Posts Tagged ‘mothering’

Kickin’ Off Spring Break

March 16, 2009


We just finished a unit of Floating and Ships which we wrapped up by renting a boat and spending the morning on Canyon Lake.  It is amazing to me that there are beautiful lakes only an hour outside of Phoenix.  Canyon Lake is one of a chain of three man-made lakes that fill steep canyons bordered with cliffs, cactus and even mountain goats.


This is the perfect time of year to go because it’s not too hot yet.  It was 65F when we arrived and 80F when we left.  I’m not sure who loved it more, the moms or the kids?  We decided we needed to plan some more units that would involve boating…. like animals of the Southwest, plants of the Southwest, classification of rocks, water conservation, gas propulsion, the sun’s effect of exposed skin, etc.  As you can see, there are plenty of times we can return to the calm waters of Canyon Lake.  It was a relaxing morning to kick off Spring Break.  On the way home, we stopped at a ghost town of an 1893 gold mine.  What a tourist trap…. but the kids had fun kickin’ up the dirt and talkin’ like cowboys.


Spring Break is a sweet gift to homeschooling moms.  Makes me smile.

Beauty Secrets from my Mother

March 14, 2009

In honor of Mother’s Day… you know, coming up in May, …. I thought I would share some of the beauty secrets my sister and I learned from our mother.  Please get your pen and notepads, girls.  This is highly important information.

1.  If you don’t have time to put all your make-up on before leaving the house, wear sunglasses and lipstick.

2.  If you spray a drip of hairspray on your finger tip and run it over your eyebrows, they stay in place all day long.

3.  Eyebrow pencils cover scars.

4.  Everyone looks better with curls around their face.

5.  Always imagine the clothes you’re trying on in a fitting room with three pair of control top nylons underneath them.

6.  Don’t wear white shoes between Labor Day and Easter Sunday.

7.  Only wear three accessories in one color at a time.

8.  Shoes and purse must match.

9.  Jeans are not for church.

10.  Eat fruit.  It’s nice.

There you have it.  Beauty secrets to live by.  Christy, did I forget anything?

Bed Sweet Bed

February 23, 2009


There’s nothing quite as inviting as your own bed.  Can I hear an amen?  Not that the beds up at Scrapping in the Pines were that bad… I simply didn’t lie down in them quite long enough to feel rested.  I slept last night from 9:30 PM to 8:15 AM and am feeling much more alert now.  When I arrived home last night to free Chipotle burritos… which I declined… and an invitation for a family game of Settlers of Catan… which I also declined.  SEE?  I was a bit tired.

Today I had a rude awakening when I realized February is over in one week.  YIKES!  Where did this month go? I have quite a long TO-DO list for my book that I’m supposed to have done on April 3rd.  I’m afraid My Sister’s Jar may turn into an every other day event as I am strapped to the computer chair with humorous and not so humorous marriage stories running amuck in my mind.  Nothing like a deadline to start the fire in the basement.

OH, minor adoption news posting today:

Make it a great week!

My Third Most Embarrassing Moment

November 16, 2008


I’m still not to the place in my life where I can write about my first and second most embarrassing moments of my entire life, but I CAN face my fears and post my third most embarrassing moment for all the world to read.  It helps that it is so fresh in my mind.  It occurred only last month at church.

It was a Sunday morning and the service was over.  It is a 30 minute drive home, so I decided to visit the ladies room before our journey.  I emerged from the stall and was washing my hands and visiting with another gal when one of my daughter’s friends came in and a comical, yet horrified look arose on her face when she saw me.  A bit out of the ordinary for her, but not totally surprising to me.

At that point, the other gal pointed to my backside and asked if the toilet seat cover was supposed to be sticking out of the top of my skirt….. sweet mother of Moses…. I’m SO glad she said something before I left the bathroom to have my extra appendage witnessed by the entire universe. 

BUT, I knew my secret would not be kept behind tight lips… being that it was a 15-year-old friend of my daughter who was allowed to live after being an eye witness.  True to form, I received an email the next week from the girl’s mother asking about my wearing of toilet seat covers.  She wished she could’ve been there to see it for herself.  I wish she had have been there too, because she’s the type that would’ve laughed hard enough to need Depends. THEN who would’ve been laughing!?

Thank God for friends who help us in our time of need.  :o)

Beauty in the Desert

July 16, 2008

Photography by ME.  Unusual for sure.  I usually lift them from Google images.

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why any covered wagon settlers stopped here in the Sonoran Desert.  It just doesn’t make sense.  There was no air conditioning then, let alone swimming pools.  And from my limited knowledge of that time and practices, I think they had to travel in the summertime….  which leads me to say, “What in the world could they have been thinking?” 

Was it a completely broken down wagon… and no trees in sight… that caused them to pause here?  Or was it a botanist discovering the flowering cacti that forced his wife and chillens to stay on the dry, cracked dirt?  Or someone from the Sahara Desert who finally felt at home with the mirages and heat stroke?

I don’t mind living here… in this day and age.  It’s quite comfortable as long as you stay inside and your A/C doesn’t go out. It did take a bit of getting used to.  My first summer here, 11 years ago, I jumped into my Dad’s ’66 Mustang without moving the metal seatbelt out of the way.  I had a burned-in, blistered horse tattoo on my backside for a long while.  But we have the necessary tools of survival… NOW.  I’ve seen women driving wearing oven mitts so they don’t have to touch the steering wheel.  We have spring loaded window shades that take an ambidextrous person to collapse.  Not to mention the safety glasses necessary whilst opening them.

Today, it’s a balmy 102.  Relatively mild for July.  If I remember right, it was 118 this week last year. And I like water.  Lots of water.  Camel amounts of water.  It makes me feel… wet and cool… bloated and waterlogged.  As long as I don’t have to do yard work from May – October… I’m good with living here.

Abiding the Adoption Wait-time

July 6, 2008

Zaza could look like this lil’ darlin’.

Tomorrow is officially the start of our sixth month of being waiting parents for our little Colombian daughter.  Adoption is a weird deal.  It messes with your emotions.  You get hooked on the idea and you cannot stop the daydreaming about your child that you haven’t met. 

There were several little girls Zaza’s age around the house this week.  They are busy little bees. It makes me question our advanced ages for adopting a 3-5 year old.  I just keep quoting my mantra, “I was in my thirties when she was born.  I was in my thirties when she was born.”  It makes me feel like I’m youngish and ready for a pre-school age child.  DRE-E-E-E-EAM, DREAM DREAM DRE-EAM.

On nights like tonight when I’m dead-dog tired, I wonder if I will hold up like the days of old when I had my first go-around with young children.  Looking back I seemed invincible.  I handled it all so effortlessly.  I’m not feeling invincible these days. And nothing is effortless anymore.  Is it my age?  Or is it just the pre-camp counselor blues?  Did I mention DEAD-dog tired?

On a cherrier note, I cannot wait to hold Zaza in my arms and kiss her and wet her black hair with my happy tears.  I’m sure that’ll be a new deal for her… someone that is so happy to see her… overcome with joy… and crying crocodile tears.  I’m not the poker face type.  I’m more the wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve type.  I think Zaza will appreciate it… on maybe the eighth day, or ninth. 

Mama’s coming, Zaza.  Hold on, girl!   and

Kids Do the Funniest Things

July 4, 2008

Yesterday, I was cooking dinner and behind me at the kitchen table was Keeve, our youngest son.  He had the gallon of milk out that was down to about 1 1/2 inches left.  Instead of pouring it into a cup to make chocolate milk, he was squirting the Quick straight into the gallon container.  He then replaced the lid and gave it a good shake.   Sadly resulting in tan colored milk.  So he squeezed and squeezed the chocolate syrup until it was dry.  (I hid the bottle in the garbage, so Rick wouldn’t add water to it and put it back in the fridge.)  Shaken again…. not the desired color. 

So ingeniously, Keeve went back to the fridge and found the Nestle strawberry syrup and proceeded to add it to the beige milk.  Unfortunately, it was also almost empty.  But the remains were mixed with great vigor and a slightly-sunburned-flesh color of milk was the result. 

At that point Keeve poured it into a cup and drank the whole thing down in one bottoms-up.  I inquired about the taste… he said it just tasted like normal milk.

That was a lot of work for milk that tasted normal.  But there is now free space in the shelves of my fridge.  :o)

Smoothie Slug Fest

February 12, 2008


Today was not what I would call an optimal homeschool day of success. I dragged myself out of bed only because the tissue box on my nightstand was empty. Sinus pressure got the best of my sleeping hours and I was not real keen on facing my pupils. A shower was all I needed, right? Then I would be tip-top and ready to conquer all. The hot steam did aid my breathing situation but looking down at the floor in the shower, I realized I had recently passed the “gross me out” stage of cleanliness. Even with a head cold, I couldn’t go on with life knowing my shower was this dirty. I was vigorously scrubbing when I heard a sound that makes any mother’s heart pound in fury. My three well behaved, trained-up-in-the-way-they-should-go-children were screaming at each other down in the kitchen. I simply wanted to crawl back in bed, hide under the covers and bawl.

Eventually one of the guilty showed up in my bathroom to offer his side of the story. It included a smoothie, selfishness, grabbing, yelling and an unfair portion of the desired iced-fruity drink. No eye contact occurred as I continued scrubbing the soon-to-be-white shower stall. “Send in your brother,” were my brief words in response to his plea for justice. Number two arrived and basically told the same story, except his version also included hitting, but not by him, of course. “Tell your sister I want to see her,” was all he received. Her story was similar to both of the previous ones, however she left out the hitting part. Hmmmmm.  I asked her to leave my room and close the door behind her.

I called my husband at work and sobbed through my morning’s events in an incoherent blur, that I’m sure made his morning complete. After I calmed down, I proceeded to tell him that his children were selfish and mean and I didn’t want to see them today… and it was only 9:15 a.m. Maybe we’ve been too easy on them and I need to give them a dose of REAL school: Sit at the table and do math for 45 minutes. No you cannot go to the bathroom or get a drink, or pet the dog during those 45 minutes. When the 45 minutes are up, you have 3 minutes to do necessary errands and then you are to return to the table for 45 minutes of English. Same rules from math apply. This will be followed by 4 more 45 minutes of other subjects whether we are currently studying them or not.

My husband spoke with each of the children on the phone and they were surprisingly cordial the remainder of the day. This evening I received an email from my dear spouse that told a story of a mom who felt invisible and trapped in her tedious job of mothering. Been there; wrote the book. Her friend gave her the gift of a large book on cathedrals and wrote inside, “With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.” The author described how the builders of the great cathedrals never saw the finished buildings. They labored and created works that others could enjoy. It’s true: mothering is building cathedrals. I cannot see the finished product, but I keep plugging along laying the foundation that I pray will one day support a magnificent work for Christ.