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.

Down in the Dumps

I must be one of the most selfish people on this planet...or maybe I'm just human, I don't know.

I got this brilliant idea to look closer at the kiln section of the clay catalogues I requested, and picked out the kind I want. Then I looked on ebay to see if anything was available. It was...but all in the wrong places and they were not shippable, just "local pick up only." So I found one that was not bid on yet, but it looked like the tech school it came from abused it. So I called the manufacturers and they quoted what it would take to just replace the completely cracked lid, and by the time I added it all up, I might as well go for the new one.

I called my friend lady who knows the lady who might be willing to part with one of her smaller kilns. I still haven't heard, and she said she'd give her my number, so we'll see. But I'm thinking it's no, there, too since she doesn't seem too anxious to get ahold of me.

And the thing is, the almost $2,000 for the cheaper kiln that I'd go for isn't even the end of it. There's another $500 for a kiln vent which is a necessity for taking away toxic fumes and for bringing in oxygen into the firing for the best colors. And then there's kiln furniture, and cones, and the correct wiring so I don't burn down the place.

Not to mention that I've never touched a kiln in my entire life, and that classes are too expensive and there's no workshops in my area, and that I feel like I'm not even chasing a dream but that I'm just plain stupid.

Either I've found my "calling" (or at least my talent, though I can't tell for sure since I haven't even tried it yet!!!) too late in life, or by the time I get enough money to see it realized, it will be too late to be of "therapeutic value" to me.

Which brings me to today. This whole week I've been pouring over the internet finding nothing that I want and everything that I can't have, and I'm tired of it. Top that off with kids who care nothing about my creative desires, or at least not yet since they can't comprehend much beyond their combined 3 years of life, and I'm going nuts again.

Give me a friend (who has hours to talk to me), give me a kiln, or give me something that I can do that will give me a break worth something....Sure I could go on a walk. Then I come home. I could work out, but then I'd need a new pair of jeans. I could write, but I never find the right words due to my lack of vocabulary. I actually enjoyed the Sculpey until the last project which crumbled to pieces. And I'd try some more, lengthening the cooking time, but truth is, I get tired of using armatures for sculpting. I can't truly sculpt around something...but Sculpey slumps in the oven if you don't support it properly...something REAL clay won't do. I could actually sculpt anything with real clay, and put it into the kiln the same way it comes out...no super glue needed to piece it together, just some slip before it dries and goes into the kiln.

*sigh*

And I know none of this matters in the "big picture." I have a great family, healthy and happy. I have a nice home, food on my table. Why should I want soooo bad something I don't need?

And I do blame TV some. It's my fault I watch it. You would think everyone and their brother (or sister) owns a kiln by watching Crafters Coast to Coast. And I know that obviously they find people who craft a lot, but still. There are ceramic kilns, glass kilns, etc. in the homes of many of those people. And I just want to know how they did it. Did they wait for years, save up? Go into debt? Some of these people have hundreds of dollars in paper supplies for scrapbooking, etc. It's unbelievable.

I think that people in general must have been happier before advertising came into being. I mean, here is a house wife with a farmer for a husband. They both work hard, do with what they have. Then she sees a commercial for a kitchen gadget and the clean, smiling house wife who obviously enjoys her duties more than she, and then comes the husband dressed in clean slacks and a tie, and this woman wonders why her hubby can't dress up more often. Never mind that this didn't bother her yesterday. She didn't know yesterday that one could look so good if one had that particular kitchen gadget, and she didn't know that other husbands dressed so nice at home.

And that's how I feel. I was fine until I knew. Like Eve with the apple, I want to take a bite! And it's getting to me! I don't blame her a bit. I'm not good at saying no to temptation. I'm not a patient person. And perhaps both indicate my lack of consistency with meeting with my Master Potter.

I should start there...looking up those verses about how God will test us in the fire...similar I suppose to the way a potter puts his pots into the fire...I will have to think on this.

But for now, Boom is finally home and supper is about half an hour late (I don't usually make it ahead of time, now I know why ;) ) and I must go.

Not Just Another Monday

Today started out normal enough, except that it's the first day of Crash Week for Ike Football, so Boom was gone all day until about 5, and I so missed him. When we used to work together when we were first married, people didn't understand how we could stand to be together 24/7, but we have never wanted otherwise. He's my other half, through and through. It's just not complete without him here.

But, that's the way it is during the fall. And it's better than him being away at war or something. At least he can come home still...

Then at 2:00 I got a call from my mom from the hospital where she was at with my sister. I feared the worst: that she had lost little Ethan Thomas. But she hadn't. She had gone in with what she thought were contractions, but they were just Braxton Hicks (crevix was long and hard as should be.)

However, when they did the ultrasound on the baby, they discovered a massive tumor in his chest. It was not there a month ago when they had the routine ultrasound, and the doctor was concerned enough to get an amniocentesis done to rule out genetic problems, and in case she had to go in for intra-uterine sugery.

I guess she'll go in twice a week from now on to check on the progress of the tumor. Worst case it will grow and she'll go to Philly for sugery. Middle case it will stay the same but baby will grow and get surgery after being born C-section. Best case tumor shrinks and baby is born vaginally and if stable gets sugery later.

Right now his one lung is smaller than the other because the tumor is robbing the blood from the heart before it reaches that lung.

But at least it's not life and death at this point. I believe God gave her the contractions to go to the hospital, so Ethan can get help if needed. I pray that it will not be needed.

But at least I feel better knowing that hopefully he will be okay. I was so afraid.....

Decisions, Convictions, and a Good Movie

Well, I decided to start looking at homeschool choices after talking to the three families briefly at church. But I felt like I was in over my head. So many choices, so many websites, and no way to physically "flip through" it all here in my own living room. I used to love the Internet and all it's offerings. I used to love sitting at the computer. But not anymore. I'm not up to date, I don't want to be, and I get tired of all the un-needed extra stimulation of ads and nonsense links that just keep me from my real goal, whatever it may be.

I got a couple leads from a friend and I really like the sound of the Charlotte Mason style, but I think it may be a bit too heavy on the reading (which is something I really like, don't get me wrong; I love reading) and a little less on the hands-on that I really want to go for. I also like the idea of unschooling, but feel a little more structure may be what I'm comfortable with. So if I can find and inbetween, if it exists, then that's what I want. I want an Eclectic style, according to the definition. A little of this, and a little of that.

But I want, ironically, to be able to follow something in writing vs. just looking stuff up on the net, for the reasons mentioned above. I personally need something tactile to flip through, and I'm more confident with a real book than an e-book.

So I don't know if what I want even exists out there.

Tonight Boom had a small cook-out for the coaches and near the end my doula and good friend (who also sells antiques) came over while her daughter visited a friend at the playground. So we jaunted on over to my neighbor who is a good friend of hers (the one who makes me feel down when I talk to her, though not purposely.) I enjoyed talking to my friend, and we may go on a shopping trip to Bemus Point to window shop or real shop, which I've been wanting to do for awhile now, but just haven't got the nerve to do by myself with the kids. It's only about a half hour's drive away, and it goes over the bridge that goes over Chautauqua Lake, which I've always wanted to drive over since moving here. So I hope we go.

Anyway, while at my neighbors, we discussed discussing books and reading books in general, and my neighbor mentioned that she can't always read novels because she finds that she doesn't read her Bible as much when she has a good book she can't put down. This cut right through me because I haven't read the Bible in a very long time, and it bothers me, and I use excuses, the main one being that it doesn't seem to have anything to say to me right now, in my situation, etc. I try a few days in a row, and I don't get anything. So I figure either there's something I'm doing wrong and God isn't speaking to me, or I just can't figure out how to listen to Him correctly. Either way, I get discouraged and give up.

But her statement made me realize that if I have time for all the reading I've been doing, I really should try harder to get into God's Word. Maybe this homeschooling thing will be clarified if I get closer to God. But see, there I go second guessing because I don't want to read just so that I get my answer to prayer....*sigh*

And Wednesday before Bible School I dropped off a book at the library and picked up a couple of movies we hadn't seen yet: The Bourne Supremacy and Big Fish. The Bourne Supremacy was great, of course. We liked the first movie and this one was just as good. But we were surprised by Big Fish. When we saw the previews on TV, we thought it looked strange, and neither of us are fans of Tim Burton, and I only picked the movie because there weren't any others there that we hadn't seen. But it turned out that we both really loved the movie, crying many times throughout. I want to own it someday now. I really, really liked it.

Pranks & Parties

Last night it did not rain. It was hot, but the rain, which was mild, came earlier in the afternoon and was well past by the time the party, of sorts, began. We started in the sanctuary with all the classes singing one song each, including the pre-schoolers who sang "If You're Happy & You Know It." Pumpkin actually went up on her own and stood with the others, though she didn't sing or do the actions. Pretty much just took it all in. But I was proud that she went up at all. She has moved so far from just a few months ago when she would close her eyes at anyone not extremely familiar to her.

The corn was good, and the maze was a little wooden thing covered by a tarp that I had another girl take Pumpkin through. My in-laws couldn't make it, so it was just our family. I chose a seat near another family that I'd like to get to know. If we can actually get together more often, I think we could be great friends. The husband/father of the family was even playing a little with Pumpkin while Boom went to get us the corn (it was being roasted in spurts; they were having trouble with something.) And I asked the mom/wife if she was planning on homeschooling her son, also, since her sister-in-law (the youth pastor's wife) was, and I knew that didn't mean she was, but I thought I'd ask. And I'm glad I did. She's planning on homeschooling, also. She had also been going back and forth about it, but had made up her mind recently, as have I. So now I know three families in our church who are homeschooling. And she mentioned the fact that I was already realizing: many, many families in this particular area are homeschooling.

And I began to think that maybe God did have a plan for me in this area, and not just for Boom. I have thought about the fact that not one person has said anything to me about nursing in public. Instead, usually the opposite, saying "I remember nursing mine..." or "we've all nursed, honey, no one will wink an eye at you." (this at both church and the school parents I've met.) Most people seem okay with me sleeping with my kids, non-plussed about my homebirths (interested, usually), and now I have the hope that even homeschooling will be mostly accepted.

As I nursed Rugger last night about 2 hours after he went to bed (if I stay up late I am wide awake by his second nursing of the night and usually think about things) I laid there looking at him, still searching for my breast in the dark at a year old, then afterwards, content and secure, flopping onto his back and flinging his chubby arms up above his head, his mouth closed tight in the way that only comes from having just nursed....and I know that this is the moment I'll miss in a year, or two, or forever.

I miss when Pumpkin was about a year old. There's just something about that magic age that makes them the perfect size and cuteness. They aren't the frail newborn, they aren't the strong-minded toddler, they're the cute little cuddler who fits perfectly in your lap. And their face at this age is like no other. In between the baby and the child...

On a whole other note, much less happy, Boom had bad news today. He went to the school to pick some stuff up, and someone had drove their car onto the muddy field again yesterday, doing donuts and destroying the grass, what little of it there was, and leaving behind metal, nails, glass, etc. The police, if you can call them that, did little by way of investigating, and they probably won't even try very hard to discover who it is. About a month ago, same thing happened, and someone also did it to the soccer field. The thing is, our field is the only one in the county that doesn't have the gate shut, so cars can drive in anytime like that. Boom wasn't happy, to say the least. This poses a definite hazard to the boys' health, as if the field wasn't already bad with it's potholes and other faults from being neglected over the years.

However, Boom finally got told his exact budget amount, and it's about double what he first thought. Which means that for the past three years, between him and the previous coach, about $12,000 have gone un-used for the football team, which needed it but was never told it was available, and went instead to other sports. As the athletic director basically stated, "We rob Paul to feed Peter around here..."

So at least he knows he can purchase more stuff since he was short the last two years. If only he had known when he first ordered the stuff...

It is raining now, but pleasantly. I used to get depressed when it rained, but since moving here, I've enjoyed the showers and even the storms, and they are calming to me, now, too, as they have always been to Boom. I think I feel more secure here in the house vs. the trailer on the windy hill.

Well, Rugger just got a cut sure to leave a scar, from knocking the books off the bookshelf, a pastime that was also a favorites of his sister at that age. One must of knicked him, because it's rather a nice little cut, right about the eye. But now, after nursing, and with some Neosporin and a Major League Baseball band-aid (gotten from the while elephant auction in Indiana) he seems okay.

And today, I feel just plain lazy, for no reason at all. I finished my reading club book (the new one.) And that's all I've done today. Oh, well. Some days are like that, I suppose.

Walk in the Water

Yesterday I went with my mom and the kids to a small creek out behind the ballfield in our backyard/elementary school. At first Pumpkin wouldn't even touch the water. But when she saw me wade in the 3 in. deep clear water, and Rugger shortly thereafter, she couldn't be stopped. By the end she had wet shorts from stooping down to look at the "guppies" (a.k.a. minnows.)

The funny thing is that just minutes before we had been playing on the playground, and the slides were wet from rain the night before. So I keep going down the slides to dry them off, which of course soaked my shorts. Pumpkin, the ever worried one, kept asking me, "Mommy, are you wet?" Because of course, she wasn't going down the slides and getting wet.

So as we walked back from the creek, my daughter and I, her in my arms with a damp bum and me with a lighter heart for having had the fun in the creek, she simply says to me, "Mommy, are you wet?" "Yep. Are you wet?" And she simply says back to me, without any remorse or other tell-tale feelings, "yes." And I just smiled and gave her a squeeze.

**************************

People at church keep commenting on my short, short hair. Apparently they think it's cute. But I don't really like it this short. Not that I liked it very long anymore, either. So I don't know what to think. I've just never liked short hair on women, but in me particular. It brings back memories of my second grade picture....afro like and ugly. And I feel less feminine. The only thing I like is the lack of itchy curls on my neck in the humid heat as I try to sleep. Oh, well.

I hope the rain comes sooner than later and passes over. Tonight at VBS we are suppose to have a big party, with hot dogs, a corn roast, and a maze for the kids (I don't know out of what...but I can't wait to see it...I love real mazes, and plan on going to a corn maze this year... I've been wanting to for at least 4 years now....)

Anyway, the forecast calls for showers, thunderstorms in the late afternoon and evening. The events tonight start at 6:45 and last until 8:45. We're praying it doesn't rain during that time....

On the other hand, the rain in general is needed, but just not during that time....

Hidden Friends

Well, if the first day of VBS seemed a breeze, we made up for it yesterday. It poured here so they didn't have recreation for the kids, and instead doubled craft time, making yesterday the last day of crafts. It was quite hectic, with no break and lots of chaos, but it was nice tonight with a whole night free for cleaning up.

I ran into the president of our area's homeschoolers. She used to attend our church, but her hubby had a personality difference with our pastor, so they don't anymore. Anyway, I found out that there are two more homeschoolers at our church, one family being the youth pastor's family. So that encourages me. I really wish they had more time to spend with us, but maybe I'll once again try inviting them instead of just saying, "some time we'll have to get together..." It's just that I tire of always being the initiator and never getting asked back in response...

Which brings me to my next subject...the circles of socialness, and how we never seem to be in them. I feel sometimes that there are social circles all around us. At church, in the neighborhood, etc. Some circles intersect, some have circles inside of circles, but we aren't really inside any of them. We might interact with them like gears interact with one another...melding for a time, but breaking apart again with the purpose (or event) is served. And I'm lonely.

I don't want to be an after-thought..."Hey, we're all going to such-and-such to eat, wanna come too?"...I want to be thought of in the first place. I don't want the most popular circles, or the biggest circles, just a single, welcome circle where we belong and are appreciated. Why is it so hard to find this? We had one in Pittsburgh, we had one in Edinboro. We've never had one here. And it's not for lack of trying...

But I must get my daughter off to bed. Later.

The Great Escape!

I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praise, for He saved me from my enemies.
Psalm 18:3

Last night was the first night of VBS, and it went pretty well. I didn't go to VBS last year because Pumpkin would have been in the nursery anyway, and I was 8 plus months pregnant and didn't want to chance being a huge part of it and then go into labor and have them short on help.

I just looked back on my previous blogs, and I forgot somehow to mention that I designed the logo above for this year's VBS! Boom drew the man running and I used clip art to make the rest, and did the type in Adobe Photoshop. (Though my Photoshop version is 8 years old, as is Illustrator....) I was worried they wouldn't like it, but they didn't even change a thing. Cool!

Ironically, the last time I did crafts, we never had enough time (15 is all they give us for crafts.) So this year I begged and pleaded to give me to nights per two crafts, equaling half an hour each, and I ordered them from a craft catalog. It took me several hours to sort the stuff and bad it per kid so I wouldn't take that time during class, and it was worth it in the end, I suppose, except that the kids all finished their crafts before even 10 minutes of the class was up, leaving all of the next day for doing, I don't know what. So there goes my plea for more craft time...go figure. Of course, if the kids had actually taken some time to work on their crafts instead of going the easy route to finish asap, then we would have been fine. But it's like now days kids are learning quickly to move on, move on, move one.

I put Pumpkin in the pre-school class and she did fine, which I knew she would. I caught a glimpse of her after I was in the skit, during the worship part upstairs, and she was just looking around. I wasn't sure if she'd try to do the motions with the music, or not. She's just now starting to imitate people in that way. Maybe she'll be more into it tonight...we'll see. But she liked her craft and she did well...my little girl's growing up!

Rugger did fine in the nursery, he didn't even whimper, but actually went to the girl who was supposed to be in class but likes the nursery better. I guess he's now getting used to the nursery and the way it works, so that's good. I feel so much better when they don't cry at all when I leave them, and I know that he won't be crying while I'm in the skit and can't get him or something. Hopefully he'll do well during Awana this year, too. Maybe he'll even get used to the lady who usually is there for Awana - the one he doesn't get along with now. (I am the Games Leader for Awana.)

The skit went well, and the puppet bit was funny. I remember VBS when I was little, so I get excited for Pumpkin and the kids, especially as she gets older and enjoys it even more. I'm glad I got involved this year. I was frustrated at first, with the time it took and with the kids in my way and all (I could pawn them off, but that would actually be more nerve wracking to a degree than bringing them with me to practices, setting up, etc.)

So all in all, the first night went well. And tonight I don't have to be there early, or stay late, since we practiced last night afterwards. So it should even be a little better!

Finally!

I got our pics on the site. After way too many hours of work. I'm not sure how others change their blogs, but from what I can tell, they mess with the HTML of the blog, and though I'm familiar with HTML, it's been years since I've used it, and I'm not familiar with how to change other people's HTML, just make my own.

So I tried to get pictures up using HelloBloggerBot or whatever it is. And I downloaded Picasa and it supposedly will sort through all your pics. Well, the 7 pics that I created specifically for this blog (scanned and sized on my own) were in a folder called "Blog." It scanned all 7, but only 3 showed up as being in that folder. I tried to import the rest, but it would say they were already there, so I'd search for them by name, and of course they weren't. I re-installed the software. I moved the pics, I tried everything. I finally gave up after too many hours.

So today I decided to upload the pictures to my yahoo page and just html the pics into my description in my profile. So there you go!

I forgot how much I enjoy playing with my Graphic Design software, though. Making logos and t-shirts and such has been as much fun as it has been frustrating. That's what I like about design work. If I could find enough free-lance in the area to make it worthwhile, I wouldn't mind doing it as a job. But I still want that kiln... ;)

I had Boom chop my hair today. It's very short now. I'm not sure if it's ever been this short before, but it's not too bad, and it will grow out if I don't like it.

We'll be eating s'mores over a fire tonight, first pit fire since moving here. I miss fires...so does Boom. But hopefully we'll get our yard figured out soon enough and have a permanent place for a good fire.

Well, that's about it. I've spent too much time on here the last few days, and I need off. Till tomorrow.

My Boring, Pathetic Life...

A whole week and nothing much to write...I got the house cleaned up and sorted out the VBS craft stuff. I worked on the logos for our book discussion group at the library, and I guess I finally got a logo for myself, if I ever get a kiln. Which is silly that I even worried so much about it. I tried different elements, different fonts...and I came up with this:

To me it's still missing something, though I don't know what, but it's the only one that Boom liked that I liked. I know he's not the all-knowing one...but if he doesn't like it, I figure someone else may not, either. And if he doesn't "get" what I'm trying to say with it, chances are that others won't, either. So, there it is for now. Maybe I've just stared at it too long and it's just fine...

And then I spent 3 hours trying to get it to open in Adobe Photoshop from Adobe Illustrator, but the stupid font (ITC Kabel) wouldn't come up, so after trying everything I can think of, I finally consult the website, and eventually give in to the support hotline. Adobe is the only support line that I actually appreciate. They are actually very knowledgeable and quick and always nice. Should've tried that first...

So after downloading another program for another hour (I finally cleaned during the wait) I finally got it to open right and work on it in Photoshop...making it look like an imprint in clay, etc.

Other than that, I was discouraged this week because I want to find some cheaper clay classes around here. I know there's one class, if still around, up in Erie (hour away.) But the next thing I found was at JCC (Jamestown Community College) up in New York, only 10 min. away. Thing is, it's $700 for 3 credit hours since I'm living in PA. It's half that if you live in NY. And Edinboro (near Erie) has, like, 5 classes, but each would be probably $450 or so, Boom said.

And I don't know if they are necessary, it's just that I feel like I'm a fraud, or a fake, or something. Heck, I don't even have a kiln yet, so maybe I'm just crazy... But when I do get one someday, if I don't know all the in's and out's of ceramics, does that mean I'm less than an amateur? If I simply buy the clay I like by the look in the book, and pick a few bottled glazes instead of mixing my own, does that make me a wannabe? And does it matter? I mean, I'm not doing it necessarily for the sake of pottery, anyway. I'm doing it because it's a cheap medium (minus the kiln) but it's also the most durable medium, for sculpting. I am a sculpture, not necessarily a potter. Not that I've sculpted more than a few months, even, but my point is that I don't claim to be a potter, really. So is it so bad if I don't know what all the minute details are? I sure hope not. Because unless I can find a workshop around here, I can't afford to take a class anytime soon, if ever.

I finally gave Pumpkin a small haircut. I gave her some bangs. But I cut them way too short. I know I read recently in a kids mag to cut their hair when it's wet...but I never did like doing so. I tried cutting lower knowing they'd bounce back up, but you'd think I was aiming for the roots for how they turned out. Oh, well. They'll grow back, I figure.

I wish I could see her through eyes other then my own. I honestly am afraid that other people think she is ugly...and it's very sub-conscience, which bothers me. I don't want to think of her as being ugly, but she looks so much like me...

For example. We had the pig roast (meeting with lots of food where Boom tells the players' parents about the upcoming year and rules and such) and one of the other coaches was looking at the two of them (Pumpkin and Rugger) and says, "You can tell their siblings"...which is true, but my immediate thought is, "Do you think he's ugly too?" Then yesterday I was buying some fleece for a poncho and hat for the games and the girl cutting the material says, "She's a cute girl." And I wonder if she says that because one can't very well say, "Boy, she's kind of on the ugly side..."

I think she is cute some of the time. But the only she gets, the harder it gets. She has too much of me. With Rugger, I see nothing but cute, cute, cute. He is absolutely adorable. And more people have said so than did with Pumpkin. But I don't like my own face at all. Not a bit. It's not a too-big nose. It's not one thing, really, though I don't like my nose, and my eyes are too squinty (she got those, too.) But I look in the mirror and I look like a boy, or something. I don't know. I just know I have never looked in a mirror because I want to see how good I look. I look because I have to make sure my hair is okay, or something.

Boom is gone at the Big 30 game (all stars from local high schools), so I'm alone tonight. I haven't started my next book, yet, so I might as well scan in a pic of the family so you know who's who. At our book discussion group, the last book we read was risque, and the next one we picked based off web reviews (Skinny Dip) was even more so. After finishing it and feeling guilty, I found out they changed books because it was so bad. Then I felt even more guilty for not saying so myself...

Below is a pic of me and Boom 6 years ago when I still had long hair, and the other is of me and Rugger with my short hair and glasses, which I wear most of the time, now. (That will change again once I go to the eye doctors and get a new prescription for contacts.) Just for sake of...I don't think I look all that bad in most of the photos I have posted on the web, even on my other website. It's the day to day look that I see in my mirror that I don't like...and same with Pumpkin. I like all the pics I post...they're the best ones. But there are some that catch her in bad lighting or what-not and I put those with the "bad" pictures in a box (the ones with eyes that blinked, etc.) Rugger doesn't have near as many "bad" pics, because he loves to smile and look cute. For a whole year Pumpkin didn't smile at all for cameras, but now she's even saying, "Chesse!" :0)