arrest for child neglect. Stay tuned!

That is all.


Unless you are further interested in my project ocean. If you are not, please, I beg of you, read no further. Save yourself!



Our house does not have the best physical arrangement for our family or homeschooling, and it's added some extra stress to the daily mix. You name it, I've tried it. This spring, the situation deteriorated sharply when Boy #2's full drum kit moved in, displacing homeschool materials from the third floor into a gigantic heap in my dining room. I wracked my brain for an inexpensive, creative, still attractive solution for school, and came up with nothing. (I'm kind of known for creative organization, so that's saying something.)

Meanwhile, like every other area in our 108 year old house, our little kitchen has its own issues. One is that there has never been enough room in the kitchen to actually store the dishes. They've been living around the corner in the dining room. There's a space under the kitchen counter with two bar stools for my four children, also not exactly fulfilling our needs. So why not purchase a cabinet for that area under the counter, finally bring the dishes into their rightful kitchen homeland, and then organize those homeschool materials in the dining room cabinet? We'll do it! Hooray! I'll soon be down to the business of organizing and planning life and school. A little expensive, but very practical, quick and easy, right?

No, no, nooo...

Because the configuration of the cabinet means that this will fit best here, and that there, and now where should those go, and that really needs to be re-organized, too...

Because we can't relocate things into dirty cabinets, in a dirty kitchen, in a dirty house...

And because I'll need to pick up some handles for the new cabinet! And why would we search out shiny gold tone handles to match the 1980's knobs we have in the rest of the kitchen, when we like fashionable antique bronze?! Of course we'll have to replace the rest of the kitchen knobs, but knobs are a simple, inexpensive little update, right? It IS probably a good time to replace those breaking door knobs, too-- antique bronze, of course. Which will really make the shiny gold switch plates look out of place... And, well, hey, while we're at it, let's get rid of those tacky gold light fixtures, too... Oooh my, how those new lights really illuminate how badly the kitchen ceiling needs to be refinished! And I'm not even going to mention how that doorknob shows on exterior of the house, too, where there's a shiny gold kick plate and a boatload of interdependent work to be done, from tarnished light fixtures, to siding, to... to where?

I do believe that if time and money were no object, the logical endpoint of this might not be found until we had replaced our house entirely... with a brand new one... in Hawaii... with new cabinets... which will need handles...

Somebody. Please. Save me from myself.

Bless a Boy

Recently I shared the story of our One Hit Wonder on the baseball field. Please read the story if you haven't already. (I mean now. Spoiler ahead!)




Read it yet?




Last warning. I'm going to totally spoil it now, and assume you know what I'm talking about.



OK, so after those boys flooded onto the baseball field, the coach said that he didn't think he could have stemmed the tide if he wanted to! Their joyful reaction was sponataneous and sincere. They were simply thrilled for their teammate's success, regardless of the fact that it didn't advance the score one bit. I have to give a lot of credit for this to the coaches' focused efforts to build a loving atmosphere of respect on the team. With just a few weeks of practices and games, just look at what was wrought! It was not just my son who benefitted in that situation, either. Practice in compassion and getting along with different people always reaps benefit, don't you think?

Last month another adult made the news for the way she used her power to shape the minds and character of young people in her charge, only this time they were impressionable kindergarteners... and the power was not used well. Kindergarten teacher Wendy Portillo was frustrated with Alex Barton, a child in her class who was in the process of being diagnosed with autism*. This is what she thought would be helpful: She encouraged each student to tell 5-year-old Alex what they did not like about him, and then led them to "vote" Alex out of class. Not only am I heartbroken for what happened to Alex in this atmosphere, but also for the children in his class. What a horrible lesson has been foisted upon them.

You can read more about Alex at Mommy Life, where Barbara has followed his story. Just search his name in her archives for more. More importantly, though, would you consider taking part in the "Alex is Special" effort she has organized to send love to this child? People from all over the world have showered this boy with cards affirming him. I'm a bit late to the party in spreading the word, but still did not want to neglect the opportunity. Barbara is collecting mail for Alex and forwarding it to him. She has been posting pictures of Alex opening his cards with updates from his mom.

While we're on the topic, think about the environments your children spend time in. What lessons are they learning about how to perceive and treat people who are different from them in ability, appearance or behaviors?

UPDATED TO ADD: Barbara has already sent her last care package to Alex. There will probably be more news of this case, though, as they are taking it to federal court.




* It's not my intent to discuss classroom inclusion here and now, but please do note that this child was only in the process of diagnosis. It does not sound likely that appropriate supports were in place.

Just the Girls

Little man #3's life got even better yesterday. The camp my big boys are attending also has a separate, concurrent camp at the end of the week, in which kids ages 5 - 7 can come to camp for two nights with a parent, just to give it a try.

He's just old enough this year, and he was very excited to be signed up. "Very excited" doesn't even begin to cover it, really. In a Mommy mental lapse, I forgot about how slowly time moves when you're five, and I told him the moment I registered him... in April. Yes, I did. Someone may need to take away my parenting license, because that wait was torture for him!

By Tuesday, with the big boys already gone, he was so desperate for his camp day to come that he begged me to just MAKE it Thursday already. Today. I said no-can-do, of course, but I did negotiate it down to me making it happen the day after tomorrow. I kept my word on the deal, and yesterday was indeed Thursday. Off he went proudly with just his Daddy, with pomp and circumstance fit for a king embarking on a great journey. Not to mention six bazillion kisses and hugs. And his blankie, tucked into the suitcase, just in case.

So that leaves just us, the two girls. Girl time! I've been striving this week to squeeze in some spring cleaning (I know, I know... It's summer already...), but I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to take some special time with just my little girl. At her request, yesterday we painted her toenails pink and went out to eat. A local 99-cent kids' meal special made her a cheap date! Today, we snuggled in bed, then decorated and fancied up the whole house. Her whole doll house, that is.

Through the generous cooperation of grandparents, she received a giant Ryan's Room doll house for Christmas a couple of years ago. It's made of unstained, sturdy wood. A blank canvas for the imagination, at least in the estimation of we adults who buy such things. She has enjoyed it very much. It has not escaped her fancy soul's notice, however, that there are other doll houses in existence with considerably more fancy, girly, fairy princess purple-and-pinkaliciousness going for them. She has never made a big fuss about acquiring such a fine model for herself, but she has obviously taken wistful note.

One day I casually threw out the idea that perhaps we could fancy-up her doll house a bit with some paint, paper and "accessories" (an understood nod toward her current literary hero, Fancy Nancy). Buried longings tapped, that little girl flew to me with such speed and force that she nearly knocked me over. She seized both of my shoulders, looked directly into my eyes, and said with solemn, yet fiery earnestness, "Yes. Yes, I want to do that! Can we do it NOW?!?" No, not now. "TODAY?!?" No, not today. I don't even have the accessories yet. Let's do it when all of your brothers are at camp. "Is that TODAY?!" No...

Chalk up another Mommy mental lapse. I caused her no small amount of mental anguish by sharing such a thrilling idea a bit too soon. But after today's flurry of "wallpapering" with scrapbooking paper, cutting new little bedspreads, towels, rugs and placemats from fabric, and even letting her paint her own paper rug, this...

...has made her very, very happy.

Which makes me very, very happy.

So glad to be in your world, sweetie girl.