Quilting Day

I didn't mean to start looking at pictures...  I spent my "free" time today quilting.  I promised Max and Mitch when they moved out of the toddler beds I would make them full size quilts.  I finally started to piece them today.  I am making disappearing nine patch for them.  I got all the nine patches together and was going to go cut them all in half when I glanced up to see the last gift I made and gave to my dad.  It was an insert for his casket lid.  We had discussed its design to be sure it met his specifications.  I gleaned the materials for construction from the clothes hanging in Dad's closet.  The verse on it is Proverbs 22:28 Do not remove the ancient landmark which your fathers have set.

My dad died on Sunday night.  We were planning on pulling our camper over to stay in my folk's yard on Saturday.  I finished the insert on Friday evening and got the kids fed and in their pajamas while Matt finished up the 45 minute long slide show of my dad's life set to the music of Buddy Greene.  We were planning on making the 40 minute trip over to parents to give them the video and the insert before returning home to get the kids in bed.  Matt had some trouble with the download and we decided it was getting too late to make the trip since we were going over in the morning anyway.  Early Saturday morning Dad slipped into a coma.  He never saw the last thing I got to make him, but I know he would have been pleased with how it all came together.

I designed the insert to become the center panel in a quilt for my mom.  For now it sits on the shelf on my computer desk.  Mom gave me dad's ties and I am planning to incorporate them in the quilt.  I think I need more time to insure quality work.  I can't seem to sew straight when my eyes are leaking and making the fabric soggy...

Happy Little Hair Accessories...

I have a hard time when I am in a store and there are a lot of bright colored items displayed together.  It is a marketing ploy that pulls me in. How can I pick just one?  They all belong together!  They can't possibly look as appealing solo.  How could I separate them?  Won't they be lonely?  It would be like taking an elephant for its tusks and leaving the baby elephant to fend for itself!  I would never do that!!

 I went to an actual brick and mortar store for the first time this holiday shopping season last week and encountered something I have had my eye on for the girls.  I can quickly work myself into an emotional frenzy all over a display of silk zinnias in the craft aisle.   love those big bushy flowers you see clipped on headbands.  We found the headbands and I decided to purchase silk flowers by the stem to glue on hair clips I had on hand at home.  Right by the flowers were butterflies.  We got at least one of every color.

First, I used my side snips, you may recognize them from a former post where I was using them to remove staples from Breadwinner's noggin, to cut the stem and back from the flowers.  In the picture you see the pink flower in a state of disarray.  It's metal stem and base have been removed.  Next, I used a glue gun to glue all the petals back together.  If you have never taken the stem and back from a silk flower you may not be aware that when you remove them the petals are no longer stuck together.  A large gem was then glued in the middle of the flower.  Lastly, an alligator type hair clip was glued on the back.  The flower can be clipped to a headband as pictured or directly to hair or a sweater.  Don't feel sorry for the loan butterfly.  We got one of every color on the end cap!



A word on hot glue guns.  The little orange one you see in the picture is low temp.  I gave it to my oldest daughter last year for Christmas, yes the crafting insanity is intergenerational-just ask my mom!  Low temp is great because the glue doesn't tend to melt your synthetic projects or blister your fingers as badly.  The drawback is it doesn't seem to come out of the gun as quickly.  I started the project with low temp and ended with a high temp glue gun.  The high temp takes longer to dry and seems to leave more "strings" of glue on the project. 

 This flower and headband we already had on hand.  I simply added the clip to the flower.  Even if you can't get out to purchase the aforementioned materials you can probably make this.  I made the headband one Sunday when I was home from church with a sick kiddoe.  Take a ribbon and sew some felt the same dimensions as the ribbon on the back.  Sew a piece of elastic on either end of the ribbon and you are done.

Even though the girls picked out what colors they wanted and watched me glue them together I know they will be pleased to find them in their stockings Christmas morning!  

Wordflakes...

My kids love scissors.  If you have read my post on hair cuts you may have put 2 and 2 together and figured out that while we do try to keep them from running with scissors we don't disallow our kids from doing lots of cutting.  In the past I have even purchased workbooks devoted singly to cutting as birthday gifts.  Needless to say making paper snowflakes is a project we introduce early in support of their dexterity development.

Last weekend my sister-in-law, who claims she is craft challenged, brought me this great idea.  Her co-worker had shared it with her.   It is an old fashioned snowflake with words cut into it.  She called them Nameflakes.  She had made them using surnames and matted and framed them as gifts.  Claiming artistic license I changed the name to Wordflakes and used seasonally inspired words.

For this project you need is a square piece of paper, a pencil, and scissors.  If your husband has deemed it necessary for your occupation that you have your own scalpel set and taken it upon himself to procure said apparatus so be it.  Get that out along with a cutting board.  It is handy for removing excess paper inside little letters.

Fold a square of paper in half 3 times.  With the folded edge to the bottom cut off excess paper to flatten the left edge.

Write an inspired word in block letters making sure the letters touch each other on the sides.  Cut to remove excess paper.  This one says, "PEACE" if you can't tell.





Open them and enjoy.

My oldest is so excited to display these gems she is washing the kitchen windows to make a place for them right now.   If yours turn out really super mat and frame them up for gifts.  No one can ever have too many pieces of cut up paper hanging around...

Mommy, Do I look Good?

More advice to young mothers.  Start cutting your kids hair when they are young.  This is the best time to make mistakes.  They won't know they look funny until you go to church and everyone erupts with uncontrolled mirth and your baby looks at you with questioning eyes.  Not that we have first hand knowledge of such occurrences...  

I have been cutting hair for 10 years now.  Sometimes I'm not sure I have gotten any better with practice.  But I will not be deterred!  Especially when the alternative involves loading everyone in the van and paying someone else to do a job I can do well enough.

This was not a mistake!  He requested a "Papa Dick" haircut.

She did this herself as I was executing the aforementioned "Papa Dick".

I did accidentally remove his side burn when he made a sudden  head nod.




My best hair cutting advice is to do it in the bathtub.  The clean up is easy!   Put the hair clumps in the trash and rinse down the strays.  

In The Sweatshop...

I finally have something completed that I can post without wrecking the Christmas present surprise.  This happens to be for my kids.  I will have to forbid them from checking out my blog.  I always have a chuckle when people say they got someone to watch their children while they Christmas shopped for the kids.  I seldom leave the house without my entourage.  Makes me feel more important that way.  Anyone with that many people following them must be a person of note.  Maybe I should give them all cameras and we can pretend they are paparazzi.  I am 93% sure most folks being chased by the hoard paid them to drum up business to meet their career goals.  From the number of face covered circulars at the grocery check-out it may show a great deal of business acumen.  But I digress...

I purchase most all gifts for my kids in their presence. (how punny!)  Birthdays included.  This doesn't mean they know what they will be receiving.  They learn not to question unusual purchases at a young age. We also have a plethora of nieces and nephews with just as many birthday buying opportunities on which to place suspicion.

My kids are a bunch of droolers.  Only 1out of 6 of my babies didn't have to wear a bib 24/7.  I may not always remember a change of clothes for the baby when we are out and about, but I always have 5 extra bibs.  I change bibs more than I change diapers!  This being said, I don't think they outgrow this habit.  They spend the night dessicating as all moisture drains from their bodies onto their pillows.  In the spirit of true disclosure I once was as they are until the last 10 years when I was forced from being a stomach sleeper due to pregnancy and lactation.  I'm passing all the blame onto my dad, the patriarch of the drooling sleepers.

Let me halt here to give warning to all those of you who have yet to chose a life's mate.  This trait could be a deal breaker.  Put the drool question on your "questionaire for possible suitors".  You can thank me in the future...

Due to the drool my kids pillows are not the most pleasant things even after much laundering.  So pillows went on the Christmas list.  This buying season Matt happened to be in town with us and I took the opportunity to dart into Wal Mart while they waited in the car.  Not sure how I thought I would "sneak" 5 pillows into the van without anyone noticing.  I had hoped Matt would park facing away from the exit.  They were questioning my bulk pillow purchase before I was buckled.  "Who are those for?"  "Are you giving those to -cousin's name- for his birthday?"

So ends my brief foray into stealthy gift procurement.  

I did make each of them a new pillowcase.  It was fun picking out fun fabrics for each of them.  They went together so quickly it was a treat to have them all done in one day!   All of them with the exception of Maielle's were quilter's cotton.  She got minkee.  Sometimes it pays to be one of the babies.

For 3 of the pillowcases I used 2 fabrics and 1/2'' seam allowance.
The measurements for the fabric are 25''x40'' and 8''x40''
1. Fold the 8''x40'' fabric in half the long way.
2. Place right sides together and serge 8'' fabric to 25'' fabric(along the 40'' side of course)
3. Serge the bottom and side.
4.  Iron the seam toward the opening and topstitch.
-With 2 pillowcases I used 1 piece of fabric.  I simply folded the top to the inside to make the band before sewing up the ends and side and topstitching.

Project complete!  One thing done yesterday that won't be eaten up only to be eliminated out for me to deal with later.  One thing not spilled out only to be picked up and dumped again.  Ah, the feeling of accomplishment!

Soggy Crust and Wet Carpet

A friend came to visit the other day and asked if I still cry a lot about my dad.  Every couple days I have a slow moment and that's when memories surface.  My day is seldom quiet so I don't have opportunity to dwell on our loss at the same time I try to be cognizant of the need to grieve.

I guess the term "slow moment" is relative.  These moments exist for me are when no one is demanding my direct attention.  Last Saturday I cried into my pizza as I was making supper.  This is an obvious time to stop and think of Dad as pizza was his favorite and I don't recall a time when Mom didn't make it for him on a Saturday night.  Saturday night pizza was an institution.  The occasion was rare that my friends could persuade me to "go out" when there was a weekly party at home.  Dad was introduced to pizza in high school.  The fact that he was not Italian but Danish didn't seem to curb his enthusiasm for what would become a food staple for him.  My dad wasn't a huge eater, but he made an exception when it came to pizza.  He always ate his pizza with a fork.  Hot pepper flakes became a must have within the last 15 years.  When we were kids it was a big deal that we got to drink kool-aid with our pizza.  Changing with the times pop is now the expectation.  Mom's pizza crust can be used as a time line.  Mom started out making the boxed mix crust, made a short transition to frozen bread dough, next she made a thick home made bread dough, finally she settled into a French dough making a thinner crust.  There is no wonder that pizza is my number one go to comfort food...

Yesterday I had another moment as I was vacuuming.  This can be a very reflective time for me as no one can talk to me over the sound of the vacuum.  I can't remember what triggered the tears, but they were mixed with chuckles.  I was remembering my dad's last words to me.  In the last months I had wondered what they would be.  In the end he couldn't really talk.  So when he said something it was because it was important.  He could only whisper.  I leaned in close to try to understand what he was trying to say.  It was something along the lines of, "You made me throw up!"  Dad experienced a lot of nausea. Having had a lot of experience with this myself, I was always on the lookout for things that might help ease it.  Nothing I suggested helped.  And the preggy-pops were the worst, apparently.  So, the last act for my Dad in his consciousness was to hold the bucket for him.  I laughed then and it still makes me laugh.  I can only surmise that Dad figured he had already told me everything he needed to as he raised me.

In Pursuit of Normal...

I ran into a friend yesterday who also lost her father to lung cancer.  What a relief for her to tell me to "give yourself two years..."

We spent the last year anticipating Dad's demise and trying make the most of time.  Now we are trying to get back to "normal".  Our new normal involves tears.  I can't keep track of the number of gifts I have picked out for my dad for Christmas.  The other day my mind reverted all the way to my childhood.  One of the girls needed socks to go out and tend to chicken chores.   I caught myself just as I was going to tell her to just get a pair out of Dad's shelf in the mudroom so she didn't have to go all the way upstairs.  I am intrigued by the way the subconscious reacts to stress...

The month of December is customarily Sewing Month in our home.  We spend much time creating Christmas gifts.  This year we have the added benefit of another sewing machine, which is great as we try to catch up with missed school work.  The sewing machine was my paternal grandmother's.  When my mom gave it to me it would only zig-zag stitch.  I found the original sales receipt in the case and the shop where she purchased it is only 7 miles from my home!  Even though they wouldn't honor the lifetime sales guarantee, they tuned it up and it now works just as well as it did in the '60's.

My goal is to eventually have a one-to-one sewing machine to girl ratio.  This summer on the way home from the lake we visited a quilt shop.  The girls used some special money they had been given there.  Mad bought a pattern and Maliah chose a panel.  Fortunately they are more decisive than their mama. I was so busy helping them choose I didn't find anything I needed.  It is much the same at the present.  The girls are busily sewing as I stand by to assist.  At this rate I may have to reduce my anticipated Christmas output as there is no machine for me.

More pictures to come of people sewing. I'm sure the anticipation will be your undoing...

Gone From Our Sight...

Tomorrow we bury my dad.  A we were leaving to attend the visitation this afternoon my 6 year old said we were going to see Papa's shell.  I thought, huh, that's a good way to think of it.   It took this a few hours for me to recall a conversation we had earlier in the week while standing in the middle of the bathroom.  

     "Papa is like those insects we've been talking about when he went to heaven."

I wasn't listening close enough and didn't realize what his little mind was getting at.  We have been studying how insects molt.  They outgrow their old exoskeleton and shed it before getting a new one.  Pretty neat picture.  Faith like a child...

Following are the words I want to share tomorrow at the celebration of my dad's life.  I have read what my cousin wrote and  my brother is bringing the message and am looking forward to hearing what a difference my dad made in the lives of others.  So many came to give their respects tonight.  What a blessing to hear how much he meant to so many.

I must begin by saying, In the last week of my dad’s time on this earth I was privy to a conversation between he and his pastor in which he expressed his greatest regret.  It was that he couldn’t offer public thanks to all those who showed their love and support toward him in his infirmity.  As a man of limitless God-given talent he often had little need of outside help.  His humble acceptance of the gifts of many was purposeful in that his greatest desire was to bring glory to his Lord.  

As we sorted through several storage totes of old pictures picking and choosing shots to scan into our slide show we were reminded that Dad smiled a lot.  In early pictures it often looked more like a smirk, giving the enduring charm that he somehow held a secret joke to which he may or may not make you privy.  Later on the closed mouth grin turned to a full fledge smile after he had his crooked front teeth, those particular genetics of which I was the sporting recipient and wear proudly, altered.  If you ever had the opportunity to ask my father’s state of being in a greeting you most likely heard him reply, “content”.  Dad was happy because he made a concerted effort to live Phillippians 4:11b.  “for I have learned in whatever state I am to be content.”  This was a learned behavior for my dad.  

My dad didn’t like taking vacations.  If he had his druthers he would never leave the farm save to run to the “Home Shopper” for project supplies.  Mom was the driving force behind our yearly August pilgrimage to Cass Lake.  She would pack up enough food, tents, bedding, and clothes for a weeks foray into the wilderness that is primitive camping in northern Minnesota.  We don’t fish, so the two most important elements of our vacations are food and books.  After a brief foray into the “granola” style of eating dad proclaimed if Mom didn’t fill the chuck box with junk food he would not accompany her.  Thereafter Mom made sure to prepare a healthy amount of caramel corn to fuel dad as he pursued his second vacational requirement, reading.  

My dad carried a briefcase.  Dad had great penchant for boxes, and what is a briefcase if not a specialized box with a handle.  It was in the rest of our best interests for a full week at the lake if the briefcase was at capacity with reading material for Dad.  Customarily when he ran out of books the party was over and we headed for home.  It could be that mom didn’t yet have her vacation preparation routine down to an art form as of the summer dad turned 27, that or she had a baby or was pregnant any one of which a good guess in said time frame.  Whatever the case, Dad must have run short on reading material and happened to go to town and picked up a couple Sci Fi books.  By God’s design one of the books he mistook for science fiction was Late Great Planet Earth by Hal Lindsey.   Therein Dad read of God’s plan for the redemption of mankind.  He was confronted with the fact that it was his personal sin that sent God’s own son, Jesus, to the cross as sacrifice in his place.  Dad accepted this sacrifice and surrendered his life to live for the Lord.  He unzipped his tent and emerged a new creation in Christ.  His first step was to go down to the beach and share with family the miracle God had done in his life.  

The following November mom accepted Christ as her savior.  My earliest memories of my parents are of them being on fire for the Lord.  They were in and led Bible studies.  They helped start Liberty Baptist Church in Dike.  When I was very young I remember my Dad reading through the volumes of Thru the Bible by J. Vernon McGee.  He had them stacked up in a pile on the floor next to his bed.  The Bible and commentaries took the place of science fiction.  I seldom recall seeing him read fiction.  He was always studying to prepare for the next Sunday school or Bible study.  Friends would stop by and Bibles would emerge to join the endless cups of coffee around the dining table as the discussion was imbued with deep theological thought.

Dad’s favorite family devotional was the book of Proverbs. Since Proverbs is divided into 31 chapters it is very convenient to the reading of one a day.  Once again the dining table was his classroom as we sat while he expounded on verses relevant to our daily lives.  

“He who passes by and meddles in a quarrel not his own is like one who takes a dog by the ears.” Proverbs 26:17.  This was possibly a fitting picture for the interaction among six siblings. 

One of our favorite verses as kids, the words of which paint a rich picture, was Proverbs 26:11,

“As a dog returns to his own vomit, So a fool repeats his folly.”  None among us wanted to act with character akin to the vomit eating dog!

Proverbs 22:6 says, “Train up a child in the way he would go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”  Dad’s goal as spiritual leader in our family was to lead us to a saving knowledge of the Lord, Jesus Christ, then to disciple us by providing us with the   necessary tools for Christian growth.  

The verse Dad shared with his progeny pertaining to how he is to be remembered is from Proverbs 22:28, 

“Do not move the ancient landmarks which your fathers have set.”

Our quivers hold potential arrows for God’s army awaiting being loosed on targets we could never reach.  My dad has left a visible, growing legacy large enough to fill a couple pews.  It was his greatest desire for his children and grandchildren to walk with God.

I fretted for days about what I wanted you to know about my dad.  He was a humble, artistic, generous, servant.  I could fill pages with memories and lessons learned. However, being the organized leader he was, when we were planning his funeral he was explicit that it not run too long.  So I will end with this.   Above all, what he would want you to know is he was a sinner saved by God’s grace, and therein he found reason to be content.

Preparations

I am the product of two addictive personalities.  That isn’t all a bad thing.  It pretty much means whatever my folks do they do it whole hog.  There is no half way with them.   Just because it is my dad’s impending death we’re dealing with doesn’t change the way we roll.  Mollie, my sister, and I were very good students.  I’ve been too busy to blog about how things are going lately due to the fact that we are working my dad’s death plan.  This may be weird and uncomfortable to many, but everyone deals with grief and death in their own way even within the same genetic pool.  

I’ve mentioned before that Dad seems very much at peace.  -This doesn’t mean he has no pain.  Please continue to pray that his pain can be managed and his nausea abates and that he be comfortable. - We have met with the funeral home and made all the necessary decisions.  He discussed with my brother the message he would have him convey in the message he gives at the funeral.  A quilted family tree has been designed per his specifications to hang in the lid of his casket.  Tomorrow we meet as a family with the grandkids and a hospice worker to discuss Papa’s approaching death.  They will also get to share, in Papa’s presence, memories of him.  In true Nielsen spirit we have memorialized the occasion by having Papa’s verse printed on royal blue t’ shirts. (Proverbs 22:28).  So far we have scanned about 300 pictures of Dad’s life for a slide show.  It feels good tohave things to do.

“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.”

I Thesselonians 4:13 NASB

Preparation busies our bodies as hope buoys our spirits.  We are saddened as we prepare to celebrate Dad’s life, but live with the expectation that we will see him again.   

My friend Connie made this frog suit for Merritt when he was born.  I knew it would make Mama and Papa smile!

Happy 43rd Anniversary!

 October 28, 1967 my parents were married in my grandparents living room with my great-grandfather performing the ceremony.  

Easy to believe Dad married Mom for her good looks,

And Mom married Dad for his sense of humor...

And the two became one and multiplied-

GREATLY on the face of the earth...

 

 Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

William Shakespeare

Strength In Weakness

I had the privilege of accompanying my parents to a procedure to drain fluid from dad’s pleural cavity.  My sister, Mollie, graciously watched all 10 of our collective kids. Mom, in an act of selflessness to which she is not a stranger, stepped aside to allow me the opportunity to serve and love my dad.  What a blessing to be able to hold Dad’s hand and minister to his other physical needs as waves of nausea assaulted him causing him to aspirate substances that should remain foreign to his airways.  My position for the last 10 years as a mom helped to prepare me for this.  What a comfort to know our heavenly father is even now preparing us for his future use.  When the procedure was complete the doctor had drained 1 1/2 liters of fluid from the space under Dad’s lung.   

Mom and Dad’s pastor came to pray with them.  It was exciting to hear Dad tell him that his experience with cancer has been a spiritual education.  For the first time in his life he can tangibly feel people praying for him.  Having just experienced this for the first time when Merritt swallowed the penny, I couldn’t help smiling.  When I am weak He is strong.  If we will listen he continues to reveal himself even when we are ever nearer to seeing him face to face.

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee:  for my strength is made perfect in weakness.  Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Therefore i take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake:  for when I am weak , then am I strong.

II Corinthians 12: 9-10

Chaplain Capt. Andrew and Mollie ministering to Dad.  

Walking By Faith

“It’s what I expected.” Dad quietly informed us-not with defeat, but peaceful acceptance.

Yesterday was the doctor appointment to review the results of my dad’s latest PET scan. I think we all knew what the oncologist would say, but held out hope that he wouldn’t have to. The appointment was for 2:15. The six of us were still sitting in the room at 3:15. Seemed a cruel wait to hear news that was hoped against. As Dr. Nadi scrolled down the PET scan on his computer cancerous dots of light lit up the screen like fireflies popping against a pasture backdrop in July. It was if we watched the stars winking on to commence a clear night. We all would have preferred a thunderstorm quiet the fireflies and block the stars from view. Non-small cell squamous cell carcinoma is running its course.

There will be no more ineffective chemotherapy. The time has come to focus on managing Dad’s significant pain and making his time left with us on this terrestrial plane comfortable. Now he has to recline in order to gain respite from the hurt even as he is taking measures for this with medication. He has fluid in his pleural cavity that when it is presently removed we pray will ease his suffering. The cancer has also externally raised its ugly head literally tipping its hand on Dad’s crown.

My dad’s journey isn’t over yet. I’m positive the Lord is still at work through him or he would have called him home already. We explained to the kids this morning that the doctor thought Papa Tim had 4-6 months left of life. We discussed that although God can still heal Papa he may chose not to. Most of all we are holding out hope that the Lord will return for his saints and take us all to heaven together that none of us may taste death. For we know that

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Hebrews 11:1

Today this Scott Krippayne song is looping in my head .

All who sail the sea of faith

Find out before too long

How quickly blue skies can grow dark

And gentle winds grow strong

Suddenly fear is like white water

Pounding on the soul

Still we sail on knowing

That our Lord is in control

He has a reason for each trial

That we pass through in life

And though we're shaken

We cannot be pulled apart from Christ

No matter how the driving rain beats down

On those who hold to faith

A heart of trust will always

Be a quiet peaceful place

Sometimes He calms the storm

With a whispered peace be still

He can settle any sea

But it doesn't mean He will

Sometimes He holds us close

And lets the wind and waves go wild

Sometimes He calms the storm

And other times He calms His child

Call Of The Wild...

So interesting to watch the personalities of little people develop. Early this morning before the rooster, we will most likely receive next week in the mail, would crow we heard the calling of a sustained note. In the song, “Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better,” from Annie Get Your Gun, there is a measures long note claiming any note you can hold I can hold longer. This came immediately to mind in comparison as we tried to ascertain the 5 second long siren’s level of immediacy and need.

After a beat our 4 year old proclaims into the darkness of their shared bedroom, “Pay attention to me, Max!”

“I am.” the 6 year old replies in an even yet kind voice.

For those who know him this story is not surprising. If I had known his true personality when as a fussy baby nightly refused comfort I might not have had more children. As it was, we decided we had probably hit rock bottom with this gift from God and the challenge of raising an infant couldn't get any worse. A few times in his babyhood he had me convinced with his weeping and wailing he was severely ill and I rushed him to the doctor. Now we know he is a bit of a dramatic and armed with an otoscope I can make a better judgement about his true health care needs.

The same characteristics that make him a challenge to parent also make him enduring. He is a favorite of many. He is outgoing and entertaining. He seems to have a special place in the hearts of “women of age”. I must put much effort into exuding positive vibes to him as he can turn moody and cross around negativity.

So, in many ways it turns out he is easier to parent than we thought. An emotional outburst of uncontrollable sobbing which induces hyperventilation is much easier to read than my child who solemnly gazes at me expressionless. We never have to guess what he is thinking.

"Your sweet little Mitchell", so he tells me...

If I Only Had A Brain...

This is why I give advice. So someone can remind me how to do what I do when I forget.

Today my sister and I were discussing math for our K-1st graders. I told her since I had 2 kids in the same class I had one do one side of the worksheet and the other do the back. If you are familiar with Saxon math for the young grades you know the worksheet is made to do one side in a morning session and the back in the afternoon as a review/reinforcement. This, for me, is busy work if I follow the suggested course plan or guilt inducing when I don’t.

Not being a masochist, we only complete one side per child for mastery. Although in full disclosure, we once spent a full week on the number 6. Shifty little fellow, number 6. Hard to get a good hold. I had to call in some outside worksheet help in this instance. So, when my sister questioned my methods I listened to her with much attention. She described how she took the workbook apart and filled a 3 ring binder with the already hole punched sheets. For use she simply slit one side of a clear page cover sleeve and slipped it over the worksheet page and had her student use a dry erase marker to complete his work. When he was done he wiped it clean and it is ready for the next use. Kids love to use dry erase markers and you don’t have to keep buying replacement workbooks. This is especially important if your book goes into a new edition and available workbooks no longer match textbooks.

Funny thing is she prefaced her explanation with, “Why don’t you do it the way you told me to?!” Good question. Probably my subconscious had me tell you so you would remind me when I again needed the information. This is also another outstanding reason to have many children. I do the same thing with them. It’s like backing up your computer. If everyone remembers a few things we’ll be good.

My brain-back-up and I with Mom

Finished..For Now...

I haven't posted pictures of my primary August projects as of yet due to the fact that whenever I remember to take my camera upstairs either the room is unkempt or someone is sleeping therein. We have three bedrooms in our home. We have 8 permanent lodgers under our roof. Finding a time when both of the aforementioned variables coincide was not the most challenging logistical requirement of this post, however.

When we were renovating our home the month before we moved in almost 9 years ago I was 9 months pregnant. With the help of faithful friends and family we ripped up carpets, stripped wallpaper, painted, and scrubbed walls. We didn't have the funds to cover all the pine wood floors upstairs with carpet, so we simply did the stair steps and hall. I wanted to strip and stain the bedroom floors, but Matt wisely drew the line. Instead we painted the floors. I knew one day in the future I would regret this choice as it is much easier to slap the paint on then to remove it. But as my due date grew nearer I became uncustomarily laissez faire in my attitude toward my punch list.

At this point in my life I live in a reproductive sun room. My life is all about windows of opportunity. Its never a great idea to inhale vast quantities of toxins and foreign bodies, and yet as an adult that has reached my majority at times I make this choice. When I am being crafty and making people I tend to shy away from activities that could cause permanent ill affects to the tender little personage of my internal boarder. This August all the windows were open both figuratively and literally. The kids ended up sleeping in the camper parked in the driveway so long that when they again had to sleep in 2 separate rooms they were a bit reticent. Multi-tasking at its finest hour. Task done and sibling bonds forged all at the same time.

The results were worth the work especially knowing all the floors in the house are now redone. There is no refinishing left to do. Unless of course you count all the original woodwork...

Befores and Afters

In Honor of World Egg Day 2010...

Breadwinner ordered 50 laying hens from McMurray Hatchery this morning in honor of the occasion. Sounded like a great idea from the comfort of my chair as I sipped my starter cup of coffee at the dawning of the day. Now, as I gulp my reviver mug, I'm having second thoughts. I know how I feel about the responsibility of care taking for 50 more live beings. I'm hoping Madigan turns into a chicken lady akin to her Aunt Mollie. We'll let you know how this one unfoulds- I mean unfolds...

It's What's Inside That Counts

The outside of our house looks bad. I can see my mom wince from the kitchen window every time she pulls in the drive. At last count there were five different sidings and house wraps advertising three different home improvement centers covering the exterior. We re shingled a few years ago, but since the house is pretty tall you really miss out on the best part.

We moved here almost 9 years ago. I remember precisely as it was 4 days after our second child was born. Three months later we welcomed two three month old Great Danes into our family. In the dead of winter. Great Danes don't have much hair. Baby Great Danes get cold easily. They spent the winter in our basement. The only advantage to this was that when they finally went outside they would only relieve themselves on hard surfaces. I never had to worry about setting my babies down on a "land mine" in the grass. They commandeered an abandoned outbuilding for their purposes. They apparently used the gravel road that runs by our house too, if the casual remarks from our neighbors about almost driving off the road to go around the gigantic piles left by our "horses" was any indication. In winter they hardened to boulders with the propensity to wreke great havoc to the undercarriage of passing cars. But I digress...

It used to bother me that it appeared that we lived in an abode no one cared for. I have long since stopped looking at the exterior when I come in the drive. The continuous addition of garden space is my coping mechanism. I am simply trying to divert attention long enough to get visitors in the front door. Much energy, time, and resource has been spent creating comfortable interior living space. I continue reminding myself it is a work in progress. We keep adding to the pre-siding punch list. The exterior is a theft deterrent, nobody would case this joint. We are only a decade into this... Most of all, our hope is the most important things are happening on the inside.

The neighbor stopped by yesterday. He wanted Breadwinner to give him an estimate for his roof. I'm pretty sure we will get the work because it gives our neighbor reason to stop and talk for the duration of the job. It's harder in the country to unobtrusively stop by to chew the fat. You can't just lean over the back fence or pause on the sidewalk as you casually walk by. While driving in the country you may think folks are rubber necking, but they are simply scoping for the opportunity for a neighborly chat.

Around our section are quite a few farms that were originally owned by the same family. Quite a few of the relations are still around. I learned yesterday this neighbor's father was born on our place in 1899 in a tiny house that sat where our grain bin does now. Our house was built not long after. I believe he said the family had 8 children. He also mentioned that 3 of them died. One from appendicitis, one from pneumonia, and he wasn't sure about the third. He said the four boys all shared one room above the kitchen, which is the master bedroom today. Two of the brothers never married and lived out their days here raising pure-bred cattle.

When we had our fifth baby here at home our midwife asked if we knew if any other babies had been born in this house. This intrigued me. Home birth used to be the norm. Our current culture tends to sterilize life. We remove major landmarks of life from the home. Often we are born and die somewhere other than where we really lived. Yesterday I learned our house has welcomed 6 babies into the world. This tidbit of information put a smile on my face and a bit more warmth in my heart for this old place. My family is beginning to stir this morning. My cue that the important things are about to begin happening...

The Way to Happiness

We tend to seek happiness when happiness is actually a choice!

This is something I have to remind myself often. As a mother I give much mouth service to this philosophy. I even painted Choose Happiness above the toilet in the kids bathroom to encourage my then 4 year old that, "We don't need to cry about everything!" I figured since we were in there so much it would get much eye service which would eventually sink into his brain. He doesn't cry as much anymore, but I think it has more to do with him getting older than the grinning cat and butterflies on the wall. Could have something to do with the fact that he still can't read...

John 3:30 says, "He must increase, but I must decrease."

I'm toying with what wall in my house this verse should grace. If I can remind myself to put the Lord first and get my selfish keister out of His way we will all be happy. Happiness is a choice. No one else can make it for you...

You've Got The Cutest Little Babylegs...

I'm firing up the blanching water to can tomatoes, so I have a few minutes to share a project with you. Honestly, my mom gets on my case if she doesn't have a post to read each morning! I get extra points for this one because she is showing off our model in the last photo.

We started cloth diapering with our 5th child. This is a whole post unto itself so I won't elaborate now or I won't get the tomatoes put up before church tonight. With the new advances in cloth diapering it changes the way in which we dress our kids. Snap crotch onesies our olders lived in are not cut full enough for the bulk of a cloth diaper. So someone came up with the idea of marketing "leg warmers" for babies. These footless socks retail for around $12. While this isn't outrageous, I knew I could make them for less. Our first pairs were made for Maielle from Mad's old knee high socks out of which she had blown the big toes. I had to make new ones for Merritt because he was wearing pink polka dots around the house during a construction phase and Matt was concerned the guys would make light of his young manhood. To tell you the truth he wasn't real thrilled with the knee socks I went out and purposefully purchased either. I had to remind him that they were for a baby and said baby was really an accessory of mine. Therefore, the socks only had to suit me!

1. Cut shaft from foot right above the heel. Then cut off toe where it starts to round.

2. Take mid-foot section and turn it wrong sides together. Slip it over the shaft raw edges even.

3. Serge or zig-zag stitch the raw edges together.

4. Let big sister try them on because she thinks everything I make is for her.

5. Show off the adorable legwear wish I had started cloth diapering sooner!

These are the leftover toes. I added this picture at the last minute for my dad. They remind me of the leftover parts we always had from working cattle. I always thought I should have saved a few and made something from them, so in hindsight I pulled these from the trash. Never know when you might take a last minute trip to the arctic and need to make a nose warmer or two...

A is for Apple...

When you are a homeschooling mom whose husband is self-employed there is often no such thing as a weekend. The week never ends. So it is up to me to create the party atmosphere. This is not an easy thing for me. I am not, as are my mom and sister, from "fun country". I am from "perfect/control country". (thank you Rev. Andrew) I would prefer to just "keep on truckin' ". I am okay with "all work and no play" as long as we are making accomplishments. But for the sake of my children who are at least 1/4 "fun country" I persevere in the pursuit of fun.

We try to differentiate that is it indeed the weekend by celebrating Too Fun Friday! For at least 5 years the kids have had Chicken Nugget and Fry Day. They eat this culinary masterpiece on plastic segmented picnic plates at our Little Tikes picnic table while they watch a movie. As if that weren't enough, we party hearty into the evening on a wave of frolic and jocularity with Fiesta Friday. In our revelry we consume refried beans, tacos, and pina coladas. At the same time, thanks to a long ago gift from my dad for the occasion, we're serenaded by Mariachi Madness.

On the particular Friday in focus we would be skipping the Fiesta as I had invited us to my folks' for supper. I offered to provide dessert. Since I recently covered cream pie school with my oldest sous-chefs in training, and mostly because said help was finishing up book work, I commandeered the younger set for a lesson. The following is what passes for fun at our house. How to make an apple pie...

-Use as little iced water as needed to hold your crust together. If available use lard, if not use real Crisco shortening. Cheaper brands have too much liquid content.

-Free apples fresh from the tree make the best pie. If the apples aren't tasty add extra cinnamon and serve with butter brickle ice cream. As long as the crust is tender and flaky no one will notice.

-Get some cute little sprite to drool and take a few bites from the apples while cutting them. This keeps them from browning and adds needed moisture. This always worked for my mom when my brother Sam helped her make cookies. Aunt Mary won't eat them to this day...

-Use a tiny cookie cutter to cut the shape of an apple in the top crust. This will distinguish the kind of pie and also distract from tasteless apples. Brush the top with 1/2 and 1/2 and sprinkle with sanding sugar. Remember it is all in the crust!

-My mom always lays a beautiful table. These were my grandmother's everyday dishes. Love the little orange nasturtiums.

The apples were only okay, but favorable comments were made concerning the crust. I count that a victory. Mom suggested we serve some smoked cheese alongside. She quipped, "Apple pie without the cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze!" I can only guess that one is from before they made butter brickle ice cream...