Stompers Make a Comeback!

Do you remember Stompers?

 You know, those great little monster trucks that went by themselves. They would go at regular speed with a normal battery, OR you could hook them up to a 9 volt battery and they would ROAR!! Good memories.

I hadn’t seen them in years when Dan and I happened upon some while Christmas shopping. Dan instantly decided we needed 3.  For the kids, of course....

We took them home and wrapped them up. We let the kids open them on Christmas Eve. They were so excited. Well, ok, Dan and I were excited. I think exciting toys are a little more prolific these days than when we were kids. Rylie was really sweet and acted grateful, but she would much rather have had something to do with ballet….. It was fun though. We had Stomper races and monster truck competitions.

The newness has since worn off, and the Stompers are in the bottom of the toy box. The other day Kade came across one. He’s our monster truck enthusiast. He can play with them for hours. He was in the kitchen happily playing trucks with Elijah. They were having a great time when Kade decided to use Elijah’s head as a mountain for the Stomper to go over. Which wasn’t such a bad idea except Elijah as lots of hair…..

 Now those Stompers, they're not cheap toys. Oh no! They're good toys, they're 4wheel drive. Not just two wheels spin, all four wheels spin at once. Which is much better when they are on your child's head eating up his hair. They take in more hair that way. And Kade couldn't have put it in the back of his head, Oh no! He had to set in right in the front where everyone would be sure to see the chopped off bald spot. And, Oh yes, I had to chop off his hair because Stompers don't go in reverse and let out the tightly held hair. Elijah didn't appreciate having a 4wheel drive Stomper hanging off his forehead at all. Some boys would have thought that was cool, but he's not to that age yet. He just knew his hair was being pulled and he was being bonked in the forehead by an unidentified object every time he moved. I did what any desperate mom would do and I got the kitchen shears out. (They were the closest scissors handy.) Elijah suddenly got really nervous. Not only was there an monster truck hanging off his head, banging him in the forehead and pulling his hair, now his mom was coming at him with a large pair of kitchen shears. I had to have Rylie hold him down while I did the worse job of hair cutting I've ever done in my life. (It couldn't have been the kitchen shears....)

Elijah, not really caring much about how he looked, was very happy to be free from me and the Stomper. Kade, on the other hand was not so happy that there was a large amount of hair stuck in his truck. 

Maybe we could nickname it, “Woolly Mammoth!”  Ha! I crack myself up.

All in a Day's Work

I stopped at The Shop the other day on my way home from grocery shopping. Dan was watching 3 of 4 of our children. I walked in to find him standing in the garage holding Elijah's pants in one hand and a blow dryer in the other. He wasn't smiling. "He had a blow out," he stated. "It's really hard to get anything done around here," he added.

 I smiled. If he only knew.........

I was teaching a piano lesson the other day. My two older children are great about watching the baby while I am teaching. Rylie wasn't feeling well, so I gave Zack the task of keeping an eye on Elijah. He was playing the Wii also. I should have remembered that 9 yr. olds are not good at multitasking.

About half way through my lesson, Zack shouts, "Mom! Elijah's naked!" "Oh no," I thought. Elijah's new talent is taking off his own diaper. (Of course, if my child wasn't running around like a hillbilly in just a diaper this wouldn't have happened.) Before I could get up and take care of my child who had been running around naked for who knows how long, Zack said even louder, "Mom!! He pooped!!" Of course he did. He would wait until his diaper was off and I was in the middle of a piano lesson before he did that. "Where?" I asked, not really wanting to know. "On the carpet, right next to the tile," was Zack's reply. Right. Right NEXT to the tile???? Really??? I told my piano student we were taking an indefinite break.

I went in there to find that he didn't just poop on the carpet, but had decided to play in it. He had rubbed it into the carpet and spread it on to the tile. I was horrified. My first thought was, "Zackary, how did you not notice this?" My second thought was, "OH NO! DID HE EAT IT TOO???????" How was I to find out? Did I really want to find out? I mean, do you really WANT to know if your child just ate poop??? I decided to smell his breath. Surely that would be a dead giveaway. It's really hard to smell your child's breath while holding him at arms' length so as not to get poop on yourself because eventually you HAVE to go back and finish your piano lesson. I was grateful to find that his breath still smelled sweet. I decided to believe that he hadn't tried it. We're all happier that way.

I carried him down the hall and plopped him in the tub. I called Zackary and told him that he was NEVER playing Wii again in his life, and to watch his little brother. I quickly cleaned the carpet and tile, all the while thinking we needed to get the professionals in here. I then washed my hands, regained my composure (if that's possible) and finished my piano lesson.

Yep, Dan, I'll take a blowout any day.... =)

The Woodshed With God

I've spent some time on my face before God this past week. He's been reminding me what a wretch I am.

I find myself being critical of others. Often. Too often. It's so easy to find fault in others. For one thing it makes me look better if someone looks worse....

Often. Too often, God steps in and shows me that the faults I find in others are the same faults I have in my own life.

Last week, someone I love was crabby, quite crabby, unusually crabby. This individual is usually very nice. I reacted with some crabbies myself. I felt crabby for crabby was quite justified. I gave all kinds of reasons why this person was acting so - "terribly" -  and why they shouldn't be, and how it was affecting others. And oh, I felt pride build up in my heart, because I was being a much better - "kinder" -  person.

Then I went home.

Alone with my Heavenly Father.

And He spoke to my heart, quite loudly.

He informed me that so often I let my circumstances, or my children, or my mood determine my behavior. I'm pretty good at being kind most of the time in public, but what about every day with the people whom I love the most..... What about when my day is not going as I planned it, or my children are acting like they were raised by apes, or maybe not raised at all, or my husband doesn't do what I want?
At those times I can be:

 unkind.

 crabby.

I am a wretch before a Holy God.

How I need Him! I need Him to create in me a new heart, new eyes, a new perspective. Sometimes I am sure he allows people around me to act unsavory to show me my own heart. Oh! But I'm grateful he does.

I'm so in awe that the Creator of the Universe cares enough about me to take the time to speak to my heart and "spank" out the grime that looks like me, and replace it with righteousness that looks like Jesus. I'm glad He's given me 4 precious children and a sweet patient husband to practice on.

I don't just want the ones outside my home to see Jesus in me, I want the ones who live with me to see Him....and WANT Him because they can see Him...and He is beautiful. Even when I am not.

Thank You Lord Jesus for this everyday life. Thank You that when I mess up today there is a new  tomorrow. Thank You that You are making a new me.

Farming in my mind

I've decided I want a farm. A mini farm that is. I want chickens and a cow. I want chickens for eggs and the cow for meat. My hunk of a husband says that there's no way the children or I would eat Lou Lou Bell after we raised her, but I think we would. Maybe we just won't name her Lou Lou Bell. Maybe we'll just call her Steak, or Hamburger, or something less personal.

I think I want a goat too. I'm not sure why. I certainly don't want to milk a goat! Maybe we would keep the goat around to eat the children's toys that they leave in the yard....  Maybe we could eat the goat too. We'll name him Lambchop.

Actually in reality I probably don't want a farm at all, but in my mind I think I do. I do this every once in awhile. I think I'm a farmer in my mind. The last time it happened, I wanted a garden. My sweet husband who knows me better than I do myself suggested we start with a pot garden. (Just for clarification that's not a garden where you grow "pot.") It's the type of garden where you have 8-10 pots of plants on your back deck. I excitedly planted my plants thinking of all the salsa I was going to put away for the winter. I think I got one tomato that year. I don't like to water or care for plants. In return my dear plants didn't want to give me any fruit.

Dan sweetly told me that spending the money at the farmer's market was probably more cost effective than growing our own produce. So since that time, I go to the farmer's market in the summer and to the grocery store in the winter.

Time makes me forget though, and now I'm sure I want a farm. We just won't have a garden, we'll have animals! Of course, I won't even let my children have a dog because I don't like animals. But I'm sure it will be different once we have our farm.....

We live in the middle of a neighborhood right now and Dan says we are NOT having a backyard chicken coop. (I tried that one last week.) He's taking the "someday approach." "Someday when we have a few acres you can have your chickens and cow," He tells me.

Until then, I'm going to dream about my farm.......and shop at the grocery store.

Schooling Boys

"What do you want on your birthday cake?" I asked my almost 5 year old.  "A Peregrine Falcon," was his quick reply. "A What??" I asked. "A Peregrine Falcon," my 9 year old pipes up. "You know, the fastest bird there is," he says.

No, I don't know. In fact I couldn't have come up with the name "Peregrine Falcon" if you'd offered to pay me. What is a Peregrine Falcon anyway?? But, that's what my little boy wants on his birthday cake. Oh, and he wants to go bird watching at his party.... 

What's his fascination with birds, I wonder. Then I remember. Zack and Rylie have been studying birds in science. We do science together. I study with the two of them on the couch while Kade plays cars or ball on the floor. He's 4, not nearly old enough to understand fourth grade science right? Plus, he just plays on the floor with his toys in his own little world. Half the time he's singing or talking to himself. So, why does he know so much about birds? 

Zack is 9 and in fourth grade. He drives me crazy during school sometimes. Mainly because when he's studying his spelling he's usually on his head. Literally. Upside down, on his head with his rear end in the air. "Zack, you're supposed to be studying," I say. "I am, Mom," He replies. "Prove it," I say. He then rattles off a list of words to me that most adults have trouble spelling. OK, so he was studying. He memorizes states and capitals while shooting hoops, he does his reading while hanging off the end of the couch, he does his math homework on his stomach on the floor, and geography facts are beast learned while riding in the car trying to beat dad. I know it's not traditional, but he's getting it. And isn't that the point in the end? 

Boys are a different breed.  I can say that because I'm not one. =) I'm a school nerd. I loved school. I loved sitting at my little desk diligently doing my work. The thought never even crossed my mind that my seat was too hard and it made my bottom hurt. (This is the story I get every time I make Zack sit at the table. Somehow the comfort of his derriere is connected to the level of activity his brain can handle.)

I'm not saying boys CAN'T learn the traditional way. My husband who can't sit still in church to this day made it through traditional school quite well. I am saying that maybe boys learn better a different way. I substitute taught for several years and had the privilege of being in the high school special ed class frequently. The observation I made was that 8 out of 10 in those classes were BOYS. They weren't dumb, they just weren't cut out to sit on a hard chair and listen to lectures. They thought they were dumb though, because they were stuck in the special ed class.

It's hard for me to think outside the box. I love homeschooling, but I want everyone to sit down and study like I would. My way tends to frustrate my boys. They work better if they are sent outside first for exercise and fresh air. (And maybe again  frequently between subjects.) They like goals and responsibility. I have a friend who makes a checklist for her son and he's responsible to complete it on his own. It's been one of his best school years yet. He likes knowing what he needs to do and being responsible to get it finished. Boys definitely DON'T like to be micro managed. They don't want to sit in one spot to do their work. Variety of location definitely improves attitude!

These are just a few things I've observed in my short time of schooling boys. Mine aren't grown yet, so I don't know what the final outcome will be. I'm willing to take a chance on this education thing though. I  hope  when they're grown they will have learned well, and that they look back on their years of school with good memories.

Me? I'm learning every day. I'm learning that I'm not always right. I'm learning that God made every child unique and they all learn differently. I'm learning to roll with that. I'm learning that WHAT you learn is more important than HOW you learn it.

After all, God gave me 3 sons.......




*I wanted to add a disclaimer to this post.*
I do not think boys cannot do well in a traditional school setting. There are so many that do. I also don't think that homeschooling is for everyone. I DO think that no matter where your son is in school that you can creatively help him learn and do his best by learning how he learns best and giving him opportunities to learn in that way. 

I Can Drop It

If I can pick it up, I can drop it.

Take the large tub of margarine for example. You know the one I shouldn't be eating because margarine is extremely bad for you and can clog your arteries. And I'm sure multiple other things. But, I do love it, so I keep it around. Anyway, I picked it up off the counter and promptly dropped it on the floor. Because that's what I do, I drop things. Margarine makes a great mound of greasy mass on the tile. Of course Elijah was in the kitchen with me, so I had to hurry and clean it before he spread it. Playing in a mound of margarine is way better than Play Doh! There's really no fast way to clean up margarine. And if you get it all over your hands like I did, it's even slower. I guess I better invest in some Draino now....

Dan knows I drop things and he loves me anyway. In fact he loves me so much he bought me the military grade cell phone. You know the one you can drop in the toilet and it will survive. Or you can throw it off the roof of the house and it will still ring..... I'm on my second one now. The first one did fine until I lost it in the car.

 I was showing a car on our car lot and had opened the hood to show the engine. When I tried to to close the hood, it wouldn't close. So, I slammed it harder, and harder, and HARDER. When the customers left I couldn't find my phone. I knew I had it when they got there.... I searched and searched. I did find it. (Which I think I should get little credit for because I'm not very good at finding things either.) There it was in the hood of the car, jammed nicely.

Phones seem to be my favorite thing to drop. We're on our third set of handsets at home. That's about 8 or 9 phones I've been through. Dan's seriously considering stock options.... Me, I'm thinking we should put more padding on the floor....

So, the day Dan called me from the bathroom and said, "You'll never believe what I just did!" is a day I will always look back on with fondness.  "I just flushed the phone down the toilet," he said in disbelief. (Dan is ultra responsible and never does anything like this.) "You didn't even TRY to save it?" I said. (Secretly rejoicing that it wasn't me giving this confession.)  "There was no saving it," was his reply.

We even tried calling the phone to see if it was in the pipes.......

Maybe going back to the day of phones on short cords is not such a bad idea!

The Power of a Friend

I've been home for almost 7 days now. Home, as in, not leaving the house. We've had a pretty bad stomach virus that nobody else wants. So, I didn't go out, and no one came in. For most people that may not seem like a long time or a big deal, but for me it is. I need people. I love people.

Today the throw up, diarrhea, sickness, tiredness, lack of fresh air, etc. caught up with me. I cried over nothing and everything. I was sure no one loved me, because, my goodness, as soon as we have germs in our house not even my family comes to see me!!! (Just for the record I avoid them like the plague when they are sick too.)

Then after lunch, out of the blue, an old friend texted me and asked if I had time to chat - ON THE PHONE! This same friend was the one that I was just thinking probably didn't have time for me anymore because she lives in a new city and has so many new friends, and probably never even thinks of me. She thought of me and asked me to talk. The whole atmosphere of my prison changed. The sunshine came out even though it was raining. I was suddenly more patient and kind to my children.

At suppertime my parents stopped in. They just live down the street and we see them often, but it's not very common for them to drop by and visit me at my house. I was fixing pancakes and bacon and asked them if they would stay. They did. We ate and talked. Their visit did a lot to refuel my emotional tank.

Neither one of these people knew I was having a rough day, they just randomly thought of me and acted on that thought.

I'm a busy stay at home mom with a heart for missions. Sometimes I get so frustrated that I'm not doing anything for God. I know I'm raising kids and that's huge, but my heart yearns to be doing something more.

Maybe a phone call or a visit is what I'm supposed to be doing. There's something special about a live voice. I love Facebook and text. They are great for keeping in touch with people, but don't take the place of talking with a friend. Part of missions is being Jesus' hands and feet. That's what I felt today. I felt the love of Jesus. I felt like He reminded someone of me and they acted on the thought. I ended the day feeling loved not just by people, but by God.

I have good friends I've let slip through the cracks because of lack of taking the time to keep in contact. I know people who are lonely, home bound, or discouraged. I know it's cliche, but "What would Jesus do?" He always had time for people. Always.


It takes just a few minutes to send a card in the mail or call someone. It takes a little longer to drop in and see someone. I think sometimes these things seem out of style, but they are timeless. They're small things, but things I can do right now, right at this stage in my life. God brings people to my mind all the time.

I love checking my mail every day. I rarely get anything exciting, but still there's the hope that I might. It means the world to me when someone takes time to send me a card or a note in the mail. I know it's an uncommon thing to do these days and it means even more because of it.

When I was younger I traveled the world to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Now I stay at home in a small town in Arkansas doing dishes, folding laundry, and chasing babies. I need to let the US Postal Service and the telephone lines travel for me. The same love of Jesus that I took across the globe can travel those lines just as well.

I felt God's love today because of small gestures from other people. We are His hands, His feet.

"Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies."  Mother Teresa