Total Lunar Eclipse photo from Minnesota

When Science comes to you

Last week marked the total lunar eclipse. If you missed it, you will have to wait until December 20, 2010 and hope the weather's clear. Timothy just finished a class on space at the bookstore, learned about the phases of the moon, and we are reading a space book this month. All this and I didn't know the lunar eclipse was coming until the radio announced it. It seemed a fitting addition to our schooling and he stayed up late to watch the eclipse with Dad on a special outing. When I asked him what he thought, he said it was just like what we read: that ancient people used to think the moon was being eaten up by a dragon.

Sorry About That

Well, God is still teaching me things and I am still learning. Thank goodness He is patient and gracious. Here is what I am working on this week. I am learning what a true apology involves. First, what it is not.

A true apology does not apologize for WHO you are. God made you on purpose. Yes, you have shortcomings, otherwise known as opportunities for growth and dependence on God. However, when you apologize for your character, you aren’t taking responsibility or working on growth. For example, when I say, “I’m sorry, verbal communication is not my strong point.” While the statement is true, I shouldn’t be apologizing for it. The “I’m sorry” can even be taken at “I’m sorry you don’t like it, and I’m not working to change it.” I have been hugely guilty of this one.

Secondly, a true apology does not apologize for circumstances beyond your control. We have all said, “Oh, I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well.” This is another one for me. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry you bumped your head outside.” My six-year-old enlightened me, “You weren’t there, mom. It wasn’t you. Don’t say you were sorry.” This really makes me think. He’s right, it’s not MY fault. Yes, I feel bad he was injured and I should seek to comfort and help, but to apologize? Doesn’t that just put the emphasis on me? Ouch.

A true apology does not seek to escape conflict. Oh, you know who you are, you conflict-avoiders. This is a big one for me. I tend to apologize before I even understand the problem. This can drive your spouse crazy, by the way. (My poor husband could write a book on this one.) This pseudo-apology just wants the problem and the bad feelings associated with it to disappear at soon as possible. This person apologizes for things that aren’t their fault. Henceforth, a solution does not occur, and often the problem resurfaces and you find yourself in a destructive pattern.

Yikes. Is there any hope? But of course. The true apology is out there and it involves four parts (at least that’s what I’ve discovered thus far).

A true apology is an acceptance of responsibility. It states what you are sorry for, and does not include any footnotes. “I’m sorry I broke the vase, but if you hadn’t put it there…” No, you broke it, you apologize. I’m sorry I broke the vase. I’m sorry I said those words. I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I threw your Sunday School paper away. No excuses. Claim responsibility for your mistake.

Secondly, a true apology seeks forgiveness. When we do wrong (sin) our relationship with God is hindered. We seek forgiveness with him first, for that is where true forgiveness lies. After you have sought and received forgiveness from God, seek it from the person you wronged. Mommy is sorry she yelled at you. I’m sorry I punished your for something your brothers did, will you forgive me? I’m sorry I talked to Mom about that without asking you first. Even if your sister is so hurt, she refuses to forgive you, you have done your part. Here comes part three.

A true apology seeks restitution. I know I hurt you and I am sorry, how can I make it up to you? I would like to buy you a new vase. Can I help you draw another picture? Restitution is not always immediate and it is not a giant eraser. Hurtful words are like squeezed out toothpaste. They aren’t going to go back and they may be messy to clean up. Restitution just means you truly care and you want to do better. When my kids apologize for “hitting”, I tell them it means “it won’t happen again.” They are committing to a change in behavior, and hopefully a change in will.

Lastly, true apology seeks a solution. I am going to commit to watching my words so I don’t hurt you again. I am going to make sure I ask you before I throw your papers out. I don’t want to sin again. Like repentance, true apology involves a turn-around. So the next time you hear the words, “I’m sorry” escape your lips, stop and ask yourself if you are truly apologizing.

Well, that’s it. If you have any comments, I would love to hear them.

Ginger Morning Star Bettis

My parents just returned from a two week journey to Washington State to visit my sister and her family. Here is a picture of my beautiful niece, born in November. My sister is holding her. Isn't she cute?

The Coldest Day of the Year

It all started with replacing the bath tub drain…grandma’s drain, that is. It went so well Ryan decided to replace ours. There’s an interesting phenomenon in a house that’s about 100 years old. Perhaps some of you have experienced it. It’s this: when you begin one simple project, it doesn’t stay simple. First, the drain was old and didn’t want to come out. Not to be daunted, Ryan consulted with the hardware store and came home with new tools and new resolve. At last, success! Now for the new…wait a minute…oh…the pipe beneath the drain was a little…rusted.. It fell apart when Ryan touched it. “Sorry, honey, no bathtub this week.” I taught my kids how to shower at the YMCA. (One cooperative child out of four isn’t bad, right? I had three showers too. They should consider sound-proofing the family restrooms.)

The weekend arrives and Ryan is ready. We don’t have a basement and access to the underside of the bathtub is through the back porch. That’s right, outside. So Ryan shoveled the snow away, and took up the plywood to reveal our small insulated crawlspace. After a couple hours of cold, cramped work, and several setbacks, including losing tools in the amount of snow accumulating on the porch, he emerged and decided to finish in the morning. He would later regret this decision, along with the decision of even being a home owner. (This is also the moment he realized he was going to have to crawl back under there one more time to locate his cell phone.)

The morning of February 11, 2008, dawned. It was Sunday, the coldest day of the year. It was five degrees with a negative 12 windchill, plus snow and 50 mile an hour winds. They cancelled our church. The boys and I were up first when we discovered the water in the bathroom (our only bathroom) was not working. This meant no flushing of the toilet (the only toilet). Maybe Ryan shut it off? But that wasn’t it. Remember it’s the coldest morning of the year? Yes, our pipes are frozen.

Did I mention we were going to have a little birthday party for the boys at 2:45? I already made cupcakes. I even vacuumed. “Should I cancel?” “Definitely”. So I called and cancelled. I also called my dear sweet grandmother and invaded her home for the day.

The roads were so bad I couldn’t tell where the lanes were. Plus the white outs. Tim says, “I’ll watch for the lights, mom, and you watch for the road.” We made it. Grandma has lots of room, running water, and working toilets, so it was a fun day for all of us, except for Ryan. He called me when we had running water. Only one heart stopping moment when he thought he set the house on fire. The toilet water rushed in warm. It was just from the heater he was using on the pipes. Later that day Ryan called again and praise the lord, the plumbing was fixed. He actually took a shower without water pooling to his ankles. He wasn’t exactly a happy homeowner, and he was certainly warmer and the situation was much improved. Just when all looks well… So I loaded up the van, put boots on the boys and decided to go start the van first. The van would not start. It would not even click. I called the exhausted husband and he faced the cold once more to come jumpstart the van. However, it would not hold a charge.

Grandma said we were welcome to stay the night, after all, the roads were bad. So we stayed. I used to spend nights at Grandma’s when I was a child so this was a treat for me. We put the kids to bed and sat around talking, crocheting our afghans, and watching some lifetime movie (Grandma’s favorite channel). The next morning we were up early and we all climbed into Grandma’s bed to say Good Morning. We had a big pancake breakfast, I did school with the kids, and we watched cartoons and played all day. After work, Ryan came to work on the van some more, and I am happy to report that we are all home again. Whew!

Happy Birthday

The boys are three today. That means three years ago today I went to the doctor and then on to the hospital for a c-section and early delivery of two little babies. Two little babies I didn’t even get to hold as they were whisked away to neo-natal. But three weeks later, they were ready to come home. It’s three years later and they are now busy, busy boys, and no longer babies. I love these boys and their happy smiles and hugs and kisses and ideas while they are playing. Mark said to me yesterday, “I not Marky. I Lukey”. He says this while smiling mischievously and waiting for me to say, “no, no, no, you are Marky.”

He just asked me to put his socks on his hands. He is playing pretend.

Ryan brought home a box of empty plastic lidless bottles that were headed for the trash at work. They look like shampoo bottles and the boys are having so much fun with them. They have gone bowling, to the grocery store, had a long line of bottles, and even marched while hitting them together as musical instruments. Who needs toys?
Lucas loves to hug your neck so tightly you can hardly breathe. He also says, “I got you, Babe.” He is also super-proud if he accomplishes anything by himself, like putting on his own socks (on his feet). “I do it all by myself!” he exclaims in awe.

I have always told Tim and Sarah and the boys that the boys are NOT allowed on the top bunk of the boys’ bed until they are three. When Tim found out today was their birthday, he asked if he could ‘show them around’ the top bunk. Go for it, Tim. They are now back playing bottles again.

A sure sign of age three. We are leaving the library and going through the process of putting on coats and mits, etc. As I am zipping my last coat, (my own), Marcus pipes up, “Come on, people, time to go.” Tim looks at me and says, “Did he just say ‘come on people’?” “Yes, he did.” Marcus’ words are echoes of Timothy, his hero, but I keep those thoughts to myself. I’m thinking I am going to like age three times two boys.

"The difference between just looking and really seeing, between just hearing and really listening, and between just talking and really saying something is the difference between just life and really living." Those outside of Christ are like those waiting for their allergy medication to make things - Claritin clear.

Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." John 6:68

Guard your heart

I was at my building blocks class this Thursday, listening to our teacher teach us about parenting toddlers, our own little diamonds in the rough. She talked about:
1. discipline as training
2. being self-controlled
3. guarding your own heart, not just the heart of your child.
The last one really seemed to sink in today. Sometimes I am so concerned about the hearts of my children that I fail to see how my own heart affects them. That is, until I am completely frustrated, and God gently reminds me. Like today. The teacher talked about the importance of scripture and devotional time with God, which seemed to hit me like a brick. If there’s anything I don’t have a true abundance of, it is TIME. However, if I am not taking the time to put God’s word into myself, how do I expect it to come out of myself and influence these four beautiful little minds-in-the making? I have to have God’s word going in…not just good teaching from great Christians, not just good books, but the powerful God-breathed scripture. I am really taking this to heart. I have to have God’s word going in …in order to have it coming out…it seems rather obvious, doesn’t it? Thank you Lord, for always pointing out the obvious to me. So let me encourage you – put the word of God in and you will notice it coming out.

Things kids say

Things kids say:

Ryan and I went away and the kids were with friends. I had sent some casserole along. When I asked Sarah what she had for dinner, she said, “We had that same thing you make Mom, but they called it a new name. They called it LEF TOVERS.”

Lucas wanted to help peel potatoes. In lieu of handling a knife, I had him pull all the potatoes out of the bag and put them out on the counter to hand to me. He seemed pleased and I decided to take a moment to teach basic math concepts. We used his “counting finger” to touch four potatoes, one, two, three, four. “Now, when mama takes this one away, you have three left.” “No, mama, I need one, two, three, four!”
“Mama needs these for dinner. Do you understand?” I proceeded to begin to peel potato #4. He just looked at me with sad eyes, “But mama, they were friends.”

There’s a song we sing called “singing makes the work go by, work go by, work go by, singing makes the work go by, when you’re singing.” I instructed Tim and Sarah to pick up their blocks and I heard them laughing and singing. Only instead of the lyrics I expected, I heard, “Working makes the sing go by…” they couldn’t get any farther than this in the song because they kept dissolving into giggles together.

Mark and Sarah were making magnet creations while I took their pictures. When I stopped to make my own creation, Mark handed me my camera and said, “Take a cheese of me, Mom, take a cheese.”

Science with six year olds. How would you answer this one? “Mom, is jelly a solid or a liquid?”

A Blue Day

Are you wondering why my hands are blue? Oh, you can’t see my hands, can you?
Well, my hands, especially my fingertips are a great shade of bruise blue. That dark, purply color. The poison control center said it might take three days to wear off. Try baby oil, but it will probably be there for three days. Yes, I did say poison control center. Yes, this is about the twins. You see, their hands are blue, too, and Mark’s lips, tongue, and mouth are also blue. I see your raised eyebrows. I sense your concern. Let me enlighten you.

I have been fighting a never-ending cough, a real nasty one. It has descended into my lungs and made itself at home. Very painful. I have sought medical attention and I am hopefully on the way to recovery, but I digress.. (You want to know about the blue, right? Keep reading.)

Since it hurts when I move or speak, I am trying to avoid those activities. This makes home-schooling and parenting a tad difficult, so I actually let the troops watch TV this morning. That Curious George is cute. The TV is in Ry and I’s room and sits on my craft desk (I haven’t ‘crafted’ since before the twins were born) so it’s a great place for the TV. However, the drawers still contain craft supplies. I thought I had secured these items, but I underestimated the abilities of my sons. I was mistaken….

Tim came bounding down the stairs, “The boys have something. I don’t know what it is, but it looks messy and Mark is eating it.” The bathrobed woman sprang into action as if her lungs were perfect, bounded up the stairs and soon discovered several open squirt bottles of craft ink, and two very blue boys. Did you know you can’t raise your voice when your lungs are unhappy?

The hardest part was keeping them from touching anything while I brought them downstairs to wash them up.
The good news: They didn’t “paint” anything. There’s only some ink on the carpet. The rest was on a plastic tote and was relatively easy to clean. No one had squirted it into anyone’s eyes. Only one twin ingested it. The ink is acid-free and non-toxic. Poison Control was helpful and even said, “I hope your day gets better.” How sweet.

And so another morning draws to a close at the Westphal home…

January 8, 2008

Do you remember how we put up a bird feeder so we could make a “habitat” for birds? We did this so that we could see what birds would come. We ended up with the brown furry type of bird. Yep, a squirrel. (See September 25, 2007 blog entry).

Next, we tried an experiment. We taped a sign to the bird feeder that stated “NO SQUIRRELS”. We were trying to see if squirrels could read. Well, George (the big squirrel) could not read, so he called on his brother, Phil. Phil could read. When they learned what the sign said, they both decided they were simply large chipmunks, and the sign did not apply to them.

Well, the weather grew colder, and we weren’t quite as diligent about getting the birdfeeder filled as we had been in the past. Today I walked across the back porch to see these strange blue bits. What could they be?

Yes, they were bits of the birdseed container lid. George and Phil had been gnawing on the lid! The birdseed container is clearly marked “Birdseed”, and yet further proves our hypothesis. Yes, squirrels can read!

Merry CHRISTmas

Welcome to the 15th Annual Westphal Christmas letter

Merry Christmas one and all. When we last left our heroes, the Westphals, they were struggling with the demands of the young family. ( I do like the word “young”). This year still finds them there. Twin two-year olds has been more work than imaginable, but lots of joy too.

In February, Mark and Luke turned two. They are continuously talking, running, discovering, and playing. They rarely stop moving, but they do like books and they love to “help” with anything. They are at last potty-trained (Cue: Hallelujah chorus). For the first time in six years, there are no diapers at my house.

In April, I was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa (XLRP). Yes, this is my dad’s eye disease, and no, I am not going all the way blind. However, it has added a few things to think about and limited the night-time driving. My life is getting a little fuzzier. So if I don’t recognize you in a crowd, just come a little closer and wave.

In June, Sarah turned four. My little blue-eyed wonder loves to color, run, and have “tea parties” where she pretends to be a grown up. She tilts her head and tells me the adventures of her four children. It’s quite eye-opening.

In September, my little red head turned six. Timothy plays games, loves numbers and soccer, and likes to tell stories. We are home educating (this is the new buzzword for homeschooling). We get to play games and read books all day long. Don’t worry, we also do writing, math and science. Tim has started reading small books, and I am so excited I have to be careful not to overwhelm him with the eight parts of speech just yet. Maybe next year. Tim is a big help to me.

Ryan is still working at Automatrics. He enjoys his work and values those customer and vendor relationships that lead to mutual benefits at the best price. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Seriously, Ryan is good at what he does and grateful that God is providing for our growing family. It can be difficult to juggle work, family, church, time with wife, and fixing various things around the house, and Ryan does a great job. He likes to take the kids on trips to the store or the YMCA, or over to the coffeehouse to play games.

That’s it. The idyllic, peaceful life of the Westphals….okay, not exactly.. We are not only grateful to God for being with us, but we also love the life of walking with Jesus every day. Having that personal relationship with Jesus is the best commitment Ryan or I have ever made, and that relationship has shaped all of our decisions in the past and will continue to shape them in the future. I would encourage you all to seek Jesus this Christmas season and discover a life-changing savior.
Merry Christmas Everyone. See you next year.

Poem of the Month December

O Never Star Was Lost

O never star
was lost; here
we all aspire to heaven and there is heaven
above us.
If I stoop
into a dark tremendous sea of cloud,
it is but for a time; I press God's lamp
close to my breast; its splendor soon or late
will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.

Robert Browning

This is one of my favorite poems about hope. After all, God never promised we would escape adversity when we decided to follow Jesus, yet he did say he would never leave or forsake us. For anyone who has faced a "dark, tremendous sea of cloud", you know how overwhelmed you can feel. Yet the hope in this poem is God's word, that "Lamp close to my breast". The words that will do their work, and yes, that "some day" will come.

Jesus loves the little princesses, horses, postal workers, etc.

I try to always sing to my children as I tuck them in at night. At least until they are old enough to realize that God has not blessed me in this area. There are times already when Tim says, “Mom, please stop singing.” But my Sarah and my boys still love it. Mark always requests “Jesus loves the little children”. This simple song has morphed into quite the monster at our house. We have come up with various new verses to this song including: “Jesus loves the big grown –ups” and “Jesus loves the little Indians”. There’s also the ever popular “Jesus loves the little butterflies”, and who can forget the classic, “Jesus loves the little tractors.” I think they figure if I can sing 100 verses of “Jesus loves all the troops”, then it puts off their bedtime. I am happy to say that the CD is NOT available.

Ginger Morning Star Bettis

My sister had a baby

Little Ginger Morning Star Bettis was born on November 24, 2007 at 7:30 am in Bellingham, WA. She weighed in at 8 lbs, 11 oz, and was 19 inches long. I am told she has red hair, just like her eight year old sister, Willow. I will post a picture when I see one.

My little helicopters

After bath-time, I always snuggle up the boys in their towels and call them my little "helicopters". (It used to be caterpillar -see an earlier post on that one). Well, Mark wanted to be my "liddle airplane, Mama!" Then it was Lucas' turn. Not to be outdone by his brother, he announced he was my "liddle airport, Mama!" Airport? He kept grinning. So then I had to make those imaginary planes land on him..the tickling kind. Now, after every bath, I have two little airports!

Sleepy lunch

This is my Mark, tired out after a busy morning.

It’s nice to have honest children. We’ve always tried to not punish them for telling the truth. Something about, “Did you hit your brother?” If they say Yes, and receive punishment, then aren’t we teaching them to say “No.”, in effect, teaching them that to lie keeps them out of trouble?
So, here’s the story. Mark and Luke are upstairs, playing nicely, and I am downstairs. Nothing ever happens unless you attempt to answer the phone. Especially if it’s someone you’ve never met before. The screaming started almost as soon as I said “Hello.”
Then I heard the fwoop, fwoop, of a little bottom coming down the stairs and the crying gaining momentum. I could tell it was a hurt cry, so I ended the call and opened the stair door. Mark was three steps from the bottom, crying, blood running down his cheek. Luke was close behind, uninjured. I whisked Mark to the bathroom, and cleaned and applied pressure, wondering about stitches. The crying subsided and I asked what happened. Mark wails out, “Brother hit me with car!” Luke, who is sitting on the stool watching everything, echoes, “I hit his cheek with car.” Mark wails out again, “He say sorry!” and Luke again echoes, “I say sorry.” This makes me smile. “Did you forgive brother?” “I forgive Luke,” he says. “He forgive me,” says the echo. I emphasize that we don’t hit. “yes, mom,” they both respond. Bleeding has slowed, bandaids have been applied, Tylenol given, prayers prayed, kisses and hugs, and all is well. “I go play now?” asks Mark. “Play now?” says the echo. “Yes, “ and off they go. Resilent little critters, and thankfully, honest.

While trying to console Mark over his cookie breaking in half. I joyfully pointed out he now had TWO cookies. As I poured a cup of coffee, I heard, 6..7..8..9.. 10 cookies! Sure enough, he had 10 cookie bits! Six of which were no longer on the table.

Sleepyheads

These are my almost three year old twin boys! Exhausted after going to the library, they crashed on the drive home. I carried them in from the van and laid them on the couch. They are now toe-to-toe. They are growing older and getting longer. I can't believe they take up the whole couch already! My babies are boys!

Poetry

I love to read poetry. It gives language a succinctness that leads directly to the crux of the issue being discussed and hence, states the point. It does this concisely while avoiding the trappings of wordiness I find myself plagued with occasionally. J


The Prayer for Being Edited by Karen Burton Mains

Lord,
Edit me.
Correct me when my words are faulty.
Revise my thoughts.
Polish the rough passages of my being.

Submit me to a review panel who can judge
My strengths and weaknesses.
Correct the internal rhythm
So that the outward meter will be whole.
I want to be a work of art, Lord, a classic of some kind.

Give me form,
Fill me with the beauty of yourself.
Help those who read my life to see
That you are the workman;
I am the workmanship;
And out of me you are creating a work of art.
Amen.

Tim turned six on September 28, 2007

These are Tim's self-portraits taken shortly after his 6th. birthday.

Reflections on Psalm 26

I read Psalm 26 this morning and thought of people I’ve talked to who sometimes feel that they don’t deserve the grace of God. God’s grace is available to all of us, praise God!

Sometimes it’s hard for someone like me to see God’s grace and appreciate it. It’s something I have always had. I have never been to a high school party or college party. No one has EVER offered me drinks or cigarettes or drugs. People just knew better. I got called Sister Christian a few times, but people knew. I always walked in integrity. (Yeah, I messed up, but for the most part, I was fine.) My friends were after me if I skipped chapel in college! I led a pretty protected life. I still do.

So I read in this psalm this morning how David says, “I am walking in integrity, vindicate me.” And later he says, “I am walking in integrity, redeem me and be gracious to me.” Even though he was walking in integrity, he acknowledged his NEED for redemption and grace. The “walk” was not the point. The walk is never the point, it’s the grace.

This struck a chord with me this morning. My hardest struggle in life was when we dealt with infertility. I know some of you have been down that road, where you just desire a child and nothing is happening. We got angry at God. We had always done the right thing…shouldn’t he bless us? This attitude was dead wrong and we learned so much about trust, and grace. (We were the older brother in the prodigal son story). We may be “walking in integrity” but we still have to humble ourselves and acknowledge the NEED for redemption and grace. What a difference that acknowledgement makes.

I think some people have a greater appreciation for God’s grace than me just because of all they’ve experienced. (like the younger son in the prodigal son story) I see God at work in other people, in their love for their kids, in their prayer requests for family and co-workers, in their sensitive spirits, in their humility and I am blessed for it!

As followers of Christ, we each have a story, a story whose focal point is our response to the grace and redemption of Christ’s sacrifice for us. It’s encouraging to be encouraged by other people’s experiences walking with God. So, keep walking and keep sharing your stories and thanks again for all of you who provide encouragement for me. Keep it coming!

Things Kids Say 2

Mark's response to being outside in the dark, "It's dark ON ME!" "Yes, I suppose it is." "It's dark on you, too, Mama."

After bathtime, I wrap Lucas in a towel and hug him close and tell him he's my little caterpillar. I have always done this with all my kids. Last time, I hugged him close and he said, "helicopter, mama, helicopter." I started listening intently, marveling that he could hear it in the bathroom before me. He began to become distraught, "mama, I your liddle helicopter!" Ohhh... So I scooped him up again and called him my little "helicopter".

Timothy this morning, "I declare my breakfast is over!" he stated as he stood up to take care of his things. Then he tilted his head and looked at me, "Mama, what does declare mean?"

Sarah, "Mama, can you be my big sister?"

Just Another Manic Monday

It’s Monday morning and I need to put the trash out by the road for pick-up. Oh, but first, a cup of coffee. Get coffee made. Mark is up, crying for mom. Hug and cuddle him, read a book, read two, read three. “Want o’s!” “say please”. “PLEASE want o’s!” Get o’s for mark. Find coffee cup on counter. A little cold. I put it in microwave. I see the trash can, oh, I have to get that out. Luke is awake, asking for mama. I cuddle him, and give him o’s.

Where’s my coffee? Uh-oh, mark spills, go to the pantry for papertowel, put towels in dryer, why am I in here? “I pill Mama! Towel please!” Grab papertowel. Luke has gotten into the grapes (Did I wash those yet? I hope so.) Mark “helps” and dumps rest of o’s and milk on floor. “oops mama!” I got it. Sweep up the grapes. Dump in trash, oh, I have to get trash to the road. I hear “no no no, mama!” Where is mark? Wasn’t he eating grapes? Oh, that’s luke, he’s still eating grapes. Mark is upstairs, waking up Tim. It doesn’t sound good, so I race upstairs, and remove Mark. “Help cars, mom.” We start to pick up the matchbox cars in the hallway. Something doesn’t smell right. I investigate. Someone used the little potty in the night, so I bring that downstairs to empty it. Get that done. I get out the crock pot for dinner and start that. Oh, the trash.. “Mama, I go potty, please come.” O.k., help Lukey go potty. Start to put away bath toys from last night. “mama! I stuck!” I race upstairs. Mark has his pajama shirt on like a backpack. I help him, and turn off fans and quick make Sarah’s bed for her. Wait, where is Sarah? She must be sleeping in my bed. I go to the hallway and trip on the matchbox cars. Ouch, didn’t we pick those up?

Where is my coffee? Back downstairs. Dishwasher is open and I start unloading. I vaguely wonder who opened it and where is the silverware? What time is it? Oh, yikes. We gotta get busy. Don’t forget the trash. Start to clean up boys’ breakfast stuff. Find grapes in the cookie jar, mashed against the inside…how do they do that? Mark is crying. “brother won’t share,” I take the time to point out the mutual benefits and fun involved in taking turns and sharing. I explain the negative consequences of their failure to share. I will OWN the toy. Ok. Tim is awake and eating. Where is Sarah? Oh, that’s right. I send Luke to wake her up.

Where is my coffee? Tim is calling me from upstairs. “coming” Up I go. Sarah is awake, a little bleary, but awake. Tim wants to play marbles in my room, without Luke. Luke is not happy. I carefully explain that given his age and level of responsibility, marbles is not the best option for him. I remove him from the situation and decide to get him dressed. Mark is in the bedroom. He has dumped out the blocks and is carefully attempting to throw them into the trash can, which is on the dresser, out of reach. I politely ask him to stop and state he is going to get dressed now. I notice many of the blocks are missing. As I open the dresser drawer to get clothing, I hear about 243 blocks fall behind the dresser. Hmm… guess we won’t be playing with those for awhile. I get Mark dressed but I have lost Lucas. I take his clothes with me downstairs. I find the silverware in a nice pile at the bottom of the steps. Nice. I pick that up. I vow to at least rinse them off…later.

I vaguely remember my coffee. Lucas, no longer sad about the marbles, has found new interests. The kitchen floor is covered with o’s. (I thought I put those away). I broom those up, realizing I am now using ‘broom’ as a verb due to the twosome’s influence. I let Lucas have a turn to “broom”. Sarah has wandered down and is insisting on her breakfast and her bathrobe. She starts crying because o’s are stuck to the bottom of her feet. The day continues…

Mark is looking out the window…”Truck, mama, big truck”. Yes, truck, I vaguely reply..as I try to read some important insurance papers..”Trash truck..” Yes, trash-TRASH? I bolt out the door barefoot and drag the trash down as fast as I can, waving like a mad woman. Oh, good, he’s waving back. He saw me. Whew! Made it.

I go inside and realize I am still in my bathrobe. I have not brushed my hair. Where are my insurance papers? I begin to search, but not for the papers, I want the coffee.

Things Kids Say

Mark says “I have belly ache, Pray it, Mama, pray it!”

Sarah woke up with a stuffy nose, “Mama, I have the blessyous.” “The blessyous?” “Yeah, I keep sneezing.” Oh, the Bless You’s!

Tim wants to know why I am on the left side of the car on the way to the library AND on the way home. Since we are traveling West instead of East, shouldn’t I be on the left ONLY on the way to the library? I tried explaining why compass directions are constants, and right/left stay with you, but I ended up with turning left with my west hand, and instructed him to talk to his Dad about it.

Luke wanted to help cut up the apples as he watched from a chair. “This is a black-handled knife. It’s only for grown-ups.” I said this in my best this-is-serious voice and he seemed to be listening intently. However, as I set the knife down, he reached for it. Our eyes met over the counter, and he stated very sincerely, “I a grown-up.” I don't think so.