She Has Chosen

"Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”
Luke 10:42

Any woman who has been a Christian for some length of time knows the story of Mary and Martha. The one where Jesus came to their house and Martha was busy doing what we women do when we have guests in our home--trying to get a meal on the table and take care of everyone's needs. Her lazy, good for nothing sister, (This is a come to Jesus moment. Ladies, if you have a sister, you KNOW this is what Martha was thinking.) was sitting at Jesus' feet, listening to him talk, not doing her fair share of the work.

”Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.”
Luke 10:40

Or was she? The picture that always comes to mind when thinking of this story is that "the good portion" was the part where Mary was sitting quietly at the feet of Jesus. I would like to submit that the CHOICE to listen was the good portion.

Today, I had a choice. A dear friend of mine who recently lost her young adult son is in town for the first time since the accident. I had made tentative plans to spend the day with her. However, when I tried to call her to set a meeting time, her phone was acting up. In the interim, I asked my son, who will be a senior in high school next year, ,i>(Momma translation: this is his last real summer at home, my baby boy is growing up and leaving my nest, I must cherish and cling to every moment.) if he would like to go get lunch then go bowling together. He happily said, "Yes," and threw an additional activity of checking out a new store into the pot.

This is momma. See momma fist pump.

Not five minutes later, my friend called me back. People-pleasing women everywhere, you KNOW I had a choice to make. My friend needed me. I promised her that whatever she needed, whenever she needed it, I would be there. But my son. MY SON! I had made plans (Teenager translation: a binding promise to spare him the burden of yet another boring summer day, and, of course, one-on-one time with the best mom in the world. Hey, who is writing this, anyway? Don't judge me.)

I screwed my courage to the sticking place and told her, without apology, (yes, that is important) that I had plans with my son and couldn't meet up with her until much later in the day. Lo and behold, there was no thunder or lightning. The earth did not stop in its rotational movement. My friend said that would be fine. I hung up the phone and gave myself a high five. Then I heard a still, small voice, "She has chosen the good portion."

Wait, what? I wasn't sitting having some deep Bible devotional quiet time. I chose my son and our relationship. I did not put him off or try to explain why he was less important to me. I chose the good portion. These days are fleeting. The days of sitting in the rocker with this boy on my lap are long gone. The days when he brings me bugs with a sweaty smile are in the past. These days it is stolen moments between basketball games, dates with girls and long work nights. I cannot dwell in the past and wish those days back. I must forge new memories and cling to the special moments I can.

The good portion. Time with my oldest son. Moments of laughter. Deep conversations. You know, sitting at the feet of Jesus, lapping up every blessing he sends my way.

”But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”
Luke 10:41-42

31 Day Writing Challenge

It is difficult to go anywhere in our town without seeing little green stickers with the words "Be Kind". This is the result of a local charity, Ben's Bells. Of course, the point is for people to be kind to each other--an endeavor that I support. However, I would like to submit that if we are not first kind to ourselves, we will not have much kindness to give to others.

A search at BlueLetterBible.com revealed that the phrase "Love thy neighbour as thyself," (KJV) or "Love your neighbor as yourself," (NIV & ESV) occurs nine times. To me that says that we have to care about ourselves, show love to ourselves, in order to be able to love others--our neighbors and friends.

I am learning how to do this. For most of my life, I have not given myself permission to be kind to myself. I felt it was wrong--in the vein of being selfish and therefore sinning.

Please do not hear me wrong, I am not saying we should go crazy here, but we need to give ourselves permission to accept from ourselves kindness. Yes, we take care of ourselves; we buy stuff for ourselves, but most of the time, I do that with a measure of guilt. I might give myself permission to do something just because I want to do it, but there is always that nagging guilt voice in my head telling myself I have no business spending this time on myself. Buyer's remorse is my constant companion if I should decide to make a purchase for the simple reason that I want the item.

I am working on correcting this behavior. I am working on giving myself permission to accept my own kindnesses to myself. What have I gained? I am happier. I am nicer to others. I am more accepting of others and their weaknesses. I am able to accept kindness given to me from other people.

So, for the next 31 days, I am going to try to do something for myself each day. Maybe it will be working on a crafty project. Maybe it will be doing something with purpose for my health. I do not know exactly what will come up. I have a list to work on, but I am going to be kind enough to myself to allow myself to stray from the list without admonition.

This post is my official Day 1 as I am starting three days behind the average bear 31 Day Writer participant.

1) Make a blog button and write a post introducing my 31 day writing topic. (You're here!)

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There are a bunch of other people on 31 day journeys of their own. You can find them at Write31Days.com. Just a bunch of bloggers happy to have our own personal cause to write and share about.

Five Minute Friday: Change

I have been waiting in anticipation all week to find out what the word prompt would be this week.  Then when it was announced I came up blank. But this morning, during my ten-minute vacation (aka my morning shower), an epiphany hit. So without further ado, I give you my five minutes on . . .

CHANGE

Can you think back to a moment in your life that was the epicenter for huge change? At the moment, you have no realization of what is happening. I am not talking about something big like a marriage, birth of a baby or the death of a loved one. I am talking about something simple that you just didn't give a huge amount of thought to at the time, but later on, down the road, you can see that it was the beginning of something big.

This brings to mind a tsunami. Plates move under the earth all the time.  They move under the ocean all the time. They do not always cause a catastrophic change. But once every while (too often, I am sure, for those who live through the horror), the movement of those plates cause something huge to happen.

A little over two years ago there was a series of "plate movements" in my life. At the time, they just gave me pause and caused me to scratch my head. But in retrospect, I can see that they were the beginning of something huge; something that has been tremendously life changing for me. I am on a new journey. It is scary. It is exhilarating.

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Do you want to join in the fun of waiting each week for a writing prompt, then spending five minutes putting your spin on it?

Tuesday at Ten {Gather}

I am so thankful that there are writers who want to share their joy of writing by inviting others to join in and write on a given topic. These wonderful people are so open and accepting of other writers no matter their current ability and flub-ups are always welcome because they have been there and understand.

Today I am writing because of Karen at Finding the Grace Within. Thank you, Karen, for inviting me on this journey.

Gather

At first glance, I think of gathering my thoughts. I am in the process of learning to be kinder to myself-to take the time to care for myself. Today, as I was looking up an exercise video on Pinterest, I clicked onto a link that talked about how meditation is a key element in building a healthy immune system. When I think of meditating, I think of centering my thoughts-gathering my thoughts, if you will.

My brain usually is jumping all over the place, a virtual haven of Mexican jumping beans. Do you remember those? They came in a little plastic case. The beans would jump and dance to a gentle clicking sound. But there was no noticeable pattern. You didn't know which bean would jump next or when it would jump. That's my brain and thought process. So gathering my thoughts would be a relief.

Centering myself and focusing on just one thought at a time is virtually impossible. I do not enjoy sitting in church and listening to the sermon. Not because I do not care for the things of God, but because I cannot make myself focus on the sermon. I tune in for about half a minute, then my mind is off on another path. About five minutes later I will make a conscious effort to focus once again on the topic at hand, only to realize ten minutes later that I have no idea what the preacher said.

What is the problem? Do I lack self discipline? Am I back-slidden? My usual explanation is that I am ADHD. No official diagnosis, but I have serious suspicions. Let's be honest. The answer is that I am just like most other moms. I have about fifty billion pots simmering at any given time. I barely move the pot on the front burner off the stove, before another has to be whisked right into its place. And the truth of the matter is that my stove has about twelve front burners.

What was the topic? Ah, right...gathering. I am discussing gathering my thoughts. I can picture myself in my mind's eye. I am sitting cross-legged on the brown carpet of my living room floor. I have gentle, soothing, uplifiting music quietly playing. My diffuser is releasing a pleasant, refreshing scent into the air. My eyes are closed, palms are laying face up on my bent legs. All tension and stressed is released from my face, my shoulders. I grab onto one thought. I stay focused and centered on that thought. No others penetrate my thought process. I am able to give my complete attention to this one issue. Thoroughly dissect it and solve its nuances. All my energy, breath and focus are gathered into one place.

What a beautiful dream, a worthy aspiration. Out of my reach? Beyond the realm of possibility? No. It is there, ready, waiting to be gathered.

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Want to join in the fun?

Five Minute Friday: Fill

Writing is healing. It's a way to be heard. Maybe not actually heard by anyone, but by the page. Cathartic-that is what writing is. Five Minute Friday provides for a directed form of therapy by giving us one thought to focus on for five soul-cleansing minutes. So without further ado...



Go.

Fill. I try to fill my days, my thoughts,my musings so as to focus on what is no longer mine. My mind keeps going back to those thoughts that just keep circling, circling, circling in my head. Bit I can no longer stand hose thoughts. I am getting nowhere focusing on those thoughts. I must fill my mind with other things. I must keep busy enough to keep from obsessing on what I have no control over. So I attempt to fill my days with plans. My actions with projects. I must move on from this rut that gets me nowhere.

And I succeed. I manage to keep myself busy enough, focused enough that I no longer dwell on those thoughts. But they are like a bad penny. One action. One thought. And they are triggered once more. Round and round they go in my head again. I drive myself crazy with it all.

Fill. Fill. Fill my mind with a different refrain. I must escape these thoughts that drive me mad.

Stop.

Five Minute Friday: Finish

Finish. You can't actually finish unless you start. What have I started? Plenty of projects. Plenty of ongoing projects at this very moment. I have swatches of a new paint color on two of my bedroom walls. I have a bare concrete floor with patches of glue still staring at me. Unnumbered sewing projects-pot holders, pillows, a quilt...

So what is the problem here? I am starting things in order to fill a void. I do not yet know what that void is, I am working on that. I have my suspicions.

So maybe THAT is what I have started-the journey to figure out what that void is. The finish line is way in the distance I am afraid.

For now, I should focus on finishing some of these projects. Maybe the time it takes to do that will give me the much needed time I need to sort out that void.

Fell Behind Friday: Reflect

From Merriam-Webster.com:

to move in one direction, hit a surface, and then quickly move in a different and usually opposite direction

I find this definition to be profound.  I am always moving in one direction--the direction of time.  I usually live in a state of feeling swept along with no way to gain foothold.  The days just keep moving, minute by minute, hour by hour; then the days move in to weeks--Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so forth and so on; the weeks become months--jog through January, fly through February, march through, well, um, March (I was going to stop there, but let's see if I can keep the alliteration going, shall we?), accelerate through April, muddle through May, jump into June, juggle July, adapt to August, swim through September, obliterate October, nod through November, and dream through December. (Huge breath in. That was actually a little painful.)  Then, as we all too recently discovered it is a new year, and where did the rest go? Honestly.  My daughter just asked me tonight how long ago I graduated from high school (according to teenagers, in the dark ages, apparently).  I do not feel like it has been twenty-five years--but what do I know?  What does twenty-five years feel like anyway.

Truth be told, I have been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and I have to say, it actually does feel a lot like hitting a surface then quickly moving in another direction.  You see, I am trying to figure out what exactly I want to be when I grow up.  As it turns out, age is definitely a state of mind.  Most of the time I still feel like I am a teenager--mentally that it--I never have actually gotten the feel for being an adult.  Yes, I have taken on and handle adult responsibilities very well, but I haven't quite mastered the rights of adulthood.  Most of the time I feel inferior to other adults, but that is a topic for another blog post.

Of course there are those times when I feel my age.  I struggle with thinking that I can re-enter the workforce at this point in time, or the point in time just a few short years from now when my kids are no longer under my control. Who would want someone my age to work for them when they can get someone years younger?  I feel I am past my usefulness.  Then, of course, there are those issues with my knees--they are happy to remind me that I am no spring chicken.

But I have to decide what I am going to do, what I am going to be.  The husband and I want a totally different life for ourselves once the kids are out of the house; a life that is simply not going to permit me to be a stay-at-home-wife.  I am going to have to gainfully contribute; the problem with that is that I will have to be gainfully employed.

So I am trying to sort out what it is that I want to do.  Truth be told, I have already accomplished my childhood dream.  You know, the one where you say, "When I grow up I want to be a . . ."  I always finished that sentence with "wife and mother."  Check and check.  In that sense, I am extremely successful.  But my life doesn't end at wife and mother.  My youngest will be a legal adult in a short six and one-half years.  And, yes, it is absolutely short.  The days are long, but the years are short, short, short (see above).

There was only one other time in my life when I knew with absolute certainty what I wanted to be.  I was determined to be the CEO of Disney, and I believed I could, too.  But I lost sight of that dream, somewhere around the time I became disillusioned with Disney, you know, when I actually looked at it through adult eyes. (Huh, maybe there were a few times I felt like a grown-up.) 

When I was living those CEO pipe dreams, I was enrolled in a business management/administration program at an university.  But just ten short classes short of graduating, I decided to earn my M.O.M. degree.  I don't regret that one bit.  What I do regret is not slowly working to finish up that degree.  I do not think that I am just ten short classes shy of that B.S.B.A. degree now.  Truth is, I no longer have an interest of being a business administrator, but I would like to say that I completed my degree.  I am just too practical, though.  I have no intention of working in a job that would utilize such a degree, so I cannot justify spending the time and money to complete it.

I know, it seems like to have drifted way off topic, but in truth I haven't.  I have been reflecting.  Reflecting so much that I am bouncing in a ton of different directions.  What is the opposite of reflecting?  Absorb.  Absorb is the opposite of reflect.

Honestly I have this mental picture of standing in the middle of a circle of mirrors and balls are pinging off the mirror, going in the opposite direction then bouncing off and going in another direction.  And there are lots of balls.  That is how I have been feeling with trying to sort through all my thoughts and emotions.  That is reflection.  Absorption. . .that gives me a mental picture of sitting down in the middle of the mirrors, closing my eyes and internalizing all my thoughts and emotions.  I haven't done that, but I might well consider it.  It would require allowing the past to just be.  Not something that comes easy to me.  I have always lived the motto, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."  A good motto, but prevention and beating oneself up for past decisions are two totally different things.  I think I may be operating as though they are a single entity.

Think I will call myself Lucy and hang out my shingle.  The mirrors will come in handy when I am acting in two different roles.  O.K., I think I am officially punch drunk.  Time to call it a night.

Five Minute Friday: Fight

"Fight the good fight."  Those were the first words that came to my mind when I saw the topic for this Five Minute Friday.  What is the good fight?  Of course in scripture it refers to fighting for what we believe; and believe me, that can be a fight. Going against the mainstream--you had better believe it.  And it just gets harder every year.  Just try to raise kids who have a good faith and morals--even if you have them in church they are constantly surrounded by worldly music, girls who do weird "dance" moves on award shows and are talked about everywhere you turn, and my absolute favorite--bumper stickers with very choice words.  Yeah, I want to fight--fight all of it.

But the truth is, I get so tired.  Just bone weary of constantly swimming upstream.  I still swim (cue Dory, "Keep on swimming, keep on swimming. . ." ahem).  But many, oh so many times I just want to quit.  Thank God He didn't quit on us.  Thank God that He fights for us.  The God of angel armies is ALWAYS on our side.

Fell-Behind Friday (Commonly known as "Five Minute Friday")

When the kids started school this year I decided that I would take a trip into my passions.  Writing is one of those passions.  I found Lisa-Jo Baker's blog and Five Minute Friday.  I was so excited and looked forward each week to the prompt.  Then life happened.  Somehow I got bogged down with mental overload and physical fatigue.  I let Friday after Friday to by without participating in the writing party.

As a part of my Christmas Bucket List (really, I don't care for that name--how morbid--but everyone knows what someone means when it is said--"Thank you, Mr. Nicholson"), I have decided to catch up on the writing prompts.  One prompt a day.  I may or may not keep my writing time to five minutes.  I will probably put more thought into what I write. 

I will be doing my best to be back online on the 23rd.

Until then . . .

Waxing Philosophical

First, a vocabulary lesson:

Waxing - assuming a (specified) characteristic, quality, or state
Philosophical -  of or relating to philosophers or philosophy
For the purposes of this blog entry:
Philosophy -  the most basic beliefs, concepts, and attitudes of an individual or group 

O.K., do you feel much smarter now? I know I do.  Actually, I had a really hard time finding an actual definition that explained what I intended to say with this post title: Growing Thoughtful. Those words just don't have the same punch as Waxing Philosophical, so I had to make it work. 

That was a huge digression from what I wanted to say, so on with the business of writing this entry.

I was surfing Pinterest. (Of course I was surfing Pinterest. What else would I do with all this free time I have between eating bon bons and watching soap operas?) I was surfing Pinterest, and came across this quote:

 "I've learned that you can tell

alot about a person by the way (s)he

handles these three things:

a rainy day,

lost luggage,

and tangled Christmas tree lights."

                                 ~Maya Angelou 

I, obviously, had to analyze how I handle these three things.

A rainy day - That totally depends on weather, er whether, that rainy day is cold and windy or warm and sunny behind the rain. If it is cold and windy, then I am a total grump. Actually I am a total grump if it is cold and windy, forget the rainy part. I do not like to be cold, and rain just adds insult to injury. If it is a warm, sunny day, I probably handle it a lot better. Except I do not like for my shoes to get wet or for my glasses to be spotted with rain. So, I guess I am pretty finicky about rainy days. If I know it is going to rain, I will try take care of any outings before hand so I can avoid the rain.

I am not doing so well on this analysis.

Lost luggage - I have never lost luggage before, a fact for which I have actually been thankful-literally. I guess that, in and of itself, pretty much sums up how I would handle lost luggage. I would be totally worried and annoyed. I would be wondering how I was going to handle the few days I might be without my belongings. I know that I would not just shrug my shoulders and take myself to the nearest store to obtain the few things I might need to get by. I have actually considered packing in a carry-on bag the things I do not feel I could do without. Top on that list: clean underwear.

 I am starting to see a pattern here.

Tangled Christmas tree lights - I will sit down and try to untangle Christmas tree lights, until it is obviously a hopeless mess. However, the actual answer to this one is that I avoid tangled Christmas tree lights to the best of my ability.  When taking lights off the tree, I will either walk around the tree carefully forming the lights into a loop, or put one of my children on the other side so I can hand them the loop of lights, all while telling them exactly how important it is to be extremely careful while removing lights from a tree. Then, once they are off the tree, I will carefully use twisty ties around several areas of the loop in order to maintain the untangled state of said string of lights until the next time they are needed.  This works quite well, I must add.

My final analysis:

I am a planner. Plain and simple. I like to predict what will happen and avoid what I consider to be unpleasant about the situation to the best of my ability.  

I chalk that up to another wise lady who was in my life. My grandmother, Nana. I know she wasn't the first person to say it, but she was the first person I heard say it, so I always think of her in regards to this quote:

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Thank you, Ms. Angelou for the mental exercise. 

What a whirlwind

I have wanted to write a post so many times in the past two weeks, but I couldn't figure out how to put into words what I have been feeling.  The past two weeks have been such a bustle of activity.  Most good.  Some not so good.  All very thought provoking.

I would have to say that the activity that had the most impact on me was being allowed to provide labor support to my friend as she gave birth to her second child.  It is not my story, not really, but it is still a chapter in my life.  I do not know how someone can have the privileged of witnessing someone bring a new life onto this earth and not be profoundly affected.  When I had my first child, I experienced a bit of postpartum depression.  It was wonderfully lifted when I was able to share the story of my birth experience.  That experience lead me to believe how cleansing it is to verbally share your story.  From viewing the process, there is so much I want to share, but honestly I do not feel I can.  As I said, it is not my story to tell.  And while I have no desire to share the story of the birth, I want to tell how incredible it was to witness. But I now understand why Mary, "pondered all these things in her heart."  Jesus' birth was not about Mary, but how could she not be affected?  I will be forever changed and forever grateful to have been allowed such an opportunity.

The next event that took place is so pale in comparison as to be almost transparent.  However, I was immensely overjoyed to be able to sew a dress for my daughter that she not only loved, but that she received many compliments for.  Not that I wanted compliments; however, have you gone clothing shopping for a young girl who is trying to live while displaying a testimony for Christ?  It is next to impossible to find suitable clothing.  So I took matters into my own hands.  I knew the style she was looking for, so I found a pattern then showed her the line drawing.  My dear daughter is such a visual person.  Once she sees something in a certain pattern of fabric, she cannot look beyond that far enough to see the style and know that it can be made of something different.  My plan worked, and she gave me permission to proceed.  Several years ago, she was involved in Christian Youth Theater.  I worked on the costume committee for several shows and made some pretty nice pieces.  But I was hesitant to try it for Snickerdoodle.  I decided to put that fear behind me and I am so glad I did.  The dress was a triumph.

The next activity was that the husband and I got away for a couple of days, sans children, for our 17th anniversary.  We have never been able to do that and it was quite nice to be able to leave our children in the care of very capable people and just enjoy being a couple again for a few days.

However, real life smacked us in the face very quickly after getting back home. We had to put our dog, who has been with us for 15-1/2 years, down because of a series of health complications.  That is an experience I never wish to repeat.

I also got to put my new found sewing confidence to use when a friend asked me to alter her daughter's prom dress.  Talk about nervous!  Try cutting into the fabric of a dress that someone has paid more than $100.00 for.  But I was glad I was able to do it.

One more big event.  Today, on Mother's Day, Snickerdoodle and myself, along with other moms and their daughters, got to go enjoy an afternoon and evening together.  We went out to eat, then went to see a Britt Nicole concert.  Not that big of a deal for me, but a huge deal for my daughter.  She was even able to "touch" Britt.  Heartwarming to share that with my girl.

Other mentionable activities include son #1 going on a overnight hiking trip--that gave me much reason to worry, and Bubbie Boy testing all my fortitude as a mother.

Ahh, onward and upward!

Menu Plan for the Week of April 30, 2012

Only four days to plan for this week as the husband and I are headed out of town this weekend to celebrate our anniversary.

I have really got to get proactive on the menu planning stuff. I plan meals, I just have lost my way as far as planning for more than one day at a time. There was a time I would plan and go shopping for two weeks at a time--with two young children and my pregnant self. Sometimes my neighbor would join me with her two young children. We lived about 45 minutes from the nearest grocery store. You should have seen the mini van loaded down with four kids, ice chests and food for two families for two weeks. Wow! Can't believe we did that.

*I will make the necessary changes to make these recipes gluten free.  We are pretty much loving this change in our diet.

Most of these recipes are linked although for some reason my blog won't display them as such.  Just mouse over to see if there are links.
 
Monday

Breakfast: Coconut Flour Banana Muffins 
Lunch: Waffle Iron Hash Browns with Spinach & Fried Eggs
Dinner: Oven Baked Chicken Fajitas  

Tuesday
Breakfast: Pumpkin Muffins 
Lunch: Tuna Casserole and Peas
Dinner: Sweet & Sour Chicken and Asian Slaw  

Wednesday
Breakfast: Refrigerator Oatmeal 
Lunch: Black Bean Salsa & Corn Chips
Dinner: Chipotle Chicken  

Thursday
Breakfast: Pancakes
Lunch: Alfredo and Mixed Veggies
Dinner: Taco Corn Fritters & ???  

Friday
Breakfast: Pancakes & maybe Mini Quiches

The one where . . . we decide to try gluten free

It has come to my attention that for various reasons my husband and I should venture into the land of gluten free. I also think that it may be beneficial for my oldest and youngest children, and that it may not even be a bad idea for my middle child. Consequently, I am deep in research mode on this front. I have been making more gluten free choices and two weeks ago, my husband said that he actually wants to give it a try. That makes it easier for me, so the research mode has been amped up.

In my dilemma over making this decision, I wrote the following e-mail to a friend who lives gluten free:

The idea of just taking baby steps until it is accomplished seems more reasonable now than just going cold turkey. I have made dietary adjustments before, so I know it is possible; there is just a bit of mourning that goes along with it. With everything else I was able to have a conversation with myself. "It is not like you will never have chocolate ever again. You can do this and enjoy the times when you can have the treat." But bread? It is the staff of life. No, it turns out. Not so much.

I think one of my biggest mental blocks is the idea that there will be times when I will ingest gluten, albeit unintentionally (or intentionally at times--I am still human and I cannot comprehend that I will absolutely NEVER give in to temptation), and it makes me wonder if it will all be for naught. Will an occasional slip-up completely negate all the hard work of avoiding gluten?

For years I have been a creature of moderation in eating. There are certain things that we have totally said, "No," to, but those are things that, while not always easy to avoid, have been very doable. But the idea of staying away from those vegetables and fruits that are known to be heavily sprayed while still eating some conventional has been a simple switch. The idea that all the good could be undone with only one bite is where I am stuck. Add to all that the fact that a high-fiber diet is how I have been living for so long and now I have to change is daunting. And it is not as though I eat with no thought or concern. I put a lot of careful attention into our/my diet.

So here we go, on a gluten-free adventure. I am excited, overwhelmed and frustrated. However, it is a journey and I am looking forward to traversing the terrain.

"I Love You Most" Pillow

Bubbie Boy and I have a couple of traditions.

I do not know how long ago we started the first one. At some point I showed him the sign for "I love you," and told him that wherever we are we can always tell each other that we love each other. We use it quite a bit.

The second one started after we became owners of the Disney movie Tangled. We had gone to the theater to see it. (With the daughter, my brother and nephew--just to clarify that it isn't totally a girly movie.) But we didn't really pick up our second "thing" after the first viewing.

At some point after the daughter had viewed the movie for the umpteenth time *sigh*, Bubbie Boy started the dialogue.

I said to him, "I love you."

He'd replied, "I love you more."

I knew what he was waiting for; he wanted me to say, "I love you most."

These are lines from the movie between Rapunzel and her awful "mother." But the lines are cute.

So began many, many nights of a ritual between myself and Bubbie Boy.

Unfortunately, I think he believes that I mean that I love him more than I love his brother or sister, but I am not going to fight that battle. THEY know I do not mean to say that.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I got a fabulous idea:



I decided to make a pillow for him combining the two traditions.

Here's how I did it.

1) I traced my handprint--all five fingers down on the paper. I rounded out the bottom of the print under my palm. Also, I was going to smooth out my fingers because they are no longer really young and are a little knobby, but I decided that it is those hands that tell him I love him, so I would leave them be.

2) I cut out the paper handprint, pinned it to red felt and cut out a second handprint. I ironed on heat and bond to the back of the hand (the palm, thumb, pointer finger and pinkie). For the two middle fingers, I cut a narrow strip of the heat and bond and applied it to the front.

3) Using my Silhouette and this tutorial I cut out the letters M-O-S-T from a coordinating fabric. I did not use the Silhouette fabric interfacing, I used the heat and bond from my local fabric store.



4) I was planning on using a 16-inch pillow, so I cut my front fabric at 17-1/2". I centered the felt handprint and letters onto the fabric, being sure to place them with care, then I ironed them in place. I had to be careful of the two middle fingers on the hand as there was heat and bond on the front of those. Once everything was ironed down, I folded down the two middle fingers, leaving space at the top to give them dimension, and ironed them in place. I used this tutorial on blanket stitching and stitched around the handprint. Where the fingers were not attached at the top, I just stitched through the felt, not the felt and pillow front.

5) Then I used my sewing machine to applique stitch around the letters.

6) Using another pattered coordinating fabric (I probably would have used the same fabric I used for the letters, but I didn't have enough), I cut two 12-1/4 x 17-1/2 inch pieces. On one of the 12-1/4 inch sides on each of the pieces, I turned under a half inch then turned under and inch and stitched a hem.

7) Then I pinned the two back pieces to the front piece, right sides together. The "hemmed" sides overlapped each other in the middle.

8) I stitched around the whole thing using a half inch seam allowance.

9) I turned, clipping the corners, ironed well, then top stitched using a quarter inch seam.

I then sneaked the pillow onto Bubbie's bed.

He was very excited to find it and I got lots of hugs.

Linked up @

Arg!!! Can I Just Say, "ARG?"

O.K., so there seems to be a lot of things to say, "Arg," about right now. Granted, my life is good, really good, compared to a couple of my friends right now. Friends who are terribly, terribly sick. And, really, if I was just complaining, I wouldn't be brave enough to post about it. So, let's just say that I have been doing a lot of web surfing on topics such as:

1) Naturally cleaning the home
2) Homemade neti pot solutions
3) Gluten-free diet (Can I add, "YIKES!" to my "ARG?")
4) Colloidal silver

That's a lot of stuff to wrap a brain around, and the conflicting information abounds. Well, except for the gluten-free stuff. That seems pretty set in stone.

Happier stuff?

Sure!

I found a wonderful book at the library called The Meghan Method. The best thing about that find was that I wasn't looking for it. Snickerdoodle is growing up and has decided she wants a room decor upgrade. We can do that. We never really decorated a nursery for her, so I think we can do this. Truth be told, the whole house needs a decor upgrade, but we can start with her room. Nice small beginning space.

But I was feeling a little decorating stupid. I am really, really bad at this thing. But this book. THIS BOOK!!! Meghan made me feel so much better about my abilities. She is not an interior decorator, so there are no stupid rules like, "No ceiling fans," or "Only odd-numbered groupings." No! She believes you should decorate your space to fulfill what you hope to accomplish in the space. If it is the living room, everyone who uses the living room should get a say. After all, they live there too. The teenager's room? Well, mainly it is her space, so she should have the majority of the say. I agree. However, I do reserve financial backer rights. *GRIN* And, it is my house, which, sadly, she will not be living in forever. Matter of fact, that timetable is getting smaller and smaller every day. *Sigh.*

I can't wait to read more of the book and put it into practice.

"Even so, come Lord Jesus!!!"

Gradual Changes--Making Our Home Less Toxic

I paid a visit to my natropath a couple of weeks ago. I have been having ongoing problems--nothing major, just things that I wanted to have guidance in dealing with. During our conversation she asked what cleaning products I use. After a minute or two I told her that I really don't do that much cleaning. Yes, I dust and sweep the floor. The floor gets mopped. I don't let mold sit around in my shower or toilet. However, I don't follow a regular cleaning schedule and I don't like to use a lot of commercial cleaning products--the basic reason I don't do a whole lot of cleaning. I know that sniffing that stuff is not good for us. The whole time I am using those type of cleaning products I am trying not to breath. I mop the floor with vinegar, but I haven't taken the real plunge into more natural cleaning.

Tonight, however, that all changed.

Step #1:
Get rid of the artificial scented wax stuff in the Scentsy.

A dear friend gave me a Scentsy for my birthday a couple of years ago. I have only used it a handful of times because those scents are totally toxic. The daughter got headaches from them, and while I enjoyed having good smelling smells, I knew it really wasn't good.

So . . . I heated up the existing wax with my hair dryer and threw it out. I put coconut oil and lime essential oil in the bowl and plugged it in. So. Much. Better!!! Good smelling home--no toxic induced guilt. Ideally I would like to use beeswax not coconut oil, but I do not currently have any beeswax available, so I used what I had.

Step #2:
Wipe down the walls.

Have you ever been totally amazed to find dust on the walls of your home? It totally freaks me out. So tonight I mixed up the following:

Wall Cleaning Spray
2 cups distilled water
1 cup white vinegar
12 drops lemon essential oil

Mix in a spray bottle. Shake before each spray.

My living room walls got the treatment tonight with the above spray and a microfiber cloth.

Step #3:
Refresh the carpet.

I have found a recipe for a carpet cleaner using essential oils in a rented steam cleaner. That will be happening at some point, but for tonight I vacuumed very well then shook the following onto the carpet:

Carpet Refresher
1 cup cornmeal
2 cups Borax
2 cups baking soda
10 drops rosemary essential oil
20 drops lemon essential oil
20 drops lavender essential oil

Mix well and sprinkle on carpet. Allow to sit for several hours, or better yet, overnight.

The mixture is currently sitting on my carpet and will be vacuumed up in the morning.

My family just got home and they are all very happy with the wonderful smells from all my work.

One room started, many to go, but slow and steady wins the race.

A piece of my heart

My third born, my Bubbie Boy, is the child I shake my head over. The one who causes me to do deep breathing. The one who makes me wonder on a regular basis if we are going to be taking a trip to the emergency room. I often say that his older sister and brother did absolutely nothing to prepare us for him. They are responsible, mature. Bubbie? Not so much.

A sign hangs in his room that reads, "Meandering to the beat of a different drummer." He is very unlike the rest of us who are living this life with him. Yet he is passionate. He feels things deeply. He fiercely defends those whom he loves. He sings at the top of his lungs. He wakes in the morning asking if anyone wants to play a board game.

To be truthfully honest, he Absolutely. Wears. Me. Out. For me to try to accomplish anything is a chore because he almost always requires my attention.

So, why is it, that tonight, while he is having a sleep-over at a friend's house, do I keep looking at his room and sighing? It feels like part of my heart is missing. Don't get me wrong. I am glad he is enjoying his friends and I am not trying to keep him my little boy, but I just feel better when he is here.

I know I should be striving to accomplish some of those many, many things I am always saying that I am unable to because of his activity level; but, honestly, I will be glad when he is back home under our roof.

I so love that little boy.

Parent Directed Education

Our homeschool is in for a shake-up. Plans are not yet hammered down, so I do not want to share details, but for us it is big.

In light of the changes, I have become increasingly annoyed by the lack of support for parents who are just trying to do what they feel the Lord wants for THEIR family.

Jimmie inspired me to make a blog button of my own. My old "Proud Homeschooling Mom" just wasn't fitting right for now, so this is my attempt at replacing that button.



Details will be forthcoming with what I think will be a long editorial. For right now just let me say, I am clinging to my Father for guidance.

HOW many steps???!!!

Do you have people living in your home who cannot just wait to get to their (BIG breath) Xbox, texting phone, DS, Ipod, computer, TV, etc., etc., etc.?

We seem to have that problem.

I decided to come up with a solution.

It's called PEDOMETERS.

I placed an order on Monday for three pedometers. (I have had mine for a little over a week.) Did you know that you are supposed to walk 10,000 steps each day? You are. I am not going to require quite that much. But I am going to require 6,000 steps. We will increase that number over the summer. Each person who desires screen time must log 6,000 steps on their pedometer first.

Excitement currently abounds. The little step trackers have been in our possession for all of thirty minutes. We will see how excited everyone is tomorrow.

As for me, I am excited and will continue to be.

Works for me!

New Year -- New School Plan

We are two days into our new school schedule--so far, so good. However, I have learned to not count on 2 days being a predictor for future days. Tomorrow will throw a wrench in our day as it is the day I have staff meeting and Snickerdoodle (a/k/a "The Daughter") has riding lessons right in the middle of the day.

I have started using a workbox system for DS #2. He seems to be liking it. He likes to work through the numbered boxes. I have to find stuff to put in each , but that makes it more exciting.

DS #1 is using his new history curriculum. We LOVE it. I wish that Notgrass would come out with curriculum in every area. But I still have Math-U-See.

Snickerdoodle is working hard on her science and Starting Points. She is getting a head start on her assignments for Starting Points and, as usual, I am very proud of her.

The husband and I got to exercise together yesterday and today, first thing in the morning. We hope to continue that. I actually made the kids breakfast both mornings--no cold cereal, although we love cold cereal. But the point here is to keep tummies full until lunch time so we don't get derailed by scavenging for food.

Hope we can keep it up. It takes 7 weeks to form a habit, right. Yikes! Two days down, 33 more to go.

Keeping my fingers crossed!!!