gremadcha

In Response to Bloom

2012-02-16T09:46:00.000-08:00

Oh to be a woman in this world we live in! Obviously I am not the only one who struggles with self image and how it relates to self worth. I feel the need to explain that when I write about my weight I am not writing about an extra pound or two. I am writing about MANY pounds to the point where it is a health risk especially when you are shaped like me, a lovely apple. Apparently the heart does not like that shape? We all have our deal I think. Whether it be weight or anxiety or needing the house to be clean at all times (crap, I have 2 out of those 3). Thank you for all the encouragement as I attempt to get healthy for my family and for myself.

Dear Club Fitness,
You probably never thought that when I joined for 10 dollars a month that I would actually show up almost every day. I'm sorry if that hurts your bottom line. Did you know that running on a treadmill at 0 incline is like running down hill? I recently learned this and let me tell you I run so slow because I am still getting to used to the 1.0 incline. Otherwise I would sprint and hardly sweat at all. For real.

Bloom

2012-02-14T14:18:00.000-08:00

I had a brief bloom in high school, freshman year. The braces came off, my hair at its longest since the 2nd grade. Like a drug being seen, liked, asked to a dance.
Blooms tend to quickly fray and fade with bad decisions.
Then college and cheap fast food and more decisions some wise some not. And with it all came weight. Then baby after baby after baby and then one more. And with them came weight and more weight and more weight and still more. Like being buried in sand that hides you and keeps you protected from the raw dirty unkindness of life. You push the kids to the front of you when the cameras come out and go up size by size with that stupid ache in your throat remembering being a bloom, being asked to that dance.

Then demons wrestled to the ground after so many years of praying for change, the youngest child 2, something inside lets go and the process reverses. The jeans get loose and have weird pockets of emptiness where once was flesh. I show up day after day and awkwardly sweat and strain and push through boredom and fear and pain. I go from no push ups to 6 whole real push ups with arms shaking. Run two slow as molasses miles but with no breaks in between. I watch the pretty girls get talked to while I remain invisible like a slow moving heavy machine and I marvel at the chance to bloom again. To not hide. To not feel uncomfortable every waking second with electric skin vibrating its largeness. The heavy shame of weight a self perceived broadcast of my failure as a mother, daughter, friend and wife. And there is the truth of all of it. Shame. Shame and the courage to finally and with slow small steps attempt something different. Only by Gods grace.

Dear SAM,

2012-02-12T14:36:00.000-08:00

I will forget this in a few minutes, an hour, a day. I will forget looking around the kitchen that you cleaned for us while the girls and I were making 57 Valentines Day cards for their classmates. I will forget feeling like without you I would not be able to bear crafting 57 cards with 3 girls ranging from interested to somewhat interested to not giving a shit about stupid cards because she just wants candy. I know that you love me well and more than I deserve. I know that when I lose my cool because we are going to be three minutes late for church it drives you crazy and sometimes I wish God would hurry up and smooth out my rough edges. Make me more humble, more respectful and a better cook.

Thank you for being patient with me as I shed the barnacle ugliness of putting myself first little by little by little.

Life with you is the bees knees.

Maybe print this out and keep it in a safe place because I will forget and remember and forget a thousand more times in the next week and then forever after that because I guess that's what you get when you marry a girl like me, ridiculously flawed and madly in love with you.

Look at more (not written by me) marriage letters on patience HERE.

In case you were wondering,

2012-02-09T06:22:00.000-08:00

Poppy did in fact turn four. I've been underwater in household chores and Etsy promotion (hit 200 sales yesterday! Thanks M).

Dear working mothers,
I think you are actually super heroes disguised as regular people. This also applies to wives that have husbands who travel for work and all single parents across the board. I mean for goodness sake I can't even keep the kitchen clean and this is my JOB.

The theme of Poppy's party was candy since she is obsessed with candy. Dora still made an appearance with a plush backpack and an electric Dora toothbrush that I have caught the big girls using in secret TWICE. Also a cupcake Duplo blocks set that all the children are enthralled with and a book with a chicken character named Poppy and boxes and boxes of the best kind of jelly beans. I came away from her family birthday party realizing how much Poppy is KNOWN. How much she is delighted in and loved and understood even though there are days I feel I can not take a single more minute with her. Like yesterday when she cried from dawn until 8pm over one hundred various things she needed and did not have. Thank goodness for extended family that sees the best in her because sometimes I am TOO CLOSE to the ear piercing shrieks for ice cream at 6 in the morning.

At the park the other day with some friends I watched all the kids play and squabble and get feelings hurt then attempt to reconcile and I was frustrated that my talking with the moms was being interrupted so we could referee our children every 10 seconds when I realized IT WON'T ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS. They will get older and like boys and start staring at themselves in the mirror and they will be to old to pretend they are cats crawling around in front of everyone. They will stop thinking they are awesome and worry about fitting in. I'll take this for now. I'll take sorting out who's turn it is to be the mama cat. I'll take Poppy shrieking because when she picks out one of her crazy outfits and says I'm a pirate princess and then laughs and thinks she is the COOLEST 4 year old ever to walk the halls of her preschool it is like water in a desert. It makes all the hard things fade away and seem irrelevant. I have four children who love who they are. I'll take that for now and maybe not try to wish for fast forward so often.

Happy Birthday Poppy, I love you so much it hurts.

TO 200!

2012-02-07T11:59:00.000-08:00

If you told me 10 years ago I would be actively soliciting "likes" for a virtual page on the internet about my online shop on a separate website called Etsy on something called Facebook I would just have looked bewildered and mentally slid that in a compartment labeled IRRELEVANT along with blogging because that's just a weird made up word. Facebook and algebra abandoned in the unused portion of my brain. I would have been wrong as social media is the way of life these days and you know what? I am grateful. Yes there are downsides but sometimes I get to connect with the cool older girls of high school (Kate M.) and in the frantic frenzy of getting 3 little girls to swimming lessons with the closest parking spot 3 blocks away, the oldest in "fancy" shoes that don't stay on and the boy dropping his Sponge Bob toy every ten feet IN THE DARK I can look forward to a comment, a message or even a little thumbs up like once we make it there. It's a tiny barbie sized cocktail just when I think I might pass out from the effort of shepherding, negotiating with and protecting four human beings.

So let's talk shop. I am currently at 196 sales on Etsy and I need to get to 200 so I can give myself a mental gold star. Is this what social networking means? Is it making fun of yourself while promoting tiny things you make? If so I am totally nailing it.

Use coupon code TO200 for 10% off through the weekend,

then go check out Fresh Art's Facebook page for a gremadcha giveaway.

Cause we're awesome.

By the way Poppy is four and I know you are waiting in breathless anticipation for her birthday post. Tune in tomorrow, it's gonna be epic.

Revelation and Counting Points

2012-02-03T12:00:00.000-08:00

I am at a peculiar stage in my life right now. About to turn 35, regularly exercising, counting food and activity points and studying Revelation. This has led to completely bizarre mind dramas where I am training for the apocalypse and memorizing nutritious sources of protein. At night I dream of cake and the rapture. There is a yellow school bus in the rapture scene and the cake is chocolate.

I have thrown out all of my sweatpants except for one pair that I promise to not wear in public unless it's snowing or the apocalypse or both.

When I reach my goal weight I am going to throw a giant party with sparklers and a trampoline and beer that is low calorie. I will wear designer jeans and gorgeous shoes and the color yellow.

You will be invited.

In my defense,

2012-02-01T17:22:00.000-08:00

I am their mother and I have to prove that 36 months of pregnancy and jeans four sizes up from where I started in 2003 produced adorable results and sorry if you have already seen these on Facebook. I'm finished after this I promise!

Dear Children, I apologize for displaying your quirky faces and security napkins for all of blog world to see. I love you so so so so so so much. I'm sure you will forgive me eventually.

Thanks to Jodie and lovely assistant Missy at Fresh Art!

I Never Was Good At Math

2012-01-31T11:18:00.000-08:00

So it turns out that losing weight is a simple matter of math. Forty-five minutes of jogging does not equal eat whatever you want and still lose weight even if you HAVE sweat through three sports bras. Darn. I was really hoping that would work. So I am now keeping a food journal that someone is going to look at. Don't I get to skip this part because of all my years in counseling? Can I please get a free pass just this once? It seems that things in this life worth having (like health) require sustained personal exertion. I suck at sustained personal exertion. I am better in spurts. Starts and fits of being really really good and then being really really bad. I am not moderate. I am all or nothing. Always have been. Eating well AND exercising?

So it comes down to math. More calories burned and less calories consumed. Have I mentioned I hate math? I do really love shopping and it's been many years since I have been excited about shopping for me. Math, get ready, here I come.

Behind The Scenes

2012-01-30T15:08:00.000-08:00

As long as I can remember I have been happiest when making things. Sewing, knitting, crocheting, stitching. For as long as I can remember I have had the challenge of making all my supplies fit into a small space without becoming hopelessly disorganized. My best friends? Plastic bins of all shapes and sizes as well as various other containers that house all of the bits and pieces of everything I have acquired over the years. Check out some works in progress and my lovely work space.

Some of those sequins I have had since college when I worked at a knitting and weaving shop. I use them sparingly:)

Yep, that is a salt shaker. I have NO IDEA why it's there.

2012-01-27T13:49:00.000-08:00

Next up a newborn hat with ear flaps that may be the cutest thing I have ever seen. Not like I'm biased right?
Thanks Jen for sharing that illustration with me!

Ryan and Laura

2012-01-26T06:00:00.000-08:00

I met Ryan when Sadie was still a baby in our first house group (a group of folks that go to the same church who meet together in a smaller group). He was so handsome and funny and in graduate school and he always made me laugh and used interesting words in a southern accent. I think I once told him he had a terrible haircut because I am horribly obnoxious at times and I don't think he held it against me? Sorry Ryan. His wife is one of those gorgeous girls who just emanates sweetness and joy and you can't help but fall in love with her even though you have only met her once. They are suffering in a big way right now with some scary pregnancy issues and I really do believe that God hears every single prayer so again, if you are the sort please send some their way. To read their story GO HERE.

And So The Humiliation Begins For Real

2012-01-24T13:57:00.000-08:00

On this quest for fitness (and weight loss, please dear God weight loss) I came to the realization that I needed some help. Since personal training is outside my fitness budget of $10 a month I enlisted the help of a very sweet (trainer) friend. She took my measurements asked me all sorts of questions and formulated a plan of action. We all need friends like this don't we? Apparently huffing and puffing with strictly cardio is not as cool as back in the days of Jane Fonda and leg warmers. Now you need to add strength training folks. Cause it's a science and squats equal a higher metabolism or something along those lines. This is where it gets interesting because now I am personal training myself at the gym with three precious pieces of paper. I am doing walking lunges and Samson stretches which by the way I had to YouTube and draw a little stick figure of because I forgot where my knees were supposed to go even though my friend showed me. I caught a glimpse of myself doing shoulder presses with hand weights and I am now on the market for LONG SLEEVED t-shirts because somewhere in the 7 years I was having children the fat got bored and decided to travel upwards and inhabit the space between my elbows and shoulders.

Here is the hard part. Deep down I am a still a 13 year old terrified of embarrassing myself. I am very careful to at least ATTEMPT to NOT look like a doofus most of the time. Now I am telling that 13 year old me to SHUT UP because I really want this. I really want to be strong and healthy for my family. It's worth me red faced at the gym running a 20 minute mile. Worth me doing walking lunges by myself down the entire length of the gym. At least I just keep telling myself that.

Here is my very public note to self:

Greta, get more comfortable at the gym, no one cares what you are doing, they are busy living their own lives. So what if the trainers are looking at you funny, they just don't want it discovered that anyone can do personal training with some paper and YouTube. You are doing a good job. You look awesome. You are going to rock a short sleeved shirt in a few months. Quit eating pizza except for sometimes. Everything in moderation. You can do it. Yay GRETA!

Public note to my anonymous friend that made my plan,

THANK YOU. I was teetering on the edge of discouragement and now I have officially rebounded. You are AWESOME and when I reach my healthy weight for my height ( I'm ridiculously short so it's gonna be a while) I'm giving you and God all the credit. But mostly God. Sorry, it just kinda works like that.

Little Cups of Milk

2012-01-20T10:38:00.000-08:00

I'm aware that I complain about my kiddos. I do. Sometimes it's because I don't think there are many voices out there speaking the truth of motherhood. Sometimes it's because I am tired and frustrated and need an outlet. Underneath the venting and humor of what I write is love almost too excruciating to bear. Four actual pieces of my soul walking around in a universe I have no power over.

There was a day when I was towards the last weeks of pregnancy with Sadie (kiddo #1) when I couldn't feel her kick. As soon as I realized I hadn't felt her move in a while I began ugly crying (you know the kind) and I prayed to God to just make her be okay. Already, before I even knew her I could not imagine my life without her. In conclusion of that little memory I think I ate a box of Nerds and she kicked right away.

The other day Sadie brought this home from school-

A lady made from tape, a kleenex and a pencil. Oh, how she is my daughter! She makes things out of everything. All the tiny paper creations, the fabric scraps, the inventions and curiosities of my childhood came rushing back. I gave that to her. It was passed down from me and from my mother before that. Miraculous.

All of the kids are relentless mirrors of my own failings but also they magnify the goodness.

Charlie still has the sweet baby drool smell. When I pick him up out of his crib in the morning I want to breathe him in. I want to make my heart expand and capture the scent of baby boy.

Love like this is painful. It's risky. It's hard.

There are little cups of milk all over my house. In my refrigerator, on counter tops, hidden behind books on book shelves. They spill. They drive me crazy. Sometimes I long for the day when there are no more little cups of milk everywhere. Days like today I want them around forever.

I'm fairly certain my sarcasm is lost on the children.

2012-01-17T13:58:00.000-08:00

Except I do it anyway. For every whining lament I receive from Ruby this is my usual response:
"Ruby, I have a great idea! Why don't you see if whining will help get you what you want?" I'm sure it will work this time."
Ruby has got the quizzical frown mastered. She pays me back quite innocently. For instance these comments I received over the weekend:
"Mom, when I get bigger do I have to get a grown-up stamp (tattoo)? Because I don't think I want to get one (weird eyebrow raise, quizzical frown)."
"Mom, your boobs are so slumpy. They look like big pancakes. Why aren't they up more?"
Precious Ruby.
Darling Poppy has taken on the art of mimicry and we can hear her telling Ruby to, "Just calm down Ruby, calm down."
Last night as Sam was putting the girls to bed he told Sadie she could not put her CD on until after Poppy was asleep because it bothers her. To which Poppy replied,"Damn it."
Sadie sings all the time with the fake voice shaking.
Charlie has added robot and bed to his five word vocabulary.

Damn it, I love these kids.

What Saves Me

2012-01-16T11:09:00.000-08:00

I am going to conclude this post with Jesus. Inevitably when I do that I lose followers, which is fine but I have this need to give fair warning. Consider yourself warned because we are going there today however unpopular and uncool. Does the desire to be popular and cool ever really go away?

Growing up my mother suffered from terrible bouts of depression. It sent her to the bed for hours upon hours and then the dirt and detritus, the stuff of three children, a cat and a golden retriever would accumulate and multiply. The whole house covered in a shroud of decay and piles of things left to sit. I rarely invited friends over, terrified of them seeing the discord and chaos of my physical world. At times my mother would come out of the depressions with a renewed energy and everything in the house would be carted to the basement or curb. She would often sell all the furniture and begin to start over yet there was never completion and heartbreakingly the cycle would start over again.

As a mother now, I keep my house clean and decorated because it proves to me that I am not my mother and that I am okay. It is the way I cope. When life gets hard, my husbands job is in jeopardy, we don't have quite enough money to last though the end of the month, I clean. I put everything in it's proper place. I wipe fingerprints off the doorways and vacuum and as I do so my heart begins to slow and I can breathe again and I am okay.

There are times my house fails me. I can't quite get enough done. All four kids have a day off school or someone is sick. I am ground to dust. My physical world is not reflecting that I am okay. My house does not save me.

So, I go to my husband. I go to him to receive empathy and encouragement. I go to him to tell me that I am okay, that I am good mother to our children. Sometimes he fails me. He has had a stressful day at work and his mind is on other things. He is distant. He does not save me.

Where do I go then? Where do I go with a messy house and distracted husband? Up until now I go to sorrow. To panic. To feeling like a failure and going back to the dark places of my childhood where things were in a hysterical state of disarray and I was powerless to change it.

Lately I have been trying something new. When I am standing in my house that has 2 full boxes of cereal on the floor, my third daughter on the ground screaming for fruit snacks and my second daughter asking me one million and one questions that need to be answered IMMEDIATELY I am going to picture Jesus standing by my side and reassuring me that He is with me. I am going to look to Him for proof that I am not my childhood. I am going to look to Jesus for encouragement and strength. I am going to let Jesus define me. Not my house. Not my husband. Jesus.

Christianity has received a bad rap and rightfully so in many cases. But underneath the human face of Christianity the message of grace that I do not have to earn, the love that I am freely given is what carries me through the times I am sure I can not stand. He carries me through the sins of my past, present and future. I am already loved beyond what I can measure. Faith is a tricky thing. You can't see it or prove it or force it to be what looks acceptable. I only know that every time I attempt to grow my faith even a tiny bit the rewards are great and worth the risk.
I am still going to clean my house and look to my husband for comfort. I am just hoping to give it less power over the wellbeing of my soul. I am still a good mother and wife with a messy house. I am still loved when I can't quite get it all done. I am still loved by Jesus and so if I remember to stop I can rest and give away my sorrow to receive peace in return.

So, there is this girl Jodie,

2012-01-13T06:01:00.000-08:00

and she is really awesome and talented and when you grow up in St. Louis, especially the smallish suburb where I resided everyone knows everyone or is married to someones cousin or went to the same school or had the same dentist that also had a daughter in your sisters grade....... Seriously it's kind of awesome and sometimes kind of horrifying only because I fear I will always be the girl who dropped out of high school but that's a whole other story. Back to the girl. At least 95% of the people I know also know her and I met her not too long ago and she encouraged me with my little Etsy business just when I needed it the most (she probably doesn't know that) but anyway she is a PHOTOGRAPHER and you may remember these?

So cute! Well she is having some mini-session for Valentines Day and if you can grab a spot I recommend it. She has a way of capturing joy that I am envious of. Also she actually knows how to use a camera and edit and all of those skills that are completely outside the realm of what I will ever understand. Grandparents? This would be the perfect gift for parents with littles. Parents? You know you want this. I do....... Check out the Fresh Art site to get all the details.

Uni-boob

2012-01-12T14:10:00.000-08:00

When I workout I have to wear two to three sports bras a few sizes to small. This creates interesting strap shapes and intensely awkward armpits because they all compress and ride up and then my arms can only go straight out to the sides. Since I only buy these bras on sale they are a strange array of colors like lime green, red and turquoise, all of the colors that no one else wanted. Then because I didn't spend more that a few dollars on any of them they don't actually have any bra functions at all, they just direct inward which creates the infamous uni-boob. Then let's say I have to go to Target and the only thing covering my impressive uni-boob is a maternity t-shirt from 2004 that has a giant rip under the arm because it's the only top long enough to cover the top half of my body and has a neck line that covers most of the 6 straps I have going on and I still haven't figured out the whole working out and showering thing because why shower and put on clean clothes if I am just going to work out later? Why not just put the work out clothes on now so I don't have to change later? It's not like I am going to see anybody right? Except that I do. I see SEVERAL people that I know including a former boss and all I can think of is my uni-boob and the fact that I can't remember the last time I showered. I never understood actual workout clothes until now. Workout clothes were right up there with clothes to wear while you are SLEEPING. Ridiculous. Except NOT ANYMORE as I just spent $56 dollars on a sports bra because it had all these little thumbs up promising NO BOUNCE and SEPARATION.

Even though I know all the people at the gym are not thinking about me I still feel really self-conscious because I am so new at this (and obviously lack the appropriate attire) and although I've lost weight I still have so far to go so I don't feel I have any gym cred. It's like street cred but the gym kind and don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. People with gym cred are very toned and they know how to use those heavy medicine balls and little dumbbells and birthing balls except they do backwards sit-up type things on them instead of give birth and when they jog their heart rates stay very very low. I on the other hand turn a super bright shade of red and sweat through old maternity t-shirts and my heart rate is alarmingly high. If I tried to do a sit-up on a birthing ball while holding a dumb bell I would probably fall off and give myself a black eye.

So I'm scanning the online sites searching for deals on ankle socks and jogging pants, workout tees and possibly a really sporty headband. I'm starting to see that all of the moms in athletic wear that I used to be quite snarky about (sorry) were really just trying to get everything done without showering or changing clothes three times a day because when you do workout it sort of takes over your life and you still have to do school drop offs and Target runs and all the rest. Eventually when all 4 kids are in school full time I promise to work out in the morning and then shower. Until then and for every summer for the foreseeable future you will probably see me in a weird mix of discount active wear. If the $56 bra lives up to its reputation then I can a least do it without a uni-boob.

Adventures In Newborn Knitting and Dutch Oven Chicken

2012-01-10T15:50:00.000-08:00

I'm still on the ear flap hat kick. This weekend I tried my hand at pattern designing, heavily borrowing on patterns I already know. It still needs some tweaks but here is the end result, a lovely newborn baby hat that should fit a 7 to 9 pound baby.

Then because I am in love with the dutch oven that Sam's mom got me for Christmas and I want to use it all the time I tried my hand at a rosemary salt recipe my sister taught me years ago. Thank goodness for YouTube because I could not remember how to truss a chicken like she showed me. Stop reading vegetarians/vegans because I am going to actually show you my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful chicken right now. Then I am going to eat it.

Dear Madeline,
I hope you are proud of me. I know that you know this is equivalent to me building a rocket and flying to the moon. That's how much of a non-cook I am. I will save you some.

And then there was that time Poppy opened and spilled a whole box of jelly beans in the wine aisle at Trader Joes.

2012-01-09T10:56:00.000-08:00

Friday night Sam and I took Poppy (and Charlie but he's little and mostly quiet) on a date to the very fancy Macaroni Grill. It was a little before 5pm, our preferred time to eat at restaurants with small children because really no one else is there besides older people who generally think small children are adorable. Let me be clear this was a TREAT. Anyway it went fairly well until Poppy spilled her giant glass of water which wasn't a big deal in and of itself except that the Macaroni Grill cloth napkins are apparently made of the least absorbent material known to man and Sam and I mostly just sloshed the water all around trying to clean it up and so we were all a little damp and flustered by the time we created a ramp system to get the water off of the table and on to the floor. Moving on. Poppy ordered chocolate cake as it was her special date which she mostly played with and I mostly ate. I would say the other 75 percent of the time was spent picking up the dozens of items Poppy keeps in her tote bag and insists are vital to her survival off of the wet floor.
And then folks because we are the over achieving sort we went just down the way to Trader Joe's where Poppy placed 54 bananas in the cart along with just about anything else she could get her hands on. Then Sam disappeared and I found myself alone in the wine aisle with Poppy who opened a giant box of jelly beans and spilled every single one of them in a mile wide radius while all the hipsters not with children on a Friday night looked on in shock, awe and not just a little judgment.
So Traders Joe's I have a proposition for you. Please open a separate store for uncool moms with children. And staff it with uncool people who have had children so they know that when shit spills it is not the end of the world and that they should offer comfort. Also see if you can hook up Macaroni Grill with some environmentally friendly paper towels. Thanks.

Wood Burner Project

2012-01-06T08:41:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago the girls and I tried out some wood burning. They sketched out their ideas on wood blocks and I traced them with the wood burner.

I found the idea here. Then because we are girls we colored them in with crayons and of course I had to make a princess for Poppy. By the way I found a coupon and paid only $7 for a wood burner at Michaels. Pretty good for a tool we can use for many years to come.

Proof that I may need to explain Christianity in more detail.

2012-01-04T06:39:00.000-08:00

Last night the girls prayed before bed. Actually it was more like me shushing 2 of them so 1 could be heard and then round and round with eye squints directed at the loudest offender to show I meant business.

Ruby- Thank you God and Jesus and all of the God persons for today. Thank you for my family and for getting to spend time with Aunt Jen and Uncle Charlie and Gigi all by myself, Amen.

Poppy- Twinkle twinkle stars, I like peanut butter toast and candy and Sadie, Ruby all of them. Amen.

Sadie- My stomach hurts and I am hungry.

So lets review:
Ruby? God persons? How many does she think there are? I get that it's confusing that Jesus is God and vice versa. Heck I still get caught up, even more so that I'm studying revelation this year so there are thrones and scrolls involved and I never know which one is sitting where or holding what.

Poppy? She has somehow combined nursery rhymes, her favorite foods and her sisters into a very earnest wish list.

Sadie? Just a last ditch attempt to NOT GO TO BED.

I'm glad that God takes all this with a grain of salt and loves my children. I just wish he would send me a little wisdom on how to teach them who he actually is.

On Dora slippers as regular footwear and other really important things.

2012-01-03T15:02:00.000-08:00

It has always been a family rule that kids get to pick out their own outfits (as well as headbands, fantastical baubles and belts of all sorts) as long as it is weather appropriate and somewhat modest. I am a huge fan of Lands End and layering. We have remained firm on a few things like SHOES must be worn outside etc. You know what? I am remaining firm less and less. I have found that slippers make perfectly appropriate footwear for the outdoors as long as it is not raining or snowing And that last picture? Look closely because Ruby is giving me the finger. I don't think on purpose but it worries me because she must have seen me give it to Sam during an argument which means I am not nearly as slick or as grownup as I thought.

For future reference to myself:

Greta, refrain from buying slippers no matter how cute and ridiculously cheap they may be. The kids have perfectly decent socks to meander the house in. Greta, this one is important, refrain from throwing up inappropriate hand gestures no matter how jerky you think your husband is being because there are way too many eyes around and your husband is probably only being a jerk because you relentlessly antagonized him in an attempt to make him feel the pain of your p.m.s. Side note: He would probably be way nicer to begin with if you just told him what was going on in the first place and didn't make him drag it out of you every single time. Just sayin'

Just for Pretend

2012-01-02T09:05:00.000-08:00

This year my mom created a playroom in one of her upstairs bedrooms as a Christmas gift for all of the grandkids. My brother-in-law installed mirrors and hooks galore and apparently that is all you need between the ages of 2 to 7 for entrance into the magical world of pretend (also a trampoline helps to get the wiggles out). The women of my family may not be much for math or science but damn we do a marvelous make believe.

On this auspicious of days, what do I have to say?

2011-12-31T15:56:00.000-08:00

Except that my youngest baby is now 2 and we survived Christmas and I got a jump on the resolutions by joining the gym a whole two weeks early AND I even learned how to use those intimidating weight machines so me and my Old Navy black stretch pants from 1999 and 2010 running shoes are looking QUITE fancy and NOT out of place at Club Fitness.

What I will remember from this year is many mistakes and declarations I had to take back in writing and getting myself into all sorts of trouble for saying what I was feeling and then being judgmental and then taking some of it back and apologizing but not for all of it.

Blogging has been hard lately with all the holiday fuss and the kids home from school and the husband being off work so not loving me sitting at the computer while the kids rip through energy spiking candy canes and climb the walls with escalating fearlessness.

And then there is Charlie's left over birthday cake. Death by white flour and sugar disguised as a fanciful Sponge Bob Happy Birthday. I finally begged Sam to throw it out so ashamed of my lack of self-control was I.

My now 2 year old Charlie just took his diaper off and Sadie of the longest legs is rummaging through the refrigerator because those legs need fuel. My champagne from Walgreens, on sale for $3.99, is chilling and I am looking forward to being asleep by no later than 10pm because the kids don't really care about New Years or resolutions or the weird requirement to watch bad T.V. because a ball is going to drop and then everyone will be more excited and happy than the occasion appears to demand. Is that just me? They just want somewhat functional parents to make them pancakes in the morning. I can so do that.

Dear Post-Vasectomy baby boy Charlie,
I thank God for overriding our decision every single day. I adore you. Your sisters and dad adore you. Moose the dog enjoys being kissed by you. I am so glad you are 2 and go ahead and take your time with the whole talking thing, I totally get that just being cute is working for you. I love you.

Mom

Winner Schminner

2011-12-27T14:47:00.000-08:00

Just about ready to put on a dress and MASCARA. This is a big deal. The winner of the mini headband is commenter number 5, Katy (Claire will be so happy)! I tried to take a picture of the random number generator thingy with my phone and then email that picture to myself but it wouldn't send so I took a picture of the picture on my phone with my real camera.

Yes, it has been that kind of day. When do the kids go back to school?

Is it over yet?

2011-12-26T13:02:00.000-08:00

Dear Christmas,

I felt sort of disconnected from you this year. You were frantically gyrating around me while I was just trying to maintain some sort of order. You took over my living room and I resented it. I am desperate to pack you into boxes and put you away but I guess I need some sort of closure before I can do that. Maybe I'm getting older. Maybe I was just angry for not feeling as cheerful as I thought I should be. Maybe I don't like the feeling of everything shutting down and people going there separate ways to celebrate with their separate families. And there is this expectation that it has to be magical and wonderful and I secretly suspect that your egg nog is better then mine and you are blissfully rejoicing like in the movies. In fact every other family but mine is gathered round a baby grand piano singing carols. I'm the only one still calming temper tantrums and doing laundry.

It's not that this wasn't a great Christmas, it was. The kids were thrilled. My mom gave the coolest gift ever (more on that later) and Sam and I did pretty awesome as well not just with gifts but being a loving family that enjoys each other. It was wonderful being with my parents, my bother and sister and their families. My dad even kind of participated. I think it's that I am a creature of habit. I love routine. It soothes me and directs me. I like bible study every Wednesday and catching up with friends. I like my kids in school and I like my house sans five hundred Christmas decorations that have babies every year while in storage because otherwise how are there always more when I go to unpack them?

I should be more grateful is what you are thinking. I know. I am grateful. I guess what I am saying is that life is still life during the holidays. Sometimes your insides don't match up with the sparkly store displays. Sometimes you are kind of bummed that you can't afford the sparkly store displays in the first place. Sometimes you get frustrated with what you think you are supposed to feel because you saw it on t.v. once or your 400 Facebook friends are telling you how happy they are and you are just tired of picking up crap.

So Christmas, no hard feelings but I am done with you. I want my living room back. New Years and your requisite resolutions and how I am disappointed every single year because I am not wearing a party dress drinking champagne while confetti drops down from the ceiling and everyone kisses? I am not even going there this year. You can suck it with Christmas down in the basement.

Nutcracker Year Five

2011-12-22T16:08:00.000-08:00

2007 and 2008 (before I was a blogger so photos are lost on some long ago hard drive?)

2009

2010

2011

We love you Little Maddie, may you never grow tired of borrowing my momtastic mini-van to haul multiple children to and from their most beloved of all holiday occasions. The Nutcracker with you.

Mini Flora Headband Giveaway!

2011-12-20T06:24:00.000-08:00

Since I am totally mastering this whole social media thing and have a whopping 108 likes on Facebook I have decided to do a giveaway. I am awesome that way. The thing about these headbands is when I started making them in my mind I thought they would be a little easier to make since they are so damn small. Not so. Smaller does not mean faster as it turns out just more eye squinting and finger cramps. BUT they are so freaking cute I just keep making them. So just in case you don't have enough to do right now how about entering?

Here is what to do:
1. Make sure you are a follower of this fantastic blog. The little box on the right hand side titled FOLLOW makes it super easy.
2. Check out the gremadcha Etsy shop and leave me a comment with your favorite item and who you would give it to.
For extra entries:
3. Post this giveaway to Facebook.
4. Blog this giveaway.
5. Like gremadcha on Facebook.
6. Tweet this giveaway.

Make sure to leave each extra entry in a separate comment! Winner will be chosen with the random number generator in one week on December 27th because it's our 8 year wedding anniversary and I am going to eat a FANCY dinner!

Sad details, I can only mail within the USA. If you live overseas but know someone who lives here I will mail it to them and you can pick it up on your next visit!

When your week seems like it just may kill you.

2011-12-18T13:06:00.000-08:00

Sam worked MUCH more than usual last week and most of yesterday which left Poppy and I locked in a cycle of misery and redemption, of teeth gnashing and taking to the bed, of broken promises and an M&M shut out. The other children just looked on in wonder. This child is me. Stubborn enough to cry for 2 straight hours over everything. Stubborn enough refuse comfort and do it her way every single time.

Thursday I think? I stopped picking up the house around 3pm. Not a single dish, granola bar wrapper or lonely sock. I put the kids to bed and then put myself to bed in a heap of exhaustion and mom shame. There were tears. I'm sure when Sam arrived home he was worried because this is NOT ME. I do not let things go. I do not go to bed leaving trash on the floor EVER. Cleaning is HOW I COPE with the chaos of 4 kids and a dog and one bathroom and the small tragedies of my childhood.

Friday I spent hours upon hours cleaning it all up again while shoving endless bags of fuitsnacks at Poppy and Charlie so they would leave me alone. Mothering at it's finest.

Saturday while Sam worked the kids and I went to Walmart for slippers as Ruby is having a pajama day at school and do teachers not know that this causes stress for parents not into spending money on things children wear while SLEEPING?
There we found these:

The same kind of little plastic beads in Ruby's weighted blanket that she sleeps with every night and helps her sensory jazz tremendously.
We bought 4 bags and I made Poppy a little lap blanket and it could be wishful thinking but I swear she stops to breathe and settles when I lay it on her.

Kid 3 has sensory issues just like kid 2 (not as severe but probably why she can not get calm ever ever ever) and it only took me a few months shy of 4 years to figure it out. Mothering at it's finest! But, I'm a little more hopeful for the next time Sam works an 80 hour week.

This week was ridiculously hard and brought me to my knees a hundred times over but yesterday after Sam got home he took me to Chuck's Boots and then we had a DATE and today at church Sadie sang along for one whole song because she can read the words and Ruby let me hold her while I sang.

It's moment by moment around here.

Maybe without all the hardness and fingers numb from trying to HOLD ON there would not be the sweetness of new boots and holding my children close in those rare seconds of calm.

I will not use bribery with my children, I will not use bribery with my children, I will not...................

2011-12-14T15:33:00.000-08:00

Skittles. I bribed Poppy to BEHAVE (actually just to go back to bible class so I could hear the lecture) today with them and it was TOTALLY worth it. AND I cracked and turned on the t.v. It's a channel nine festival over here today. Back to good parenting, no t.v. (only because I swear it makes her more crazy) and no bribery tomorrow. Or not.

If Money Were No Object

2011-12-13T15:56:00.000-08:00

In order of spectacular appearance: Heritage Red Wing boots, Filson sweater, Pappy Van Winkel 23 year bourbon, Pendelton blanket, Bowflex home gym, Barbour waxed cotton jacket.

If money were no object these are all the things I would buy you for Christmas dear husband. Just know that. Unfortunately you will have to settle for paying our personal property tax while your 4 children bounce on your head because they are off school FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS. I love you.

I'm still here with some new observations.

2011-12-11T15:04:00.000-08:00

Observation #1- When I am away from my children all I really want to do is talk about them. The funny things they say or the way they melt me with innocent questions.

Observation #2- When I am with my children I am often counting the minutes until I can get away from them which usually means after their bedtime where I lay on my bed making hats and watching recorded T.V. Is this some sort of malady? Or possibly just the reality of 4 children who's only means of communication is whining and/or pointing with grunts despite my best efforts. I will ask my counselor.

Observation #3- I have not laughed so hard as I did last night watching the latest episode of New Girl in a long long time.

Observation #4- I miss my husband. We have been stuck in a cycle of just getting by for too long. It's hard to go out. It's hard to pay babysitters when we have 50 million other things to pay for like pre-school and new coats because the kids arms just keep getting longer so they have this awkward four inches of exposed skin. And then because we are really tired anyway and kid 4 has a fever we just stay home. But I still feel sad about it.

Observation #5- Poppy has regressed. We had a brief shining glimpse of a happy child when preschool first started and now we are back to mostly crying all day long about every single thing. It's heartbreaking and infuriating and I don't want advice.

Observation #6- Charlie has discovered he can do what he wants. My mellow happy boy is now throwing himself down in the entrance to Quick Trip because I won't get him shiny packages he suspects contain candy. He has figured out that if he goes completely limp I can't help him off the floor with one arm but I will keep trying to maneuver his arm because I am stubborn before I will finally set everything down and redistribute my belongings while balancing him over my shoulder. There is a lot of spilled coffee, sweat and hair in my eyes involved in this process.

Observation #7- My no T.V. during the week policy is slowly going the way of all natural personal products because I didn't take into consideration WINTER and now that we are not going to the park or friends backyards every single day we have so many endless hours of bickering to redirect.

Observation #8- I will bounce back from all this. I will bring up the baby trampoline from the basement and maybe even the plastic bouncing horse and create an obstacle course of memorable joy. I will force Sam to take me on a date even if we are both tired and coughing from all the dust I stirred up by making the obstacle course. We will get through Christmas and family in town and delayed bedtimes and budgets smashed to smithereens because of my irresponsibility. I will make Poppy wear her new ear flap hat day and night because it makes me like her more. I will survive all of this because I am nothing if not creative and I love my crazy family to little bitty pieces. Also once I take this damn Christmas tree down I will not feel like my house is trying to touch me all the time.

Winner, you know you have been waiting for this.

2011-12-08T13:16:00.000-08:00

Winner of The Mag Pie and Me Creations Giveaway is.............................................................................

Comment number 10 BAILEY MOHR of Beautiful Mess Photography! Check out her blog HERE.

Congratulations Bailey I am sending Elizabeth your email right now!

Thanks to everyone who participated!

On craft guilt and Christmas shame

2011-12-06T06:07:00.000-08:00

I am feeling all this pressure to blog about all the fabulous Christmas crafts we are doing around here but that would be straight up lying. I'm too busy making hats with ear flaps my kids will not wear. Christmas? I'm just not that into it yet. I can't help but start thinking of all the people I need to get gifts for and how that is going to cost money which leads into all sorts of financial issues that I refuse to deal with until year 2067. As for crafts, glitter makes my left knee buckle and I am so sick and tired of picking up bits of paper and peeling tape off the floor that I'd just RATHER NOT.
We don't do an advent calendar or Elf on the Shelf. We talk about Jesus a lot and even though we don't do Santa Claus (because I was an idiot as a beginner mom) I totally THREATENED Poppy that he would not come if she didn't pick herself off of the floor and quit her shrieking over wanting ice cream for breakfast. Somehow Santa has evolved into a don't ask don't tell policy around here. Lot's of whispering and misconceptions. Leave it to me to royally screw up something magical for my kids.

Ruby: I know Santa isn't real mom.
Me: Yes, that's true Ruby but he WAS a real person that gave gifts to children and we celebrate his spirit and also baby Jesus.
Ruby: Okay mom.
Me: Don't talk about it at school E V E R.
Ruby: Why mom?
Me: Because he is real for other kids which doesn't make any sense to you because I didn't freaking think this out 6 plus years ago when I shattered a little piece of Sadie's heart by being HONEST with her. Just think about baby Jesus.

Should I tell you all the guilt I have over not sending Christmas cards? With every one we receive in the mail (except the automated ones from the dentist) I die a little in shame and know that still I will NEVER send them because it is too much work and too many addresses to locate and correctly transcribe in actual human handwriting. I'm going to go back to my hats with ear flaps and rest on my laurels. After all, we do have a fabulous fake pre-lit Christmas tree in our window and the stocking are hung. As for filling those stockings? Wish me luck.

Where We Sit

2011-12-05T06:07:00.000-08:00

Our church meets in a middle school auditorium. We sit on the right hand side all the way to the front. We have for almost 8 years. The problem with where we sit is that it is one of the most visible. Yes, Sam can stretch his legs because there is no one in front of us but as he does we are on display. As kid 3 stretches her obnoxious wings and kid 4 discovers he has a will this is becoming problematic. I desperately want to keep it all together. I want to be sermonized and edified in lipstick with my children's hair brushed. I don't want to be sweating near tears not actually able to locate a single one of my children but hearing the echoes of their shrieks during quiet reflection. I want my kids to leave the paper for prayer requests alone and not run up and down the aisles like sugar ridden Wack-a-Moles. I want to be known to the extent I am comfortable being known. Not the ugly stuff. Not the out of control parts.
Yesterday, when all of the kids were finally in their kids church rooms and childcare I sat down at the back of the auditorium (I could not face even one more jaunt down the aisle) and looked around with a different perspective. I looked at the back of all of the heads of the people I go to church with. All of the people who know me. All of the people that I know. It's true that it is not easy to hide at our church. Sometimes that scares me. Sometimes I want to move to Alaska and start over. Not haunted by who I was in High school or after kid 2 or 3 or 4. Free to appear to be perfect in front of strangers.
But then that's not what I really want. Our family is a part of the story of our church. Me carrying Poppy out the door as she screams and kicks my thigh is part of the story. Me near tears with bright red cheeks trying to remember what I forgot to tell you while I mentally call for my husband to FIND THE CHILDREN is part of the story. Being embarrassed and scared and amazed and all of it while learning about Jesus is part of the story even if half the time I'm preoccupied with trying to locate a clean diaper. My kids ARE going to get older. That part will become easier while other parts (three teenage girls) will get exponentially harder and I'm counting on my church being there for all of it. I need the stories of the people I go to church with to connect with our story and sometimes carry us and sometimes encourage us and sometimes let us find our own strength while we reciprocate.
So next week we will walk down and sit in the front right hand side and our kids will steal the paper for the prayer requests and run around and I will be sweating (always sweating) and self conscious but because God is bigger than all of it we are just going to keep on showing up even when it feels like it would be easier not to. You show up too and I will put extra money in the tithe box to cover 7 plus years of scribbled on prayer requests.

GIVEAWAY

2011-12-01T09:24:00.000-08:00

It's been a while folks. Time to do another giveaway! This one is from a lovely friend of mine, Elizabeth. Her Etsy shop is sort of her third child and just as cute as her actual kids.

Here are some of my favorites:

Seriously cute. Elizabeth of Magpie and Me Creations is giving away one coupon code for half off the item of your choice in her shop. That's 50% off handmade which does not come around very often so here is how to enter: Make sure you are a follower of gremadcha then go check out Magpie and Me Creations.

Leave me a comment on your favorite item and who you would give it to. For an extra entry post this giveaway on Facebook and let me know in a separate comment. That's it! I will announce the winner (USA only) next Thursday. Let's help build this sweet mamas business and support handmade!

Shelter

2011-11-30T12:01:00.000-08:00

As a kid I took everything literally. The roadside signs that said DO NOT PASS? I remember fretting when my mom drove right past them without a care. When my parents would argue about money I thought we were going to have to live in a cardboard box on the sidewalk. When my mom said things like, "We don't have enough money for that pink unicorn." I thought that meant we didn't have enough money for ANYTHING and there was the cardboard box again. Legitimately there were some times bills wouldn't get paid and things would be shut off and one time a car really did get repossessed in the middle of the night. I think it was more exciting than traumatic because us kids thought "dangerous thieves" had stolen it.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how to shelter my kids from the scary financial realities of life but also teach them that we have SO MUCH and there are so many with so little. I am careful to say we do not have money for that specific item because we choose to spend our money in other ways. We talk about and practice giving and helping others. Still, there is a huge disconnect. A giant chasm between gratitude and throwing fits because the spagetti and meatballs are cut up and they want it whole and they don't like spaghetti anyway. Part of it is them just being children. They are supposed to be cared for and fed and clothed and allowed to be care-free children. I get that. But where is the line? I'm looking for somewhere north of spoiled rotten and south of deprived. I'm looking for something year round that helps us walk with others in need in a non-scary way. Deep down I want my children to see MORE. More than just their own desires and fake Uggs. More than cut up spaghetti. I want them to think of the kiddos with no spaghetti at all, just once and a while.

So, I'm open to suggestions. How do you teach your children to serve? How do you expose the need in your communities while sheltering your children from realities they are not old enough to grasp? Where do you draw the line at what your children need and what they WANT? Are these too many questions? Is this bad timing with Christmas just around the corner or is it the perfect time?

Happy Felt Necklaces

2011-11-29T10:27:00.000-08:00

I've been squirreling away these necklaces until I had a few minutes to photograph them and now that we are past Thanksgiving and the kiddos are back at school I can BREATHE and have more than one minute at a time to accomplish tasks that are not ALL ABOUT them. Sorry I may be just a bit resentful.....
Okay, sorry. Necklaces. I made one of these for the girls a year or so ago and it is by far the most popular accessory in the house. Charlie even wore it to bible study a couple of weeks ago. He was so proud of himself for getting it on I didn't have the heart to take it off him.......
My ADORABLE niece helped model them this morning so I could get them listed in the etsy shop. Thanks Annie!

Adoption

2011-11-28T08:15:00.000-08:00

On this very wonderful Cyber Monday please check out Calico Pie, an adorable Etsy shop. Fifty percent of her proceeds today are going to help adopt two very special little girls.

Ode to boy hats and cousins and cemeteries.

2011-11-27T14:30:00.000-08:00

I spent 36 hours this weekend making a boy hat for Charlie approximately four sizes too big. Since I finished it out of town it went to my 7 year old nephew, the CUTEST boy in the universe. These cousins EVEN have a cemetery across the street and toys way cooler than ours like a skee-ball game in the basement. So so so fun.

Black Friday? Yes.

2011-11-23T15:00:00.000-08:00

But let's do it Etsy style. Okay? Avoid death by trampling (seriously, just the thought of it makes my heart seize up). Shop from the comfort of your own home and don't even pay shipping. I'm cool like that. Now through Cyber Monday (who thinks up these names?) enjoy a lovely 10% off all purchases. Why only 10%? Because I ain't no big box store and every single item in my shop is handmade with love and care and a super human attention to detail. Translation: A LOT OF TIME. Here is your awesome code:

BLACKCYBER2011

While you are visiting the gremadcha shop be sure to check out my latest Kiddo Necklaces in waxed linen and shatterproof acrylic. Perfect for those we might not trust with glass or diamonds just quite yet.

See you on the other side of Thanksgiving, we are off to make Turkeys!

Gifts? Discuss.

2011-11-21T09:30:00.000-08:00

Ages ago Sam and I instituted a one gift rule for birthdays and holidays. Why you ask? A few reasons:

Gifts be SPENSIVE
I want my kids to be satisfied with less not more
WAY less stress for me
Keeps expectations low

Usually the kids give us MUCH input on what they would like their gift to be and we try and get them nice things that will last for more than five minutes after opening. So, nicer than socks but we draw the line at gifts costing more than our grocery budget. Usually.

Sometimes this is harder for me than you would think. For example Garnet Hill kids or Land of Nod. Because I'm pretty sure that along with the Playmobile set Sadie is asking for Christmas she freaking needs this chair with her name embroidered on the back and the three other kids need them as well.

And the Target version (thank you Target for making luxury gifts somewhat affordable) American Girl doll (Evelyn) Ruby received for her birthday?

She NEEDS matching pajamas for her and Evelyn. Evelyn told me. In fact all three girls need Target American Girl dolls and ALL OF THE FURNITURE because it's cute and maybe they will play in their rooms together for more than 5 seconds at a time. And Charlie needs an actual fire truck so he can entertain himself while the girls are away.

There is also the thing where by getting my kids ADORABLE clothes it makes me like them better.

This is quickly fading with the oldest as she insists on pairing everything with skinny jeans and parting her hair in the middle. Who does that? Sorry I get carried away.

So I am recycling the catalogs to stay strong and I'm even gonna try and stop the Zulily emails because damn that stuff is tempting as is anything on SALE. In the end the one gift rule must stand or we will need an addition to hold our stuff and my kids will end up as materialistic as I. Luckily we have grandparents and relatives and friends (and fun little stocking gifts) to add to the excitement on Christmas morning. I'm not trying to completely take the fun out of Jesus' birthday, just tone it down a bit and remember what is truly important, the people we love not the stuff. When Evelyn has been around a while I'm sure she will agree.

How do you handle the gifts? Do you have limits with multiple kids?

Birthday Lessons

2011-11-20T18:04:00.000-08:00

Over the past few years I have figured out a thing or two about kids birthday parties such as:
Keep them small, once the cousins (awesome, each and every one) are invited you have a good number already.
Keep them simple; pizza, paper plates and homemade cake from a box.
Each kid is different. Some want special dinners, others want a theme with full out streamers and a SpongeBob table cloth.

Here is the thing I learned this weekend. PLAN THEM FOR THE MORNING NOT THE EVENING.
Cause Folks, Saturday was ridiculously hard. Crazy pull your hair out hard due to the AGONIZING waiting. Each minute held at least three requests for the time and how many more minutes until THE PARTY so that by five in the evening the birthday girl was pretty darn exhausted by all her angst and grief over the fact that is wasn't party time seven hours ago.

Next year we are having pancakes at the crack of dawn.

It could be that I was the only exhausted one. Ruby seemed to have a great time. I just kept thinking this whole weekend that it SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD.

Tomorrow I take SpongeBob fruit snacks to Ruby's class as it is her actual birthday and then we are done. Ruby is six, thoroughly loved and celebrated and I have completed all motherly birthday duties. Just one more birthday, one anniversary and two official holidays to get through before the new year. Awesome.

A Reading Celebration

2011-11-17T10:04:00.000-08:00

So Ruby can read. Not just a couple of words but BOOKS. Where I have I been? Probably trying to convince her to stop whining?

We had an impromptu reading celebration last night with streamers and cupcakes and in the end Charlie open mouth kissed the dog and I caught it on film. Horrified? Yes. But it was also HILARIOUS and the girls were rolling on the floor laughing.

Notice that my kids mostly sit on top of the table. I'm just not sure that is a battle I want to fight right now......

Hooray for READING!

I have found that I am kind of in love with childhood.

2011-11-16T12:52:00.000-08:00

There is a magic about being young. Feeling like the most exquisite creature on earth in a SpongeBob apron you mother made you. Not caring what other people think of you because deep down you know you are extraordinary. My kindergartner, Ruby, drives me CRAZY with her pouting bottom lip and relentless whining but dear God how I love her enthusiasm for life. Her joy. She wore her apron, an early present in preparation for her 6th birthday party on Saturday to school today. She declared her loveliness for all to hear without hesitation. Poppy agreed. Sadie harrumphed as she is too cool for all of this nonsense in second grade but have no fear I will get her in the end with all the magical books of my childhood and that will prolong her love for all things silly and wonderful. Charlie walked around saying, "Pon Ba, Pon Ba" because apparently after the four words (mom, dad, ball, mine) he says, SpongeBob was the next logical one to add?

Today I am rejoicing in the gifts that God has given me. The creativity to think up character aprons for my character obsessed children and the skills to make them. Somehow when I am at the very end of what I can handle and having four kids seems like trying to train a thousand hippos, God sends me a spark and I am renewed. God works in mysterious ways. Like SpongeBob SquarePants.

Awkward Wreath

2011-11-15T12:15:00.000-08:00

Years ago the girls and I made a wreath for Thanksgiving that I either threw away last season or is mating with dead bugs in some mysterious basement place. This year after taking down Halloween our door looked melancholy. A door can look melancholy right? Yesterday while home with the lice kids I came up with the brilliant idea of stealing our neighbors pine cones and branches to decorate a new wreath. Thanks to all the overgrown bushes in the frightening place where no one ventures (the backyard) I had all the bendy branches I needed to make a stick circle because Sam put the smack down (understandably) on yet another visit to Hobby Lobby.

The kids went to work:

And we came up with this:

Awkward right? It looks like some sort of misguided dream catcher. Poppy and I re-worked it a bit today and came up with this:

Still awkward but not as bad because turkeys fix everything. Now I want to paint my front door really really bad to go with the new turkey wreath and I'm wondering if I can talk Sam into it. I may have to start off by asking for something huge like a new backyard so he will agree to a relatively cheap can of paint.

I need a heartbreak song

2011-11-14T12:30:00.000-08:00

On the way to an appointment this morning the song Because of You by Kelly Clarkson came on the radio and I realized there is no music for me anymore. I am not heartbroken. I have no lament for some long ago boyfriend. I have not been cheated on or left behind.

I need a heartbreak song that speaks of the travesties of motherhood. A song that will get me through 4 hours of combing nits out of hair while the girls weep and scream that I am hurting them. I need a chorus of mournful voices to move me while I do the 16th load of laundry and itch my head even though I have been inspected multiple times and no living thing has been found.

Heartbreak over the opposite sex is dramatic and romantic and interesting to listen to. Heartbreak over lice is just sad and frustrating and would probably make me laugh if I heard it in song. Maybe that's the point?

When did I go from a cool girl smoking cigarettes and drinking black coffee while writing an art history term paper to a mom in sweatpants hunched over a squirming child with a metal comb? Why DID I quit smoking? Other than the whole dying thing I mean.

I have to hope that someday I will be cool again, in a cute jeans mom kind of way and a song will come on the radio because the kids broke the CD player 7 years ago. That song will remind me of this day, hands numb from combing and completely overwhelmed with life, and I will be so glad I made it through. And also I will be alive because I quit smoking the damn cigarettes.

Disclaimer; before you freak out because you know me or have been exposed to my kiddos know that the big girls were the only ones that had it out of all 6 of us so I'm pretty sure they got them from school and not from our house. If your kid goes to school with my kids then you may go ahead and freak out.

I have no more words for this ridiculously long ass week.

2011-11-11T14:00:00.000-08:00

So, pictures from the park yesterday. Cold but so fun.

Purple Pumas

2011-11-09T11:41:00.000-08:00

Sam has been out of town since early Sunday morning. Side note: thieves, robbers and hooligans of all sorts he is on his way home and we have a large vicious dog.

I am broken with tiredness and frustration and an ache in my chest that expands and retracts with each demand by each child, each minute by minute replay of their disappointments played out in high definition. By adjusting the clocks back one hour I have DESTROYED my children. They are somehow short on sleep by 60 small minutes times a few days and we now live in a land of despair and ruination. The three year old is inconsolable, a stage I thought we were miraculously leaving behind. Every time they race to the window and see that dad is not yet back they all fade to gray a bit more and yell louder for the sugar that I will not give them.

This shouldn't be so hard. I wonder if part of the problem is that Sam isn't gone enough? When he is away the kids are anchor-less, in foreign territory without a map. Sam grounds them in some way. Maybe the fact that he is the steady one, the one who has never missed a day of work since high school. The one who is same and safety and big and strong and I am flighty and emotional with a heart the size of Texas on my sleeve. He is our balance and without him and the knowledge he will be home soon to put them to bed they feel adrift and unsure. This hellish four days must be given an explanation otherwise I can not formulate a plan for the next trip and then I will not be able to keep it together for these last desperate hours until his return.

And let's talk of how I medicated myself over this time period, I spent money. I am like some sort of addict with WANTING things. The bag I have been visiting weekly on Etsy for 8 straight months? Bought it. The shoes for Charlie he does not need? Bought them, purple Pumas because they make me deliriously happy. Then I bought purple clogs for MYSELF. I feel SELFISH and Lord knows I DID NOT NEED ANOTHER BAG. Justification comes easy when I picture Sam in Arizona with a hotel room ALL TO HIMSELF and fancy food while I battle through urine soaked pajamas and tears. So now with my humble savings ground to dust I am feeling guilty yet oddly satisfied that I gave in to THE WANTING because somehow a new red bag and purple clogs and Charlie in his purple Pumas will make me thinner and happier and more content and the ache in my chest will fade as it did last night when I was high off internet shopping. I am more of a disaster than my sleep deprived children.

The one small comfort is that I did not spend money I did not have, (there go I, but for the grace of God, lost to the siren song of credit cards.) I'm obviously just not comfortable with savings.

For all the moms with frequently traveling husbands I DO NOT KNOW HOW YOU SURVIVE and I am pretty sure you are better than me in every possible way because I have failed at flying solo ten times over and I'm not even out of the woods. There is a Filofax on Ebay that looks pretty irresistible right about now.

Kim

2011-11-07T04:54:00.000-08:00

I'm awful at goodbyes. I just want to skip them all together. I get sweaty and self conscious and I'm not really a hugger so it's just awkward.

I met Kim right after I had Sadie? At least that's when I remember meeting her. She was Christian. The kind of Christian that had been at it for a while but it wasn't routine. It was fresh and awe inspiring and she knew bible verses and GOT IT. Got that we had a savior and how sin is defeated because of it.

She had this sweet little house that I LOVED and I wanted to be like her. In a cute little house with my baby and my husband but we were not yet there, still living with my parents and saving every penny. I can't remember just where I was with Jesus yet. Somewhere close to believing but with so many questions and doubts still. Not quite getting it but seeing that I was more like Kim than I was different.

I tell this next story often so skip this if you have heard it before. We were having coffee together and looking down at our sweet little babies not even a year old and Kim said something about how we are all born with sin already in us. Even the sweet little babies. In my head there was a loud guffaw. Maybe your baby, I thought, not mine. My baby is innocent and pure and PERFECT.

Months later Sadie told me her first lie. Looked straight at me and lied to get a soda. And although I may have modeled some less then noble behaviors, I had not ever modeled how to lie to get what you want. Not ever. The truth of sin struck me and my knowledge of my need for a savior sunk a little deeper.

Over the past seven plus years Kim and I have been friends sometimes close and sometimes distant. Each of us doing battle with our pasts, making peace and embracing our future. Each of us pregnant again and again. Each of us struggling through newborns and toddlers. I have watched Kim light up with joy and in the shadows of sadness. I have watched her faith steadfast and ever growing. I have watched her be a wife, leader, mother, friend and mentor.

She and her husband are one of the reasons that our church is home. She was a key player in my journey to Christ.

Kim and her family are moving soon.

This is my goodbye.

You will be greatly missed. Thank you for being a part of my story. Thank you for your years of service. Thank you for all of the hours that you sacrificed so Brian could help lead our church. Thank you for being unshakable in your beliefs and community. You will never know quite how much you touched our lives. I can't wait to hear of your new adventures.

A Love Story

2011-11-04T17:19:00.000-07:00

The Players-

Terry

Carol

Charles

Jack

Gail

The Story-
A long time ago a woman named Carol going to school in St. Louis met a man named Terry and they married. After a while Carol invited her husband Terry, his good friend Jack and some lady named Barbara to her hometown of Avilla Indiana to go sailing on her fathers boat.

On that fateful weekend Carol's father Charles offered Jack a job at his gun store.

Jack accepted and shortly thereafter met Gail, Carol's younger sister. Somehow they began dating.

When Charles discovered that his daughter Gail and Jack were dating he fired Jack. With no other employment option in the tiny town of Avilla, Jack was forced to move back to St. Louis.

There is a rumor Jack wrote Gail love letters.

Eventually Gail fled to St. Louis where she moved in with Jack. Due to years of Catholic training Gail was sure she would be struck down dead for her sin. They married quickly.

On this day, November 4th year 2011, Jack and Gail have been married for 39 years.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad

I love you. Thank you for showing me how to be married through all of the bad and all of the good and all of the in between.

Invitations

2011-11-03T11:39:00.000-07:00

A little while ago I realized a friend of mine (who gave permission for me to share this story) was not at our usual bible study. Turns out she was taking the year off. Some conversations later it came up that her family was church-less for all sorts of reasons so I asked her with some hesitation to come visit mine.

Hesitation?

Why is it so hard to extend ourselves? Invite people in?

For me, it is all about me. Surprising right? My mind flashes forward to every possible what if. What if they don't like it? What if they think I am too much? What if I am responsible for their church happiness from here on out? Ridiculous. As if I have that much power. As if people even think about me THAT MUCH.

On one of my precious 1 child days with all 3 girls in school Charlie and I went to the park and met a lovely mom who just moved here from another state. When it was time to go I gave her one of my Etsy business cards and said to email me if she ever wanted to get her son and mine to together or if she ever had any questions about St. Louis or otherwise. Immediately I regretted it because I was worried she would think I was being pushy or stalkerish. Like, who is this crazy mom who thinks I want to hang out with her?

If I meet you there is a large chance that I will assume you do not like me which is weird because I have heard that I am somewhat likable.

But here is the thing. That family I invited to my church? They are still there and really loving it. My friend told me they were in this sort of limbo and they NEEDED an invitation. They needed someone to reach out and say come join us!

I think it is worth my discomfort, my fear that you won't or don't like me. I may not be very good at it and my stomach will be in knots but I hope and pray I can keep extending invitations because it's really not all about me. It's about the fact that we are human and like or not we all need each other in this crazy mixed up world. Right?

The Dora Necklace

2011-11-02T11:13:00.000-07:00

There are days I feel like I am making up for lost time with Poppy, child number 3. When she was born Sadie was still only 3 and Ruby 2. I remember my eye twitching and all of my clothes were sweatshirt fabric. I was mostly in a sweaty discombobulated state of sorrow. The days were long and dark and there were many trips to occupational therapy for Ruby (sensory issues) and specialists for Poppy (reflux and she used to turn blue when cold). Sort of a blur of praying for Ruby and Poppy to both stop screaming and aching for uninterrupted sleep.

It's SO MUCH BETTER NOW. Sadie and Ruby in all day school and Charlie still napping means Poppy and I are getting to know each other, settling into routines and while I don't give in to her every whim the Dora ones I do. I think because there used to be so many times I felt ill-equipped and too tired to handle Poppy the chances I get now to provide for her are all the more sweet. So, when she announced she would like a Dora necklace I got excited. That I can do dear Poppy. Not only will I make you a Dora necklace it will put every other Dora necklace out there to shame.

P.S. Swiper no swiping!

A Pencil

2011-11-01T16:27:00.000-07:00

Today I put away every pumpkin, skeleton, spider and bat to be found and then for kicks rearranged the house while cleaning. November needs to feel clean and new. For the sake of prosperity I will post my favorite pics from last night and share that Poppy decided yesterday she wanted to be Rapunzel from Tangled. She wore her same Dora outfit and just told everyone she was a pencil. That's Poppy language for Rapunzel if you were confused as were most adults since her outfit seemed without a binding theme at first glance.

Also four kids filled with sugar and galloping around with buckets more is super fun but the day after may just be the death of me.

What Went Down

2011-10-31T14:02:00.000-07:00

I've had many questions about what went down on Friday so let's go there:

I put up a post to let off some steam about my kiddos. This was after 567 demands and three home cooked dinners that not only would the kids NOT eat but that they felt needed to be sorrowfully whined about until I was ground to little bits of failure beneath the disgustingly dirty dining room table.

So yes, I was mad and frustrated at my kids and I wrote facetiously about the imaginary consequences I wanted to give them i.e. sleeping outside.

A reader apparently missed the humor and sent me an email about how I should be grateful and how awful I was to my children. I made her cringe with my evilness. Poetic license with the evilness... She also let me know that I had lost her as a follower. Umm thanks?

So even though this was only the second negative comment I have received in three years and 774 posts for a few hours I was pretty convinced that I was:

A. Evil
B. Undeserving of having children in the first place
C. Going to be hotlined to social services
D. A terrible mother
E. Desperate to make amends and take down the post

Thankfully friends talked me down and I received some really amazing encouraging comments and I realized I was apologizing for having emotions. For feeling frustrated. For expressing the truth of being a mother of 4 kids that minute by minute of every single hour of the day NEED ME and sometimes that is hard. Do I love my kids? I would lay down my life for my kids as would every mother that I know. Have they ever ACTUALLY slept outside? Yes, in a tent while camping. Do I sometimes get frustrated with them and wish they would behave differently? You betcha.

So I put the post back up and sent the email to the trash and delegated all future emails from her to the spam folder to be forever nestled between Viagra ads and notices of fake inheritances I need only pay a few hundred dollars to access. In other words to the grave forever un-read.

While I am feeling a bit confident let me tell you about emotions. They are normal and part of my job as a mother is to model them. How to cry and wipe away tears and get back up. How to be frustrated and possibly yell and then ask for forgiveness. How to be mad, sad, glad and otherwise.

Sometimes I feel there is this unspoken law that all mothers must remain peaceful and grateful at all times and that to do otherwise will damage the children. That they mustn't be exposed to anything other than delight in their existence. And that if we do express emotion we are a failure as parents. You know that fake happy thing we do when other people are watching and then we go back to normal when we get home? The gentle reminders we really want to growl?

How does that peaceful/happy all the time way prepare them for life? When Sadie feels sad and cries she knows that it is NORMAL to cry and be sad and that life is not over. When the kids see Sam and I disagree and fight they also see us offer each other forgiveness and grace and not go anywhere during the process. When a child of mine does something hurtful to another human being I will be ANGRY and it is okay if they know I'm angry. When I am frustrated I will write about it and if you don't like what I have to say that is fine. Just quit reading because I am gonna tell you right now I will be frustrated and sarcastic in the future many more times and in the world I inhabit that is not only okay it is celebrated.

Happy Halloween

For Saturday

2011-10-29T09:13:00.000-07:00

"A handmade object is a thing with a soul."

— Kristina Sabaite

Happy Saturday and thanks for all the awesome comments yesterday. Sometimes there is a learning curve with putting yourself out there to be understood and misunderstood. Now go read this.

Love Greta

Apologies

2011-10-28T12:37:00.000-07:00

Never mind. I republished what I was apologizing for with some small edits. The great thing about blogs is you don't have to read them if you don't want to. I don't write so people will like me. I'm not saying it doesn't sting when I get mean emails but I've decided not to apologize for what someone misread and decided was serious or something I would actually say to my children. Sometimes life with small children is ugly. There is a lot of poop and pee and tears and yes, sometimes even resentments. This is how I deal.

REPUBLISHED FOR THE GOOD OF MY SOUL: This is gonna be ugly.

2011-10-28T09:20:00.000-07:00

Here comes full on venting so quit reading right now if you can't handle the whining/complaining/bitch festival that is about to go down.

There are days when I am all Christain-y and loving and reflective on how my life is full of blessings. I might work through some issue with a wise and Godly sounding conclusion.

There are days when I find humor everywhere I look and my children, though frustrating, are precious and huggable.

Then there are days like Wednesday and Thursday. I want to muffle the children. I want to send them outside to sleep on the hard cold ground so they will realize that although squash may not be there favorite freaking food it is food I have made for them and they should shut up and eat it and tell me it's wonderful and that they love me and THANK YOU and be happy they have BEDS.

They should be grateful that I sweat for them and wipe up the disgusting toothpaste that they spit out all over the sink because that extra step of rinsing the sink? It's just too hard to do when you are 5 and 7.

They should NOT reach up and squeeze my stomach when I am talking to a parent at school pick up and then casually mention I am too squishy to dress up for Halloween on the walk home.

And by the way I am sorry my stomach is squishy but there were four separate HUMAN BEINGS growing in there and I don't have time for sit-ups because I am CLEANING UP AFTER YOU AND COOKING FOR YOU ALL OF THE DARN TIME.

So how about you stop throwing your belongings on the floor as if it's your birthright and eat what I cook and NEVER EVER whine about a single thing ever again?

Then we will be all good. Because children, this is the last warning before the time outs start to get seriously long.

Fall Code

2011-10-26T06:16:00.000-07:00

In honor of new creations coming to the etsy

shop use code NEWFALL for 15% off! Good today

only! Woo Hoo!

On Making Hats

2011-10-25T15:23:00.000-07:00

There are times I want to quit making hats. They are ridiculously time consuming and I'm never satisfied until at least hour two of teeny french knots. The flowers always need one more color or stitch or whatever. But then since I am so blessed to have friends with adorable kiddos I remember that I love making hats because LOOK at that child in these hats. Seriously. Can you stand it? Since I lack any actual photographic skills (sorry) multiply that cuteness by a hundred and that's how cute she was in real life. Hmmm I guess I shall have to continue the hat making. At least until all the kids I know are grownup.

Equal Fishing

2011-10-24T06:55:00.000-07:00

Because life is life; unpredictable, ghastly, and all kinds of beautiful and mysterious, fishing with four kids is an experience of mess on the verge of disaster. I have this thing about equality, my kids feeling equal to each other. All good things must come in fours. Equal provision for each child. So when I stab my finger on a fish hook and am bleeding into raw bacon I will not stop. I will procure a fish for you, second child, if it means I have to reach down through the slimy water and grab it because your older sister has caught three and damn it if you leave this park feeling unequal to her.

Growing up there was a brokenness between my sister and I. A strange tension of who was moms favorite on which day and who broke the rules (me) and who kept them all in a row but with a secret stash of food for later. I will someday write a book on this but for now let's just go with my remedy for the present day: The fairness equation. If all things are fair then my children will feel loved and thus love each other well.

My equation is in actuality, unworkable. Life does not lend itself to fairness. Then there is the thing of all my children being different ages so the 7 year old can casually fling raw bacon on a hook and catch fish with ease while the 5 year old struggles with the concept of fishing in general and the 1 year old chews on a plastic straw with no fishing pole at all. The 3 year old is somewhere in the vicinity and I am sweating, worried they are all not receiving the joy in four equal measurements. And where is the joy in that?

Life is coming at them faster than I can divide it up in parts I think are acceptable and in the end what they are given is out of my hands. I am starting the think the wiser move would be to love them through the unfairness of life. Walk them through the hurt of no fish and the envy of the sibling who has many. And more prayer, always more prayer.

Let the sugar detox begin.

2011-10-22T08:20:00.000-07:00

Last night event 1 of 2 took place, the Trunk or Treat. Soon to be followed by event 2, actual trick or treating on Halloween night. I have mixed feelings on Trunk or Treats in general.

You are confined to a parking lot so it's a little easier to keep an eye on the kids. However they have an inflated sense of freedom due to being at "their school" meaning their universe which they govern and roam as they please.

There is a grassy pit that Charlie (hindered by his full body dragon costume that is a few inches to short in the neck and crotch area) continually and drunkenly (on sugar) flings himself down the side of, all good except for the boulder at the bottom. They never did make contact.

There is no escape from the guy in the HORRIFYING mask that your children (and you) are genuinely afraid of.

Since there are a limited amount of children and unlimited supply of candy guess who comes out on top?

Thus the sugar detox where you hide ALL of the candy because your 7 year old is like an after school special on addiction. She is hysterical laughing then strange shriek crying then crawling on your lap to be held like a baby. It is 7:30 in the morning.

Thank you Trunk or Treat.

Just Dance

2011-10-20T14:32:00.000-07:00

Please watch this terribly lit video because to me, Poppy dancing while eating sugar toast is the definition of being unafraid and content. I'm not sure when I stopped dancing like I was awesome or when I stopped asking for help because to do so seemed an imposition. Also when your kid dances it's like your soul gives a little shuffle of joy. Or is that just me?

Since I'm already on child number three today I'll share that she apparently is the talk of her preschool class and at parent night all the parents said, "So your Poppy's parents?" But they said it with this strange lilt in their voices which I wasn't sure how to take. I halfway took it as: "You're the parent of the weird-girl-child-with-the-boy-haircut-wearing-the-Hanna-Montana-bathrobe-to-school that my kid dislikes?" And halfway as: "You're the awesome mom that gives her child a cool haircut and lets her express her creativity?" I was asked if Poppy was a nickname and when I said it wasn't the parent said, "What then, are your other kids names?" Like possibly they were all names with O P P Y or B O B O on the end because it's the craziest thing she ever heard. Or, she could have just liked Poppy's name but I tend to go to self-doubt and assume she was making fun of me in her brain. I'm really good at that along with not asking for help.

Revelation

2011-10-18T05:46:00.000-07:00

This year I am studying Revelation in my bible study. It is uncomfortable. I'm feeling bombarded with judgement and thrones and all sorts of scary horses. It occurred to me to skip this year; take a break and come back when we are studying John again and I can feel all sorts of warmth and love, but I'm thinking God wants me to wrestle with the hard stuff, the dark things I'd rather gloss over. I told my bible study core group of women that I'm not feeling too keen on heaven, much to their shock and awe (actually only a few of them looked at me like I was encouraging bunny sacrifice). It seems like sort of a gem toned ice cave in Revelation so far and I'm more of an eclectic, vintage, homemade quilt kind of girl. Snuggled up with my kiddos while Sam makes a fresh pot of coffee. It's good that I love my family, God built me that way. However I'm seeing just how tightly I hold it. How I don't want to go to heaven because they are my everything and I think God maybe sort of wants to be a little higher on my list of what I can't live without. This bible study is going to be hard for me. It is not easy and pleasant but neither is sleeping in a tent with four kids who have to pee every five minutes and in a weird way what is so much work is also what is pure joy in retrospect. This may not make sense. I think I'm trying to say risk being uncomfortable. Risk feeling afraid. Question and doubt and see what is underneath all the rote answers from Sunday school.

Possibly you will find that although still afraid (like me) God will surprise you with your faith. With what you are willing to feel and where you are willing to go to know Him. And also the horses are kind of awesome.

The case for camping in no particular order.

2011-10-17T13:42:00.000-07:00

If you made it though all those photos of kids that aren't yours (the worst kind of torture I know) you are awesome. Really.

As for me I hope I never forget those moments above. Their delight in being OUTSIDE. Joy in catching a tiny fish. Building barricades so the raccoons wouldn't come out at night. Running around screaming because you are a kid and it's fun. Looking at the evening sky that God made. Searching for lost stick bugs and finding them. Watching their parents laugh with friends.

Worth all the extra loads of laundry, the lost sleep and the stressful preparation. Worth every bit of it.

On Swings in Living Rooms

2011-10-13T08:51:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was a precious, mountain lion like, screeching, baby named Ruby. Hazel eyed and rosy checked she brought this mama to her knees with one ferocious shrill after another. We read some books, asked many questions and discovered she had sensory integration issues. Then a friend installed a metal loop through our celling, reinforcing it through some boards and such so as not to fall, cracking skulls of mountain lion screeching babes and siblings on its way down and there it has remained. Said swing has provided countless hours of merriment and therapy and although swinging surely must be an ancient method of entertainment it is BETTER INSIDE. I recommend it. If nothing else when my kids are in therapy twenty years from now dissecting my temper and faults they will pause and say, "We did have this totally awesome swing in our living room."

In case any of you are wondering the cost of this project it's not as bad as you would think. The most important part is the swivel hardware at the top so little ones don't get all tangled up.

Then an eye hook from the hardware store and any kind of hammock (preferably one from Goodwill that costs $9 as ours did) or you can get a therapy net (not as fun) from the same website as the swivel part.

And good old carabiners to connect everything, which I'm sure you all have leftover from your pre-children mountaineering days. Or, REI has them if you were more into shopping than physical endeavors as I was and still am.

Trust me, your kids brains will be all kinds of spectacular and their vestibular business will be all sorted and springy if you get a swing inside your house. Since I still don't REALLY understand the whole sensory thing just go with because Greta said so when asking your significant other if it would be possible to install a swing in your living room. Then send pictures to me so I can feel like a champion for children's brains.

I have ads...........

2011-10-12T16:38:00.001-07:00

Hey, I took the plunge and got me some ads. Check to your right! Thoughts? It's not as terrible, Las Vegas neon, as I thought it would be. Going to be an adjustment as I'm so used to looking over and seeing my out of date pleasant kiddos looking back at me.

Just kidding about thoughts, unless they are nice:)

On Kids in School

2011-10-12T05:11:00.000-07:00

Every day the girls bring home a pile of papers from kindergarten, second grade and preschool. Inevitably they are all shoved in a basket and then when my defenses are down I go through them and am consequently much poorer than before. What is it about school pictures? Are they printed on gold paper? Why must I pay an entrance fee to give out candy at the Trunk or Treat? When did picking apples become so expensive? I'm not complaining (yes I am). It's just that today I'm feeling more than a little inadequate to bring up four children with their five million forms and fees and dues.

This year I said no to Girl Scouts. I am a monster. I just can't deal with the registrations/fees/forms/cookie sales ever again. My kids don't play sports yet (feel free to ask about the soccer debacle from 2 years ago). I would love for them to be in gymnastics/swimming/dance/martial arts but those cost money and I have all these damn school things to pay for. I am somewhere in between a genius for letting my kids be unscheduled and a failure for not scheduling them in anything. I am a deer in the headlights.

I still have not made it to a single PTO meeting. Why? Because when it comes down to it I don't really want to. To my defense they are held in the evening and that is when my brain stops working.

I am on the schedule to provide a craft for Sadie's Halloween party and I am paralyzed, which is strange because I AM CRAFT. It's like WHAT I DO. But no matter what I come up I'm sure those 22 second graders with soulful eyes won't like it and they'll be bummed and possibly sarcastic.

In conclusion I'm on the fence about schools and fees and extra curricular activities and how much I really want to be involved and I'm desperately ashamed/proud of how I handle it.

Giveaway MADNESS

2011-10-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Folks,
Check out Fresh Art Photography for some awesome giveaways today, yours truly included. Seriously go now. Okay, one of them is this headband below. Now go!

Love Greta

Possibly a teeny bit obsessed.

2011-10-10T10:13:00.000-07:00

On Friday I purchased a nifty little tool to make yo-yo's.

One whole weekend later and I can't stop making them. There is something about taking a circle of fabric and transforming them into 3 dimensional lovely shapes that is ADDICTING and dangerous for me.

Like maybe my existence depends on making more and more and more.

I think just 50 more and I will be able to stop? Maybe?

Sunday Night Random Etsy Love

2011-10-09T16:47:00.000-07:00

Poppy

2011-10-06T14:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Poppy,
I love you. I remember when your dad and I decided to try for another baby. I wondered what you would look like and who you would be. Then you were in my arms, perfect, my third little girl. Right now you are singing a song with only one word- HALLOWEEN. I love that you talk to me now and when you laugh I can feel it and it feels like happiness and home. I know that you get mad at me when you can't have what you want. I understand that you would like to have sugar toast for every meal. I hope that someday all the hard work of saying no to you will pay off in a big way. Like maybe a new car when you are running your own company. Or retirement money since I can't save any due to all the adorable shoes they make in your size (9). I am so thrilled that God chose me to be your mom. Also thank you for falling asleep after school today. I got many many things accomplished.
Love Mom

Why Christian weddings sometimes break my heart.

2011-10-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

Saturday Sam and I attended a wedding. It was beautiful. The bride radiant and the groom an illustration of what joy looks like in human form. Where I stumble is what about the rest? What about the folks I know still single or the ones with broken marriages? The lonely waiting and fruitless seeking. If God built us to be in partnership with each other then why does he wait so darn long to make it happen for some?

Yesterday I started arguing with Sam for the simple reason that things have been so good it scares me. If I'm arguing with my husband then I can worry about that and not be afraid that something bad is going to happen. That he will die. Logical right? Why do I get to be married to my best friend? I am absolutely positive that I did not earn it. Unless shacking up and getting pregnant means I earned it.

So when I see this couple who waited and found each other and did it right it breaks my heart a little bit for all those still waiting. Then I get afraid that since I did everything upside down and backwards and went through times in my life where I didn't want to even be alive anymore it will happen again. Things will get too hard, I will be alone and lack the energy to even brush my teeth.

If I worry will I prevent hardships? If I feel sad for all those still waiting to find love will it make it happen for them any faster? Ruby took a video with my phone yesterday as I was sitting at the sewing machine and all you see is my back and I look huge. I watched it while stopped for a forever long train this morning and for a few minutes I sat there in sadness. I'm huge, I will NEVER lose this weight, I am a failure and an embarrassment. Then I remembered that just like fighting with Sam this is where I go when I am afraid. To the old standby, despair. Then life can't be good and be in danger of being bad.

I think this is where I just pray and count my blessings and maybe allow life to be good. This is where I cut up the old patterns and make new ones. Go to weddings and share in the joy. Laugh with my husband. Pray when I get afraid instead of controlling it by making up problems or diving into old ones. Trust that God will connect all the alone people and it will be good.

Arguably the best holiday.

2011-10-03T08:40:00.000-07:00

Halloween has arrived at the Coalier house. The girls helped clean the whole house (in short 3 minute bursts with alternating whines and pleas for help) yesterday in anticipation of getting out the decorations. What is not to love about spooky cats, dressing up and candy?

I must admit I disappeared to sewing land over the weekend because when you find adorable Halloween fabric for a 2 bucks a yard it must be crafted into things wearable. Right?

Now for the tricky part, while I am all about kids dressing up for Halloween I am not so into dressing up myself, only because it seems like a lot of work and I don't like people looking at me so much. We have a grown up, costume required, party this year and I'm stumped. Last year I went as a frazzled new mom with a fake baby in a sling and lots of people thought it was an actual baby. Ideas? Please share.........

A New Heaven

2011-09-30T06:40:00.000-07:00

Dear St. Louis,
I have found a new heaven. A fabric store where when I ask about a designer they don't raise their eyebrows and look at me like I am from some distant planet. They share my love/obsession for Anna Maria Horner and even CARRY her fabrics. Heather Ross is on order. I can walk amongst all the fabrics that before I had to view in little squares on my computer screen. Sam surprised me with a gift certificate and I spent an hour just walking in circles. It gets better, wait for it, they are kid friendly. This could be dangerous for me. I am now making Mr. and Mrs. Batty (super cool kit with all the fabric supplied) and they are the cutest things ever. Update: Just finished them!

In conclusion- new sewers, non sewers, master sewers, GO CHECK THEM OUT. You will love it. I promise.

Fabric Nosherie

21 N. Gore Ave Webster Groves MO 63119

(right across the street from Apple of Your Eye)

Hours: M-W-F 10-6, T-TH 10-9, Sat. 10-4

On Beauty

2011-09-28T17:29:00.000-07:00

Day three of my "all about me" challenge and I desperately want to write about anything but. What did I care about 15 short years ago?

Mostly how I looked is the honest answer. I'm talking hundreds of HOURS thrift store shopping for anything that was different and cool and somewhat appropriate for one who is five feet tall and, shall I say, busty? And the shoes.... I had a pair that were faux hiking boot-platform-sneakers and the left one creaked with every step. Squeaking through each and every Chicago thrift store within walking/blue line distance in search of an elusive material something. Something that would make people stop and stare and then I would matter.

I blame Vogue and Bazaar and Allure and just life. When you are a girl and somewhat aware of your surroundings you figure out pretty quickly that how you look matters. Not to mom or dad or the people that love you but to the boys; the other girls at school that rule without mercy. The rest of the world. I'm pretty sure someone at some point in my formative years told me that looks weren't important. I didn't listen.

There was this girl in high school that I will never forget. She was older and tall and could wear cut off jeans and combat boots and be a thing of absolute beauty. We spent one magical night with our respective boyfriends partying and she took a glow stick, poked a tiny hole, tied a string to it and then spun it around the room so when the lights went off there were a million little stars everywhere and I laughed until I couldn't breathe. I was invited to her pool party for her birthday not long after that night and then she graduated and disappeared.

A few years later in Chicago I was at an art opening and there she was, luminescent. I think with someone important and I had these horrible pants on. Men's khakis that didn't fit and some sort of polyester sweater. I was trying so hard to be cool that I went to the other side of cool, to a strange senior citizen place. She didn't remember me. I vehemently unleashed the story of the glow stick and she just looked confused. My heart broke.

What is it about beauty that captures us? Why did that girl shatter me with one perfectly arched, raised eyebrow?

Every Wednesday on my way to bible study I put on lipstick. I look in the rear view mirror and make this weird face that I always make when applying things to my face. I put on lipstick to go learn about Jesus with a whole bunch of other woman whom I am sure are on pins and needles, desperate to see what I look like. The lipstick doesn't even have a color. It's called angel kiss or some damn thing and it wipes off within three minutes of me putting it on. It is my armor. It is pretty and pretty is good.

Maybe I'm not as far away from 15 years ago as I thought I was. Or perhaps I am in training for heaven where I will be a statuesque pillar of Gods kingdom and thus required to wear lipstick.

Because it's pretty.

On Dropping Out

2011-09-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

I dropped out of high school at 17. I was never very successful there. I rarely attended and when I did I was high. Can I write that?

There are times when that part of my story feels heartbreaking. Bad decisions. No prom. No cap and gown. No middle class rites of passage with a yearbook full of well wisher scrawls, just me taking the G.E.D in a room full of strangers; then trying to navigate my future with little guidance and no money.

I discovered that all you needed to go to community college was the aforementioned G.E.D, a placement test and with my part time job I could pay my way through. A safe haven where I caught up on what I missed in high school and took all the basic course work so that I could transfer to a four year art school. I met my best friend to this very day there, Sarah. After two years Sarah and I headed to The School of The Art Institute of Chicago. Hellish cold, a teeny apartment in a scary neighborhood and still no money. We both worked as many jobs as we possibly could and somehow made it through.
When I look back I see that my story is one of perseverance and it doesn't feel quite so sad. I was able to piece together all the fragments of my rebellious teenage years and turn it in to something good. I will be paying of my degree for the next several years but somehow it doesn't bother me. I fought hard for every grade, every assignment, every meal. I think now about what is important about me. What I am proud of and what shame I can let go of. I was not the person I am today in high school; sometimes hard to escape when you live in a town like St. Louis where everyone knows everyone and you are instantly categorized and filed under where you went to high school. I was adrift and clutching at substances or the right crowd to keep me afloat. After all the mistakes I put myself through college. I grew up. I want that for my children. I want them to feel the strength of their own character. To know they are resourceful and creative and that however hard, they can dream big.

Challenge

2011-09-26T06:29:00.000-07:00

I have been challenged by a friend to spend a week blogging about me. No kid stories. No mom trials and tribulations. Just me. D a u n t i n g. Before I begin I need to share a conversation between the big girls and I this morning. I promise not another kid related story until next Monday.

Me- Ruby go brush your teeth.

Ruby- I HATE brushing my teeth!

Me- You don't want to lose all your teeth do you?

Ruby- Huge smile, Yes!

Sadie- That doesn't mean you will get gold ones.

Ruby- Oh. Runs to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Sorry D, that had to be blogged.

So back to me. Hmmm......... awkward. I need little children to stand in front of me while only a corner of my face peeks out for the snapshot. Me without them feels exposed. They are a sort of armor for me. An ice breaker. Hi, I'm Greta, I have four children and I am crazy and always counting 1, 2, 3, 4 while I pinpoint their whereabouts and make mental notes. I may or may not remember your name/be interesting/worthy of your time due to said children.

Who am I without them? Who am I without homework, diapers, sippy cups and two gallons of organic milk every few days?

Let me start with this; I am Greta Coalier, 34 years old and I grew up less than two miles from where I live right now. I am funny, talented, insecure, loving, selfish, giving, fearful and brave.

I am enough.

Check back tomorrow and I will dig a little deeper. Or maybe not.

Winner

2011-09-23T12:40:00.000-07:00

I think maybe I am sleep walking or possibly I have some medical condition that has altered my ability to REMEMBER things. So for all those who entered the Eversave giveaway the winner is Margaret with comment number 16. In case you are going to go back and count I didn't include my own comment in the giveaway. Thanks for all the ideas! Margaret, send the best email to reach you and I will get you your vouchers!

True Random Number GeneratorMin: Max:

Result:

16Powered by RANDOM.ORG

Fairy Tale Hat

2011-09-22T06:22:00.000-07:00

Dark forests with wild flowers and little girls who wander too far. Newborn baby nestled in a hollow. Fairy tales of the old school grim and grit. That is where this little hat would find a home.

Chicken Pox Foot

2011-09-21T14:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the big girls and I went in my room to read together. Oh Lord, I am so excited about my children reading! Eventually the whole family ended up on the bed together where we discovered that Ruby had given Charlie chicken pox foot:

Which, by the way, she tearfully admitted ONLY after she heard me ask Sam to quickly call the doctor.

Poppy with the ever present Dora figurine and napkin:

Somehow or another a sock monkey was brought into the mix and it all went crazy joy from there. Is there anything better than hearing your children laugh? Not just laugh, but those way down deep bellows and they can't even catch their breath? We had another round later when Ruby demonstrated burping without opening her mouth.

Someone should invent a snot remover tool for digital photos. Many a good shot has been ruined by errant boogers and the gleam of runny noses.

If this is us on week 2 of no television then give me more because it's glorious. In case you haven't been following along we do allow it on weekends which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be because we were out doing things and gone most of Sunday. The transition back to no T.V. on Monday was WAY not as bad as I thought it would be. Hallelujah.

Decisions and Televisions

2011-09-20T11:59:00.000-07:00

Still up in the air on the whole ad thing but I'm leaning towards yes. Okay I'm a definite yes.......I think........ Thanks for all who gave comments for and against. I can be dramatic and opinionated and state my case with enthusiasm only to reflect and then change my mind. SO Awesome because then everyone gets to see how fabulously indecisive and delusional I can be because I just have to put every bit of it out there. In conclusion I think that wanting recognition isn't a bad thing in itself. It's if I let that define me and designate how I feel. And oh yeah, Jesus rocks and I don't care who knows I think that.

By the way I wore my t-shirt inside out for preschool drop off, the library and the park. Thanks Katie V. for the heads up. Then to save money I just gave my dog a haircut. He looks like he was intimate with a weed whacker. All kinds of brilliant today.

No television during the week has been good. Leaving art supplies out for all to use has been awesomely rewarding/frustrating. I love what they are making but I don't love reminding them to clean it up afterwards. I'm contemplating making a paper snips/recycling box that is a permanent table fixture. The biggest hits have been paperclips and wire brads. I think because they instantly create books and you can make the pieces move with wire brads and also stars as displayed below-

I spent maybe an hour making this movable parts mermaid. I have no idea why.

I think I'll call her Vera. She looks like a Vera.

Poppy's favorites are watercolors which she paints all over her hands and face and stickers that I find later all over the house on inappropriate surfaces.

Sadie is all about books.

Ruby is fascinated with cutting out pictures and pasting them back on to paper.

In this picture it is her birthday so she has a cake and is also fishing. There are ducks there. I know this because she explained it to me five times.

Ad issues revisited.

2011-09-19T16:54:00.000-07:00

So I'm getting all sorts of conflicting opinions on the ad thing. I would love to know your thoughts. Maybe the practicality of an extra income outweighs selling out my love of prettiness? Is it cool to blog with ads when you give all the credit to Jesus? Did I just lose five followers?

Seriously folks I'm stumped on this one. I need advice. Soon before the ad network figures out I don't know what I'm doing and pulls out anyway.

That means you Tom. Terrible decision why?

To ad or not to ad.

2011-09-19T10:39:00.000-07:00

I have been invited to join an ad network called BlogHer. On one hand it would mean a teeny bit of money, possible recognition and perhaps more readers. On the other hand I would have a hideous tower of flashing ads on my sidebar.

I've been going back and forth and here is why. There is a part of me that is willing to trade aesthetics and possibly a piece of my soul for glory. Importance. This ad network wants me therefore it will prove to everyone that I am valuable, valid and what I say has depth and meaning. I want recognition because it feels good and reassures me I'm okay.

When I started this blog three plus years ago I was lost in the mire of kid land with no identity of my own. I wanted a voice. Some sort of purpose other than cleaning pee off the floor and remembering to schedule pediatrician appointments. Along the way I have captured my children and their hilarity, my confusion and sadness, my healing and growth, all of the things that are life with children. But here is the thing- none of it is mine. None of it. This blog was not made out of my own self but of my identity as a child of God. Any talent, wisdom or even truth written here was not born of me. It was a generous gift from the Lord.

I want recognition for it as if it were mine.

So I'm not going to go for the ad network because it's not me and it's not why I write. My identity can't rest on being followed or read or talked about. It has to rest on being saved. I won't find satisfaction or peace any other way.

I will forget all of this soon I'm sure. I will want attention or fixate on a material object that will fix me. I will yell at my husband when he leaves his shoes on the floor. I will be selfish. I will feel insecure. Then hopefully I will pick up my bible study or talk to a friend or go to church and be reminded all over again of my truth and where to give praise. Not for my own works but to my creator who loves me.

That is more than enough.

The process of becoming unplugged.

2011-09-16T12:14:00.000-07:00

We are on day 4 of no television. I'm not going to pretend it's been easy, in fact I am shocked we have made it this far. The first night Sam asked me if we had broken our children after watching them listless and bewildered without the ability to plug in. Along with the whining and beseeching for just one show there has been pretend play, arts and crafts, singing competitions and even reading of actual books. Looking back I can see what a disservice I have done to my children by allowing them a television/ipad/laptop/desktop free for all.

I really don't believe there is anything inherently wrong with television. I love it. Channel 9 is freaking awesome. My problem was using it as a parenting crutch instead of a tool. 4 children in 6 years and I desperately wanted a break only my plan backfired and it became the ruler of the house instead of an occasional treat. I'm almost hesitant to allow them to watch this weekend as promised because it's going to make unplugging again on Monday that much harder. I'm hoping it becomes routine as time goes on.

To help ease the pain the littles and I visited Big Lots today and acquired a new art caddy that we can leave on the table for the girls and some new Dora figurines. Poppy and I made Dora a house out of shoe boxes and she has been on the floor whispering to them ever since.

Overall seeing them use their imaginations and creativity is worth the pain of losing my favorite babysitter.

Unicorn Antidote

2011-09-15T12:27:00.000-07:00

There is nothing better than boy stripes. Nothing. They are the antidote for seven years of pink and purple and princess everything. I am being restored. God must have known that by surprising us with a boy I would occasionally be delivered from unbearable unicorn girlness and transported to Old Navy with a smiling baby boy and $5 sale shirts.
Here is our haul from aforementioned Old Navy, the shoe store and my favorite resale shop. Soak it in.

Now I need to go adjust every single pair of Charlie's pants because they all fall right down. Or maybe I could pad his diapers so he would have a butt to keep them up? By the way those new shoes are a 7. The shoes he wore in? Size 5. Sorry sweet boy we had to make it to payday and I didn't know your little feet had grown quite that much. I guess the impressions on your feet after removing your old shoes should have given me a clue.

Okay, go enter the giveaway if you haven't already! P.S. If you don't live in St. Louis you may know someone who does?

How I finally conquered the dreaded school lunches and a giveaway because yes people, I am that awesome.

2011-09-14T04:43:00.000-07:00

To buy lunch for both girls this year would be a ridiculous five bucks a day and I'm not crazy about what their choices are. So here I come with all of my extra time to create delicious meals five mornings a week that they may or may not eat. Easy right? So. Not. Easy. I would seriously have knots in my stomach over this. What's so hard about making school lunches? The following:

Ruby eats maybe three or four things?

I hate cooking.

I'm not a morning person.

All snacks and or juice pouches must be kept inaccessible and un-viewable or the two little people who are not in all day school will throw fits that make me want to drink.

We have an adorable yet super small kitchen so not many storage options.

Did I mention I hate cooking?

Disclaimer: All of the forthcoming ideas may be common sense to most of you folks and to be honest none of them are original. Since I'm a talker and I hang with a lot of mamas this is all stuff they do or suggested or I Googled out of desperation. I have found that "batch" cooking and preparing is WAY more tolerable then doing it every single day.

First off, the freezer is my new best friend. I bought this handy dishwasher safe Krustbuster on Amazon and I make our own un-crustables and freeze them.

Smoothies! This is where my children get all of their actual nutrition from because I sneak all sorts of spinach, flax seed oil and the like along with kefir and fruit. These little miracle 4oz. jars are freezable since they have straight sides, I learned that from my sister.

Zucchini bread! Otherwise know as banana bread because Ruby would be HORRIFIED to know she was eating a vegetable. Again, I make a large batch and then freeze them in individual squares.

Then we have these little guys where I make a batches of Jello, pudding, fruit and such and pop them in the fridge where they politely wait for me until I need them.

For the pretzel stick food group I use little baggies (soon to be replaced with reusable cloth bags) and portion it out all at once.

To make all this easier I did a little organizing with bins and a collaged beer box. Ranger if you must know and one of my favorite IPA's. These go out of sight on top of the fridge.

So that's it. I assembly line it into their lunch boxes first thing in the morning and everything thaws just right by lunch time. Not rocket science but life changing for me because I now know what I'm going to send in the morning instead off scraping together old hot dog buns and jelly for a makeshift meal. Now for total transparency I sometimes switch it up with a Lunchable if they are on sale for a dollar as they were this week. I know the cardboard they are packaged in is probably more nutritional then the wacky make your own pizzas but hey, I'm not perfect and what's life without a little compartmentalized fake processed food just once and a while?

Your turn. Make sure you are a gremadcha follower and leave me a comment with your lunch tip or time saving advice. One lucky commenter will win an Eversave voucher (similar to Groupon, check them out here) good for a spa manicure and pedicure at ColorFX Salon in Kirkwood for $29 bucks. Half the usual price of $60. Oh wait, that's no fun to go by yourself so let me make it THREE vouchers. Take two friends and leave the kiddos at home. The winner will be announced next Tuesday, September the 20th.

Your Welcome

Hammer Time

2011-09-13T13:45:00.000-07:00

We are bringing the hammer down. Or attempting to. No T.V. Monday through Friday for the kiddos. Lots of reasons but mostly I am tired of policing it and refereeing arguments over who watches what and then there is Poppy. Dear Poppy requires assistance every 2 minutes to change the channel to some other show that's not even on or was on but has been over for three hours. It's exhausting and not doing her brain any favors. There have been more than a couple of fits and tears today. Withdrawal is to be expected. Pray for us. Please.

In other news I scored an awesomely colorful hammock at the Goodwill for nine bucks and Poppy is swinging her little heart out.

Lastly, I am announcing an AWESOME giveaway tomorrow so check back!

LITTLE MADDIE

2011-09-09T05:52:00.000-07:00

There are some families that are a sort of island. Relative less. Aunt, uncle and grandparent less. Set apart by distance or sometimes disinterest. Orphans of the strangest kind.
I was maybe 9 or 10? Along came Pat and Paul and their daughter Linda and then later another daughter and then a boy. This story is about the middle one. Translucent skinned and with a wail to raise the dead. Since she was named after my sister she became Little Maddie. Our sister by friendship. Family. One of us. Born on our island and thus ours forever more. She grew and grew and became witty with a razor sharp tongue and so smart it was scary.

Then in a blink came the day she would watch my own children and calm them and make them sing with laughter and when I came home they would be asleep in their beds with nary a lost shoe or abandoned toy to be found. Such comfort in my children loved by her and cared for by her and now she is off to see the world and I dare not leave them with anyone else again. I would have written this sooner but the words would not come to describe what she means to us or maybe it is too hard to say now that she is away. Loss is harder to face in black and white. We miss your long fancy hair and eyelashes above piercing blue eyes and your laughter and magical way with my little ones. I miss your sarcasm and tell-it-like-it-is confidence. We are so proud of you for setting out on your own and we hold your place for you when you return because you are irreplaceable and you are family of the very best kind. The kind that fate sets out for you and preserves for you and sends to you because you need it so.

We love you and think of you every day Little Maddie and Charlotte is a better place with you in it. Tell Aunt Leslie we love her for us.

2011-09-08T16:17:00.000-07:00

I think I may have experienced a glimmer of God's great love for me. It is called three children in school and me at Target with happy Charlie for two hours. I swear I grew wings and flew after I dropped Poppy off for her first day of preschool in full Dora regalia.

All three girls away.

Sweet boy and I free to purchase toiletries with abandon.

Target shoppers may have been alarmed at my hyper smile and the poor stranger with the crying toddler was probably confused when I informed her that my hardest at the moment child was currently at preschool.

Don't care.

I was all kinds of high on freedom.

God bless preschool and kindergarten and second grade and the amazing teachers that have seen it all and can deal with my three precious, precocious, unnecessarily dramatic, little girls. God bless.

Dear September,

2011-09-07T05:21:00.000-07:00

Please slow down a second. I'm going to be crafting vampire costumes before I know it and then our fake Christmas tree will be put up and then January, February and the slow cold death of freezing temperatures and barren grounds. I want to savor this 70 degree weather with all the windows open allergies be damned. I want to slow time down as we sit at the table doing homework that I actually know the answers to.

Poppy had her first day of preschool yesterday and all the sudden I have three kids in some sort of school and Charlie just snuggling in my arms happy. Two mornings a week I get to be with the happy kid and on Wednesdays I get to talk to grownups at bible study. So, seriously September slow it down I need this month to stretch.

In case you are wondering what Poppy wore to her first day of preschool behold:
A dress up dress she thought her teachers would like to see and Dora shoes backwards. She successfully left her pink striped napkin in the car. And that's how you rock the parenting people.

Need to Know?

2011-08-31T06:56:00.000-07:00

In my twenties I had a habit of verbally vomiting my entire life history on unsuspecting persons which is the only reason that I have successfully restrained myself from presenting full on power point presentations to my children's teachers explaining all the things I feel the need to give warning to, apologize for, or defend. If I were to send some bullet points they would look something like this:

Poppy
-Pees in her clothing frequently unless presented with gummy worms upon delivery.
-Carries a pink striped cloth with one corner up her left nostril at all times.
-Is mostly unhappy and/or dissatisfied with life except for brief periods of happiness when she gets exactly what she wants and nobody messes with her.
-Is un-redirectable, at hour 2 just give her what she wants.
-Obsessed with Dora.
-Will most likely be dressed in pajamas each day.

Ruby
-Strange quirk of losing control of her bladder with significant weather changes.
-Only eats food that looks like a chicken nugget or is beige or sometimes orange but only chemical orange not actual God given orange.
-Can't abide clothing with any actual structure, zippers, buttons or snaps.
-Needs verbal affirmation every 2.5 minutes to successfully maneuver through the day. Stickers work as do check marks that mean nothing.

Sadie
-Abhors writing. Becomes weepy if given writing homework.
-Likes most physical activity as long as it is not in any way competitive.
-Pulls socks up as high as they can possibly go. Awkward. Do not try to lower them.
-Invents games with various rules that all children must adhere to or they can not play. For example she was once fired from the "circus" a game she invented because the minions revolted against her tyranny. She negotiated and was re-hired the next day.

VERY Cold Water

2011-08-30T07:03:00.000-07:00

On vacation this summer I saw a family with three girls and a boy the same spacing as ours except fast forward about three years. I asked the mom if it gets easier. She said yes. I am clinging to that. It plays out like this:

My youngest is three or even better seven.

I have miraculously grown four inches and look stunning in a swimsuit.

I don't have to make three trips in thirty minutes to the public bathroom because my children can go by themselves and even get their wet bathing suits on and off all by themselves.

Sam and I relax and talk without interruption for five whole minutes at a time.

I am excitedly counting down the last days of summer until I can go back to baking whole grain bread and governing the PTO with kindness and creativity.

On one hand I know without a doubt I beyond blessed to have four healthy wonderful children. I should be on my knees weeping with gratitude. Crafting meticulous baby books and reveling in each and every lost tooth, request for VERY cold water and innocent question.

"Will my name change when I turn 5?"

"Will you paint my fingernails red then purple then pink and not get mad when I touch everything within fifty feet while my nails are still wet?"

"Can I have seven barbies and a Rolls Royce?"

On the other more realistic hand I feel I need medication, mentoring, meditation and margaritas to deal with the four healthy children I am so blessed to have. Not every day. I would say five out of seven. Or maybe six out of seven. Seven out of seven?

Provision

2011-08-29T10:30:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine asked me about how my husband provides for me today and of course my wheels are spinning frantically. What is it that I want Sam to provide for us as a family?

There are days when a bigger house with more bathrooms feels like it will solve all my problems. I will be at peace, my children will be content. Someone will magically appear to clean all of the extra square footage. Also a new minivan with those automatic sliding doors would make my life infinitely more enjoyable because shuffling kids in an out of the car would be effortless if I had them. I would be more calm, more Christian. Also a 2 week vacation to somewhere exotic with a beach and childcare. The list goes on.

So, I want Sam to provide a big fat paycheck and if work becomes the most important thing in his life so be it.

Or is there a different provision I desire from Sam? Can I rely on God to be the ultimate provider and encourage my husband as he cares for us and provides for us not only with a paycheck but with time and love and all the small things that make him an incredible husband and father?

I think we possibly spent 75% of our time this summer at the pool. Sam would tirelessly suit up, gather our one hundred pool accessories and we would all trek to the pool in the evenings for a picnic dinner and swimming. He never said no. He never shrugged off the parenting to me. When my kids get hurt they want their dad. If I leave the house I don't need to leave a list of instructions. The kids are cared for and known by their father. Down to every last quirk and fear. Down to each pair of shoes and which ones they need to wear for school.

And oh how does that man provide for me. Know me. Wash the dishes for me when he knows I have loaded and unloaded the dishwasher five times already. Bring me ice water in bed. Know when I yell I am probably scared. Makes me laugh and takes us to church without fail each and every Sunday or offer to stay home and let me go if one of the kids are sick.

There may be a day when the giant paycheck comes. Lord knows I'm not saying it wouldn't be nice. But that is not the provision I really desire. I desire what he gives us now, himself and his gifts. His love and care for us. The paycheck is just a bonus.