Homeschooling Without a Dedicated Classroom

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The Continuing Adventures of Crazy Mom-- Episode 3, the Field Trip

Today Crazy Mom was feeling especially adventurous. She even let those kids destroy an old dolly bed with a hammer. Can you say demolition? Can you say repurpose? Can you say tiny bits of wood all over the place that had to all be picked up and swept up by the four happy hoodlums. In an especially generous moment, she also let them get out the legos. Yup, the tiny ones that usually hide in the back of the closet (Crazy Mom’s own closet). Yes, Crazy Mom was feeling especially jazzy.

Spontaneously, she declared it a field trip day. She stalwartly refused to leave the house until all those itty-bitty-teeny-tiny-owie-to-step-on-little legos had been picked up. She also used her drill sergeant voice to encourage shoe putting-on and coat zipping-up. The six year old twins grinned, the daughter placated, and the nine year old boy actually rolled his eyes. Hup, 2, 3, 4, Hup…

Crazy Mom was in a mood. She was rejoicing in the day that the Lord had made. The sun was shining. She had been up early. She had her coffee and her BBB (Bible Before Breakfast). She was ready! And, now, let the field trip begin.

They arrived at the Frederick Meijer Gardens to view the butterflies in the tropical conservatory. But first, they had to park in East Kabudaville (That’s Crazy Mom talk for “wow, we had to park far away” and “whoa, what a hike to that, what do you call it? Oh yeah, the entrance.”)

So it was a little busy. There were masses of children here to see the butterflies. Unfortunately, most of the visitors were of smallish size similar to that of the four happy hoodlums. Crazy Mom instructed the troops to stay close but Lucas’s eyes were already sparkling. He had spotted his first “new family” of the day. He was already making friends with the four year old blonde while mom hung up all five coats. The nine year old looked impatient…think..think…aha! Crazy mom handed him the camera. Sure enough, his eyes lit up as he wandered away. Crazy Mom silently praised that God of hers for such a great idea.

She made her way out of the coat room back into the large entrance hall. The daughter stuck like glue, but not those boys..Was that Marc? “Marc,” hollered Crazy Mom, “get back here and get your coat off.” No, wait, it was just a boy weating a coat just like Marc’s. That’s not fair, she thought, Marc already has a twin. Aha! There was Marc. She marched over to take his hand and turned to see a boy who was far too old to be lying on the floor actually lying on the floor. He was looking at the sculpture suspended from the ceiling. His camera looked very familiar. Oh dear, Crazy Mom prayed for patience as she snapped her fingers. “Just a minute, Mom…there! Now that’s a picture, look!” Poor boy, he got the “Yes, dear, that’s very nice…please don’t lie on the floor…now where are your brothers?” speech.

Crazy Mom deep sighed, “Alright, Lord,” she prayed silently, “I’m responsible for Your kids on this field trip. Thank-you for allowing me to be the one they call Mom.” Crazy Mom felt the peace that passes understanding wrap itself a little tighter around her heart and she actually smiled and truly admired the boy’s photo—it was a unique shot. Her aspiring photographer beamed at the genuine praise and surprisingly, even offered to let his sister take a picture.

While this moment of sharing happened, Crazy Mom realized Marc was still nowhere to be seen and Lucas was….she scanned the area… Of course, he was chatting up the blonde and her family. But they were ready to move on. The mom pointed out Crazy Mom to Lucas but he pretended not to see. Crazy Mom had to actually walk over to collect him.

Then she heard a small slam. The sound was familiar..she tried to connect it to something…anything….piano? aha! A piano. A piano lid over keys, that’s it..that’s MARC! Plink plink. “Honey, don’t touch this piano, it’s not yours.” “But mom, we don’t have a piano.”

Okay, collect Marc. Return to see three children lying on the floor under the suspended sculpture taking more pictures.

As Crazy Mom reminds herself to lean not on her own understanding but to trust in the Lord with all her heart, she realizes she can still see the coat room, and they have not seen a single butterfly. As she lies on the floor and studies the sculpture, yes, it is a unique perspective, she realizes it may be awhile before another spontaneous field trip.

Join us next time when Crazy Mom discovers teaching the art of sharing is far more difficult than she realized.

A Wink from Heaven

Don’t you love accidental Bible look ups? I think they may be God’s way of making us smile, kind of a wink from heaven.

My first remembrance of an accidental look up was when I was a teenager and that awful boy, Ryan, broke my heart and broke up with me AGAIN! I cried and cried and my friend encouraged me by sending me little slips of paper with Bible verses like Psalm 147:3, “He heals the broken-hearted, binding up their wounds.” But that wasn’t my favorite…I’m not sure what she originally intended, but I looked up Hebrews 7:17, “You are a priest forever in the order of Melchisedec.” Given my very limited knowledge of scriptural types and shadows in eschatology, et cetera, and having no idea how to pronounce Mel-kis-a, Mel-chis-a…..it just made me laugh.

I called my friend immediately to ask her if she knew that we could be priests forever in the order of Mel-cheese-a-deek. This verse became a standard of encouragement between us for years. I think God was winking at me back then and winks at me still. (After all, He is the creator of my individual slightly warped sense of humor).

Recently, I headed to Galatians for a word of encouragement after a particularly difficult day dealing with those other human beings on the planet. (I can tell from your expression that you’ve met them too.) I was headed for Galatians 5:25, “if you live by the Spirit walk by the Spirit”. That one seemed to fit right in with how I was feeling toward those people. You know, a “just keep swimming” verse.

Instead I turned to Galations 5:15, which was actually much more convicting of my own attitude and actions. It stated, “But if you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.” Ouch.

Perhaps that one was a wink AND a reprimand. So next time you have an accidental look up, take a moment and reflect. It may have, indeed, been intentional on the part of Him who created you and knows you best.

Dinosaur Cookies –How to Entertain Your Grandma

If you are seven and you want to entertain your Grandma, you should mention that you like to make cookies. You should show excitement when Grandma shows you her “dinosaur” cookie cutters. Wash your hands and be ready to roll out the dough.

You should push the cookie cutters into the dough all the way. Always put love in the cookies. Make the love sign by crossing your arms over your chest and pretending to put some love in the cookies. Be patient with your older brother as he shouts, “Love Gun!” and pretends to machine gun the cookie dough.

You should use the spatula to move the dinosaur from the counter to the cookie sheet. Stay calm if his foot falls off and Grandma will stay calm too. She will show you how to push it back onto his leg.

You should watch the cookies through the little oven window as they grow and spread. Grandma says “Be careful, it’s hot,” lots and lots of times so stand back from the oven so you won’t make her nervous.

While the cookies are cooling, help Grandma make several colors of frosting. Gather paintbrushes and anything else Grandma needs.

After the cookies have cooled, paint with colors and keep smiling. Use lots of yellow and don’t get frosting everywhere. Remind your younger brothers not to put the frosting brushes in their mouths. Grandma will remind you, “Don’t get carried away with that frosting.” While the frosting is setting on the cookies, you can find some books for Grandma to read. Try to pick the ones you know she likes best.

Don’t forget to say thank-you when it is time to eat the cookies. They will taste great and make sure Grandma eats one too.

The Ruined Waistband

The Ruined Waistband

The human brain loves illustrations. We like stories that make a point, poetry that must be tasted, and even jokes and riddles that make us laugh. Humanity was designed this way. From the parables of Jesus to the fables of Aesop, we love those “aha” moments.

The Word of God is sometimes like that big box of your great great aunt’s jewelry that “you kids are allowed to play with carefully” when you visit great grandma’s house and all the grownups want to do is talk, talk, talk. Inevitably, you discover that one beautiful piece you hadn’t seen last time and its beauty delights your sense of touch and sight.

An avid Bible reader for decades, today I touched a jewel. In Jeremiah 13, Jeremiah bought a beautiful linen waistband and wore it for awhile. Then he hid it in rocks by the Euphrates River and later, retrieved it. It was ruined.

Verse 10 says, “This wicked people, who refuse to listen to My words, who walk in the stubbornness of their hearts and have gone after other gods to serve them, let them be just like this waistband, which is totally worthless.”

I can see Jeremiah, stretching forth the ruined waistband, seeking desperately for the people to turn their hearts to God.

I do not want to walk in the stubbornness of my heart.

I do not want to serve other gods of my own making.

I want to be wrapped tightly to the waist of God, to cling to His truth and justice, for His praise and glory.

I want to listen and obey. I want to be fine linen, and not a ruined waistband.

Decent Christian Woman

Apparently, a decent Christian woman has the ability to hold her tongue. No, this was not recently illustrated to me by a pastoral sermon, my scripture reading or any spiritual retreat, book, or even another Christian sharing truth with me.

No, this revelation was made through television. Yes, television. If God can use the donkey to talk to Balaam, then He can use whatever means necessary to communicate truth to his servant.

So Friday night, I made popcorn for the kiddos and we settled in to watch that old classic, The Wizard of Oz. This being my first time seeing it since….well, probably childhood, I was amazed by my adult perspective on the movie. You remember that woman who came to get Dorothy’s dog? Well, here are Auntie Em’s words for her, “I’ve waited thirty years to tell you what I think of you, Elmira Gultch! And I still can’t tell you because I am a decent Christian woman.” She then storms out of the room. My popcorn about fell out of my mouth. An actual reference to Christianity in pop culture? An acknowledgement that a relationship with God affects your behavior? An actual on screen manifestation of the fruit of the Spirit, self-control? I was stunned.

Less than forty-eight hours later, I am listening to the T.V. while trying to fall asleep. The husband is awake and watching an old Denzel Washington movie called Johnny Q. Public, where a father takes hostages because his insurance company will not pay for his son’s heart transplant. The negotiators want to use the wife to talk him down, but when she sees the insurance woman, she states, “I will not be used, and I will not talk to that woman,” Then she turns to her, “I would tell you what I think of you but I am a decent Christian woman.” End of conversation. I was flabbergasted. Another bit of self control because of a relationship with Christ! This was, at least, what, forty years after the Wizard of Oz?

I sat up in bed, “That’s just what Auntie Em said on Friday!” I exclaimed. The half-sleeping husband raised an eyebrow in my general direction; he had not been home for movie night and was not in the loop. “That bit there, about the decent Christian woman! It’s straight from the Wizard of Oz!”

Having been married for a long time and having grown used to these strange outbursts, he calmly asked, “Should I rewind it for you?”

“No, no,” I responded, “I am going to sleep now.”

But as I lay back down, I thought of television’s portrayal of these two “decent Christian women” and their ability to hold their tongue. I wondered if one writer had borrowed the line from the other. I wondered if today’s Christian woman is too quick to complain, too quick to speak, too quick to denigrate others. I thought, am I holding my tongue as I should be? Am I a decent Christian woman? Lord, let me be self controlled in all areas, not in myself, but because of my relationship with You.

Take A Step

A smooth sea does not a good sailor make. It’s the rough seas, the pirate encounters, and even the mutinies that make the man. Times of adversity reveal true character.

When my husband lost his job, someone told him, “I guess your faith in God is real after all.” Apparently, this person was waiting to see Ryan fall apart. They wanted to know if his talk matched his walk. Ryan did not fall apart; he didn’t even fall on his faith. He leaned back comfortably, acknowledging to Whom he belonged. My husband did not panic, cry, or whine. He even smiled. A doomsday cloud was not above his head. He rested in the calm assurance that God had it all under control. He has always been a good sailor (and granted, he’d faced rougher seas then unemployment). True, this bystander had been looking at the Christian, and not the Christ. (Not to worry, the husband pointed him in the right direction).

Still, the point remains. Do we truly rejoice when we face trials of many kinds? Or do we believe we are the masters of our own destiny. Do we acknowledge that ALL we have is because of our Creator, God? No, this does not mean we sit in our unemployment and wait for God to drop the perfect job in our lap. Faith is an action word. It’s a walking word, and a place where God meets us. Remember Indiana Jones and the “step of faith” he made into the seemingly bridgeless chasm? There was the bridge, the once invisible made visible. This is what happens when we take that first step.

Of course, this is all easier said than done, or is it? Doesn’t it become easier in the doing? Don’t be a sailor afraid to set sail. Stop worrying about the weather. Acknowledge to Whom you belong and walk in it. Go ahead. Take a step.

A Toddler’s Top Five Books

Again? You want me to read this again? Am I the only adult who can recite Sandra Boynton’s, But not the Hippotamus from memory? A hog and a frog do a dance in the bog….

Young children generally love books, and my twins are no exception. As a homeschool mom, I want books that educate my kids. Not boring facts, but something that sparks the imaginative process. If I teach my kids to absolutely love reading, there’s no limit to the information they can find out as adults. So here is a list of their favorites (and mommy’s too.)

1. But Not the Hippopotamus by Sandra Boynton. A hippo watches the action from the sidelines while the phrase is repeated, “but not the hippopotamus”. At the end she is invited to join the action….and the answer is… “but YES! the hippopotamus.”

2. Hello Shoes by Joan Blos. A little boy and his grandpa hunt the house for his favorite pair of shoes. They look in several places without discovered the favorite footwear. When at last the missing shoes are found, he buckles them BY HIMSELF for the first time, and the grandpa sings, “This is the boy who buckled his shoes…buckled his shoes…”

3. Diary of a Wombat by Jackie French. This “Australian raccoon”, the nocturnal wombat, discovers his new human neighbors. He digs up their flowers, wrestles their welcome mat, tears down hanging laundry, and pounds on their metal trash cans until he receives carrots. It is told from the wombat’s point of view. It ends when he decides he likes his new neighbors and they are very trainable.

4. The Christmas Crocodile by Bonnie Becker. The Christmas crocodile didn’t mean to be bad, not really..This story tells of all the havoc a crocodile causes when delivered to the wrong address, and all the things he eats, including the blue spruce, a big one. It ends with the crocodile being hauled away to his rightful home and the little girl, Alice Jayne, smiling because she has a secret, a newly hatched baby crocodile upstairs.

5. Have you Got my Purr? by Judy West. A kitten searches the farmyard for her purr, asking all the animals in turn if they have it. The sheep send her to the dog, the dog sends her to the mouse (this is a little tricky as she is a cat) and so on, until late in the day, she is sent home to her mother and realizes she had her own purr with her after all.

Not only are these five books entertaining, they all have a surprise ending that widens the eyes of young listeners. What makes these five books exceptional is that they take their little listeners on a journey. Their little minds revel in this thought process. They anticipate the ending; they absorb the art of suspense and employ their imaginations. These are the kinds of books that “teach” children. These books are good for their development and yes, inevitably, they will implore you to “Read it again, puh-leeze.”

Crock Pot Writing

I love to write, but cooking….not really my thing.. but the crockpot..now the crockpot is like writing.

You start a piece, throw together the ingredients, chopping some big, some small. You put it in the pot and let it simmer. A piece of writing simmers in my mind; I pen some of it to paper. Look at it, toss in some small bits, maybe some big ones. Try a crunchy carrot or two…hmm…pretty good…turn on low and leave it be for a couple hours. Walk by later and smell it, it’s coming along….add a phrase or two….stir the pot a little. The smell permeates the house. You can even smell chicken and dumplings upstairs. By four’o’clock, I want to print it up, post it to the blog, send it to a friend, read it to a child, but wait, it’s not finished yet. It needs more….time….By six, it’s perfect prose, thick goodness ready to be ladled onto plates, steaming in its perfection. Makes me want to take a picture…but hey, it’s only food, prose, true soul food…don’t let it sit too long in the pot…then it’s overdone…over metaphored….over concised…let it cool….ladle it into containers for the overnight in the fridge…Next day, at lunch, it’s still perfection, maybe even better after the hot words have settled, and now, like a favorite paperback, reopened once again…Ahh, satisfaction.

Musical Beds

At our home we have the phenomenon of Musical Beds. Perhaps you have experienced this. We have four children and four designated sleeping places. The girl has her own room with a single bed in it. The three boys share a room with a bunk bed in it. It has a single on top and a double on the bottom. You see, adequate sleeping arrangements for four children. Yet, almost every night when I check the kids before I go to bed, I find at least one empty bed. This used to alarm me. Where is my child?

My twins have always shared a bed, and since they were babies, they always slept better together. It’s like they have to be touching each other to fall asleep. I remember putting two fussy infants on either end of the cradle and trying to rock them to sleep..no luck…but cram them in side by side and instant relaxation. This worked so well we only used a single crib. When they graduated from the crib to the toddler beds, I would find them tangled asleep in the middle of the floor. We finally put the little beds side by side so they would sleep in one or the other.

Now they are big boys, just turned six, and happily share the lower bunk. Usually, I untangle their arms and legs, make sure heads are on pillows and both are covered up before I crawl into bed for the night, but sometimes there’s an extra long leg sticking out or longish girl hair on a pillow…and usually at least one empty bed somewhere. This used to freak me out a little. Oh, my poor kids, how can they even sleep. I would haul each back to their bed and tuck them in. Only now, they are much heavier. Now, I just count limbs and make sure everybody has a blanket. I vaguely wonder if it’s like that new study about having pets. Pet germs supposedly boost your immunity…

It’s worse when you have one child with a cough or a fever. You tuck them in a single bed so the sickness is isolated but later, you may find yourself trying to move the coughing child to a sitting position in the dark and realize you have the wrong child as there are really two children now in this bed.

I don’t get it. I only had one sister. I only ever had my own room and I loved sleeping alone. I still love the feeling of having the whole bed to myself if my husband is out of town or I am napping on a restful Sunday afternoon. So this tendency to sleep like puppies is beyond me.

As they grow bigger and older, I am certain, the game of Musical Beds every night will be a thing of the past. It doesn’t freak me out anymore. I just find all four heads, pat them tenderly, make sure everyone is covered up, thank the Lord for my children and head to bed. Someday, Musical Beds will simply be another mommy-mind memory to chuckle about later.

Something Gold Can Stay

Morning Light

Perhaps the light in heaven

Will be like

The light on a June morning

Where it comes

Slanting across the fields,

Gilding the green

and shoots straight through

The windows facing east.

Released within the room

It penetrates

The green shirt

Hanging from a bureau drawer,

The socks and loafers

Heaped upon the floor.

Everything gleams with gold.

Transformed

As we shall be

When morning comes for us

And God's great love

Illuminates our souls

And sets us free.

Elizabeth B. Rooney (1994)

My daughter cried during swimming lessons today.

No, she was not injured.

No, she wasn’t freezing.

She just wasn’t having fun. She had run up against a challenge. A task she could not do. A task that could not be accomplished without work. She did not want to work. She wanted to give up. I saw it in her eyes, although she didn’t say it.

I saw those words settling there, “It’s too hard,” even though she didn’t say them. I called her over, held her hand, and first stated, “There’s no crying in swimming.” Then I told her, “Be diligent, work hard, and never give up. Keep trying. Persevere.”

She sucked it up and kept going. She finished her lesson. She wasn’t her usual chipper self, but the crying was over, thankfully. Next time, she would do better.

Today, the children pushed all my buttons. I yelled. I threatened, I did not listen. I just wasn’t having fun. I had run up against a challenge. A task I could not accomplish without work. I did not want to work. I felt those words settling in, “It’s too hard.” I felt the tears well up, and then, like a hand holding mine, words of Scripture comforted me and saved me once again. “So do not fear, for I am with you.” Isaiah 41:10

Be diligent, work hard, and never give up. Keep trying. Persevere.

The Snowstorm

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hill and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Come see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hiddden thorn;
Fills up the famer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

1835 [1841] Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Presidents' Daughters

Mark asks me, "Mom, who is the president of the United States?"

"Mr. Barack Obama."

He considers this for a moment, "Mama, does the president have any sons?"

"No, he has two daughters."

He is silent for a moment, "What about the president before him? Did he have any sons?"

"No, he had two daughters."

Mark sighs deeply, obviously disturbed about this lack of boys.

"What about the president before him?"

"No, he had one daughter."

Mark flops his head onto the counter. Without lifting it, he says, "Oh, brother...what about the president before him?"

Mama has been waiting for this one, "Yes! He had sons." Mark lifts his head as Mama continues, "and one of his sons became a president too."

Mark lifts up his head and looks at me with renewed hope. All he says is "Whew!"

I have a Veggie Tales plastic nativity set on my counter that my twins play with every day. Sometimes they leave the figures in very interesting positions.

I know other families who do this and you end up with little people and pretty ponies visiting baby Jesus…how sweet…

Things are a little different at my house. I found baby Jesus propped on the roof of the stable, three wise men lying down in front and everyone else behind the stable, except for one green army guy with a gun lying near the wise men. “Hey, Mark, what happened?”

I knew I was in for a story because he sat down, grabbed a wise man and started, “Well, mom…”

“You know how Herod wants Jesus dead? Well, he tricked these wise man into becoming his minions!

They came here to kill Jesus, but this army guy shot at them. Pshoo! Pshoo!

And he killed one, but the other two wise men got him…arr!!….

So everyone ran for cover screaming ahhhh!!

Except Joseph because he just had a dream about the whole thing and was already behind the stable. He just didn’t have time to warn them or maybe he forgot. Oops!

But Baby Jesus can’t run. And, because he’s really God, of course, and He’s got power. Woosh!! So his manger flew up into the air, waashoom!!

and he killed the other two wise guys with red-hot laser beams!” uh,,uh,,, and they fell down. Amen!, I mean, the end.”

This left me wondering what will happen tomorrow?

The Westphal Christmas Letter 2010 by Marcus and Lucas

Mom’s been kinda busy this year so we decided to write the Christmas letter. We turned 5 in February and Mom and Dad abandoned us for three days to fly to Dallas, Texas. Apparently, it was a research trip to the Retina Foundation of the Southwest and the docs got to look at mom’s eyes, but we think it was a vacation. They even sent postcards and went to the Sixth Floor, a museum all about JFK’s assassination. The museum is actually located on the same floor of the bldg. where Oswald fired his rifle. They also saw Phantom of the Opera. We are sure it was a vacation.

We also finished soccer in the spring. It was really fun to knock the other kids down so mom signed us up for swimming lessons instead this fall. We love to splash and move. Tim and Sarah did soccer this fall so we still got to go to their games and run around like maniacs. I think Mom and Dad only lost us twice. If you cry loud and pray to God, someone will help you find your parents. You can also make all the ladies smile if you tap their arm and say, “you’re so beautiful”.

Mom also got to be a pirate at night. She had to wear eye patches because she had cataract surgery. She said it was actually good news because her eye disease isn’t encroaching on her central vision yet, which is what they thought was happening at first. The good news is that now she can drive again. It was tough when we were stuck at home, but we did have some good people help us out with rides. One car even had a TV in it. We prayed for rides and got them. God’s so good to us.

Dad has been busy with his new job, and we “pray for sales” every day. It’s called ICR, and they repair electrical components and robots in all kinds of industries. So if you need a repair, call our Dad. Dad’s also doing school at Cornerstone College for something called a BA in Business Management, and he only has a few classes left. He was able to take a break for his new job and it’s been fun to wrestle him more. If we take turns, he doesn’t get a break, and we never get tired of playing with Dad.

Mom is our teacher. She does school every day with all four of us, but the good news is, that if the weather is nice, we get to take a “field trip.” We like phonics and numbers, and Tim likes science, and Sarah likes typing. We can’t read very much yet, but when we ask Sarah to read to us, she says yes. If we ask Tim, he says, “Ask Sarah.” Tim is nine, and Sarah is seven, and Mom didn’t really want her and Dad’s ages in the letter. Thanks for praying for our family as we keep following God’s path.

Monsters

Do you remember those commercials with the little orange fuzzy guy trying to get someone's attention while the narrator talked about fighting hunger?

This commercial made me shout the first time I saw it. "Ah, ha!" I cried, "That's what he looks like!"

My husband, used to strange outbursts from the strange woman he married, merely glanced over and waited while I pointed excitedly at the screen.

"That's HIM!" I continued, "That's the Goody Monster."

The Goody Monster? Yes, and actually, the not-strange-at-all man I married coined the term. The Goody Monster is my husband's monster. I was shocked the first couple time he started going through the cupboards and the fridge at 9:00 to 10:00 at night. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, looking for a goody.."

"A goody?"

"The Goody Monster's hungry."

If I could raise one eyebrow, I would have, and I would have done it surreptitiously. Instead I settled for, "Oh?"

"A goody sounds good."

The bad part is the goody monster is like a stray cat. You feed it and it just comes back. It even grows bigger and more demanding at times. The Goody Monster had even demanded that my husband drive to Russ' restaurant after 9:00p.m. for a piece of strawberry cheese pie.

If Ryan walks into the bedroom holding a plate of cookies with his glass of milk (visual sleep aid), and I surreptitiously raise my eyebrow (at least in my imagination) and say, "Oh?" He just shrugs and says, "Goody Monster was hungry."

After 17 years of marriage, the goody monster is just part of our lives. You can imagine my shock when I saw him in ACTUAL PHYSICAL form on television. Now I have a fuzzy orange mental image to accompany the words, "Goody Monster."

Things overheard from the kids:

“I really want a canyon. That way, I can really blow things up.”

“Luc! You already chopped that leg off!”

“Now pretend I’m really short.”

“Mom, what’s a blaz, er?” “A what?” Daughter points to the sign in women’s clothing—“BLAZERS”.

“I killed you, and now, you’re alive again.”

“Oh no, I’ve found the dead monkey!”

“Owie, owie, owie…I banged my toe….REALLY HARDLY!”

“I always check out the bathroom trash when I go potty.”

“You have to wake daddies up gently.” Little girl

“Nahh, I wake up my daddy aggressively!” my son.

Five things to love about fall

1. Homeschooling the kids (Wait,that happens all year long...)

2. The bee-yoo-tee-full fall foilage.

3. Hot apple cider steaming on the stove.

4. kisses from five year olds (wait, that happens all year long...)

5. Watching kids play in the leaves

"Cultivating a thankful heart in your child." Sounds like a great book title, doesn't it? I am not writing it, I am looking for it. One of my children seems to be having some trouble being grateful for anything in his life these days, and this cultivation is my new goal... Granted, cultivation takes time, and the seeds don't grow right away....

Seed #1 Got a kids book from the library, Casey, the greedy cowboy. He has all this cowboy stuff and just wants more. His mom gives him the "you have so much already, be grateful" speech, but he just gets angry. While he's angry, he finds a poster for the rodeo and forgetting all else, asks if mom and dad will take him. The parents agree, and at the rodeo, Casey sees a "kid cowboy" and thinks "wow, that's the life for me." then he discovers how sad and lonely the kid is because he has no family. Casey is immediately thankful for all he has, including his new friend.

My child's take-away lesson from all this--"Mom, if I find a poster for a rodeo, will you take me? Puh-leeze...."

Seed #2 Telling God what we are thankful for before bed. Mom's prayer, "Dear God, we are thankful for our salvation, our family and our friends, and our beds and pillows.."

Child's prayer, "Dear God, I am NOT thankful it is bedime. AMEN!"

Anybody got any more seeds for me here?

A Typical Day in the Westphal Household

(Did that say "a typical" or "atypical" ? No matter...)

"Silly Putty doesn't come out of hair good," announces Tim.

"Oh?"

"I'm still workin' on it."

"Something happened, Mom," Mark announces.

"Oh?"

"I just pulled the light chain and the glass thing fell!" (He means the light fixture cover. It's the third one we've had in that room.)

"Is it broken?"

"Into total BITS, Mom, total BITS!"

"Cheers!" Lucas says, holding his lunch glass aloft, "To liberty and beyond!'

Mark, defending the living room with an invisible sword, "Prepare to be BATTLED!"

Grandma, "We're going to the Asian Market today."

Much later, Papa mentions his sore neck. "Maybe you can go see the doctor at that place," offers Lucas,.

"What place?"

"That shopping place that Grandma said."

"The Asian Market?"

"Yes! Maybe they have a doctor there."

"Mom, I'm cold!" says Mark.

"Do you want your bathrobe?"

"I don't need my robe! I believe in the power of the living God!"

Other items of note.....(typical, atypical....you decide)

We read about Sumerian cuneiform, listened to Adventures in Odyssey, explained adultery, and found out what magnetite looks like.

The kids and I read about DaVinci. We say "DaVinci" and "Mona Lisa" in our best Italian accents. (I love accents, go ahead, try it, it's fun. "Da Vinci!" see? ). Sarah and I draw pictures across the table of each other. We walk Sarah to GEMS (church on the corner), while my neighbor takes Tim to soccer. Mark and Lucas and I pick acorn squash and eat broccoli at the garden.

Tim's spelling sentence for today is "My orange farm heard you." This cracks him up for some reason. Older two timed themselves in typing and math flashcards. I read Richard Scarry's Peasant Pig and the book KAPOW! at least 5 times today (Counting the days until we can get to the library again.)

We danced to the song, "There's a zombie on my lawn," and Sarah and I read Romans Chapter Five together in our "dramatic" voices. All this, plus five loads of laundry and the ten commandments all in a typical day at the Westphals. Thanks for joining us and tune in next week when Marcus says, "Uh-oh, sorry Mom."

Five Easy Steps to a clean bathroom floor

1. When the children ask, "Can we wash the ponies in the sink?" Say Yes.

2. Ignore all the laughing and splashing you hear for at least twenty minutes.

3. Pull the plug and give each child a rag for clean-up.

4. Let the oldest child use the mop.

5. Voila. Nice clean floor.

Possible side effects include:

1. Dry sets of clothes for each child.

2. At least 4 wet rags, one wet bath stool, one soaked bathmat, etc...

Vacation (Have to get away) Bible School

My parents live on at least half an acre of wooded land near a lake in northern Michigan. It makes for a nice vacation for the kids and Mom. We can swim in the lake, ride in the paddleboat, build forts in the woods, and have a great time. In fact, we go every year for one very special week. It is special because my parents’ small country church hosts a huge Vacation Bible School event. Monday through Friday, 7-9 pm with music, games, craft, Bible story, true evangelism, and snack for preschoolers to pre-teens. The kindergarten-1^st. grade class my boys were part of boasted 15-20 kids each night.

While I still envy those parents who simply drop off and pick up their children, I am glad I stayed each night. I hung out with the boys’ class and helped them line up, take turns, and deal with disappointment. Story time was the best. The pastor dressed up and had props. One night he was a drill sergeant hollering orders and told us the story of Naaman. One night he was a fisherman who followed Jesus. One night he was a doctor named Luke. It was so good to see those little hands raised when he asked if they wanted to give their hearts to Jesus.

My boys, five years olds each, and full of energy, imagination, and their own ideas, were two of almost 20 in their class. They pulled the horn of a snow plow, watched the lights of a firetruck, and washed hands with a real nurse. The boys made crosses with real construction workers, and quickly turned them upside down so they could be swords. They ran when they were supposed to be still, talked when shushed, pushed others when told to line up, flatly refused to color anything, cried when they didn’t get picked to do an activity and choose not to obey their mom….experienced time outs, discipline from Mom, and talkings to, but not all the time…they also listened to story time, learned how to be a HERO for God, learned Bible verses, asked questions, sat in a circle, played duck, duck, goose, ate snack, listened to others, and one night, both raised their hands to give their hearts to Jesus.

So while part of me still envies those drop off and pick up parents, part of me is eternally grateful for the opportunity to watch my boys grow and learn, especially about my savior, Jesus. Thank you, Dighton Wesleyan Church, for evangelizing children.

Visual Sleep AId

I am used to clearing an empty glass from the bedroom each morning. My husband almost always has a large glass of milk before bed. But recently, I found a full glass of milk next to the bed. Ryan is a very hard worker, and I think it caught up with him. He just fell asleep before he could drink it.

But I had to tease him a little. "What is this? You just need to look at it to fall asleep?" Last night, I asked him where he was going, "Downstairs," he replied, "I need my visual sleep aid." Presenting "The Visual Sleep Aid" . That's right, folks, just pour yourself a glass of milk, set it next to the bed, and voila, before you know it, you will be sound asleep. Caution: don't stare at this picture too long or you may fall ..zzz....zzz

I Love Surprises

It finally happened. The realization that my husband and I actually read ONE of the SAME books in our childhood! This wonderment came as we were driving to pick up kids from camping. Books on tape are a wonderful thing on a road trip. We have heard everything from Adventures in Odyssey to The Tale of Despereaux. Today's choice was Beverly Cleary's The Mouse and the Motorcycle.

The husband was a little grumpy as he had planned on staying home to work while I road-tripped for over two hours, but the clouds rolled in and put a damper on all his plans. So we listened to the adventures of Ralph the mouse as he made friends, discovered the joy of the motorcycle and felt the crushing disappointment of losing such a precious thing that was loaned to him. As Ralph admitted the loss, Ryan looked at me conspiratorily, "Don't worry," he whispered, "he gets it back."

"Wha?" I responded, "You mean you know this story?"

"I read it when I was a kid."

I was dumbfounded. My jaw dropped. Then I smiled a little. After years and years of marriage, another surprise! I knew Ryan spent every childhood summer outside. He'd play monopoly all day, or hide and seek, or ride his bike all over, or play in the gravel pits. Meanwhile, I spent summers escaping into books of all sorts. Many was the time I had mentioned a beloved childhood book only to be met by a blank look.

After I recovered from my shock and repeated, "You've READ The Mouse and the Motorcycle?" more times than I should have, I couldn't help but smile again. I love surprises.