The Amazing Aventures of.......

There is a reason I call him Superhero.

He just turned 5 and for his birthday he received dress up costumes galore. Buzz Lightyear (although he's never seen the movie), Spiderman (ditto), police man, astronaut, fire man and soldier. He loves to dress up, and we only allow him to be "the good guy". I will tell you, however, that he is tempted by the dark side. I don't know if it's a boy thing, or a danger thing, but he wants to grow up to be Darth Vader (again, never saw the movie).....sigh.....

But anyway, this boy loves to dress up, and is always thinking about new characters, so imagine my surprise when Superhero walks down stairs in his tighty whities and a cape.

He is Catpain Underpants!

Now, he can barely read and has never even seen Captain Underpants. Where does he get these ideas?

I'm just thanking the good Lord that he didn't dress up as "Adam" again.

How hot is your chili?

Princess didn’t start out as “Princess”. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I knew what gender and what her name was. I can’t tell you that God spoke in an audible voice, but it was definite. Before she was born, she would move around like crazy, and we started to call her “Chili Pepper”. It might have had something to do with all the heartburn she gave me as well.

Well, her birthday came and she was born a chili pepper. She came out kicking and screaming and wanted to go back in. She has had an opinion ever since. Princess has evolved into her name because of her desire to be extremely “girly”, but do not be mistaken. She is still a chili pepper.

Today has been a hard day for her. She woke up happy but must have fallen out of bed or something, because the chili in the pepper has become an habanero today. It’s wearing a little thin. You see, I homeschool my children and I’m around them 24/7. Now, I know you are thinking, “wait! She homeschools. Her kids are supposed to be perfect!” Let me explain:

There seems to be an incorrect assumption that if you homeschool your children, then they will be well behaved in any public situation. People see the family with stair stepped children, in coordinating jumper dresses and leggings, long hair that has never been cut, and all the children are meek and mild. Never do they touch anything they shouldn’t, and their parents never have to chastise them in public.

My children have never fit this mold, and frankly, I’m glad. Because the stereotype of homeschoolers is false. Our children can be just as obnoxious as anyone else’s kids. They can (and do) have their own distinct opinions, and they can (and do) let everyone around them know it.

That stereotype is false, because it’s not real. I know families who have children that look like that, and while they are real, the myth that they’re perfect is not. Here is a video that makes a me laugh because the comedian (Tim Hawkins) is poking fun of all of the stereotypes of homeschooling.

So, Princess may be a princess, but she is a chili pepper too. The level of spice depends on the day and the mood, but she livens up the house!!!

Of Little Boys and Lumpy Pillows

I know it seems I talk about my children all the time, and you're probably thinking, "this woman has no life," but there is so much material here, I just have to share it.

I have said before that Superhero is a ball of super kinetic energy. He seems to sizzle and spark if left standing in one place too long. One thing he cannot tolerate is "quiet time."

Yes, quiet time. That blessed event that happens here rain or shine, day in, day out, 365 days a year.

Well, mostly.

Every day at my house from 2-4 p.m., I have the children go to quiet time. I don't care whether they nap or not (at least the oldest ones) but they must be quiet, or incur my wrath. And I'm serious. This is the only time of peace I get all day, and I'm gonna enjoy it, even if it kills me!!

So, since Superhero has a hard time with the "quiet" part of quiet time, I try to give him specific directions of what he can do. He can read (yes, my five-year-old is reading... a little), color in his coloring books, lay down, or play with his cars, etc. until 4 o'clock.

Sometimes it works well, other times... well... let's just say sometimes it's not so easy.

One day, when he had gotten quiet, I assumed he had fallen asleep, since he still had been taking a nap from time to time. I had a friend over for tea and was listening to the baby monitors in his and his sister's rooms to make sure everything was OK. Then suddenly I heard loud banging on my front door and jumped about 6 feet in the air. I peeked around the corner and saw a strange man at the door. Now, I don't know about you, but when I see a strange man banging on the door and no husband around, I get a little nervous. But then he started to scream that a boy was coming out of his window on the second floor.

Have you ever had one of those nightmares where you can't run down the hallway fast enough and the hallway keeps getting longer and longer? Well, that happened at that moment in my home. I could not run up the stairs fast enough. I ran up to his room, threw open the door, and witnessed my then three-year-old son half out of his second-story window onto the porch roof. Somehow I manged to grab his legs and yank him in the room without banging him into anything, and all was well. I thanked God for the angel He sent to protect my little boy, and that was the last time I ever assumed he was sleeping when I couldn't hear him on the monitor.

Now, fast forward a little while and it happens again. No, not climbing out the window. We got that window taken care of. Not that.

He got quiet.

Now I notice it. As soon as he doesn't say anything for a few minutes, I get suspicious. One day not long ago, he got quiet.

Too quiet.

I went quietly up to his room in case he had fallen asleep, but too nervous about what he could be getting into not to check and I found this.


Cute huh? How on earth he ever fit into his pillowcase I'll never know, but I prefer that to the window...

Before I was "Mommy"

I just received this in my in-box as a chain email letter, and thought it was pretty cute. So much of it is true (especially the peeing part)

Before I was "Mommy,"
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was "Mommy,"
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.

I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was "Mommy,"
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was "Mommy,"
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was "Mommy,"
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so Important and happy.

Before I was "Mommy,"
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to
make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache,
The wonderment or the satisfaction of being a mother.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was "Mommy."

A Rainbow of Love

Long before I became a parent, I read a children's book that changed my life. It's called, "I love You the Purplest," by Barbara M. Joosse. It was so profound that I have remembered it 10+ years later.

It goes something like this: Mom is fishing with her sons when they ask her whom she loves the most. She goes on to explain her love to them in colors, rather than degrees.

This so changed my thinking, that I could not wait to become a parent and tell my children how intensely I loved them in their color scheme.

Ponygirl is the pinkest. Hers came one evening after we had just moved across the country. Hubby and I were getting out for a much deserved date, and as we were driving, I looked up to see the most incredible sunset I had ever witnessed in my entire life. Pink with orange and yellow swirling around the clouds like cotton candy on fair day. Quickly I called Ponygirl on my cell phone and told her to go out on the porch and look at the sunset. "That's how much I love you," I said. All she said was, "wow!"

Superhero was easy. Blue. He was blue from the day I found out he was a boy. I describe his blue to him as the azurite rock we have in our rock collection. The most intense blue you can think of. It's electric. Or I say the brightest blue of the sky at the start of the day. Intense and cool. It's refreshing. He likes that.

Princess has wanted her color changed, but she has been yellow to me from day one. A bright hot sunny yellow, with the intensity of the sun and the joy of a sunflower lifting its face to God. She is pure summer with flowers, bees and the smell of nectar (when she's had a bath, anyway).

Lady bug is shaping up to be a green. She is fresh, and new like the new spring leaves lifting their tiny heads above the dirt. She is sweet and happy like the newness of the season, and brings promise of life and happiness to our family.

Now, the children are not content to be the only ones with colors, so they have demanded that hubby and I claim our own patch of the rainbow.

Hubby to me is red with all the passion and hoo-rahs the part calls for.

The kids say I am white. Not sure where that comes from, except that maybe they still think I'm perfect (hah!), but for whatever the reason, I appreciate their desire to love me back.

Loving the gold at the end of the rainbow,
Brandie

What did you say??!!!

Children can say the "darndest" things!

It was a crazy week. Between working at Born Again Blessings (watch video here), my mother-in-law visiting and getting ready to start school, I didn't have a lot of time for my children, and Superhero felt it the most.

I started out the day explaining to them why Mommy was going to be in the basement. I put Ponygirl in charge of immediate supervision and went to work. Of course, I was still within ear shot and available for emergencies, but I had to iron, hang and tag items, oh my!!

I could have predicted it, had I used my brain. The inevitable screaming from Princess and Superhero meant that they were fighting... again. They are only 19 months apart in age, so they play and fight with each other intensely.

I brought Superhero down in the basement with me to separate the two "middles" and went on my merry way to iron, hang and tag... iron, hang and tag... rinse and repeat.

Well, Superhero was doing everything he could to push my buttons – playing with things he knew he shouldn't, jumping around and all together being an active child who was being cooped up too much.

I never stopped to see the warning signs, nor did I even look up at him when I corrected him.

Then, out of the blue (to my thinking), Superhero started crying and said, "Mommy, it seems like you don't like me today!"

He might have just as well taken a knife, cut my chest open and ripped out my heart. I think I even gasped, I was so surprised.

Of course, in hindsight, I see now why he said that. The chaos level in the house was so high the last week getting ready for three different events that I just haven't been there. Yes, I was in the house, at least my body was there, but my mind was in a million other places.

So, what did I do?

I put down the iron (unplugged it, too), sat down on the couch and brought Superhero onto my lap. I wrapped my arms around him and told him how much I like him. I also told him that I love him, but he needed to know that I liked him too. He needed to know that I don't just love him, but I enjoy him and his company. That I choose to be around him, not just tolerate him.

I hate that it had to come to that, but my heart is soaring as well, because he shared his heart with me. My newly 5-year-old was able to express what was in his heart. He never even accused me (which would have been easier to refute), he just told me how he felt.

All in all, it was a fairly sweet moment.

After I got over the guilt, anyway...

Tea Revolution

I used to be a coffee drinker. I would go pretty much cold turkey whenever I found out I was pregnant. I know one can usually get away with one cup of coffee a day, but my ob/gyn was a stickler about it. Of course, I didn't always follow his advice (he also said no chocolate), but for the most part, I was a good girl.

Then, one of my girlfriends (yes, I do have more than one) introduced me to tea. You see, she grew up in a different country where they drink tea all the time, and if I wanted to entertain her, I needed to have my own stash of tea. Now, I had tried tea before, but for the most part dismissed it as an occasional fruity concoction that I would have with a scone or something. I never realized how serious tea was.

Or how addicted I would become.

I had never really had unflavored black tea before, but my friend showed me that with a little milk and sugar, it was quite tasty. Then it happened, quite unexpectedly.

I had chai.

Never before had I tasted anything so incredibly... incredible! The spices, the milk, the tea.

The strong tea. I was in heaven. I was hooked, and I have never looked back.

Yes, I do still have my coffeemaker in my house for the infidels in my life who still prefer coffee, but for my part, I want to share with you five good reasons to drink tea over coffee.

• Tea is so much easier to make than coffee. It takes less time, and you don't have to grind anything.
  
  
• You can make just one cup. I know there are single serving coffeemakers out there, but for the most part, they still take a bit of time.
  
  
• You can make chai. Not the same with coffee. At all. I've tried it.
  
  
• Afternoon coffee and afternoon tea mean totally different things. If you've never had afternoon tea, I am so sorry...
  
  
• Although tea does stimulate you, it relaxes you at the same time. It doesn't affect you like coffee does. Also, it doesn't have as much caffeine, so if you're counting mg's of caffeine, you can have 2 1/2 cups of tea to equal one cup of coffee.

Now, I have to say that loose leaf tea is a lot of fun to drink, a lot like coffee in how you make it. My usual throughout the day, though, is bagged tea (sorry, Mari). For special occasions, I make my secret special chai tea, and I always use loose leaf tea. You can check out Tea and Traditions, and peruse their site, if you wish.

Now I will tell you how to make the most incredible chai in the world. I have had many willing guinea pigs tell me this is way better than what Starbucks offers.

First, you need about 4-5 cups of really strong black tea.

Then... Ah, if you want the rest of the recipe, make a comment, and I will send it to you. After all, it is a secret!

Ode to the Grocery cart

Have you noticed that our children are kind of like grocery carts? When a child is born, they are all shiny and clean, and will go where ever we want them to go. But somewhere along the way, say around two years old, the grocery cart starts to get a little wobbly. Something happens to one wheel. I don’t know if they bump over something that makes them do that, or what, but all of a sudden you are struggling to go in the right direction. The entire time you are in the store, you are fighting with that darn cart to get it where you want it to go. You are wanting to go to the butter and cheese, and suddenly you find yourself in the canned peas!* The funny thing is, all grocery carts are like that. You can never find one that doesn’t go bad on you!

Well, unfortunately, that tendency doesn’t go away as adults. As the apostle Paul put it:
“What I don't understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise. So if I can't be trusted to figure out what is best for myself and then do it, it becomes obvious that God's command is necessary. But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?” (Romans 7:15-24)

So we push that grocery cart all round the store, hoping that the wheel will fix itself, and it never does. Even if we have money and fame, we can’t seem to get that wheel fixed. So, how do we fix our grocery carts?

Read the rest of Romans. You’ll get it.

Fighting my broken wheel,
Brandie

*Thank you to Tom Tanner and Mark Nysewander of Riverstone Church for inspiration.

Rug rats and crumb snatchers

I have four children, and each of them have had their unique personalities and quirks. My first child (the cautious one) never had the desire to look inside the kitchen cabinets, so I never had to baby proof the kitchen. She looked at a plug once with a screwdriver, and that’s as far as it went. Then came Superhero, a bundle of super kinetic energy disguised as a boy. I had to baby proof the kitchen after all. Chilipepper we have dubbed, “Me too!”, because everything her brother does, she has to copy. But never have I ever had a child obsessively put things into their mouth as Ladybug does.

When she was crawling, it made sense. She was closer to the floor. I tried to be good about keeping the floor swept and vacuumed, but she seemed to grab the dust out of the air and compress it into bunny shapes. Now she’s walking, or rather, running, around the house and at the same time, without slowing down mind you, picking up everything she can get her little paws on.

I try to be so good and careful, but invariably, I will see her out of the corner of my eye, reaching for the prize on the floor. I look at her, she looks at me. She smiles. She puts her hand to her mouth as I am getting up and flies in the opposite direction I want her to go. It goes so fast, but at the same time it’s all in slow motion, like a nightmare when you can’t get down the hall.

I have to say, though, she’s getting better. Now she’s coming to me and taking it out of her mouth and giving it to me. She’ll even come over and say, “mmm” (as in yummy), so I know she’s guilty.

Sigh.

Fortunately, God has thus far spared me the ordeal my mother went through when I was little. Apparently when I was two years old, I drank a bottle of kerosene and lived to tell about it.

Did I mention Ladybug is a mini-me?

This is how I have managed to lose weight, by running after a crumb snatcher all day.

I think I need some chocolate,
Brandie

Down with Housework!!

I need to confess something.

I am domestically challenged. I don’t mean cooking, for I can cook and bake circles around many. I mean I stink at housework. Yes, though I’m sure in every other aspect of my life my husband believes that I am practically perfect in every way, I just can’t seem to get a handle on the housework thing. Housework seems to be a never-ending cycle of picking up after vertically challenged people that follow me around and take out precisely what I just put away.

Now I have heard the old adage that goes, “a perfectly kept house is a house where the children are bored”, or something to that effect. If that is indeed true, then my children should not be complaining that they are bored! There is a Bible verse that says, “Without oxen a stall is clean, but great is the increase by the power of the ox.” (Proverbs 14:4) In other words, the oxen is worth the labor it causes, but it makes a big stinky mess.

O.K., so they are really useful oxen…no people…I mean, well, I know I need to relax and enjoy this time, because that’s what all my “older” friends tell me I need to do, and they’ve been there. They all assure me that I’m going to blink and I will be wishing for all of this back. They’ll be gone and I won’t have anyone to pick up after. They tell me I’ll miss it.

I am sure that I will miss seven people’s worth of laundry, dishes, toys, etc. all over the house. At least that’s what they tell me.

Sometimes I think they may be crazy….but then…..

I suppose I can see a little of this phenomenon at work in my house right now. Ladybug is 16 months old, and she is so cute, I want o bite her. But I do miss the times she wasn’t so mobile or able to put every living and non living thing, dust bunny, popcorn kernel, or crayon in her mouth (more on that later). I do miss the peaceful times of nursing my first child in the quiet of the moment.

So maybe they do have a point. That doesn’t make the present any easier to keep clean, but at least the oxen are all well fed…..

Being real,
Brandie