The Ghosts of Christmas...and other musings

Well, I know I haven't posted in awhile. I guess I figure my life is too boring to share with the world right now, though I will update you all (you all being the very small number who might actually be reading this.)

Thanksgiving was okay, but more depressing than normal. I was so hoping that now that there are two other babies at the family gathering (my sister didn't come since my nephew was only a few days old) I would feel more at ease with my own. But instead, I just felt the stark difference once again between my style of parenting and "everyone else's."

I was the only one who nursed my child, and he was 15 mo., their babies were 5 mo. old. As they talked about sleeping through the night or working on it, I mentioned that I STILL nurse my son every 3 hours at night, and got blank stares.

After the birth of my nephew (long story but I was emotionally down after that as well because of the differences in my choices vs. my sisters...not bad, just different, but I felt defeated) I was already feeling low, but after Thanksgiving I felt totally down. I cried for a whole day just wishing that for once in my life I wasn't "different" from everyone around me.

Ever since I was little I just wanted to fit in, be in the "in" crowd. But I never compromised WHO I was to do so (thank goodness!) However, it doesn't hurt any less now that I know I'm making the right choices for my family. I still want to belong to the majority, and I don't. Period.

But this last week I felt good. I had our reading club on Monday and got to chat and laugh. On Friday we did a small neighborhood (3 houses and one other neighbor) Progressive Dinner. I had a lot of fun with that! I was the Salads and the first stop, and we talked and talked that night! The kids had a blast as well. Pumpkin just plays right along with all her little friends now. She is SO social now! I love it!

I also went to see my one friend on Thursday last week, and I had fun. Though of course it was one of those days that you aren't supposed to drive unless you NEED to, so by the time I left for home, I was driving 30 mph on a 55 road, and cars were probably swearing behind me. But I CAN'T drive in winter! Sorry!

Pumpkin did two small songs with her preschool class at church, and was so cute. I was in a small skit before Thanksgiving, which I enjoyed, though I was sad because no one sat with us at the dinner, like usual. I just want a couple of REAL friends...is that all to ask? A couple of people who make an EFFORT to be with us, to talk to us, to keep in touch with us.

I don't have anyone who fits that description in my life right now, save the one friend I saw on Thursday, and there are issues with them not really understanding the Christian life since they didn't come from that kind of background and aren't with other believers ever to learn. So she is a great friend, but can't encourage me in my walk with God, yet.

Anyway, the rest of my life is same old, same old. Kids do cute stuff. I clean house. I play with clay but can't fire it because I don't have my kiln hooked up yet and am waiting to build the wheel because there's nowhere to put it yet.

On the positive side, I made Christmas cut out cookies a couple of days ago. I looked all day for a recipe that was hard and crunchy, like bakeries sell, but no such luck. I thought that Pumpkin's Cubbie's leader might have a recipe, since they frosted cookies in her class that were those crisp bakery cookies, but it turns out she bought the dough....from a bakery! So if anyone out there has a recipe for those crisp, hard bakery sugar cookies, PLEASE send them my way!

And now on to the reason for the title of this post (see, I got ya!)

Yesterday when Boom got to school, there were gifts waiting for him in front of another teacher's classroom (he thinks the gift-giver didn't' know which room was his.) There were three gifts, one marked from "The Ghost of Christmas Past" which had an expensive book called "What If" (collected version, where "Eminent Historians Imagine What Might Have Happened.") A second gift from "The Ghost of Christmas Present" included the Life Books "The War In Iraq." and the third gift from "The Ghost of Christmas Future" contained some thin mints, orange cream thin mints, peanut brittle, and "reindeer corn" (candy corn with Christmas colors.)

Boom thinks that it might have been his old History teacher that left the gift, based on the choice of books and lack of knowing where his room was. He thinks the football boosters wouldn't have left History stuff, but football stuff. So, we aren't really sure who it was. But I wish we could get together with his old history teacher. I loved talking to his wife. They are a neat couple. I wish I could say the same for their sons, but alas, I only knew Boom's best friend since we've been together, and most of his good memories with him happened before.

So that's my life in the last two months in a nut shell. Hope you sort of enjoyed it. I did.

I'm An Aunt!

My Nephew was born on November 21 at 12:17 PM weighing 8 lbs. 4 oz. and measuring 20 1/4 in. long.

Congratulations Sis and BIL!!!

She went in on Sunday night to get induced (peri didn't want to go past the due date) and they broke her water Monday morning. Shortly after she got the epidural and quickly went from 4-5 cm. to complete. After only 10 minutes pushing, her much wanted baby boy was here!

The mass in his chest is measuring small enough that he won't need surgery until around 6-12 months, so that is an answer to prayer as well.

Potter's Hands

Yesterday I was on Cone 9...er, I mean, Cloud Nine!

I have been e-mailing a potter who lives not even 10 miles away from me ever since I found her gallery of sorts on the internet. She has been the biggest encouragement, with real tips and hope and not once making me feel I was in over my head.

Turns out, she started just like me, in a way. She is 67 now, and only starting working with clay 8 years ago. She didn't attend classes, she had no one to teach her. She read and researched and just dove in. After hours, weeks, and months of frustration, she finally got the hang of the potter's wheel and now she even makes her own glazes when she has the time and energy to work (she has polio and also does the accounting for her and her hubby's business.)

Well, she offered to let me visit her and yesterday I spent about 3 hours with her. I got to hear stories of how she began, she showed me her work, and she even showed me how to work the wheel.

Then, she let ME try my own two hands at it...after centering it for me. I push the clay in and out and she said she honestly thought I had a natural talent for it...she hadn't been able to get her own grown kids or grandkids to do as well the first time...she said I must be a pro in disguise ;)

This might sound like she was just flattering me, but in talking to her I know she respects honesty, so though I may not be pro, I hope I DO have a knack for it! She also could tell that I knew a lot from my reading and that I'm not like some who THINK they want to work with clay but only really want easy answers on how to get from here to there...

And then I found out she is a Christian! And we've had two more e-mails just today with regards to talking about God!

So I have found a friend and a mentor, and I hope we can get together more. And, I have discovered that I like the idea of the potter's wheel more than I thought I would (it doesn't hurt to have someone tell you that you might be good at it!) But I loved the feel of the clay spinning within my hands, and a picture came to me...

As I was thinking one again about the fact that we are living Jars of Clay sculpted by the Father's hand, I pictured God at the potter's wheel, with me as the lump of clay He was shaping, and I realized that when you shape a pot, you literally are hugging it much of the time, to re-center or push in the shape. You alternate between drawing the clay out and hugging it, or at least, in my beginning pursuit of it, I did so.

But I thought that that was such a neat picture, that while God is shaping me, He is cupping me within His palms, gently forming me to be what He wants. I can't wait to see what other pictures I get the more I study scripture and pottery. I think maybe this will bring me closer to God than just me reading the Bible...I'm a very visual person, and maybe this is another way God is choosing to speak to me. I sure hope so.

I also will be thrilled that if and when I get a wheel and make pots, the "pottery" part of Mud Puppy Pottery won't be a misnomer after all...

That'll Do, Pig. That'll Do.

I've only seen the movie "Babe" twice, and both times I cried at the end. For those who haven't seen the movie, the next paragraph is a definite spoiler.

After Babe steps into the arena to round up the sheep, he is met with jeering crowds, doubtful judges, and a hopeful farmer. After all, the farmer himself has a few skeptics wondering if he's lost his mind. But no matter, Babe learns the secret sheep code and gently herds them to the proper places, and as the crowd is silenced and the judges amazed, the farmer says very quietly to Babe, "That'll do, Pig. That'll do."

And that's where I cry. That simple statement is more than an affirmation. He may not have jumped for joy or screamed in victory, but he is satisfied, and in his quiet way he says all that he needs to. He is proud that the pig has done what he knew he could do, and he doesn't need to puff up the pig with big words...the simple confident thanks is enough.

********

Sunday at church we were singing during worship, and a familiar voice began to gnaw at my mind. These songs aren't that exciting. They definitely aren't all that new. They aren't vineyard music. I wish we had more contemporary stuff. I wish we had our old church. I wish I could have the church I grew up in stay the way it was with my Dad playing trombone and me being happy. I wish, I wish, I wish....

And I realized a few things. One, of course is that not much worshipping is being done while I'm being critical. And the second is that I have no real need to be critical. And I'm tired of it. And third, I don't want my kids to be subject to the Sunday weekly criticism that I endured growing up, and is probably the very reason I'm so critical of everything myself.

If it wasn't the preaching, it was the music. If it wasn't the music, it was the Sunday School. If it wasn't the Sunday School, it was the teacher. There was always something. My mother didn't mean to be this way, I am sure. But she was. And it wasn't just at church. My father had more faults than good traits, and I remember many times when the effort I'd put forth in cleaning or something was not quite "good enough."

And now I'm the same way. Boom can help out and I'll find ways to nit pick. There will be no reason to find fault with him, but apparently I'm not content until I do. Lack of self confidence on my behalf? I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to get tired of it. And on church on Sunday, I decided to stop my bitterness and enjoy the fellowship of believers and worship with my heart.

Kind of like the song, "I'm coming back to the heart of worship, and it's all about YOU...." I know that there is no perfect church. But I like that we have many families coming together in one place for one purpose. We are all imperfect, and to expect a perfect church to come about from imperfect people is ridiculous. I know many people end up meeting with just their own family, but truthfully, we aren't all perfect, either, and I'd rather deal with the imperfections of a large group of people and make friends and be encouraged, than to be safe with my own family, but lonely and eventually encounter our own problems.

So I need to quit being cantankerous. And yet outside of church I find that the lifestyle I have adopted tends to also be critical of others. Whether in self defense or in judgment, I'm not sure. Or maybe in the defense of those innocents that are lied to by the majority.

Either way, I find myself criticizing hospital births, those who let their child cry it out for days, those who trust doctors without even researching on their own. And I get frustrated. I get frustrated because I don't see how anyone can let a child cry for hours, wanting only to be held, and only for the reason that this child should learn to "self-sooth." I get frustrated that people trust doctors who induce for no reason, then thank that same doctor for saving their baby's life because of all the complications that ensued, not realizing that had they waited for the baby to come on it's own there might not have BEEN any complications in the first place. And I'm REALLY frustrated with doctors who tell mothers that their breast milk is not sufficient and they need to supplement with formula.

And yet I'm trapped by my own critical-ness. I don't vaccinate. And so there are people who don't understand why I don't let my children's bodies fight their own diseases. (for what it's worth, I knew a lady growing up who had polio because her parents didn't vaccinate, and I could not do that to my children. I DID do research on both sides, and this is what I've chosen.) I was actually planning to circumcise, before I had Pumpkin. I still don't think it's horrible (after all, since God had his "chosen" people circumcised, I don't think He would mutilate them or cause them to experience less pleasurable sex, since He created it, after all.) But then I changed my mind because there wasn't enough to convince me to go through with it.

And so I know that each choice one makes is THEIR decision, and yet I remain critical, skeptical, at times bitter. And for what?

*******

And then I thought about how I think of God. I picture Him often to be critical of ME. That He is always disappointed and thinking that I'm not "good enough." That no matter how hard I try, I will never add up.

Oh, I know there's the whole "grace" thing...but I don't actually GET IT, not completely. I mean, I understand what it means and how it's supposed to "work." But I don't live like I believe it. I still fear the repercussions of the mistakes and bad decisions I make. If I feed my kids fruit that isn't organic or even washed...will there be a mark against me? I knew better...I had no excuse (beside low funds), and I'm supposed to be the best parent I can be...so does that count?

I'd like to think, sometimes, that God is like that farmer in Babe. That He believes in me and that He is proud of me. And though I'm not perfect, and I know good works and intentions don't "earn" you anything, that maybe He will see my heart and know that at least I TRIED to do my best, as I knew how, with what I had.

I think that even though it would be wonderful to hear my Father utter the words, "Well done good and faithful servant," I'd be just as happy to hear him say quietly, "That'll do, Prism. That'll do."

My First Trick-Or-Treat

Well, obviously I've lived through Trick or Treating's throughout my lifetime. But I've never participated in one until now.

I was raised without Trick or Treating for two reasons: we lived in a rural area where kids didn't come to your house even if you wanted them to, and we didn't believe in celebrating Holloween because of it's pretense of Evil.

So this is the first time I've gone door to doorstep and asked for candy. Well, actually, Pumpkin asked for candy. But I took her!

Last year I sat at our doorway waiting for the first costumed child to walk up our porch steps. And when it was 2 minutes past 7:00 I panicked and began to cry because no one could tell our porch light was on since it was still light out. But only seconds later I nervously handed our first patron their prized sweets. And we were out of our two bags of Snickers 10 minutes later (turns out over 500 kids showed up last year here - out neighbors across the street go ALL OUT for Halloween and draw quite a crowd.)

Anyway, this year Pumpkin had seen enough on cartoons and TV to know the gist of it, and she's so not shy anymore!, that I knew I wanted to take her. Rugger stayed home with Boom to pass out candy since he wouldn't get into it and he's running a fever right now.

Anyway, we put the bunny suit that her Grandma (MIL) got her last year, and I even painted her face white with a pink nose (she like the nose) and black whiskers. She smeared it twice before we even left the house, but it was worth it anyway.

As we walked from house to house, I felt sort of shy and new at the same time. Everyone commented on my little bunny and how cute she was. She was great at saying "Trick or Treat" and "Thank You." And half and hour later she was ready to go home ;) Little feet can only walk so far, it seems. If she had had her cousin running around with her, it might have been a different story, but his grandparents are in Warren, and so he wasn't with us.

I also felt a bit guilty. Part of me knows there are Christians who are very much against Trick or Treating. I used to be one of them. I'm still not completely sure what is okay or not. But I like the idea of dressing up, and getting candy isn't so bad, either. I know there are evil roots behind the tradition, and I'm still not into the ghouls or goblins, witches or ghosts, corpses and blood.

But I felt like tonight I took part in a tradition that most Americans have been celebrating for generations. I felt part of our neighborhood. I relished sitting on the porch with our Jack-O-Lanterns lit and Boom's students coming to say "hi." I enjoyed seeing neighbors and strangers all being polite and smiling at each other's costumes.

I had fun. And for me, tonight, that's all that matters.

My Pumpkin Princess

Well, she turned three on Monday. And she's been talking about birthdays in general for so long that I'm not sure she knows exactly WHEN she turned three, or that after this week it's not her birthday or anyone else's for quite awhile. But at least this year she knew to look forward to it. And I hope her party on Saturday goes well. I got her balloons and noise makers because to her that means party, and it's the first she'll have had them (the noise makers, that is.)

Tonight at Cubbies she got a little present. They were generic My Little Ponies, and when I asked her is she had gotten "My Little Ponies" she replied, "No!, Their MY little ponies!" Ah, yes. Three and not willing to share. Which means poor Rugger is getting shoved quite a lot lately.

Speaking of which, the little cuddle has apparently been attending "Tantrum Throwing 101" because he's gotten very good at it. I knew he would months ago when he used to put his head to the ground and pout if he didn't get his way. Now he resembles more of an angry bull...

And he has yet to say a word. I'm beginning to wonder if he'll be the type to spout a whole sentence when he DOES talk...

Pumpkin is also very into the imagining and role playing thing. I've been "Pumpkin" all week and she's been "Mommy." She pretends her animals are in distress like on Go Diego and rescues them. And she names her baby doll (which is clothed in pink) baby "Joey." She insists he's a baby boy. Before I gave her the doll for her birthday, she had been on a kick with her "baby froggy." A little bath toy which she would put under her shirt and proclaim to be having a baby, then pull out and he is born. She wrapped him in a washcloth and kept good care of him.

Right now I am so enjoying them. Rugger is getting into more things than I can think to find since I can't imagine why he's want to get into them, and Pumpkin surprises me daily with new things she learns. Tomorrow I'm taking her skating for the first time with the local homeschoolers group. I hope to meet some people and make some friends. But it will be hard to keep quiet about my plans to unschool, since I know people say, "Don't label yourself," and "don't talk about methods." But I'm so excited about unschooling...Oh, well.

I found a lady here in Jamestown (well, not HERE, of course, but close enough that it might as well be) who does clay and is on CLAYART, which is where I found her gallery. We haven't met in person, yet, but she's been VERY helpful in her e-mails and I hope I can learn much from her. I can't wait until football is over and I can think about getting the garage wired and fire up the kiln. Of course, inevitably, I will shatter a few pieces (she said everybody does throughout their career) but I'm hoping SOMETHING makes it through the whole process. Then I can get started on making gifts for family and friends! What better excuse than that to do what you love!

And I have a confession to make. I didn't think I'd care that much, but I'm hooked on Sudoku...are you? My family gave me some sheets and I can't help it...I love it.

Tad Bit Jealous

Okay, so my feelings aren't all that stellar lately!

But, I was watching That's Clever on HGTV today and saw a man who (with his son) makes these flea characters out of metal. He welds them and such. It was so neat! So I checked out his website, and I SO want, like, half of his stuff! You can catch them here.

I want the trombone player for my dad (mustache and all), the football scene for Boom, the pottery guy for myself some day (if I ever do get it going and get a wheel,) and I can think of one for just about everybody I know, almost!

And I just wish that I could do something this cool and enjoy it and have others enjoy it and make some money, too.

But as it is, I can't even seem to figure out my clay. I don't know if it's too wet, dry, or what. I get very frustrated sometimes because I keep feeling like I should be good at SOMEthing, and yet I never feel like I "find" it. Boom has football, my MIL does gardening, my Mom is good at housekeeping and cooking, my sister is becoming a writer, and I...I just keep trying.

*sigh*

But at least I won't give up. Not yet. I still have faith that I can make the clay work. I just have to figure it out. I will search for a workshop or something, but I'll get there.

If there's a "flea" on that website that describes you, let me know in the comments!

Feeling Cheated

Well, no Nemo for me, at least for now. About a month ago I bought (at least I thought) the Finding Nemo DVD for Pumpkin on ebay. It was a money order or check only, but I didn't mind because they had 100% postitive feedback. And they had to wait 10 days for check to clear. So I wait but 3 days after I send my check I see that their user ID is no longer registered. I e-mail them and they tell me it's a mistake and they are trying to clear it up. NOPE. My check was cashed, but no DVD. And ebay won't refund because it's under the $25 limit.

All I can say about the guys who pulled this one on me (and I suspect others...there were many movies for sale when I "bought" mine) is: JERKS!!!

On another note, I'm hoping I started my period soon. I actually took a HPT today because I had bad cramps Friday night, then nothing until today. I was worried they might have been implanting cramps, but the test says no...thought I'm still waiting for AF. I don't want to be pregnant right now...I've been waiting 21 months for this month to come and go and me not be pregnant...I can't do that close of an age gap again...let alone the extra bed and van and everything else we'd have to adjust to...

So I'm hoping these cramps move into something more serious by tomorrow...

At Least Something Works - And I'M "IT" !!!

Well, I've been tagged. Thank you, TD!

But, I didn't think Blogger copied text, or at least it didn't the last time I tried. So I tried downloading the Blogger for Word, and wouldn't you know it can't find the path (I'm assuming to my internet connection.) Same as Mozilla Firefox...it just keeps searching for the page and times out. I can't even set it to my connection like I do in IE...and I get so frustrated with technology. If you don't have the latest or the greatest, or understand how to program yourself, you are basically, pardon me, screwed.

Anyway, I really wanted to do this tag, it's my first *blush*, but I couldn't stand the thought of typing it all down, so I tried by chance to copy and paste...and wonder of all wonders, it worked! Though I have to do some formatting...it's all there. So, here goes:


First the rules:Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs for the desired cross pollination effect.

1. Blue Stocking: http://bluestocking.typepad.com
1. Simply Coll: http://colleenscorner.com/blog
3. My Boutiful Life: http://billi-jean.com/thebounty.html
4. Today's Lessons: http://todayslessons.blogspot.com
5. The Thought Train: http://thethoughttrain.blogspot.com

Next: select four new friends to add to the pollen count. (No one is obligated to participate and anyone can play if they want to).

Umm...to be honest, I don't have any blogging friends that I know besides the one who tagged me. I've visited other blogs, but I couldn't do this unless I knew the blogger better. So get to know me, already!

were you doing 10 years ago?
1995 I was a Senior in High School. That summer I had spent a week at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh (AIP) and also visited the Pittsburgh technical Institute (where I actually attended.) I was a colorguard in my marching band and a valedictorian, though I turned down the offer to speak at graduation since I had only been at the school for 4 years and I don't like public speaking. (though I will do plays)

What were you doing 5 years ago?
2000 I had been married for a year and a half and we decided to send Boom back to school to become the teacher and coach he had always wanted. I was commuting an hour to work, so the moved benefited us by making it only 20 minutes. We watched Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlee over New Year's while we were sick with a stomach bug that lasted about a week. Thank goodness for the holidays or we would have missed more than one day of work! We were too sick and tired to care if Y2K actually happened, but figured we have a field, land, and can hunt for food. Our own natural gas well, and a generator...we were set. Thanks goodness we didn't spend time making gallons of bleached water!

What were you doing one year ago?
2004 I had just had my second homebirth with was a wonderful, serene waterbirth that I wish I could re-live over and over except the last hour and a half, until he came out, I'd also relive that. Then we moved into our new house and Boom started his new job as a teacher and head football coach of the local high school (the one he graduated from.) I was basically depressed, lonely, and stressed. My almost 2 yr. old didn't cope with all the changes well, and I couldn't even help like I wanted since I had a newborn to attend to. And all the boxes to unpack since Boom couldn't be home much, and all the furniture to move even though I was warned to take it easy. Basically, I was counting down to Christmas when Boom would be home for almost 2 weeks. And Rugger would be old enough to sit for 10 minutes or maybe even 20 while I baked cookies for the first time since he was born.

What were you doing yesterday?
The 12th Yesterday I was moving again, within my house. I moved boxes and crafts and craft supplies upstairs to the now toyroom. I moved clothes and clothes and more clothes downstairs to our current bedroom. This took me 3 hours. I made lunch but did the dishes while the water boiled for the macaroni (boxed version...first time in over a year for me, usually do the whole wheat pasta and velveta type cheese and milk.) Then I typed up the games for Awana and after Rugger woke from his nap, went back to sorting clothes and putting stuff in it's new spots. By the time I was done and had given the kids a bath and taken a shower it was 6 hours total. A long day. Which is why I did nothing today. Except rake the leaves in the front yard and play in them...first time I've raked leaves in my own yard! I loved it! We didn't have trees near the trailer.

5 snacks you enjoy
Chocolate Chip Cookies (though just about any cookies will do.)
Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream (though any ice cream will do.)
Fruit with that awesome Cream Cheese & Whip Cream Fruit Dip
Chips & Dip (never ever buy it, don't hardly ever have it, because I'd eat it all. I'm not a chip person, unless there's dip!)
Candy Bars (Especially Nutrageous by Recees)

5 songs you know all the words to
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
Jesus Loves Me
The Star Spangled Banner
Praise Adonai
(I used to know a ton of songs by Audio Adrenaline, Newsboys, D.C. Talk, Carmen, Michael W. Smith, etc. Don't listen enough now...)

5 things you would do if you had a million dollars
Pay off the house and pay my parents back for helping us so much over the last 6 years
Save it for the kids when they need it (college or otherwise)
Give more to charities
Find the perfect land and buy it, then build the perfect house
Buy two new vehicles that are more spacious and versatile than the ones we currently have and which would be dependable for years to come

5 things you like doing
Talking
Reading
Meeting new people
Trying new things
Traveling to new places

5 bad habits
Talking too much and too loud
Yelling at my kids
Not getting into the Word or Praying everyday
Interrupting conversations
Forgetting things

5 things you would never wear again
Makeup (unless for a play or something, not for myself)
Pegged Pants
Banana Clips in my hair
Braces
Diapers (hopefully!)

5 favorite toys
Slinky
Hi-Bounce Balls
Mechanical Puzzles (ie. Rubik's Cube)
Glow-In-The-Dark and Light Up toys
Devil Sticks

Winter is on it's Way

The experts are saying that this is one of the most beautiful Autumn seasons ever, and it peaks this very weekend around these northern parts. Which means this week has been a lovely mix of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, and even purples. Add to it the dreary weather and it's been a pretty nice fall week overall.

But that means that winter is right around the corner. The Sugar Maples will loose their beautiful clothes and get tapped once again for their sweet sap. (I didn't know it eventually kills them until Boom told me...now I feel bad for the trees, and this town as most of the trees are the same age and starting to die in parts.)

And now with the double hurricanes the gas prices are expected to be 50% higher than normal. Not that I'm complaining. I'd rather have to pay higher prices to HEAT my home, than to LOSE my home altogether. But at the same time, we are doing what we can to keep costs down.

Which this week meant moving the upstairs downstairs. Namely, the room we all slept in upstairs is now in the toyroom, and the toyroom is now upstairs. (We all sleep in the same room.)

This may not sound like much, but it took a good 3 hours Saturday afternoon just moving the furniture, with my in-laws' help (grandma watched the kids, especially Rugger who wanted to go up and down, up and down with us...and grandpa helped Boom with the bigger stuff.) Then it took all of Sunday afternoon to rearrange the toyroom and find a place for everything. Then on Monday I didn't get to do anything, and yesterday I didn't get to it, so today I finally spent six hours taking the craft stuff in the big closet upstairs and bringing all the clothes and towels down from upstairs. I made countless trips, and found a place for everything in the end. I even cleaned the showerhead downstairs so I can enjoy a shower in it (either it's been bad since we moved in or Boom never noticed the diminishing spray.) All I did was took an old toothbrush and attempt to scrub it thinking it might be calcium build-up. Thank goodness we have calcium here and not iron...iron never comes off easy.

Anyway, I haven't been blogging because I tend to do things in "fads." I get on a roll, then I take a break, etc. I have had not much to talk about, and too much. Here's a summary:

I now enjoy Phantom of the Opera music after renting the DVD from the library. I want the real CD from 1986 now. Never knew it was so good. Read the book 5 years ago and liked it, but never heard the music. Don't know why.

Joined a class for 20 some things on Sunday mornings, and right now it's about decision making with a book called The Best Question Ever by Andy Stanley. Seems good so far.

Been proud of Pumpkin as she is SO social with her peers now, though shy initially. She loves her preschool class at church and Cubbies on Wednesday. She plays happily with the kids of the moms I occasionally get together with (a few in the last two weeks...when I get with people, it seems to be in lumps, and then a dry spell.)

I am so excited about unschooling. I love the book Christian Unschooling by Teri Brown and wish their website was still up. I talked with the lady in charge of our local homeschooling chapter, and unfortunately she isn't into the unschooling thing at all, so she directed me in all the wrong directions as far as how I need to comply to the law (I found a great forum at Yahoo for PA unschoolers.) It just fits with the rest of my parenting.

In light of the unschooling thoughts, I pondered once again that the choices I have made since being a parent have been the ones most difficult to travel. Little support. Much skepticism. And doubts as to the real reason I'm doing it. At least I have a stubborn streak to keep with it.

Speaking of stubborn, we went to a corn maze in Ohio (first I've been to one) and though my kids were falling asleep I kept up and got us through it. We were supposed to get a prize for collecting verses to a song and singing it at the store, but all we got was ONE apple. Bummer. At least the price was discounted since it was during the day...

Duo World

Ever since I can remember, I've hated living in the country. I hated living in a no-name town that barely hit the map. I hated having to drive 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store. I hated having to measure distance in minutes. I couldn't wait to get out of my small town and move on. And when my mothers told me that she always knew her daughter would grow up and move to the "big city," I couldn't have been more proud: that was me all right!

And I did, sort of. I went to college in Pittsburgh. For two years I lived in Mt. Washington on the backside near South Hills Junction. I took the incline (Monongahela, not the Dusquene incline where the fancy restaurants are) from Station Square to the lookout, then walked the 6 blocks past a little ice cream shop, a small hardware store, the CoGo's convenience store where I worked for 1 1/2 years, and down to the old South Hills High School that was closed down, where I lived opposite in a second story apartment made for college kids. I worked at a beer and hot dog place at Station Square for awhile; my first job in Pittsburgh(Jimbo's.) I remember the first day of college and being nervous about being separated from my best friend and roommate. But I made friends quickly and absolutely LOVED the classes.

I remember the first time we walked home with all of our materials and had to stop more times than we could count to catch our breath. This was before we knew we could stop at South Hills Junction and walk up the stairs. Also tiring, but less distance over all...only about 2 blocks walking, just all up hill. The incline way was uphill and then down hill. I remember not knowing what "T" to take home that first day. They all said South Hills or some other name I can't recall and none said "Mt. Washington." Luckily there were some guys from our high school a few years ahead of us who were attending the Art Institute (wish I had chosen that, instead) and knew to tell us all the "T"s went to our stop...the name on the front was just the final destination. (The only one that didn't go to our normal stops was the Allentown "T" and we discovered it stopped near our backyard, so we would take that if we didn't need to be home soon as it went around the mountain instead of through.

I remember driving up McArdle Dr. before my parents knew the back way up Mt. Washington, and seeing the lights of the city from the lookout. I remember the winter day when my Mom and sister came to visit and I brought pizza from downtown near my college and was waiting in the snow for her to pick me up at the lookout and drive home with the cold pizza.

I remember dragging two duffel bags of laundry and a tupperware container of detergent 6 blocks in the sleeting snow to wait over 2 hours while I did the laundry in the laundromat, my first. I remember the first night as we unpacked our dishes and our parents drove home in tears, us in jubilation.

I remember walking across the 9th street bridge for drawing classes. I remember sitting in the PPG plaza drawing people, or in the parks drawing fountains or the jailhouse or the buildings. I remember the way the sun came in the window in our apartment in the afternoon, and the tilt of my drawing desk with my 3rd can of Mountain Dew perched at the corner. The meals of mac-n-cheese, the two hour drives to my parents, the midnight walks home from work, Smithfield bridge, the Liberty Tunnel, the Wood St. "T" station, the parking garage next to the old school, the sounds of lawnmowers and barking dogs on Saturday mornings.

And I remember how alive I felt when I walked on the sidewalks, leaves swirling beneath my feet, or snow melting. I remember the smell of flowers as I walked up the stairs from the junction, and running in the rain to catch a bus. There weren't many things I didn't like.

The few I remember are the discarded pants or condoms at the stairs by the junction, or the strangers asking for my phone number. The man who was peeing on the wall by the river while fishing and I was showing my parents the scenic spot for the first time. And Sundays.

Sundays was always a mixed day for me. I went to a church that by car was 10 minutes away. By bus, about an hour or more. I had to take the "T" to downtown by the McDonalds (Gateway Center, I think, not Steel Plaza). Then I waited for 20 minutes for the "somethingC" bus. While I waited, a perverted old Greek man used to try to feel me up and then sit next to me on the bus. Then I rode 20 minutes to church. After church I waited for 5 to 30 minutes depending on when the sermon ended and the last bus went. Then back in town another 20 minutes for the "T." It was on the bus that I saw the homeless with their shopping carts and bare feet. Asleep on the benches without a blanket. Downtown was shut down on Sundays, and these people came out of the woodwork. And I always felt so down. I still have the idea of delivering blankets to these people.

But those are the only bad memories. The LAST memory of Pittsburgh comes the day we moved. I was sitting in Boom and I's apartment and it was empty. Everything we had was in the vans and trucks and cars, and we were leaving for his parents' house, one room to ourselves. Barely 3 months married, and I was leaving everything I loved behind for hope of a better future.

Now, before I paint the wrong picture, I will admit that after we graduated and moved into Greentree, things changed. I didn't get to see my friends. I had a car and didn't get to ride the buses or the "T"s anymore. I didn't even get to go downtown or buy monthly bus passes, either. I missed all of the above. I knew I didn't want to live downtown with a family, but I missed the business, the sheen of metal and glass, and sidewalks and shadows from tall buildings and nights where the city never turned off. I missed it all. So when we left, most of what I missed was already gone.

But I never wanted to move back to the country. Before Boom, I was planning on moving to Chicago. I didn't want the fields and barns and cows and dirt roads. I admit that the country is beautiful. As I drove to the doctor's office today, I noticed the hills covered with red, yellow, and orange. But I also noticed the rows of corn, hay, alfalfa, rye, and mostly, weeds. I noticed the dilapidated barns, silos and farmhouses. The muddy tractors and barn boots. The rusty trucks and dirt roads with dust all summer and mud the rest of the time.

I know many people find these things comforting, much like they like antiques. But I've never liked antiques. I like the sturdiness and the durability, but not the architectural design or the chipped paint. And my only experience first hand with farming set me dead against the idea of ever doing it for a living.

We rented a house from a small dairy farmer (30 cows.) This guy had chickens, pigeons, guinea hens, peacocks, and tons of other birds. One sheep dog and several barn cats also lived there, besides the rats in the grain bin. That first winter he took a vacation leaving Boom and I to do the milking and such. Now Boom grew up farming and used to love it and the idea of it, so he knew what to do and expect, though the farm wasn't kept up to the standards he was used to. So when a calf was born early and the mom didn't want to nurse it, and there was no pen for the little thing, we had some trouble. Soon it was apparent the calf was sick and Boom gave him an antibiotic shot, while I put a warm blanket over his shivering body. But the net morning when I brought the wanted bottle for him, Boom wouldn't let me near him since he could tell he was dead. I wanted to scream when later I noticed the dog trying to chew on him. It got to the point I couldn't help anymore because around every corner I saw his face and thought his body was there in the hay or manure...but it wasn't. Then add to it the next winter the water froze and I tried giving the cows water one by one all night on New Year's Eve, and then the kitten that got crushed by a cow, and on and on. I just couldn't take it.

So country life doesn't appeal to me. Many people find solace in planting. I hate digging in the dirt, and I can't get anything to grow, anyway. I kill any plant within a ten foot radius of my being. I even tried the first summer at the trailer. None of my herbs came up, and the weeds did better than my garden and we didn't even bother getting most of the produce in that year. This year at the new house Boom tried and a deer ate it before we could get it. Why bother? *sigh*

So country life doesn't appeal to me. I know that the kids have open air. They can explore the woods, and the creeks and the fields. They have space. But I want the museums, the shops (just to look, just for something different), the busses, the "T"s or "L"s or sidewalks. I prefer concrete to dirt, steel to field. And though the sunset in the mountains here is breathtaking, I find the city lights that never go off at night to be just as mesmerizing.

But I find that God has called us here. Or more specifically, Boom, here. And since I didn't feel and strong call in another direction, we are here. And I know God has worked in Boom with his football kids and his classroom kids. The letters, the phone calls, the attitudes (Boom even has his own cheering section as a girl painted his name and high school number on a t-shirt and was shouting his name at games.) I know he loves those guys like his own sons. And he is sad to think the school might close and he's loose them.

But I'm not completely sad. There's a part of me that feels like a gypsy. Always wanting to move on, try something new. See if the next town is better, make new friends. There's a part of me that hopes that somehow God will bring us back to sidewalks and steel.

And yet I feel like somehow I'm betraying those parts of me that believe natural is best...that God's creations is best. That man's inventions only bring pain and suffering with their ease and ability of speed. On one hand I try to raise my kids that way I think Eve must have...birthing at home and nursing when they want to. Sleeping next to them and holding them often. I want them to know what nature is and how God made the earth. But part of me wants the musicals at theaters, the quaint little shop that sells trinkets you can't find anywhere else. The people that are always there.

And I used to be much worse. I used to want the most updated technology there was. I wanted the latest software for my computer, the newest system, etc. If I could, I'd have Tivo, cell phones with cameras, digital cameras, a digital video camera, a DVD burner/recorder.

But at the same time, I have this crazy notion that it wouldn't be that bad to live off the land and be self-sufficient. Make your own flour, milk, butter, chicken, beef, vegetables, fruit, cheese, jams and pickles, smoked meat, etc. I like the IDEA of building your own house or repairing a place up, but the shear work involved makes me light-headed and tired just thinking about it.

So I have in my head two dueling worlds...the all natural one and the technology-driven civilized one. I like SOME of both, but where we are we don't have hardly either of what I REALLY want. The biggest draw to the trailer was the free gas (would've come in real handy this winter) and that I could walk around naked. Since I can't do that as the kids get older, anyways, then the country only offered a break from the rest of civilization...a break I don't really want all that much.

But unless thinks take a drastic turn around, I am stuck here in a town I honestly drove through over a hundred times thinking about the people who live here, "Suckers!" And now I'm one of them. Except unlike most, I don't think this is THE place to be. That this town is okay as is. That I want to live here forever and ever. And yet I might, if that's what God wants.

I just wish I knew why sometimes I have things ingrained in me that have been there since I can remember, but go against what God wants for me. They aren't sinful things, either, just things that don't mesh with where we are in life, that's all. And so I will always wonder if perhaps someday they will be used...these desires for things not so natural.

By the way. I was on my way to Chicago before we started dating. Boom was on his way to Australia, for one reason; it was opposite on the globe from the one place he didn't want to be - here.

And HERE is where we are.

Loose Threads

Our lives are often referred to in song and poetic verse as being canvases woven with threads. Today I wondered how strong of a weaver I am in my kids' lives, and if others are strong enough to pull out the threads I am so carefully pulling through the loom of their childhood.

I know I am not, nor will I be, the perfect parent. But I am trying to be the best parent I believe I can be. And I know that if nothing else, I am trying to impart to my children those things in life I hold dear, the things I believe to be of utmost importance; the true things in life. I am trying to raise well-rounded, healthy kids with a zeal for life and for learning. With confidence in themselves, in their family, and in God.

But not everyone would choose the same color of threads that I (and my husband) choose. Not everyone would weave the same design that we've chosen. And unfortunately, some may even tug at those precious threads and begin to unravel the very design that we are trying to build...even if not intentionally. And I wonder if it will hold, or if it can be repaired if it ever gets torn.

I think about the opposite reality in many lives. Canvases woven with pain, lies, letdowns. And people try to come and repair with love, kindness, forgiveness. But we remain tattered and town, unable or unwilling to change. If a negative thread is so strong, is it possible that the positive threads I'm weaving will remain just as strong?

I hope so.

Because today, like so many other times when we are together, I wondered what kind of influence my children's' grandparents have over them. I have heard that grandparents are in a unique position to pass on a heritage rich with God's blessings and truths. But what if the grandparents don't pass on blessings, but cursings? How do I protect against that? Will their unhealthy habits, their belief in ungodly things, their misunderstandings of the worthiness of all people...will these unravel the threads that I have already started to weave? Can two hours of time undue hours, days, or months of training and demonstration?

I hope not.

For those wondering, my in-laws aren't your typical in-laws in that they just rub me the wrong way sometimes. They do...but that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is some bad habits, and worse, some wrong beliefs. I won't slam them on here because that's not my point. I want to, in a way. The part of me that is human and wants people to see what I am dealing with. To those raised in a sheltered home like me, some of the stuff I would tell you would literally sound unbelievable. To those raised like my husband, if may sound embarrassingly normal. And to all in between, you might have your opinion, but until you've been there, you'll never really know.

I always thought I could keep my kids away from certain evils for at least much of their childhood. But the moment my daughter was born, I realized that I can never keep her away from the enemy...for they are her family. I would have kept her from language, alcohol, and smoke. I would have kept her away from ideas that go completely against the word of God, I would have kept her out of possible danger from the law and strangers who should never have known her. But I can't. They are her family, and I don't know what to do. I pray. I hope. I don't take her there often. Sometimes I wish they'd go too far and I could draw a line. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and make it all go away. Make his family "decent" if not Christian. I'd take the first without the second, knowing the second is always possible. But right now it's a miracle, and a pretty impressive one should it happen.

I thank God daily that my husband changed. But I wonder to God daily why his family is so different. And I prayed today that the threads I'm weaving into my children's lives are strong enough and protected by God so that when the enemy comes in, whether the wolf or the wolf in sheep's clothing, that they will not be able to shred apart their canvases. But instead that maybe they'd see the design being built. The beauty of it, the innocence of it, the truth of it. Maybe they'll wonder about their own tattered canvases. And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that they, too, can have beautiful threads again. New threads. Different threads. Threads made from the cleanest wool, made pure by the blood of Christ.

I hope so.

Jack of All Trades, Master of Fun

Well, I've been reading a little Charlotte Mason, a lot of John Holt, and I'm starting to get a feel for what I want as far as homeschooling goes.

I like some of the stuff Charlotte Mason says, but I just don't think, that for now, I want to follow her specifics. In fact, I don't want to follow any specifics. Hence, the UNschooling.

I thought I wanted a curriculum. But when I tried filling out the How To Write A Low Cost/No Cost Curriculum book I got stuck when I got to the part that asked about your children's learning styles. Basically, my kids learn by all styles right now...they haven't got far enough along to see what their strengths are, yet.

But the beauty of unschooling is that no matter what age (even me!) you can learn just about anything by doing whatever (within the limits of reason, of course. My kids will not be watching veggie tales 24/7....maybe only 3/)

And here's the really cool part. I've always known that I know a little about a lot of thing, and I've always wanted to know more about everything. Which makes me THE PERFECT UNSCHOOLING TEACHER FOR MY KIDS! I want to have fun...it's almost my motto (ask my high school friends who weren't allowed to touch my toys...or heck, look in my [yes, MY] toy box and see all my childhood toys that I've kept.)

I love researching, I love finding answers! I just can't wait until the answers involve more than, "He was a catipillar, then turned into a butterfly..." "No, Mommy, he wasn't a catipillar, he was a WORMY!" (from SpongeBob episode: "Wormy")

Anyway, I'm probably more excited than my kids will be...I can't wait to order microscopes, binoculars, gyroscopes, make flower presses, kaleidoscopes, etc. I can't wait! And all in the name of education...go figure!


On another note, now that Rugger is walking, he must think it's time to learn more important things. Namely how to unroll toilet paper. And tonight he learned how to flush. Just wait till he puts the two together...it makes a mothers heart almost...stop ;)

But Boom is asleep, or maybe not so, waiting for the warmth of my body beside him. Funny how we both can't sleep as well without the other, though we both enjoy our freedom of space and would LOVE for a king size bed...Oh, well.

Good night.

My Daughter, The Doctor

Pumpkin is at that adorable stage where cute things come out of her mouth at random moments, and if you don't catch it, you're missing comedy that ranks right up their with the best of them.

Today she was playing doctor. At times she's the patient, like the other night when driving home from church and she tells me she's not feeling well. I ask her what hurts and she tells me, "The apple in my tummy." Now, being the good mother I am, I did not feed her any healthy apples that day, or any day near that day, and so I ask, "You ate an apple, did you?" She says, "Yes, a red apple. And a green apple." Then she tells me her own advice for the malady: "I think I need to sleep, rest, and watch T.V."

Or on Saturday, when she told me she couldn't eat the blueberry in her pancake (homemade whole wheat with banana and fresh blueberries...see, I'm not always a bad mom!) because, "I think it will make me sick." I couldn't help it, I smiled at the little stinker.

But today, she was the doctor. And Rugger was the patient. As she "examined" him with a headband/stethoscope, she okayed his forehead, his back, and his tummy. But I had to laugh when he bent over and she placed the instrument on his little behind, then proclaimed, "Your butt, is fine." in the most serious of voices a little almost 3 year old can muster.

It's moments like these that keep me going...:)

In the Name of Education

I drove home tonight from our first win against our oldest rival, and I had the silly feeling of being safe on my home turf that was rightly defended. Last year this game was played in the mud, and the players ended the after game with fists after the opponents' coach ordered his team to "take care of those *%$#@ kids!" because our kids were on their field sliding in the mud (which WAS pretty stupid on our kids' behalf.) Anyway, we won tonight and no one got violent this time. I guess some parents thought the last-second touchdown was unsportsman like on our behalf, but they probably didn't see their kid punch ours in the stomach repeatedly during the game, and they sure didn't hear their junior high coach yell profanities at the kids after half time (and then tell my DH, the head coach, that he'd take him on right there in the parking lot....I mean, come on!)

But all that was only to lead into my real thoughts tonight. Because as I felt that silly safe feeling, I also felt great sadness, because this school may not be around for very long. And unfortunately, it's the best school in the district.

The problem began several years ago. Some time, for some reason (I wasn't hear; I don't know) our three elementary schools and high school joined the Warren County School District and we became one of five schools in the same district. There are several problems with this. Basically, Warren County isn't exactly ahead of the times. In fact, it's just a lot of old money that doesn't want any change. People get jobs that pay the same 20 years later as they did upon hiring. There are fewer office jobs in this town than spiders in my home. Manual labor is, after all, a very good way of keeping the people where you want them - poor and happy with even the smallest of changes.

So this big district has one "big" town that does everything backwards. And I do mean it. They tore down a bridge, a rather important one that led from the center of town to the hospital, and didn't rebuild for 2 years because they mis-budgeted. It's not surprising then, that this town has problems budgeting for their schools.

But wait...they acquired Eisenhower school district years ago. And wouldn't you know, it's now the fastest growing population, and most of the new residents have plenty of money in their pockets and want to live in the country. Well, hey, let's use the money for our "city" school, for lights on our field, for a new field altogether built over the oil refinery waste...how convenient. Then let's shut down 10 schools in two years.

Yes, 10 schools in two years. Most elementary, all important to the kids and parents who attended there.

The newest was Lander Elementary...the school my kids would have gone to had I not chosen to homeschool, and had they not sold it for $20,000 to a local family who lives there now. My husband graduated from there. It's one of his few good school memories. But they took it away and split the kids between the two remaining schools, only one of which they improved and enlarged (nothing like distinguishing between the rich and the not so...)

One of the high schools was closed, and the parents opened a charter school this year, doing very well. And one other school sits in the center of a large target, wondering when they, too will be wiped clean off the public education map.

Eisenhower. The farming town school. The one with, if you care, which I don't, but the disctrict claims to, has the highest test scores of the county. The one with a real community spirit and concern. The one that kids chose to drive to rather than being bussed to their closest school. And unfortunately the one that hasn't been looked at in years from a financial maintenance perspective.

Last year Boom kind of planted a seed in his students telling them how easy it would be for the district to get rid of us. The kids panicked and told their parents that Eisenhower was doomed. The parents had heard similar rumors from higher up than my Boom, and a meeting was called. They acknowledged that it had been a consideration, but that they weren't planning on doing so anymore. (Yeah, like they would have said anything different with hundreds of angry parents there.)

So for the first time in 3 years a maintenance guy comes and fixes fountains, says scaffolding that had been there for 2 years is illegal, etc. Proof that maybe they are taking these parents seriously and will keep Eisenhower open to please the masses (the masses that pay the taxes that go to their shiny and completely upkept school and field.)

And then they tried to raise money this year with pay to park or pay to play. Pay to play was shut down, but pay to park was passed, at $200 per person for the year. Twice the amount a college student pays for a year. This, too, though, was eventually revoked as parents and kids protested.

And then Hurricane Katrina hit. And now they are claiming that because they didn't raise their expected $80,000 from the pay to park, combined with raised energy costs, they now have a $800,000 budget dilemma, and I quote "are open to ideas from the public." There are holding meetings next week so that when they DO decide what to do, they will be able to say, "At least we gave you a chance to offer input." Which they won't listen to, anyway.

No, as the newspaper said, in the opinion of the newspaper, there are too many teachers for too few students in too many schools. They will start by removing "unneeded" things like extracurricular activities. Then they will shut down more schools and get rid of more teachers.

Which will leave us with more students per teacher in less schools...which to anyone with half a brain equals less quality learning and less capable teachers in too cramped buildings. Let alone the idea that they actually want people to move into the Warren area...I wonder where they think they'd put all THOSE students?

And I noticed the paper once again omitted an important fact: The administrators in our county earn a comfy six digit salary, much higher than Erie schools. Our teachers in this same county are at the lowest of the schools in the area, which means that the gap between administrators and teachers is the biggest of all the NorthWestern PA schools....and yet this never hits OUR paper (it's been in the Erie paper at least twice.)

So if our administrators really cared about our children's education...don't you think they could give up some of that ridiculously high salary to help them out? I'm sure between them all (and they haven't lost any jobs despite the decreasing school numbers and the teacher firings) they could come up with $800,000.

But that's not what it's about, really, is it. It's not about the kids. It should be, but it won't be. It will be in their name, and their the ones affected most, but it's about the money. It always has been.

And I wonder if tonight I saw one of the last games played on a lonely field of camaraderie, community, and friendly competition. I wonder if I heard one of the last bands to play from a school that has meant so much to so many people, and I can't count the number of times I heard of people purposely coming to this school over the one next to their home. I wonder if I drove home for one of the last times feeling like I belonged to a community that am proud of, despite my not wanting to move here originally.

I hope not. But many people are already assuming as much. And in the end, it's the kids who will suffer, all in the name of big "E" Education.

Dreams or Delusions

I wish I knew sometimes the difference between my own thoughts, and those the Lord places in my head.

Sometimes it's easy. If it's a sin...it came from me. If it's a commandment, it came from God. But all the inbetweens...those I'm not always sure of.

I have always been a people person. I was the kid who loved being in the church nursery and didn't want to leave. I was the child who did my homework in whatever room my parents were in and moved if they moved, leaving the desk in my room upstairs to collect dust and cobwebs. Once I got to highschool I was the one to invite my friends to the Christian skate nights and to Bible quiz meets, and they all piled into my parent's mini-van, often ending up in my bedroom for a girls' sleepover.

I was never what you might call popular. But I was accepted by almost everyone, and fit in in an unobtrusive manor. I always had a few people to hang out with.

Until now.

Even when we got married and moved up here the first time, we didn't really make any "real" friends. But in Edinboro, we had two other couples, one with a young daughter, who we really were close to. But moving back here for Pumpkin's birth, and once again no "real" friends.

By "real" I mean someone who doesn't just come when you invite them, but who invites you. Someone who doesn't wait for you to call them, but they call you just as often. Someone who might "save a seat" for you. Looks forward to your company and wouldn't consider a party without inviting you.

And we don't have that...either one of us. Oh, we have friends. We have people we like talking to, and for that matter whom we'd love to BE "real" friends. But they all have a habit of not calling back, or always saying they'll call, and not.

And I just can't figure out what it is. I don't buy the "they have kids and they're busy theory." Because so do we and I'd do anything to have a "real" friendship. More than once I inconvenience myself and Pumpkin to meet two other Mom friends who had two or more kids. And then when I had Rugger I hoped that they'd at least come my way SOME of the time. But they didn't even come to see me at all. The time I needed them the most...after all the hours I spent at their homes...past supper times, past bed times, through nap and lunch times. With a child who was shy or even frightened sometimes. After all that they didn't even come by once when I was alone in a new home with a new baby and my husband away at his new job. Not once.

And I wonder if it's us, then. And I wish I knew. Because I believe I was meant to be a people person, as was Boom.

We were class clowns, people drawn to both of us. People love hearing our stories, our tales, our exaggerations and bluntness. And, our down-to-earth-ness. We understand human-ness and we don't run away from it.

As a couple, we understand burping and farting and sweat aren't always romantic, but their part of being intimate in the most basic sense of letting one another be ourselves. We don't run from all things natural...we let it be. And we are connected in ways some couples would barely even understand, because this allows all our other forms of communication to open up more freely as well.

And it works with other people, too. I'm very good at dropping all pretense and letting you see the nitty-gritty. I'll tell you my worst bad habit so you don't feel so bad about yours. I'll tell you about my daily struggles so you don't feel you are not normal with yours. And I allow you to live a little bit freer because of it. THIS is what makes me a good people person.

And I've often wondered what God wanted me to do with this gift. I didn't even know it had a name until I did a workshop at a previous church, but I found out it's called "hospitality." And once I knew what that meant, I understood that I fit it perfectly. But now what to do with it?

I have often dreamed of having lots of people over to our house...not for showing the house off, because, really, there's nothing to show, but for conversation, company. I don't have room, and it's not always clean, but I don't mind. I'd let you in anyway.

I've had dreams of opening a camp for kids...I've always wanted to impact people's life in some way. Impart to them the joy I know of letting yourself be human. That we all make mistakes, it's okay. But God loves us anyway and we can still live for Him.

And my most recent dream is to maybe start a women's group with my clay. How, I don't know. Whom? Whoever would come, though that's my fear...that no one would come. But my dream is that we could be united like women of old...conversing and sharing and uniting as only women can. In other cultures women work together daily, sharing in the tasks of homemaking and childrearing. I want to be like that. I was MADE to live like that. But I'm stuck here in America where most women can't even be in a club or group together because we all have our defenses up and we get hurt so quickly. I know...I'm one of them.

But that's my dream...or my delusion, I don't really know. But think of it...women, of all ages and walks of life, together, hands dirty and hearts hungry for companionship. As our hands work out our feeling in the clay, we can open our hearts with our words. And go home happy and with a piece of art from our own soul.

And I even thought about the victims from Katrina. I wondered if there's anyway I can offer my home to a woman out there. I don't have much. I could offer money, but that's so impersonal. But I have a room. I have a futon. I have blankets and some food. And I have an ear. And maybe in the process, I could let go of my petty worries because hers are so much greater. And maybe my life can distract her from her own losses, and she can get on her own feet again.

But I don't know. This would obviously take prayer and wisdom. And part of me wonders if it's just a delusion, or is it a planted dream?

When Words Aren't Enough

That can apply to many people. To those loosing loved ones. To the victims of the tragedies in the South. And in a small way, but significant to us, to tonight's game. You see, Boom lost his first game, again.

Last year he wasn't ready. He underestimated their size and talent. This year he didn't. This year he tried to prepare...

I knew when Boom left before 6AM this morning that I wouldn't see him until after midnight. I asked one of the football moms to call and let me know how things were progressing so I wouldn't be so nervous all evening wondering what kind of mood Boom would be in when he got home. She called at the end of the first quarter and it wasn't good. But when she called at half time I told her she didn't need to call me again unless a huge turnaround happened. It was 41-7.

It's not like our opponent isn't worthy. They were District 10 champions last year. But the thing is, Boom has been focusing on this team for the last two MONTHS. He's poured over more game films than I care to count. He hasn't even LOOKED at the other games, yet. He knows he can win those if they try. But he wanted to win the one no one thought they could win. And he wanted to beat the team they'd have to beat if they were to get a District Title this year.

Some men can be comforted with words and kisses. Mine can't. And even if I can get him to come to bed instead of analyze the film with should's and shouldn't's...he'll be faced with it when he wakes up to the front page of the sports section.

I prayed all day for him. I so wanted to talk to him, to wish him luck one last time. I knew how much this meant to him. I just wish I could make it all better, somehow.

The Mom who called me told me her son, this being his first varsity game, messed up his first snap and it led to the first opposing touchdown. But he redeemed himself with a second good snap, and my Boom shook his hand. She said that's what makes him a good coach. I smiled, because I already knew.

I'm so proud of him. And I know he knows that. But just as he thinks I'm beautiful, it's another thing entirely for me to BELIEVE it. And that is his problem when it comes to his work. Whether teaching or coaching, he needs to prove to himself that he is good, and tonight is a HUGE setback to that.

Not that he won't work through it eventually, though this weekend will be filled with more downtime and sighs than elation, obviously. And I need to give him that space and time. God knows (and I mean that!) how often he lets me have my moods and rants.

Even today I was contemplating the fact that I wish I hadn't been born; that my kids would be better with a better mother, and no one else has benifitted from me in a life and death way. And even Boom's salvation could have come about eventually if someone else had told him.

And I know that's not true. I do have worth, though at times I can't see it. And he's the same way. Why is our self worth so often based on things we see and do instead of the one who created us? A Rembrandt would be the same if it was not called thus, but because it IS called thus, it is made valuable.

And we are GOD'S workmanship, created in Christ Jesus....

And yet here we are feeling as small as pond scum...

And I just wish I knew what to say to make it all feel better.

Sounds of a School Bus

Today was the first day of school around here, and so I awoke to the sounds of school buses dropping children off next door. (We live right next door to the elementary school.)

But this also means I get depressed again. For now Boom is gone back too, and until the sound of buses no longer hits my ears in the morning, I will miss him. I just feel more stable when he's around. I don't even get to talk to him once all day....

It's hard to believe it's been a whole year since we moved in. This weekend will mark that year to the day. A year ago tomorrow, on a Tuesday evening, we came to the house to put in our mailbox and then over to the lawyer's to close. I simply sat on the porch swing with Rugger, my just-born.

And then on Wednesday we started moving stuff over. Mostly dishes to be put away in the kitchen. But I didn't get much done. My head was in the clouds as I wanted to hold my SO new son, and I wanted to look at my SO empty house.

But that didn't last for long. The sound of children playing the the playground on the gentle breeze through the screen door turned to the sound of many men asking me where to put this dresser, that box.....and then they were gone. And we were left with the knowledge that the washer and dryer didn't work without some parts and hoses, and with a newborn and toddler in cloth diapers and a hubby going to work in nice clothes daily, a washer and dryer was something of a priority to me.

And then Friday night approached and with boxes stacked to the ceiling in front of the fireplace and both kids long gone to bed, I stayed up past midnight waiting for Boom and putting thing after thing in its new place. I felt SO alone, happy though I was to be here.

And I feel SO alone now. Happy though I am that we are settled and Rugger is almost walking. But I want someone older than 3 to converse with, even just once a week.

And today is clouded over, which doesn't help.

I hope I can get the kiln up and running soon, so I can at least look forward to that. And once the kids can play outside without crawling on the cold, wet, ground, I can look forward to more outings....

One Sweet Summer Night

One year ago today...

Just a little after midnight at the Penley home...in the midst of gentle candle light and soft music, from womb to warm water, surrounded by hushed voices and loving arms...my son was born.

Happy First Birthday, Rugger!

Fever Fever

No, that wasn't a typo. It's what I have at my house right now. Two very small children with two very annoying fevers. And it won't go away real soon....

When the tylenol and IBprofin didn't keep the fever away for long, I wondered. When Rugger only wanted held and didn't want to play, I wondered. When they moaned in their sleep, I wondered. But when Rugger wouldn't nurse or drink any water, then I worried.

I took a flashlight and saw a couple white spots on his throat, but it didn't look like strep. Nonetheless, I had to wait until 2:30 to take them to the doctor.

Turns out they have a strain of the cocsackie virus. Namely Herpangina, thought not the foot or hand part. Just the open sores on the back of the throat, making it very, very painful. And they are contagious for the whole week, I guess, with the fever possible lasting as long, and the sores definately so....

Which means I'm going to be one stretched and tired mom this week since Boom is gone at his first week at school.

And what a birthday present for Rugger! My sister and BIL's girlfriend can't come because they are pregnant, and there IS one strain which an hurt babies in utero. And of course I don't want the little boy to catch it, either (the girlfriend's son.) So there goes the party. My parents will still be here, but it just won't be the same. He won't even get to eat his own birthday cake with the joy that one expects... :( And he's my eater, too!

Oh, well. It could be worse. But this means I can't take them anywhere for a week, either. Bummer.

Hand Crafted

Well, the good news is I got my kiln!!! The not so best but not so bad news is that I spent a little more than what we planned on spending. But after calling Boom up and spilling the news, he just thought it was funny and forgave me, which I knew he would, anyway.

But it was exhilarating! I got on the computer this morning and nothing had changed. But about 10 minutes before the auction was over, I checked again and there were at least 10 more bids in! So I waited not so patiently next to my computer, refreshing my screen every 10 seconds until it was about 3 minutes left. I placed my bid and pressed ENTER. Then it asked me to sign in.

SIGN IN! I forgot to sign in! My hands shaking now, I quickly enter my login name and password, hoping I got it right since I couldn't stop the jerky movements of my hands, and waited. It went through! But when I refreshed the screen, I had been outbid again! So I bid again, and again, and back and forth we went, neck and neck, right up to the last 8 seconds and then I held my breath.

I looked at my screen. In small red words it said: This auction has ended. I was afraid to look down, but I had to...and there on the top of the list of bids...was ME!!!! I had got it!

And then I felt immediate remorse. I knew that 3 bids ago I had gone as high as I had planned worst case scenario....but I couldn't let them have it now! Not after dreaming about it for days! For weeks! For months! I was only seconds away from claiming it for my own! I had to bid higher! I couldn't walk away without a fight!

And then it was over. It was mine. I was free to pay and ask directions for pick up. The other people, whoever they may be, must have been sorely disappointed and I honestly felt bad for them. Maybe they wanted it as bad as me....But I hope not. Or I hope that they can find another. But for me this means no more pouring over ebay listings hoping to find one, no more time wasted trying to devise a plan to get a kiln....I now am the proud owner of a used, but still good, kiln.

And so I will call my Aunt-In-Law (such a thing?) and ask if her boyfriend can come look at our electric in the garage shed thing and see if we need to re-wire it. Then I need to purchase kiln furniture, cones, clay and glazes. And then I can pot! Oh, wait, that's not a verb, is it....Well, if one makes pottery, and they are a potter, then don't they pot? ;)

Seriously, though, I can sculpt. I hope I can figure out how to work the thing well enough that I don't screw it up. And my MIL knows someone who either owns a ceramic place here in nowhere, or else she just quit it lately. And maybe she can give me some lessons.

At any rate, yesterday I spent some time uploading scanned-in pics of some of my polymer clay and corn husk work. I made a sort of gallery on my other site. Check it out if you want, especially the chess set, bird's nest, and sweeping woman. It's not a professional gallery, I know, but it's something. And hopefully I can add to it soon.

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On a side note worth risking TMI, today also happens to be the day of my first cycle since Rugger was born just a very little under a year ago.

Maybe We're All Hypocrits

I knew the evening would go downhill for me once she said the words, "Come on in!"

I've been attending monthly book discussions at my local library for about 3 months now. This third month we switched books because the book we chose (without having read or even looked at it other than searching for a book on Amazon.com) was filled with the "F" word and tons of sexual vulgarities. The book we switched to, however, is more like a Nancy Drew mystery of sorts.

Now, I really don't mind WHAT book we read, as long as I can discuss it with other adults! However, I was offended by the book we chose, though I read it anyway (see post below.) But there are some in our book club who were more offended at the "fluffy" mystery because it was not thought provoking. Two of these women are very outspoken (which I don't mind.) However, it's what they are outspoken about that gets to me. They are outspoken against the moral fiber I stand on. And that's something that just plain doesn't go well with me. I know in our world of tolerism that I should just tolerate what everyone else does with a "to each his own." But frankly I take the words of God to heart that say "...Think on THESE things." Phillipians 4:8

So tonight I thought it was reading club. My neighbor did too, and asked me if it was. I told her yes. A half hour later I'm walking over to her house because no one is at the library. So she suggests we walk to one of the ladies' house to ask her. And of course, that lady is one of the outspoken, and my neighbor tends to be as well. (again, if just outspoken, that's fine. But when it goes against the word of God...)

So she tells us the meeting is next weeek, but to come on in. She offers us wine, which I decline. She tells me I'll drink it once the kids are grown, "it's what you do" she says. I don't like being told what I'll do.

We then sit down and she and my neighbor discuss for the next two and a half hours how they can't believe the book we just read. That it's fit only for children. That if people are offended by men who are obsessed with their penises then they can put the book down, but we don't want our group to be just old "blue haired ladies." On and on they went.

I, meanwhile, try to say that I, too, felt a little put off by the pervertedness of the first book. The plot was interesting, yes, but it was a bit much in the way of vulgarity. They just keep plowing in their conversation.

And then the lady starts talking about the librarian in charge of the group, how she's...whatever...and that it all started "when she decided to homeschool her son." Now HERE'S where I got prepared to do battler, wishing I knew all the comebacks and stats you homeschoolers out there already know that I have yet to learn. I didn't want to make us look bad.

So she starts saying how there's two things she found wrong with homeschooling (she never did get to number two, thank goodness.) And ironically she asks me what my hubby thinks because he teaches public school. I told her that school does not have to be involved for a child to go through "certain experiences" that enable him to become a capable adult. Then her daughter jumped in on the conversation and to my relief completely agreed with me on some of the points John Holt makes in his book "How Children Fail." She was going to become a teacher, but after learning how teacher's are supposed to teach, became frustrated that they weren't teaching children to learn, but are teaching them to test well. So she dropped out, to which her one teacher wisely said, "But it's people like you who we need to become teachers, because you care."

Anyway, her mom had to take the conversation back, so she began to talk about the fact that she wanted out club to have books one could discuss and learn something about, or about real life. And I wanted to ask her what "Skinny Dip" had in it that taught us something, or that reflected real life.

Then she pointed out that the librarian wouldn't agree to read "The DaVinci Code" because it went against her religious beliefs. And this lady said that she didn't understand because this librarian lets her kids watch "The Terminator", and when they were younger, "Power Rangers." And she asked, "Isn't that hypocritical?"

To which I thought, Then we must all be hypocrits at some point, whether or not we want to be. I mean, I WANT to live a Godly life. I want to be like Christ, who was perfect. But I can not attain that. I want to put every thought into submission and live evey moment in God's will, and that is what I should want to do.

But I will fail. And even when I don't, I must decide what His will is, based off of the Bible, my prayer times, etc. And perhaps I will think that a certain violent movie is okay. Or a certain humorous book. But something else I don't think is okay because it takes the Lord's name in vain. Or whatever.

And I'll appear to be a hypocrit. At least in her eyes. And she can't be a hypocrit, because she approved of everything. She even said that she doesn't care what her husband does and where he goes (even with women), as long as he doesn't bring something home that he didn't leave without. (To me this would include a sexual relation that he didn't leave home with, but apparently not to her...)

But you know what? The word hypocrit, in Jesus day, literally meant "actor." Hypocrits were the Greek actors who acted out plays in the ampitheater (I can't spell check because it's down, I apoligize for any mistakes.) It is someone who is faking it. He knows he is not what he is pretending to be.

Which is why Jesus called the Pharisees "actors." They were claiming to be perfect...but perfectionists was more like it. They had their rules and regulations, and they kept them. But they were playing their part. They didn't really buy into any of it.

But that's not me. I don't claim to have it all together. I don't claim to get it all right. And I struggle daily with what I should and should not do as a Christian. So when you see something that I do that doesn't add up with something that I don't do, I supposed you could call me a hypocrit in the way that the word is used now days. But I'm not acting. I'm genuinely trying to live a life in accordance with the will of the one who created me. And I know I'm not perfect. And my choices may and will change over time.

But I doubt that, as both of the ladies tonight thought, I will become less conservative as I grow older. I sure hope not. I mean, in a way, I became less judgemental when I had kids. And one might say more "liberal." But I didn't become less conservative. Nothing came make me become that short of a deliberate back turning on God. So I really hope that age doesn't turn me into a loose cannon who doesn't mind swearing and inappropriate nudity and love affairs. I'd rather remain an innocent child who likes to read Nancy Drew than a lover of all things evil.

And for that matter, the book that we exchanged for the second book was not any more deep or thought provoking. It was just as entertaining as the second book. The only difference, in my opinion, was that the first book was rated "R." Unfortunately, many people mistake this to mean it is more mature and adultlike. Is it more "real life?" I guess it depends on who you talk to. Not in this home.

And that's one point in John Holt's book "What Do I Do On Monday?" that I disagreed with. I don't think children should swear in school, or anywhere for that matter. So what if it's what goes on in the real world, or that adults do it. People kill people, lie, steal, cheat. I don't want my kids doing any of those things, so why swear? Personally, I find swearing unnecessary and often redundant. Occasionaly it makes sense when done in anger or in suprise or something...not that it makes it right. But too often it is littered thoughout langauge as if it were the most common letter of the alphabet, and that's absurd to me.

But hey, I'm not exactly what one would call an esteemed literate, so maybe I'm just a hypocrit.

Toddler Toes & Waiting Woes

This week has been an odd one for me. By most standards this week should be considered a good one, in the sense that nothing bad has happened, I've been lazy and yet productive at the same time, and life is good.

Yet this week has been filled with the little things that grow and gather in my mind until I am so full that I can do nothing but escape in my mind to day dreams and contemplations.

Pumpkin has been clingy and "toddleresque" this week. I'm not sure if it's sibling jealousy or just the terrible twos. But her standard high volume demands are getting to me, and I don't understand why she must repeat stuff over and over again. Over and over again. Over and over again. Over and over again. Over and over again. Over and over again. Over and....you get the idea. It doesn't matter if I tell her I'm cooking her supper RIGHT NOW! She'll still yell in a whining voice that's too loud for my sanity, "I want something to eat!" Etc.

And, she's been downright defiant to all requests Boom or I make. Whether we ask nicely for her to share with Rugger, or demand after requesting nicely that she put down the legos and go to brush her teeth, or threaten or even do spank her after we've amptly warned her. Nothing is working. She just says, "No." I reason with her, I tell her how things are. I threaten her with no cookies, with bedtime now, nothing works.

And she's only two and she already has conquered me. The one thing you aren't supposed to let your kids do. They are supposed to know that you are the authority, the one in charge, right? *sigh* I don't know. I hope it goes away and she becomes the compliant one again soon. I really don't know when to worry about these things. Right now it's just an annoyance.

And Rugger has taken his first steps, or at least more than one step in a row! I'm so proud of him! But then comes the issue of it being fall and him needing some form of footwear on his little feet before he romps around outdoors. So I try to put shoes on him. I remember this with Pumpkin, and it's yet another reason I'm not one of those ladies who so kindly recalls the infanthood of her children. Why is it that one-year-olds (or close to it) cannot straighten their feet? Why is it that with much yelling on my part (not wanting to, just getting frustrated to that point...I'm not proud of it) and crying on his part, instead of pushing his feet into the shoe, he tries to pull them out of it! Why is it that when I want to leave in 5 minutes and I'm already behind, it takes 15 minutes to get 2 pairs of shoes on two kids?!? Surely managing a hormonal teenager has to be easier than this!

I know, it won't be. But let me be happy in my delusions that it gets easier. At least then if they go barefoot it will be there choice and any injuries that incur will be an "I told you so" on my part. For now I'm the responsible one if anything happens due to lack of proper footwear.

On a nicer note, last Wednesday when we left church (after dragging a literally kicking and screaming Pumpkin to the car from the beloved playground where I told her she could play a few minutes since, being the nice Mommy I want to be sometimes, I told her she could since she didn't get to during class time) Pumpkin looked up at the moon from her carseat and said, "The moon followed us from the playground!" It was sweet, and if there was more of that, and less of the other stuff that she does, I'd venture to say that I enjoy them when they are this young.

But, on to the other peculiar thing of this week. After ranting about not having a kiln, it looks like I've been given another chance. I'm bidding on a kiln on ebay that is in my parents area, so they could pick it up for me. It looks pretty good in terms of not looking like it's abused or used too much. And I might get it for under $200 which is pretty good, I think. But after bidding the first time (I know, I know. My sister pointed out that I should wait until the last 5 minutes, too. But I'm too eager, darn it!) and thinking I'd get it really cheap, someone later in the day came and bid, and I thought that since this person bids on a lot of stuff, vs. the other bidder who hasn't, that I'd for sure have to battler for this kiln. And so I moped the rest of the day about not getting the kiln I had dreamt all night about the night before...literally, I dreamt of clay and kilns...

So I am holding my breath and watching the clock. By tomorrow morning I'll know if it's mine. Ironically, I've been looking around for a used kiln vent, since new ones usually go for around $400. For about a week I've checked and nothing. Then last night I found that Dick Blick is having a sale on the Orton Master Kiln Vent and it's 40% off! So if I spend less than $200 on the kiln, then I'll both the kiln and the kiln vent for under $500! Which would be so cool!

And then, and I know you'll think this is where I lost it, I felt guilty. Guilty because we don't have money to throw around. Guilty because I was lamenting about not having something so material that I really want. And guilty because I might actually get it. I don't know whether God is teasing me or going to bless me. Because I sure don't deserve it. Even though I feel like I eat breath and dream about sculpting, and that I feel that it's something that I've always wanted to do but never knew about, and even though I feel that this may help alleviate some of my pent-up emotions from being boxed in with little ones day in and day out, and even though I justify it by knowing that I could make homemade gifts and use it for homeschooling, etc. All these things are just feelings. For whatever reason, I feel that I don't deserve to get this, that my dream should remain just that. That it's money better spent elsewhere. That I'm selfish and spoiled, etc.

And yet, don't I have a right to express myself creatively, and if that opportunity comes along where I can do it to the highest degree at a fraction of the price, isn't that a good thing?

I feel like I'm on Dr. Phil and he's asking me why I don't feel I'm worth something good. And I've always felt that way. Like with my family...I'm almost always aware that there is the chance that I may lose them. And it makes me feel all the worse when I screw up and yell at them. I keep thinking that I'm not lucky enough to be able to spend all my days with them, watch my kids grow up, grow old with my soulmate, and enjoy grandchildren. I see all these people on TV or in magazines who thought that they would be fine in life and then BOOM! someone dies. Or gets a horrible disease and is crippled in some way for life, or whatever. And I keep thinking, "When will that be me?" Or will I lose my dad soon, when I have always thought that he'd be around for awhile...other people my age have lost parents in accidents...

Or maybe I'll get to be sort of old. My kids are teenagers, and then I lose them. On the verge of adulthood. Like two teens this year....

And so I always get wary when things go my way. This past year I had a wonderful birth, a nice new (for us) house, Boom is coaching a teaching, and now I may get a kiln and begin a dream of mine....but this means that we are at the top of the roller coaster, ready to descend, and I wonder......into what?

I know that's not how I'm supposed to think, but it's true. You can't stay up forever. And I just wonder...

Why can't I be a sheep, too?

My hubby once said he wanted a hat that said something to the effect of "I'm not a sheep," or something like that. He said he hated people that just went along with the crowd, like a bunch of dumb sheep. That's why we're a good match, he and I. We both tend to go against the norm, or at least question the norm before we jump in and join.

But sometimes...sometimes I get tired of pushing past all the white fluffy sheep next to me to find my own way. And ironically, the choices I make are of course choices other sheep have made before me, so I am one of the sheep, just not the majority of them. No, the majority go along looking for the next green pasture or water hole, blindly following the sheep ahead of them. Sometimes there's a shepherd, sometimes not. But the sheep don't really care. In fact, that's what I envy; their care free lifestyle.

Not me, though. No, I check out all the local sources for the best green pasture...maybe one with a different strain of grass. And no normal water hole for me...no sir-ee. I'd like to see if a natural spring is nearby, perhaps.

And of course, sometimes I settle for the same old stuff all the other sheep have. Whether it's because I'm lazy, or I think it is the best option, or I can't decide, but a million other sheep can't be all that wrong, so I might as well join them on this one.

And I'm not even sure where I got this tendency to go against the norm. I have always so wanted to fit in...but yet I never compromised (or at least rarely, I'm only human) my beliefs to fit in...not just religious beliefs, but my personal beliefs about who I am. Like curly hair and straightening it. I won't do it...not ever. It's who I am, for better or worse. If you don't like it...then you don't appreciate variety, I guess.

Anyway, sometimes I ask myself why in the world do I go to such lengths to do things differently than everyone else? Why is it I have to find a way to do things that's never been done before? Especially since I so depend on someone or something telling me what to do. And that's the irony of it. I like commands. I like being told how to do something the right way, so I have the satisfaction of knowing I did it right. But here I am, pushing the envelope against all I've ever known...and for what?

Why do I ask questions that other people don't even know exist? For example: Last night I asked the youth pastor's wife what style of homeschooling she's doing. She gave me a blank look and said that no one had asked her that before. She didn't know there were such things as homeschooling styles. She knew how her parents had homeschooled, and went from there. She's using curriculum and mixing it up a bit.

And I envied her. I envied her lack of knowledge....the whole ignorance is bliss thing. I mean, she didn't feel guilty or perplexed about her decision of teaching tools for her children. She didn't wonder if there was something better out there that she was missing. She didn't pine over whether her kids would be getting the best education possible, or if she would have to change ideas in a few years. She just made her decision and is fine with it.

Why can't I do that? Why couldn't I just go to the hospital and give birth the way most Americans do? Why did I fight to find a midwife in my area, and with my second child walk the corridors of the hospital with a newborn in my arms looking for a doctor to sign a paper saying I had my child at home so that I could get a birth certificate since my midwife was not certified? Why do I nurse every 2 hours at night with my 11 month old instead of letting him cry it out in a weekend? Why do I research for hours about the choices I have made and have yet to make? And more importantly, why doesn't everybody else?

I do it because I have this idea of good, better, best. And it's that same standard that kills me in the end. Because if I don't find the best, if I fail at what the highest standard is, then I didn't achieve my goal. Because someday when God looks at what He gave me, and He see that there was a better way that I didn't see, then I fail.

And I know that's not the truth. I know God isn't like that. But it's how I feel. It's what drives me to my endless searching in perfection. I fail everyday. I yell at my kids. I push them off of me when they are climbing all day. I scream in frustration when my toddler just isn't "getting it." I fail everyday. And so I want to at least make sure I'm getting it right in the long run. That I'm doing everything in my power to make sure my kids have the best of me and what I can give them.

And that's why I do what I do. I know I'm not perfect. And truth be told, there are millions of fine kids out there who's parents did everything opposite that I'm doing. Heck, my sister's kids eventually may some of them. But at least I looked at every option available to see if something out there wasn't better than the way I knew. And if there was, at least I tried it.

But sometimes....I just wish I could be a dumb sheep.