Quiet House, Crazy House

I know some crazy people.

Our friends have 7 children.  If they had the chance, they’d have more.  They range in age from 10 to 4 months, 4 adopted.  The house is noisy, colorful, and in constant motion.

I call it bedlam. 

When we walk in, loud music is playing in the kitchen.  Papa is cooking something wonderful (that Little Miss won’t eat).  One to three children throw themselves at my ankles, and call my name with varying clarity.  Books, CDs and DVDs are in piles, and sometimes clean laundry.  Someone is climbing on or jumping off something.  The TV is on.  You can’t find the remote.  Someone else is on the iPad.  Someone is yelling, usually an adult.

I love it.

My house is neat and orderly.  I constantly declutter.  I make a meal schedule and shop according to that (Little Miss still won’t eat it).  I schedule workout time, writing time, cleaning time.  Books are put away.  Toys live in the playroom.  The surfaces are shiny.

I hate it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am really proud of my house and the way it looks.  I work hard to keep it that way.  And I’m very happy to leave the noise and the brightness and go home to my quiet home.  But sometimes, I look at the crazy-ness of their home and secretly wonder if I could live like that.

Somewhere between bedlam and OCD-world, there is the happy medium I am hoping for.  I want to yell at my kids for running in the house, or slamming the door (OK, Little Miss does that constantly).  I love my home, and I want to fill it with love like they have.

Is that too much to ask?

Simply…

I love it when craft projects use the word “simple”.  And every time I read it, I’m sucked in!  So as I was perusing my new Family Fun (April 2012), I saw a wonderful organize-your-kids-collections idea using glass and plastic food jars.  Since Little Miss loves to pick up stones and shells, I thought this would be a great solution. 

So I went to my collection of clean pickle jars (you never know when there will be a pickle jar emergency!) and collected a few to make them.  The first problem I ran into was the labels.  See, you can soak them off, but the glue won’t come off!!  I thought, well, Downy takes off wallpaper, so let’s try pickle jar labels.

I soaked my jars overnight and end up with two that were clean enough to use.  I did some scrubbing with an abrasive sponge and ended up with 4.   

Now we are 27 hours into this project.

Shew!  Now to attach the “specimens” to the lids.  Well, I don’t have the Amazing Goop they suggest, and my superglue has dried up.  So I pull out my trusty hot glue gun and get to work.  The rock is just fine, and glues nice and snug.  But the nautilus shell that Little Miss chose isn’t sticking too well.  So I decide to paint the rock lid, and grab the tempera.  Again, the suggestion is to use spray-paint, but I’m a little too smart to allow a 7-year-old to use spray paint.  So, she paints the lid for the rock jar while I glue the shell and it looks great.  On to the shell, but as she’s painting it, the shell drops off and rolls away, leaving a pink trail across the kitchen floor.   

Oops.   

OK, fine.  Paint the lid, paint the shell, we’ll glue them in the morning.  In the meantime, we paint the other two plain lids for the yet-to-be-discovered treasures.

Now we’re 40 hours into the “simple” project. 

I’m holding the glue gun again, saying words in my head that my 7-year-old doesn’t need to hear yet as I use a generous amount of glue to attach the %*(*^T%$@ shell to the $$^()^$@ lid.  Once that is done, I forbid Little Miss to touch it while the glue cools, and I go off to nurse my burnt finger. 

45 hours: Repainting the shell and lid.  Thank goodness, the shell seems to be staying put this time.  Little Miss wanders in to the kitchen and says, “I don’t like that color pink.  Can we paint it again?”   

(*^(%#^%$@.

47 hours: Lid is repainted again, and drying.  We have placed the “special” rocks in one jar and the 4 million silly bands she doesn’t wear in another jar. 

49 hours, 23 minutes: Shells in the jar, lids are all placed.  Grudgingly I say that they look pretty good. 

Two lessons learned here. 

1) “Simple” is a very objective word.  What is simple for people who spend their days crafting might not be for the rest of us. 

2) Take the time to shop for the correct ingredients.  Trying to substitute may bring about those words that a 7-year-old shouldn’t hear.

Happy Mother's Day to All!!

When I was trying to have Little Miss, there were three things I hated:
1. People who asked when we were going to start a family
2. Baby Showers
3. Mother's Day


I hated Mother's Day.  I was happy to celebrate it with my Mom, but it was a day that reminded me that I was childless...even with an incredible amount of effort.  I'll admit it, I was jealous. I was yearning to fill my home with children that are out of my reach...that's what Mother's day was, a day that was simply a reminder of unfulfilled longings.


It got to the point where I had to be dragged out the door on Mother's Day.  So, Hubby did one year, to a church that we had only recently started attending.  About halfway through the service, Pastor Tom stood up to talk about Mother's Day.  I started to grab my purse so I could escape to the bathroom.


Suddenly, all of the women in the congregation were asked to stand up.  Pastor Tom started to commend us all as mothers...not merely to children, but to everyone in the church and in our lives.  


You see, whether or not you have a child, you are made with the ability to care for people unselfishly, giving up time and energy to those around you.  You mother the children (and adults!) in your family, your church, your life.  Basically, you don't have to give birth to a child to be a Mother!


So this Mother's Day while the world is celebrating motherhood, remember the "childless" too.  We all know the Proverbs 31 woman needs to be appreciated, but the 1 Samuel 1 woman does too.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the amazing women in my life!!!

"Supermoon"

I was so excited!  I was going to go outside tonight and see the "Supermoon".  


For a space geek (who has lost shuttle missions...)  this is about as good as it gets.  You see,the moon officially became full on Saturday (May 5) at 11:35 p.m. EDT...And because this month's full moon coincides with the moon's perigee — its closest approach to Earth — it will also be the year's biggest.


The moon will swing in 221,802 miles (356,955 kilometers) from our planet.  Basically, this is as close as it gets:) I wanted to see the really big moon.  


But alas...it is a cloudy night.


What cracks me up, though is to read about how people are actually frightened about the Supermoon.  


There are so many theories...but my favorite is still--Supermoon Sank the Titanic.  See, the theory is that an abnormally high tide caused movement in the icebergs, sending them right into the Titanic's path.


But it gets better.  People believe all sorts of odd things about a full moon, not just when it coincides with a Supermoon.  There are theories about increased seizures and increased pet injuries.  However, scientists have found no true links to these behaviors.  Sleep deprivation may be the only logical link to a Supermoon, because the increased light would keep people awake.  


But if you want to blame your devient behavior on the full moon or the supermoon, keep in mind that a 2010 study using police, astronomical, and weather data from San Antonio, Texas, found no link to support popular lore that has suggested lunar phase influences the volume of crime reported to the police. The study was published in the Journal of Criminal Justice.

In case you do have a clear sky out there, those crazy folks at NASA have whipped up this tutorial on the Supermoon:

http://school.failblog.org/2012/03/16/homework-class-test-lunar-theory-prepare-yourselves-for-the-super-moon/

Let me know what you think!!  Is it a Supermoon,or a flop?

They're Here!

Just a quick post to welcome my nieces, Adley Sue and Harper Anne!!  Welcome to the family, precious angels!  We are blessed to have you!

To My Child...

I looked for you again today.  Sometimes I feel like I am “shopping” when I look at all of the children who are waiting for a family.  I know your picture isn’t there, because I will know you when I see you. 

I wonder if people can understand the longing to be a mother when it isn’t possible.  I wonder if they can fathom the fact that every time Little Miss has a tantrum, I wish for more children throwing themselves on the floor, not less.  It is so difficult knowing that your family is not complete and not knowing where you are. 

I have to be honest, I am a little more hopeful lately with a case worker who knows how to return an email and is looking out for our family.  Suddenly, I feel like someone else is rooting for us.  And this someone can make things happen.

I wonder if you know what you will be joining when you come home.  You will have a sister, 4 cousins (all girls, sorry), two sets of grandparents who are ready to adore you, 4 Aunts and 3 Uncles who can’t wait to include you.  I picture Christmas with all 6 children playing in the wrapping paper and “feeding the reindeer”.  I can see us cuddling at story time. 

A friend told me the other day that we had a “lot of love to give”.  That is true.  I can’t wait for you to experience the love in our family. 

My child, I can’t wait for you to join us.  We are waiting for you.

Kitten Hunters

I think I’m crazy.  Or adoption happy, one of the two.  Last week, we decided that Little Miss should have a kitten of her own.  Violet is 14 years old and has never forgiven me for bringing Little Miss home.  She is quite happy to sleep in a sunbeam and be left alone.

For a seven-year-old girl, this is not fun.  So we are constantly telling her to “Put down the cat!” or “Stop torturing the cat!” or “Please let the cat out of your closet!!” True Story.  So, our solution was to bring in a cat that would be all hers. Brilliant plan, right?

We wanted to adopt a younger cat, hopefully a kitten, from a shelter.  So one Saturday we set off armed with vet records and seventeen forms of ID.  6 hours later, we returned home having seen one kitten and faced with pages of paperwork to fill out. 

Side note: I do believe it is easier to be approved for foster care than it is to adopt a cat. 

Hubby and I spend the next 4 days scouring shelters, Craigslist, and Petfinder online.  We made phone call after phone call to places so far away that we had to look them up on a map.  I applied to two different shelters that said they had cats.  We emailed people who said they had cats.  And we ended up…nowhere.

I should mention that we live near Lancaster County, so there are plenty of farms with plenty of barns that should have plenty of cats to choose from.  Finally, we decided to “just drive” and hope we saw a sign for “Free Kittens.”  I mean, we see them every time we drive around Lancaster, so it won’t be that tough, right? 

Not one sign.

Thank goodness a friend had mentioned that her neighbor had a sign out.  So we headed there first.  We knocked and….no one home. <Sigh.> So I left a business card with my number and crossed my fingers.  Next we drive to another pet store.  The Humane League didn’t show up until 3.  We checked our watches…1:15.  OK, so we decided to drive to the actual Humane League.  Surprise, they didn’t open until 3.  Go Figure.  Just as we were deciding to throw in the towel, my cell phone rang.  The man with the Free Kittens sign was on the other end and was home for lunch.  If we could get there in the next 20 minutes or so, he’d be there.  A quick check of GPS told us we could be there in 25 minutes.  Gulp.

Of course, every slow moving car and farm truck pulled out in front of us as we raced across Lancaster County.  We pulled into the driveway in 27 minutes.  Thank goodness he was still home! 

He had caught 3 of the kittens and had them in a crate.  While he tried to pull 2 out, a little orange kitty peeked out and came out of the crate all by herself.  All three of us said, “We’ll take her!”

So all’s well that ends well.  We have an adorable orange kitty who narrowly escaped being called “Rosie.”  But the lessons learned from our mishap:

1)   Never tell a seven-year-old she’s getting something when you aren’t sure where it’s coming from.

2)   Kittens are everywhere, unless you want one.