Homesick

I know I haven't posted in forever...it seems harder to get on the computer when you're not living in your own house. Which brings me to my point: yes, we are still not moved back home. The bathroom project seems to be dragging out ad infinitum thanks to plumbers who don't show up and more plumbers who only work 1 hour every 3 days...but the good news is that at least we have finally made some forward progress. I think.

(Obviously this is not a picture of my house...I just thought it was awesome though)

And I have to admit that as great as my parents have been, I am really starting to get kind of homesick. (Mom, if you read this post, please don't get hurt feelings, because I SO appreciate everything you've done for me, and love getting to see you more...) It's just that no matter how nice the place you're staying is, it's not your own home. When I first got married, I was really quite homesick for my old room and the house that I grew up in. It took a long time for me to not say "I'm going home" when I was talking about coming over to visit my parents... The first night we got back from our honeymoon and drove past the exit that went to my parents' house, I had to fight hard not to cry. But it's funny how things change in 5 years. Now my house, even with all its horrible faults and tribulations, is what I think of as "home." When it's not rotting or falling down or killing us, I actually do love my little house. It's comfortable, I know

where everything is, and I can find my children within 30 seconds of realizing they're missing... I know the carpets are stained and the walls are all colored on, and my furniture doesn't stay nice because I have little kids...but at least I don't have to worry about it because its all mine. And if they destroy stuff, well, it wasn't that nice to begin with, so it really doesn't matter so much! ;-)

It's a funny feeling, living here again, because everything is the same yet different. My parents remodeled everything a few years ago, and the basic structure of the house is all the same ,but its all updated and nicer. We're staying in my old room - the room I spent every night in up until the day I was married - but its not the same. All my stuff is gone, the walls are a different color, the furniture's all changed- even the ceiling fan isn't the same. And it really made me realize that, as much as I love it here, this is not my home anymore.

Thinking about how homesick I get has also made me think a lot about my "permanent" home - you know, the one that's waiting for me in heaven. It's funny to be homesick for a place you've never been...but that's kind of what our lives here on earth are like. We live here, but it's not really where we belong. (Mom, your house is lovely and I am not comparing it to the world! It's an imperfect metaphor...) Everything the world has to offer is incongruous with everything we believe and value. I guess that's comforting, because there is so much evil and terrible stuff here in the world that I will never understand and don't want to. I look forward to going to my "real home" someday where everything finally makes sense. Jesus said "I go to prepare a place for you..." It's so exciting to think He's got my house all picked out and is getting it ready for me to come live there. Sometimes I get impatient, wanting to go live there now and cease being a "stranger in a strange land." But then I realize that I need to live this life so I can get myself ready to live there. I have a feeling I wouldn't fit in very well yet, which is why I'm still here. And, just like the most important part of a home is the people who live in it, the best part of my home in heaven will be getting to live there with Him: "for now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face-to-face!"

(Obviously this is not an actual picture of heaven...I just thought it was beautiful though)

But until then, there are lots of good things about life here. And even more good things about living here with my parents until our house is ready. I enjoy not cooking dinner every night, for sure! ;-)

And the crazy just keeps on coming...

Last week was a crazy week. For many reasons, not the least of which is that we had to move out of our house... And this week has only begun, but looks to be even crazier. Basically, the story starts like this:

We have been planning on remodeling our bathrooms since, like, the day after we moved in. It's a pretty old house, and the bathrooms really weren't in good shape, and we had some changes we wanted to make, so it's always been a project we were planning on doing - eventually. Well, eventually got stepped up to a whole lot sooner recently!

We had finally gotten around to starting the remodel (after about 8 months of thinking about it) last week, so my husband goes in to tear up the master bathroom (which hasn't worked since the week we moved in anyway, thanks to James flushing a seashell down the potty...). And we all immediately start getting sick. Enter our evil nemesis, MOLD!

Due to some other circumstances which I can't really go into right now, it became imperative that we move out. My parents graciously let us move in with them, for what we thought would be a couple of weeks...just until everything could get fixed...or so we thought. Poor Robert has been working double-shifts trying to keep up with his customers, and demolish the bathroom on the side. Oh yes, and then he had to go out of town unexpectedly last weekend, too! I don't know how he is still sane...

Soo, yesterday he was dedicating some more time to tearing out the bathroom, and discovered that it had flooded once upon a time, long before we ever moved in, and never really got cleaned up or fixed. The mold was growing exactly up to the flood line, but it has rotted out at least one entire wall, and we're hoping NOT more than that!! There is no end yet in sight. Did I say end?? We haven't even been able to start the project yet! The plumber was supposed to come out today to fix the leaks (did I mention all our pipes are leaking, thus contributing to the mold...), but he just called and said he can't come until he gets approval to work in a moldy environment... Hello, Square One. Nice to see you again.

Sigh. I'm trying hard to re-capture some sense of calm right now, but my whole life pretty much feels like chaos. I keep reminding myself that it's just a house. Just a thing. My children and my husband are all well and safe. We have a very nice place to live right now with exceedingly gracious and pleasant company (thank you, Mom, Dad, brother and sisters!) and God is still in control. Not that He ever wasn't! I just forget that a lot of the time. Plus I can see how He can work a big blessing out of this whole situation. We will be forced to deal with the bathrooms, thus (eventually) resulting in nice clean new remodeled bathrooms! ;-) And we were always getting sick before, and there's a good chance the mold was directly responsible for that. So when we move back in...someday...we could be moving into a lovely remodeled house and actually getting to stay healthy! I guess that's worth a little - or lot of - crazy...right?

Mmmm...fudge....

Sooo, I've discovered that this gluten-free thing has its perks. I found a recipe in this magazine called Living Without for Coconut Fudge...no gluten, no dairy, just 10,000 calories of pure chocolately coconutty goodness. (Ok I exaggerated the calorie count - I hope) My husband, who in my opinion is crazy, didn't like it. This works out very well for me...or very badly, depending on whether you're talking to my mouth or my waistline. Did I mention it only took 5 minutes to make? You're killing me...

In case you want to indulge along with me, here's the recipe:

Grease an 8x8 glass pan.

In a large mixing bowl, mix:

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (Ghiridelli brand has no milkfat)

3 1/2 cups powdered sugar

1/2 cup cocoa powder (Dutch process cocoa is milk free, I believe)

In a small saucepan, melt 2 Tablespoons butter or margerine (or possibly coconut oil - haven't tried it but it might be good) and 1/2 cup coconut milk (be sure to shake the can up good first, to mix the milk with the cream, cause they tend to separate). Once the margerine is melted and small bubbles start to form on the surface, remove from heat and pour over the mixture over the other ingredients in the bowl. Wait a few minutes for the chocolate chips to melt, then stir until smooth. Add 1 teaspoon of vanilla, stir, and then pour into greased pan. Sprinkle 1 cup of shredded unsweetened coconut over the top and press down with a spatula. Let cool, then cut into squares. And (this is the hardest part) try not to eat it until your stomach hurts!

Excuse me, I have to go brush my teeth about 6 times now.

To be clean or not to be clean...that is the question

Life, they say, is a series of choices. You have to chose between different things, according to your priorities. Nothing makes this more abundantly clear than motherhood.

Children force your hand on a lot of choices. Sleep, or getting up with the baby? Piercing wails generally make that decision for you. Finish your conversation, or take the knife away from the 2-year old? well, evidemment, as the French would say! (I think that's their fancy word for "duh.") And, the most common, everyday choice that I have to make: what - or who- gets to be clean?

Personally, I like being clean. Personal-hygiene wise. I feel icky if I don't have a shower. (I think my husband also likes for me to bathe...) However, those 10-15 minutes every day come at a very high cost. The children see this unsupervised time as a personal challenge to destroy as much of the house as they possibly can in the allotted time, before Mama can emerge and stop them. Essentially, either I can be clean, or my house can.

This morning, for example, I emerged from my shower to find my son, his blanket, and the couch all coated with a thick layer of peanut butter. Believe it or not, this was actually one of the most tame cleanups I've experienced lately. There was none on the carpet, thank goodness! Son to the shower, blanket to the washing machine, and wet rag applied to the couch...fairly easy, relatively speaking! Unlike the day when I had to steam clean the entire house...

So the decision remains, each day: do I want to be clean, or to have a clean house? Clearly both is not an option. Maybe someday. For now, I usually chose personal hygiene, for the sake of my own dignity and to save the senses of those around me. ;-)

The fascination of diversity

Our little family includes two boys and a girl, and I love how incredibly different they all are. I wouldn't have thought their personalities would have emerged so distinctly, so soon, but anyone who knows them will agree that they have!

I have Joseph, 3 1/2, highly intelligent, an intellectual (he begs to do schoolwork every day), extremely talkative and articulate, and very artistic - he loves to draw.

Then we have James, 2 1/2, very physical (he walked at 8 months), strong, silent type, loves outside, nature, his favorite toys are sticks, rocks, bugs, and of course dirt! He is also fascinated by mechanical things, and is constantly trying to use Daddy's tools.

And finally, Gabriella, the baby, 11 months, the people lover and people pleaser, very interactive, always smiling, and happy as long as she has someone around to adore her; also very "chatty" in her baby babble.

Don't believe me? Here is an example from the other day to illustrate:

It had just rained the day before, and all 3 kids were playing outside, with me observing and sometimes interacting. Each child had picked an activity that perfectly displayed his/her personality:

Joseph had an old paintbrush and was dipping into the puddles of water and painting pictures on the outside wall, commentating about his artwork the entire time: "look, it's Thomas the steam engine! Thomas has the number 1. Now I draw Percy...."

James had overturned his wagon, which was full of water, thus making a lovely mud puddle in the dirt. He was spinning the wheels of the wagon around and around, trying to figure out the mechanism that made them spin.

Gabriella was picking up the soccer ball and then rolling it toward me so I would kick it softly back to her, smiling and babbling at me the whole time.

And I just smiled and watched the whole thing, amazed at how different and wonderful my three children are - and even more amazed at the God Who created them that way.

Popularity Contest

I was not in the "popular crowd" when I was in high school. And I'll admit it - for a while, I cared alot about that. I wanted to be popular, and agonized over the fact that I wasn't - and couldn't seem to figure out what it was that made people "popular." All I knew was that I didn't have "IT," whatever "IT" was! And then, my senior year, some things changed. I changed - or rather, God changed me. My walk with Him got a lot better - and suddenly being popular didn't matter so much. I had some real, good friends, and I didn't care about everyone else's opinion. After high school, popularity seemed to matter less and less, until I never really thought about it anymore.

And suddenly today I thought about it again. Because I left the room for a moment and all three of my kids - my very articulate 3-year-old, my stubbornly reticent 2-year-old, and my just started talking 11-month-old, all starting calling "Mama! Mama!" after me, in panic that I had left them. I just starting laughing because it struck me that finally, after all these years, I am popular! I am sooo popular...that I can't leave my adoring fans for even one minute! (they're less clingy when they're not sick). I am the most popular person in our house...pretty much all the time. This is not to say anything again Daddy. He is a wonderful Daddy, and gives lots of time and love and attention to the kids. But I am the one they want when they're hurt or sick or fussy or tired or....just about anything. I spank them and they will run right back to me to be comforted. They would probably do that even if Daddy were standing there holding cookies!

And, unlike high school, this kind of popularity matters! And will (hopefully) last. I know MY mom is still the most popular person in our household. The house just doesn't feel the same without her. Everyone wants to be around her, like bees hovering around their queen. The rest of the world doesn't have much appreciation for women who are "just" wives and mothers...but trying asking their own kids what they think.

Now, I really couldn't care less about my lack of popularity in high school. I have won the most important popularity contest of all....I'm popular with this crowd:

and I wear my crown proudly!

Oh, yes, and I'm quite popular with Daddy too...;-)

...good boy..now shake!

Have you ever been bothered by the whole "awkard hug" thing? You know, where there's this feeling of obligation that you hug the other person (especially if you don't know them well) because everyone else is doing it, but you don't really feel comfortable about it? But rather than hurt their feelings, you give them the really awkward side-hug while trying to analyze if it's "friendly enough" without being too friendly... and how long should it be? Do you count in your head? (probably not out loud...;-) Who moved forward first? Who lets go first? It's all just quite awkward, and as I am not really much of a "touchy" person except for my close family and friends, I feel uncomfortable about the whole process. It's not so bad with other girls but trying to figure out how to properly hug boys or men just makes it worse. It's like being back in high school - ack!

So I've decided in favor of bringing back the good old-fashioned handshake. Last night a young man Robert used to disciple was back in town and came over for dinner, and he gave me a nice firm handshake, not like the "dead fish" handshake that says "if I squeeze your hand I will get germs from you" but not the bone crushing "I am man and will prove my strength by breaking your fingers" handshake either. Just a nice firm handshake that says "hello, good to see you." Simple as that.

Gentlemen, please! A good handshake goes a long way and removes all the awkwardness! From now I will attempt to offer my hand first, along with a smile, and see if I can convey a pleasant and appropriate gesture of welcome without having to analyze everything!

But maybe it's just me. Maybe guys don't like shaking girls' hands, or will be insulted if girls don't hug them. Or do girls want guys to hug them? Would you rather be hugged or offered a handshake by a member of the opposite sex ?