Llama Momma

in honor of Thanksgiving

2011-11-17T12:15:00.004-05:00

A couple of years ago, when the Kindergartner was a preschooler, he started asking questions about Thanksgiving. No doubt, they were talking about the holiday at preschool, and he wondered how we planned to celebrate.

"Will we get a turkey?" He asked.
"Yes." I told him.
"We will?" He asked again.
"Of course," I said.

We must have had this conversation a dozen times in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. Finally, shopping day arrived and I should have suspected something when he jumped in the van without complaint to go to the grocery store. (He hates grocery shopping.)

We got to the meat department, and I said, "Okay, buddy! It's finally time to pick our turkey!"

He looked at the mound of frozen turkeys and exclaimed, "But, Mom! These turkeys are all DEAD!

Needless to say, he didn't eat any turkey that Thanksgiving.

There is a God. And He likes me.

2011-11-11T08:21:00.000-04:00

I was in the final moments of copyediting a lengthy document when the unthinkable happened: I somehow lost part of the document. Or the computer ate it. Or whatever.

It was bad.

I checked my files again with no luck: the endnotes were gone. And if the endnotes were gone, I had to wonder what else was gone. I considered cutting and pasting the endnotes from the original document, but quickly scrapped that plan. My reputation as a freelance editor depends on accuracy. Every. Single. Time.

I walked away from my computer and said a prayer while I crawled into bed for a nap. Because I’m spiritual that way.

I had been looking forward to a weekend with my family. A few games of UNO, a family movie, maybe some leaf raking if the weather cooperated. Now all of that was in jeopardy. I needed to keep working in order to make my deadline, and all of my fantasies about free time dissolved like the first sort-of snow of the year.

I printed out my edited document, planning to go through the whole thing again and make the changes on the original, just to be safe. And, what do you know, there were the missing endnotes. Maybe the computer hand’t eaten my document after all.
I consulted with Llama Papa, and with a few clicks, my beautiful copyedited document was there. All of it.

A few more changes, and it would be done. And I would be free for the weekend.

My first response? There is a God. And He likes me.

And yet even if the document hadn’t been recovered, I know the same thing is true. Even if I spent my weekend behind a computer screen, it’s true.

It’s easy to lose sight of God’s goodness when life feels hard, but it’s more true than any feelings we have: there is a God. And He loves us.

awkward silence

2011-11-10T14:04:00.001-04:00

I’ve been quiet for so long on this blog, it feels strange to say anything at all.

Hey. It’s me. I’m still alive over here, busily raising three boys and wearing any number of other hats: writer, friend, editor, wife, mother, cook, housekeeper. Should I keep going?

But you’re busy too, no doubt. Everyone I meet seems to have a couple of lives going.

I’ve been thinking about this space and how I want to fill it, or even, if I should fill it. I still don’t have any concrete answers, but I’m breaking the silence anyway. I’m not going to try to find my writing identity with this blog, instead, I’m just going to keep doing what I love to do: tell stories.

Yesterday, my Kindergartener (can you believe my baby is 5?) asked me a deep theological question on the way home from school: “Mom, why did God even make such a thing as barf?”

So, yeah. Marketing be damned. (I don’t even know if I’m allowed to say that word on this here, but there it is. If I disappear, you’ll know why.) You can expect the same high quality material you’ve come to expect from the Llama Momma. Because that’s the way I roll.

giving things up for lint

2011-04-05T09:58:00.004-04:00

"Did you ask your friend what he might like for his birthday?" I ask Twin A. as he munches a bagel after soccer practice.

"Yes. I think he'd really like some new football cards." He says.

"Doesn't he have a pretty big collection already?"

"Well, yeah. But he said he had to give them up for lint."

nachos from heaven

2011-01-24T08:21:00.002-05:00

Last summer, her world fell apart. One of my dear friends got up one day like every other day, and by the end of it, her life was crumbled up around her.

So we did what we have done for years, my friend and I. We headed to Chilis for nachos and a heart-to-heart. But when we got there, the nachos were gone. Off the menu. Replaced with “new and improved” nachos.

Only they were not improved. Just different.

And when your world us falling down, sometimes you just want the same, old nachos.

Last night, this same friend and I met at Chilis. She’s facing a tough week with so much strength and faith and dignity, it makes me cry. And when we opened the menu, there it was: classic nachos.

I know in the grand scheme of things, it’s no big deal. But it was a big deal. The cheesy concoction between us, we enjoyed sweet, comforting communion. And while I don’t think God is off finding me close parking spots at the Walmart, I do think He sent us those nachos. In all things, God is with us.

Keep it Simple Sister

2010-11-30T16:42:00.004-05:00

Christmas.

It’s coming.

And I feel compelled to break the silence on this blog to share a few thoughts. Jill Savaage had a great post this morning on simplifying the holiday season, and I wholeheartedly agree.

All around me, women have that glazed expression that will only get worse as the holidays get nearer and they get more and more exhausted. Because, as women, we are the Keepers of the Christmas Magic. We tuck children into bed and our real work begins—making the holiday special for everyone around us.

I believe this is a noble task. I also believe we can make things simpler for ourselves by adjusting our expectations. I’ve written about this before, but each year I remember the days I spent in the hospital on bedrest while expecting the twins—from the day before Thanksgiving until the day after New Year’s. The entire holiday season was spent in and out of active labor, and you know what? It didn’t matter that I didn’t send a single Christmas card, put out a single decoration, or purchase a single Christmas gift. All that mattered to me was that my little family was safe and together. Truly.

The rest of it? It’s optional.

Let that free you, my friend. Do you dread sending Christmas cards? Don’t. Find another way to keep in touch with faraway friends. Hate buying so many presents? Ask people if they still want to exchange gifts. In this economic climate, people are happy to cross someone off of their gift list.

And the most important piece of advice I can give you, mother-of-young-children-I’m-talking-to-you: keep your kids’ expectations reasonable. Don’t go overboard. Young children enjoy gifts more when there are fewer of them. If your kids are older, it may be hard to backtrack; but if they’re little, resist the urge to overindulge them. You will thank me when they’re thirteen and don’t expect Santa to show up with a thousand dollars worth of goods.

So, without further ado, here’s my personal Holiday Survival Guide, in no particular order:

Make a master list for gifts. Include everyone you buy a gift for—teachers, coaches, family, children—everyone. Then brainstorm. Set a budget. As you buy gifts, cross it off the list. Start this today. Just do it. All those little details running through your head? Write them down.

Decide as a family how to spend your time. Do you enjoy going to lots of parties? If the answer is no, it’s okay to say, “not this year.” But maybe you’ve always wanted to have a holiday gathering, but never seem to have time. If that’s the case, make it a priority. Put the date on your calendar and do it. My point is, don’t just let December pull you under—take control of your calendar.

Spend time with friends. Take coffee breaks, make playdates, and enjoy the people you’re living life with. Incorporate friends into holiday activities like baking, cookie decorating, and even putting up the Christmas tree.

Incorporate spiritual disciplines. Don’t neglect your spiritual life because of busyness. Find time to pray, meditate, and reach out to others. After all, Jesus kind of is the point. Remember that. It will put the rest of the holiday into perspective.

Shop online. Seriously. The deals are fantastic and many places offer free shipping. If you know what you want, why drag everyone out to the mall to get it? I’ll never forget when the preschooler was younger and we walked into Kohls at Christmastime. His eyes got big and he asked, “Is THIS the mall?” So, thereyougo. Obviously shopping with the kids isn’t on my to-do list very often!

Plan meals. If I know I’m going to spend the day baking or shopping, I plan a very simple dinner. Sometimes this dinner even involves frozen food from Trader Joes. And, no, I don’t have any pride left. But I do get adequate rest.

Make your family a priority. If you’re screaming at everyone to get in line and have fun because, goshdarnit, it’s Christmas and this-is-supposed-to-be-fun, well, you’re missing the point. Chill out and go with the flow. Throw the kids in the car in their jammies and go through the drive-thru at the donut shop and just drive around, looking at lights. Enjoy the people you live with. If your traditions are turning you into a screaming shrew, maybe you need to rethink your traditions. (Or get therapy. But that’s another post.)

I know Christmas gets crazy, but we don’t have to go crazy to enjoy it!

The Very Expensive Soup and an explanation

2010-09-09T11:06:00.002-04:00

By request, the Expensive Soup Story is below. And by way of explanation, I haven’t given up blogging forever. I just need to be more focused on my writing, and am considering setting up a REAL website with a REAL author’s blog. More on that soon. Plus I’m working through some personal issues—nothing dramatic—just stuff I don’t feel comfortable blogging about.

So without further ado, the Story of The Expensive Soup:

It was a rainy, cool night in Door County, our last night of vacation, and we were looking for a restaurant for dinner. After a bit of googling, I found the perfect place. The Summer Kitchen, featuring a soup bar with five homemade soups made fresh every day. Perfect.

We walked in with our three starving, slightly melted down children, were greeted warmly, and seated on the back porch. The ambiance was lovely and the waitress brought water for all of us and invited us to check out the soup bar.

The kids weren’t too excited about the selections—cabbage, tortilla, and I can’t remember what else.

And then we opened the menu. The soup bar was $15.95. Each. A cup of soup? $10.95. Ridiculous.

But it was almost 7:00 at this point, pouring rain outside, and the boys were at their breaking point. Do we walk out? And go where?

No. We stayed and ate Very Expensive Soup and Weird Lasagna and Very Expensive Hot Dogs.

Crazy. But you know what? We were able to laugh about it, and that’s worth something. The Very Expensive Soup will go down in the history of our family as a night to remember.

break

2010-09-02T10:16:00.003-04:00

I keep writing posts in my mind, but not posting them.

And, honestly, I have no desire to post them. Not really.

Life is full and I'm sorting through some difficult things in real life. Things I can't blog about.

So, I'm officially taking a break. I'll be back. (I think!)

vacation

2010-08-24T09:53:00.001-04:00

We just got home from a last-minute “just-one-more-vacation” trip to Door County. We rented a cottage and soaked up the last week of summer break.

What fun.

(Remind me to tell you about the fifteen-dollar bowl of soup.)

The cottage we stayed in was sort of, how should I say, rustic. Or maybe just old. In any case, when we walked in, the boys’ reactions were priceless.

The Preschooler: “Oh, wow! Awesome! We have our own microwave and everything!”

Twin B: “Well, at least it’s clean.”

Twin A: (after walking through the whole cottage) “I wouldn’t want to live here for my house, but it’ll be fine for vacation.”

And so it was.

We made hot cocoa in our very own microwave, biked through Peninsula State Park, swam in the lake, and ate ice cream at Wilson’s almost every day.

Tomorrow, the noisy boys go back to school. In the middle of summer, I never think I’ll be ready for school again. But right about now, I am. I’m ready for the routine and the early mornings and busy schedules. So are the boys.

Stay tuned for the story of the Really Expensive Soup.

building ideas for kids

2010-08-04T09:48:00.014-04:00

My boys love to build. Tinker toys, Lincoln logs, legos, couch cushions, you name it.

A few weeks ago, Twin B. found this book at the library, and we’ve been having a blast trying out different mediums for building. Jello cubes in ice cube trays (made with extra gelatin), looks like fun.

Sugar cube pyramids are another. We went to Jewel and found sugar cubes on clearance for a dollar a box, and stocked up. We now have one thousand sugar cubes—or at least we did before starting our construction projects.

The book recommends making a mortar out of equal parts flour, corn starch and water. I just mix it up into it looks nice and thick. Then, you build.

It’s that simple.

And the kids love it!

Cool building projects on a rainy day works for me. Check out more great ideas at We are that Family.

my garden is dead

2010-07-22T09:57:00.001-04:00

It turns out my garden plot is one of the “new” plots the park district created for this growing season. The soil wasn’t great to start with, but the bigger problem is that it’s on the low side.

We had torrential rain this spring, and my plot was completely underwater for about six weeks.

My gardening neighbor was able to get a new plot in the center. The rest of us just watched our gardens rot.

When things finally dried out, I could have replanted. But, to be honest, I didn’t have the heart.

So. Much. Work. Down. The. Tubes.

It just makes me sick.

But the alternative—investing more resources into something that isn’t healthy to begin with—isn’t good either.Sometimes we just have to cut our losses and move on. Is it painful? Yes. But this is life too.

Sometimes we work really hard and our garden dies.

missing life

2010-07-12T07:30:00.005-04:00

“No. I don’t want to,” the preschooler said, shaking his head.

“But doesn’t it look like fun?” I asked, pointing to stack of canoes.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. He didn’t want to put on a life vest and climb into that canoe.

I assured him it was okay that he didn't want to go, and sent Llama Papa and the noisy boys off in canoes with my Aunt and Uncle. The preschooler and I walked back to the boathouse, and I asked one more time.

“Why don’t you want to try the canoe?”

“Well, it’s too long.”

“We don’t have to go for a long ride. We could just paddle over to the dock. Wanna try it?”

“No. I don’t have my swimsuit on.”

“Oh, that’s okay. We won’t get wet. We’ll stay dry in the boat.”

“Then why do we need to wear those vests?”

“Those are just-in-case vests. Sometimes the boat tips over by accident and we wear the vests to stay safe. But most of the time, almost all of the time, you stay perfectly dry in the boat.”

“Oh. Well. Oh. Okay. I changed my mind. I want to try it.”

We flagged down Llama Papa’s canoe as it headed around a corner, and climbed in. The preschooler grinned as he sat down. We paddled around Stoney Lake, swapping stories with our family in the other canoe and racing toward a mama swan and her babies. We enjoyed the fresh air and sun and time together floating around. The preschooler loved it.

And to think he almost missed it.

Fear holds us back sometimes without us even noticing it. We don’t have the words to describe it, but it’s there. And sometimes we just need someone to ask us the right questions so we can move forward. Life is short. Too short to be held back by insecurity and fear.

Surround yourself with people who ask good questions. People who listen. People who encourage you to try new things and be your best self.

You’ll be glad you did.

writing retreat

2010-06-29T09:28:00.004-04:00

It’s that time of year again. Time for me to plug the Writing Academy and encourage you to check out their retreat for writers coming up in August. (You can choose from two tracks: the first runs from Thursday, July 29 until Monday, August 2; the second is Friday, July 30 through Sunday, August 1.) Located at the Mt. Olivet retreat center in Minnesota, you won’t find a more beautiful place to hone your craft.

I cannot say enough about this writing group. Truly.

If you’re a writer in need of a writing community, look no further. I attended my first retreat when the twins were two, and was amazed at the talent and depth of this group. Even more amazing? They’ve been meeting for years, yet their ability to welcome a newcomer into their fold is unparalleled.

Show up ready to grow and learn, and you’ll be family by next year.

This isn’t a networking conference. You won’t walk away with a book deal or an agent connection, but Writer, trust me when I say this, you will find your people. I never would have finished my young adult novel if not for this group.

I’m leading two workshops this year, so if that’s not incentive enough to come, I don’t know what is. Ahem.

I should add that this is a Christian writing group, though I’m confident that they would welcome a writer of any faith (or no faith) for the weekend. Just be aware that there is a prayer before each meal (actually, a song. They sing prayers that I've never heard of before. But nobody looks at me funny when I don't participate because, well, they like me. I think.) There's also chapel each morning and the speakers present their material from a Christian perspective.

So…who’s in? (Please don't let the singing thing scare you away. It's not as strange as it sounds...)

mine

2010-06-24T08:45:00.001-04:00

The preschooler has a problem.

He thinks everything in this house belongs to him. He walks around and gathers things up, saying, “Hey! Do you like my new ball/guitar/flashlight?”

There’s only one problem.

None of this stuff is his.

Twin B. is most aggravated by this new development. With a strong sense of fairness and a very black and white approach to justice, this pushes him over the edge. “I just bought that game last week with my own money. Now he’s saying it’s his!”

We remind the preschooler who really owns the stuff he’s pocketing, but he just laughs. In his mind, I think, everything in this house belongs to him. He’s on the receiving end of so many hand-me-downs, he probably figures eventually it will be his.

And I remind Twin B. that his frustration at his little brother might be how God feels sometimes. He gives us so much. Everything we need! A home, plenty of food, clothes, and even some of the stuff we want, like toys and games and vacations. And sometimes we forget it’s all a gift, and we walk around like the preschooler, just grabbing onto it, insisting it’s ours; refusing to share.

And God watches. He’s full of grace. He just wants us to get it.

It’s all His.

how to host a water balloon fight

2010-06-16T08:34:00.006-04:00

I love having fun. And nothing says fun like a water balloon fight.

I know, I know. The mess. The trouble. The work. But stay with me for a minute. I don’t know about girls, but little boys and water balloons are a perfect match. It involves violence, throwing things, water, and making a mess all in one package. And they’re cheap!

Want to be the coolest mom on the block? Here’s the plan:

Buy a lot of water balloons. Start filling them up before guests arrive.

Fill a cooler with juice boxes or put a jug of water outside for kids to help themselves. You don’t want to be running in and out of the house during the fight. (Well, maybe you want to, but the importance of supervision cannot be overstated.)

Lay a thick towel on the floor for kids to walk on when they do need to go into the house and use the restroom. (And, for goodness sakes, don’t sweep or mop the floor before the kids come over. Do this after they’re gone.)

Set ground rules. No water balloons to the face is a good one.

And here’s my favorite tip. During our last water balloon fight, towards the end, I had the boys pick up the scraps of water balloons all over the yard by “charging” for the new ones. So, bring me ten popped balloons and get one full one. When we were fifteen minutes from the end, that number jumped to twenty.

And it worked.

As moms, we all want our kids to just help because they want to and jump in and say, “Wow, Mrs. Llama. You’ve worked really hard and I’m so grateful. Let me help you with that.” But they never will. (At least not at my house.) And so we teach the kids to help. That’s part of having a fun day—cleaning up at the end.

By the time the kids left, the water balloons were picked up. The yard was a muddy mess, but that’s another issue entirely. And as a wise friend once asked me, “Are you raising children or are you raising lawns?”

Someday, my lawn will look great. And I'll be sitting in the backyard sipping iced tea, remembering all the fun afternoons I spent with my boys. Having water balloon fights.

If you're looking for more fun household tips, check out We are that Family for more great Works for me Wednesday tips!

writer's conferences

2010-06-13T08:50:00.004-04:00

I have a love-hate relationship with writer’s conferences.

I love to connect with people, attend readings and workshops, and learn more about the craft of writing.

But I usually leave feeling overwhelmed and inadequate.

Build a platform.
Make a website.
Write consistently every day.
Be organized.

Here is my writing space.

There are a few sleeping bags at my feet (the noisy boys were making a fort), a green froggie towel (the preschooler must have wandered in after bath time and dropped it), a few items I’m selling on ebay, a garbage can overflowing with used Kleenex (I get emotional when I write. Plus, well, allergies), a few printed copies of an edited document that I need to put in the recycling bin, a printed contract I need to mail in for my real job…you get the idea.

Conditions are not ideal.

My website? Um. Right.

The Llama Momma.

Nice.

Here’s what I know about myself: I’m a writer because I love to write. Mostly every day, and mostly during the fringe hours—early in the morning before the kids are awake or at night when they’re asleep. I write in fits and starts, and don’t keep very good records. It has taken me almost two years to write and edit and rewrite a 55,000 word young adult novel. Two years.

In the fiction workshop I attended, the author cranks out three good novels every year.

Three.
Books.
Every.
Year.

Would I have more creative energy if I had a better writing space? Maybe. Would I get more done if I had more writing time? Probably.

But it is what it is.

I have three young children, a part-time job, a volunteer job, a husband, and a big house that insists on getting messy on a consistent basis. Oh, and all these people I live with? They’re always hungry.

This is my life.

I am a mother. I am a writer.

I am me.

quote of the day

2010-06-11T17:47:00.004-04:00

Fear is not a sign that you're not called.

- Jane Rubietta (Write-to-Publish 2010)

because there's never a good time...

2010-06-09T20:57:00.004-04:00

We weren’t planning to have a party today. The kids were with a sitter this morning while I ran around getting ready for a writer’s conference later this week. (Write-to-Publish, anyone?)

But I was home this afternoon, and told the boys they could each invite a friend over to play. We left a few messages, and as the kids began calling back, another friend called wondering what A. was up to, and so it goes. When it was all said and done, we had a backyard full of boys, about 400 water balloons, a cooler full of juice boxes, and a whole lot of laughter.

What a blast.

As I sat at my station filling up water balloons, I thought of all the things I could be doing if all these kids weren’t over—dishes, laundry, washing the floor—and I found myself grateful for an excuse to just sit outside and enjoy the kids.

Besides, after an afternoon of running in and out to the bathroom, the floor would just get muddier anyway. And the kids sure don’t care. They’re just grateful for a place to hang out and play.

It wasn’t on the agenda today—invite half the neighborhood over and make a muddy mess in the backyard—but I’m glad we did.

I hope and pray the boys’ friends will continue to feel comfortable and welcome in our home, and we can be the “hangout house” for many years to come!

What are you waiting for, Moms? You know you'll never be "caught up" on everything. Why not just stop and enjoy the kids, just for a few hours? It doesn't have to be perfect. Just be there. And if water is involved, trust me, they'll have a ball.

time warp

2010-06-03T08:38:00.002-04:00

It’s begun. It happens every year around this time. I look at the calendar and it’s Tuesday…and then it’s Friday. Or Saturday.

I’m in some sort of time warp.

We go to the pool and get together with friends and just hang out at home, and the time just slips by.

June and July will pass this way, and then we’ll be moaning that it’s August already. I feel old when I mumble about how fast time is going, but I can’t help it.

We're soaking in summer. How about you?

summer break

2010-05-28T09:03:00.007-04:00

Today is our first day of summer vacation, and my boys would rather be in school.

They don’t want a break. They want to keep going. Even the promise of science summer camps and unlimited books at the library isn’t enough to persuade them.

They’d just rather be in school.

Ouch.

Lest you think I’m holding huge chore fests over here, let me set the record straight: I’m a fun mom, folks. We went bowling yesterday. We’ll host water balloon fights and sleepovers and go to the zoo. I’m fun, I’m fun…really I am!

We’ll balance all this fun out with chores and math facts, but mostly, we’ll hang out at the pool.

That’s just the way I roll.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad my kids enjoy school. And I’m trying not to take it personally that I’m more excited about summer break than they are.

Once I get past ME and my own insecurities, I can see this isn't about me at all. It's about them. The noisy boys are growing up. They have their own interests and friends and lives. This is a good thing. A healthy thing.

Do you savor summer break with your kids? I do. I figure I only have seven or eight left. Less than that when you consider how busy teenagers are.

Will my house be loud? Yeah. Will I get tired of washing wet beach towels and wiping up the muddy kitchen floor fifty thousand times every day? Yeah.

Will we create memories that the boys will remember forever? Yeah. Will I have the opportunity to teach them new things about life and the world and relationships? Yeah.

Will all the hard work be worth it?

Yeah.

missing out

2010-05-25T21:22:00.004-04:00

I really wanted to give the kids ice cream cones tonight.

It was hot. 84 degrees to be exact. The kids were playing outside, running in the sprinkler and making our play structure into a “water slide.” It was the first real water play of the season, and all three boys were loving it.

I served dinner outside to my soggy boys, and thought to myself I’ll let them play a bit more, then give them ice cream cones before they come in for showers.

That was the plan anyway.

I cleared the dinner dishes and was taking out the garbage when it began.

“He pushed me!”

“He put water on my face!”

“Mom! He pushed me again!”

The fighting and bickering and rude talk continued, even after a warning. So in they went for showers. No ice cream cones tonight.

And I was disappointed. I really wanted to watch them enjoy the first drippy, all-over-their-tummies ice cream cone of the season. They never knew about the ice cream, so they weren’t disappointed. But I was. I wanted to bless them, but had to hold back because of their behavior.

I wonder how often God feels this way about me? If you follow this blog at all, you know I’m a big believer in grace. God doesn’t treat any of us as we deserve, but instead, lavishes grace on us, in spite of us.

And yet I’m sure there are times when He holds back His blessing, just waiting for me to give up my stubborn pride and stop bickering already so He can bless me. I'm sure there are times I've missed out because of my selfishness or arrogance or addictions.

And God just waits. He wants to bless us and He waits.

Thank goodness for ice-cream-cones-tomorrow kind of grace.

and that would surprise me because...?

2010-05-17T09:47:00.011-04:00

I'm the mother of three boys. So I don't know why I was surprised to find this sitting on my kitchen counter recently...

Hmmm. Tupperware. And inside?

Rocks. Of course. Who doesn't need a few tupperware containers full of rocks sitting on the counter?

teacher gifts

2010-05-12T09:57:00.006-04:00

At different times during the school year, we give gifts to the boys’ teachers. The end of the school year is one of those times.

I always do consumable gifts. No mugs or ornaments or chachkas. We usually include a small gift card (Starbucks, if they're coffee drinkers), a yummy homemade treat and a handwritten thank you note from both the student and me. I try to include specific examples of things I appreciated, like “Thank you for calling me right away when Johnny started picking his toes in class.”

Nobody was really picking his toes, but you get my drift.

The boys usually keep their notes short, but a simple “Thanks for being my teacher this year. I enjoyed the field trip to the math museum” is nice, I think. Even the preschooler can draw a picture.

A few days ago I was on Walgreen’s photo website when the inspiration struck: photo collage cards. It’s perfect. I pulled a few pictures from each of the 3 boys—including one of them with their teachers taken at an open house—and arranged them on the card along with the caption, “Thanks for a great year!” (If you do the cards at Walgreens, click on the "folded cards" section. This allows you to buy only one card, instead of 20.)

It only took a few minutes and each card was only $1.99. I picked up a few treats at Trader Joe’s along with gift bags, we’ll do our handwritten notes in the cards, and call it good.

Past teachers have told me how much they appreciate the encouraging words from both me and their student. We all need encouragement, so even if you can’t afford a fancy gift, do write a note.

Thoughtful teacher gifts for a great price works for me! For more great tips, head over to We are that Family.

Walgreens did not ask me to write this or give me anything free. You could do these cards at any photo center. Walgreens just happens to be convenient.

the guilt

2010-05-10T17:32:00.002-04:00

As moms, we all have it. We feel guilty if we work too much; we feel guilty if we don’t work. We feel guilty if we drag our kids out to run errands; we feel guilty if we leave them home and run errands by ourselves. We feel guilty if we’re overweight and out of shape; we feel guilty if we take time for ourselves to exercise.

We just plain feel guilty.

I was sitting with a group of women last week, and the subject of guilt came up. Everyone chimed in, and a mom with grown kids even suggested that this guilt was a good thing. After all, maybe a “good mom” does feel guilty if she takes time for herself, even if it is at the grocery store buying food for her family.

To which I say, in a nice Christian way, of course, BULL.

I just don’t think we need to buy this, ladies.

Whatever your situation in life—working, not working, whatever—do your kids a favor and get over the guilt. And if you leave the kids with a neighbor or sitter or their (GASP) Dad for a few hours to get out alone? Celebrate those moments and come home refreshed. That will do your family a lot more good than the guilt does.

It takes some practice, but let me tell you, life on the other side of guilt** is really nice. It still comes calling once in awhile, but I find that a hunk of dark chocolate shuts it right up.

** I feel like I need to add a disclaimer that I’m not suggesting moms become uber selfish and shirk their responsibilities to their households. Not at all. But, come on. I know moms who work forty hours a week, stay up until midnight baking twelve dozen cookies for the church bake sale, and feel guilty on a Saturday afternoon for sneaking off for a pedicure or, heaven forbid, lying down and taking a nap. That’s what I’m talking about.**

community garden

2010-05-06T08:22:00.009-04:00

Our peas are coming up. The preschooler was so excited when he saw them, and told everyone who walked by, “Look! I planted these little thingies and now, look! It made a plant that will grow vegetables.” You really just have to hear him say the word “vegetables.” It’s adorable.

We’ve met most of our gardening “neighbors” now, and it’s a lovely group. There’s a newbie family next to us with three kids, as well as a veteran gardener with three plots on the other side.

The preschooler and I spent the better part of Tuesday afternoon at the plot, and enjoyed chatting with “Doc.” He’s a retired trauma surgeon who just returned from a month in Haiti. He has stories we all need to hear.

And, thankfully, he enjoys listening to the preschooler’s stories too. Thank goodnesss, because that boy is a talker.

I’m hoping to get my tomatoes and peppers in this weekend or next. We’ll see what the weather looks like.
It’s interesting to watch the other gardeners. I don’t think any two garden plots look the same, and I’ve been given so much conflicting advice, I’m learning to just follow my instincts.

And as Doc says, “It’s good dirt. Add some water and it will grow just fine.”

Twin A. and the Preschooler planting sunflowers

Weird Christians

2010-05-01T08:39:00.003-04:00

Every day, I walk past a house in my neighborhood that makes me uncomfortable. The curtains are drawn, and for a long time I wondered if anyone lived there. Then, a few weeks ago, I saw some kids outside, bringing groceries in from the car. I said “hello” and asked if they were new to our neighborhood.

They’ve lived here longer than we have.

To each this own, I suppose, but this family also has a big sign in their window protesting Planned Parenthood. And a little fish on their car, symbolizing that they’re Christians.

Of course they are.

This bothers me because I’m a Christian too. So, it's kind of like we're on the same team, but, well, we're not.

Don’t advertise you’re a Christian then never come out of the house or let your children play outside or walk to school with the rest of the children. In case you haven't noticed, this is a vibrant neighborhood. We live life together and rely on one another. We celebrate together and grieve together.

And if the only thing your neighbors ever know about you is that you’re a Christian and you hate planned parenthood? Yeah. Skip the advertising. Please.

I'm tired of sharing my faith with people who have experienced nothing but Christian weirdness. So, please. If you want to be weird, fine.

Just don't blame it on Jesus.

the urge to grow things

2010-04-20T08:18:00.002-04:00

Every spring it comes. This need to plant something in the ground and watch it grow.

The only problem? Our yard is full of big trees, which shade the entire backyard. (Which isn’t a problem during the summer, when the kids are playing outside in the shade!)

But it does create a problem when it comes to growing things.

I’ve used little pots that I have to drag all over the yard to catch an hour of sun here or there. Ask me how that worked. (Yeah. Not so much.)

So when I saw in our Park District guide earlier this year that you could rent a community garden plot not too far from our house, I jumped on it.

The preschooler and I went on the designated day and carefully selected a spot near the water spigot. On Saturday, they opened the plots up.

And, OH MY GOODNESS, the dirt! It’s wonderful.

The kids are jazzed about planting a vegetable garden. (With a few flowers thrown in for good measure.)

We’ll see how excited they are in August on Day 98 of Going to Water the Garden Plot.

But for now? We’re enjoying the dirt.

clearance

2010-04-12T10:04:00.003-04:00

Do you shop the clearance sales?

After each holiday, I try to stop by Target and Walgreen's and hit their clearance aisles. Easter is always a good one. I buy easter egg coloring kits, plastic eggs, easter grass, and age-appropriate easter toys, if I can find them. Last week, I was able to buy my easter egg coloring kits for next year for 13 cents.

I just tuck them away into my "easter box," and happily pull them out next year, knowing I only spent a few dollars on all this stuff.

I also buy easter candy, if they have any that would be good for baking with. M & Ms for a dollar a bag make great cookies. (And nobody's ever complained about pink and purple M & M cookies in June or July.)

man versus...park?

2010-04-01T16:08:00.004-04:00

You know your kids watch too much "Man versus Wild" when you lock yourself out of your car and they immediately start looking for crickets and firewood.

I locked my keys in the van at the park, and you would have thought we were stranded in the middle of nowhere.

"So, we have one granola bar and no keys," B. said. Quickly adding, "I call it!"

He's got a sense of humor, that boy.

The noisy boys got right to work searching for crickets to make the cricket stew. When Llama Papa showed up to rescue us, the preschooler ran into his arms and said, "YOU SAVED US!"

From the doom of a suburban park.

And cricket stew.

"

Epi pens and intution

2010-03-30T21:40:00.002-04:00

I joined the club today. The “Mom’s-who-carry-epi-pens-in-case-their-child-has-a-severe-allergic-reaction” club.

Not as fun as bunko.

Twin B. was hanging out with his grandma and grandpa when he started having an allergic reaction, presumably to a guinea pig they were babysitting.

By the time I got there, his face was red and splotchy, and his eyes were swelling. I started calling our doctor on my cell and threw B. in the van, thinking we’d drive the three minutes home and he’d have some Benadryl and be fine.

But while I was sitting at a stoplight, still waiting for the nurse to call me back, I looked in the rearview mirror and B’s eyes had swollen shut.

Yikes.

And without waiting to hear back from Katie, the nurse at our pediatric office, I knew what she would tell me.

Trust your instincts, mom.

I drove straight to the ER.

They gave him a shot of epi about 30 seconds after our arrival.

He’ll be fine. No doubt some allergy testing is in his future. Along with a few epi pens, just in case.

I’ll be fine, too.

Tomorrow.

spring break survival

2010-03-26T12:31:00.016-04:00

I was planning to take the kids to the zoo today to celebrate the Official Beginning of Spring Break, but instead, half of us are on antibiotics for strep throat.

So…on to plan B!

We broke out the miniature marshmallows and toothpicks and did some building. This is a great “all ages” craft that doubles as a snack.

And, of course, the froot loop necklaces. Even though the noisy boys are in second grade, I can still get away with this craft since it’s for the preschooler.

And math worksheets. Lots and lots of math worksheets, which the noisy boys are asking for because during spring break, one neatly completed math worksheet = 10 minutes of media time.

They can earn up to 2 hours of media per day.

I realize that sounds like a ton of time, but it goes by in a blink when they sync up their DSi’s and enter the world of Mario.

God is trying to kill me

2010-03-14T20:02:00.012-04:00

I was about half way to Bloomington for Hearts at Home when a light appeared on the dashboard. “It’s like a parentheses with an exclamation point in the middle and a squiggly line on the bottom.” I told my husband on my cell phone.

“One of the tires needs air,” he said. “You should stop as soon as you can.”

And so I stopped at the next gas station and Llama Papa patiently talked me through the process of checking the air pressure and filling up the low tire. “I’m sorry,” he said more than once. “I should have checked out the van before you left.”

I was just amazed I was able to figure it out, and grateful the rain had stopped.

And then I tried to start the van again. Nothing.

Great.

I went in the gas station and talked with the gals working there. “Did you leave the lights on while you checked the tires?” She asked.

I nodded.

“It’s probably the battery. Give it ten minutes or so and try it again.”

We chatted while I waited and munched on a Milky Way bar that I purchased because, you know, eating chocolate seemed like the right thing to do.

I tried the van again. Nope.

The helpful gas station lady asked another customer, Fred, to take a look at it. Kindly, he did. “Doesn’t sound like the battery,” he said. “It might be the fuel pump.”

A few more phone calls home and we had a plan. Llama Papa would come pick me up and I’d carpool the following day with a friend. I was volunteering both days, so I called and let them know I wouldn’t be there until Saturday.

Then I settled into my van for an hour-long pity party while I waited for my husband to come and rescue me.

It had been a long week. After three interviews in a matter of days, Llama Papa and I were cautiously optimistic that he might be offered a real job. But no. He was their third choice.

I chatted with my friend on the phone and we laughed together at the misery of it all. “You know what’s really funny?” I told her, “I was listening to that Casting Crowns song, Praise You in the Storm, remembering that God really does have a plan for us. And right now, this is it. I was just thinking, Lord, I do surrender to your plan. And then my stupid van breaks down. What IS that?” (Except maybe I didn’t say stupid because, being the spiritual giant that I am, sometimes I swear when I get stressed out.)

We laughed and agreed God wasn’t trying to send me any hidden messages, because if He were, it would be that He’s trying to kill me.

Llama Papa arrived in good time and proceeded to—I am not making this up—start my van on the first try. He offered to trade vehicles with me, and I continued on my way to Bloomington after all.

I’m glad I did. Hearts at Home rocked.

And I’m convinced that God isn’t trying to kill me after all.

will blog for dishwasher

2010-03-09T19:51:00.004-05:00

Every day I get email from someone wanting me to review something on my blog. I usually don’t respond. I think the only reviews I’ve done are for books—and I usually ask to review those!

I do, however, volunteer for market research studies separate from the blog. I’ve done this for years—go taste test yogurt for an hour and get $50 kinds of deals. When the noisy boys were babies I did a diaper study that paid for our diapers for at least a month. That was cool. My favorite, though, was when a woman came to my house with her marketing people and watched me make soup, then asked me a bunch of questions about the soup making experience. I even made a poster about how the food made me feel. They gave me $300 for my time.

Last night I got a call from one of my research places with another cooking gig. I answered the questions honestly, and they said I didn’t qualify. Then they called back and said I did. For a special blogging review.

They wanted me to cook with their products and blog every day for three weeks about the experience. Every. Day. About. Food. And then spend three hours with a focus group talking about the experience. All for $200.

I asked her to call the company and clarify—every day? They want me to blog about their food every day for three weeks? Wouldn’t that get, um, boring? She put me on hold.

“Yup. Every day for three weeks. That’s the deal.”

I told her I’d do it once. ONE review on the blog. ONE focus group.

No deal.

Bummer. I do like the cooking stuff…but to turn my blog into some weird marketing machine defeats the purpose of blogging. (Maybe I’m a hypocrite since I’ve got ads in my sidebar, but I can live with that. The ads don’t dictate what I write and for pete’s sake somebody has to fund my Starbucks habit.)

Now. If someone wants to offer me a new dishwasher, we can talk. I’ll blog every day for a week for a new dishwasher.

(Yeah, those are some dishpan hands typing. Our dishwasher bit the dust a few weeks ago and we’ve yet to replace it. I’m just so irritated because it was a NICE dishwasher. A Kitchen Aid. The quiet kind. And it just up and died after only seven years. The repair people I’ve talked to tell me to just buy a new one. They don’t last as long as they used to, blah, blah, blah. But only seven years? Is it just me or is that crazy?)

Maybe we’ll just teach the noisy boys how to do dishes.

wacky cake

2010-03-05T16:45:00.004-05:00

I don't buy cookbooks anymore. With so many recipes online, I hardly need an entire book full of recipes cluttering up my shelves. Unless, of course, it's a church cookbook. Or the ladies guild. Or whatever community group has taken the time to compile a book of favorite recipes.

I love these cookbooks. They're more than just recipes...they're history.

I have a small collection of these books, one from every church we've attended over the years (that published one), and I make some of the recipes over and over. The recipes tend to take on the persona of whoever contributed it. Margot's Amazing Chocolate Stuff, Smith Chip Dip, Lara's Roast.

And even if I don't have a connection to the cookbook, I enjoy the stories.

This afternoon, the preschooler and I decided to bake a cake for the noisy boys to celebrate the end of the school week. I glanced through a community cookbook and picked a simple, Wacky Cake recipe. It's an older cookbook that I received as a wedding gift, and the advice with the cake is decidedly old fashioned. The recipe is as follows:

1 1/2 Cups flour
1 Cup sugar
3 T. Cocoa
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 T. Vinegar
6 T. melted butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 Cup cold water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Use an ungreased 9" x 9" x 2" pan. Sift dry ingredients into the pan. Level off and punch 3 holes into mixture with back of spoon. Into one hole pour vinegar, into the next pour butter, and into the last hole the vanilla. Pour water over all and stir thoroughly with a fork. Bake 25 min. This is a fine moist devil's food cake that will keep 4 or 5 days and is a man's favorite.

I love it.

Not only is it hilarious to think about such a small cake lasting 4 or 5 days, but it's a snap to whip together, and especially fun for young kids since so much stirring is involved.

The cake itself isn't too sweet, making it a yummy choice for an after school snack.

And it's a man's favorite. What more could you want in a cake?

those mothers

2010-03-01T18:24:00.004-05:00

I became one of them today. One of those mothers. You know the ones. They’ve got kids hanging on the cart at the grocery store who are whiny and disrespectful and they snarl at their children to BE QUIET and STOP IT and FOR GOODNESS SAKE NOT RIGHT NOW.

It all started with an ill-timed trip to Target for Twin A. to pick up the New Super Mario Bros. with his birthday money. Never mind that it was almost time to start making dinner and—oh yeah—Twin B. is still grounded from his DSi. (I know, this trip sounds like a great idea, doesn’t it?)

Actually, the shopping itself was fine. We even picked out a birthday present for a friend’s party coming up. It was all good until the checkout aisle when the preschooler asked for a pack of gum.

And I said no.

(I know…the nerve.)

You see, we’d been grocery shopping earlier this morning and I had already bought him a pack of gum. I explained this to him, but three-year olds use about as much logic for their purchases as lizards, which is to say, none. So he escalated his request. “No, no, no, that gum is from ALDI. I want gum from TARGET.”

The tantrum was interspersed with a carefully rehearsed speech from Twin B. that maybe he could POSTPONE being grounded from his DSi until, you know, he got tired of playing with Twin A.'s new game.

Right.

And so it was that I found myself in the parking lot half dragging a crying preschooler screaming for gum and arguing with an eight-year old and yelling at everyone to just GET IN THE VAN when I noticed a young couple without kids holding hands and glancing my way, giving me the look. You know the look. The when-I-have-kids-I-will-never-ever-talk-to-them-that-way look. My children will always be polite and respectful and they will never beg for gum because I will teach them to behave better than that.

To which I can only say…yeah. Me too.

perspective

2010-02-19T18:16:00.002-05:00

I never thought I'd be one of them. One of those cocky midwesterners with their coat unzipped in the freezing cold, declaring, "What a beautiful day!"

But that's exactly what I did in the school pick-up line this afternoon.

After some truly cold weather, today was a balmy 40 degrees and sunny. Truly, it felt like a taste of spring.

And so it is. I am one of them. So hardened by the cold and the snow that 40 feels like a heat wave. I never thought I'd see the day.

asking for help

2010-02-04T13:31:00.004-05:00

I read somewhere that women would rather choke to death (literally) than call attention to themselves. I believe it.

Recently, a friend (who will remain nameless*) was up all night in pain. She didn't call a friend to drive her to the ER because she didn't want to bother anyone. She waited until morning to send an email asking for help. She didn't want anyone to be alarmed by a late-night or early morning phone call even though it was, um, an emergency.

I gave her a terrible time the next day, and I'm hopeful that next time, she will call when she has an emergency. I like to think I would, but who am I kidding? I hate to put people out too. (Maybe that's why we're friends?)

I know I'm not alone in this.

We all know a "needy Nelly" who is constantly bombarding us with requests for a favor, and we don't want to be like her. So we suffer along, hoping things will get better or someone will just magically know what we need without our asking. And along the way, we rob the people closest to us from the opportunity to serve because we never let on that things aren't just fine thankyouverymuch.

So, ladies, how about a New Year's resolution to ask for help from a friend when we need it? I'm not talking about a generic facebook plea, I'm talking about reaching out to a real, live friend and asking specifically for what we need. Something like:

-- I'm scared to go for my mammogram because last time they found something fuzzy and I never followed up. Will you go with me?

--I'm depressed. Will you pray for me?

-- Can we get together for coffee soon? I really need to talk to a friend.

-- Can I drop my kids off this weekend for a few hours? My husband and I need to get out alone.

You get the idea. And next time you think you might need to go to the ER and your husband is out of town? Call a friend. They'll be glad to help.

* Details have been changed to protect privacy. My friend will be fine.

praying for Haiti

2010-01-24T14:45:00.004-05:00

As I read the stories of the Haitian people, I'm amazed at their strength. Not just through this earthquake, but through life.

I've been following this blog and continue to pray for the people on the front lines of this tragedy. May God's hope shine brighter than the darkness.

when things go wrong

2010-01-21T14:02:00.002-05:00

Here’s a paradox: some of our happiest memories as a family are created when things go wrong. Is this true for you too?

Thankfully, we didn’t have any big problems on our recent trip to Disney…just the typical “stuff” that happens when you’re traveling. Here are a few of the highlights that we’re still laughing about:

Chicken. All I have to do is ask Twin A. if he wants some chicken and he busts up laughing. We were eating at Paradise Pier one night, and he ordered a “toddler” serving of macaroni and cheese—the only size they sold—and when he opened the box, there was a condiment-sized cup of macaroni in it. Like, three bites. Not even enough for our toddler.

We laughed, and the two of us walked over to the Chinese stand, where he ordered teriyake chicken and rice. The cashier asked if he wanted an adult portion or a child’s portion, and we wisely asked to see the difference in size. When the cashier held up a teeny tiny white box, A. started giggling. “The adult portion, please,” I said before busting out laughing. The two of us stood there and laughed until tears came out of our eyes.

And then—the story gets better—the chicken was really gross.

He ended up having some of the rice for dinner, and then eating a bowl of cereal back in the hotel room.

Did we pay a small fortune for strange food that never actually got eaten? Yes. But, oh the memory. We still laugh every time we hear the word, “chicken.”

And then there was Legoland in the rain. We bought bright yellow ponchos and celebrated that there were no lines for the rides. The boys huddled under a table at lunchtime and we all laughed at the absurdity of staying at the park in the rain. But we stayed and we laughed and we had a great day together.

Planning is an important part of vacationing with young children, but just as important, I believe, is the ability to be flexible. Things happen when you travel that you have absolutely no control of, and it’s important to be able to take them in stride.

Can you make the best of things and laugh together as a family when things don’t go according to plan? These are the stories your children will love to tell—the “remember when…” stories. They’ll remember the good times too, but the hard stuff—the time you ran out of clean underwear and had to wash it out in the sink—that’s what memories are made of.

downtown disney

2010-01-16T17:01:00.002-05:00

“I can’t stop saying ‘thank you,’” Twin B. said. He and I were the first ones up, so we snuck out of the Disnyland hotel and wandered around Downtown Disney and shared some warm beignets from the Jazz Kitchen.

The Christmas decorations were dazzling, and even though it was a chilly morning in California, it was nothing compared to the temperatures we’d left behind in Chicago. It felt great to wander without boots and hats and gloves and coats.

Soon, Llama Papa and the other two boys joined us, and we had breakfast and decided to head straight to Toon Town to meet Mickey Mouse, and then go from there.

That first day was full of Pixie dust and exclamations of, “I can’t believe we’re really here!” We all rested in the afternoon, then headed back to the park in the evening for a few hours. Disneyland at night during Christmastime is pure magic.

With a two-hour time difference and exhausted kids, we never did stay late enough for fireworks. Even on our “late nights” we were in bed by 8 or 8:30. Which brings me to my first bit of advice for families traveling to Disney with young children: When you walk through the gate, promptly forget how much it costs to be there. If you’re busy trying to “get your money’s worth,” you’ll have a miserable time and so will your kids. Dumbo or Die is a bad plan.

Rest in the afternoon. Go to bed at a decent hour. Eat well. These basics go a long way in ensuring everyone has fun during the day.

The noisy boys loved Space Mountain. Llama Papa did not. And the preschooler? His favorite ride was the monorail that took us back and forth from the hotel.

to be continued…

homemade hot chocolate

2010-01-09T10:53:00.003-05:00

We interrupt these Christmas reflections to share a critical recipe: Homemade hot chocolate!

The temperature is hovering between 0 and 10 degrees today in the tundra where I live, and we've been going through a lot of hot cocoa.

A few weeks ago, Llama Papa took our boys -- plus a few extra from the neighborhood -- to the big sled hill for an afternoon of fun. He called me on his way home so I could start the cocoa, and I had a moment of panic when I realized I only had two little packets left.

So I asked my good friend, Google, what to do, and it gave me lots of wonderful recipes using sugar and cream and cocoa powder. After a few weeks of tweaking, here my new go-to recipe for hot cocoa:

2 Cups milk
2 Cups water + 2/3 Cup dry milk powder **
1/2 Cup sugar
1/4 Cup cocoa powder
dash of vanilla and salt

Combine all ingredients in a pot on the stove and heat until warm. Taste it and tweak it to your families' taste -- add more cocoa powder or sugar as needed. But watch out...you may never go back to the little packets again! This makes four generous cups of cocoa, which is about right for my crew. It's easy to adjust and make more or less depending on how many you're serving. You really can't mess this one up, and it's sooooo good!!

**You can use more powdered milk if you're running low on the real stuff...or use all regular milk if you don't have powdered. But I recommend buying a box of powdered milk -- Aldi sells it -- for a very economical cup of cocoa! And while you're at Aldi, don't forget to stock up on miniature marshmallows to top off the cocoa.

I never thought I'd enjoy winter, but I honestly do. The kids love playing outside making snow forts and sledding, and with the right snow gear, we all stay plenty warm. By the end of February, I'll be done with snow, but for now, we're all enjoying it!

Have fun stay warm!!

the REAL plane

2010-01-06T11:18:00.005-05:00

Even after our exciting news, we had a fairly low-key Christmas day. We were over at Grandma and Grandpa Llama’s house, just hanging out. The kids played games and watched movies, while we talked, read, and drank coffee. In the early afternoon, Llama Papa took the preschooler home for a nap while I packed up all the gifts.

After an early Christmas dinner (or late lunch?), we headed home to do our final pack. At this point, the kids started getting excited.

Will we go on an airplane?
Will we stay in a hotel?
Will we go to Disneyland tonight?
How long will we stay?

Uncle Llama drove us to the airport, and as the kids marched in with their backpacks, I was grateful we were flying on Christmas day. The airport wasn’t very crowded, and we didn’t have to wait in any long lines. The noisy boys looked so old, helping us roll the luggage and get checked in.

They must have looked shifty, too, since security asked them all to take their Mickey Mouse sweatshirts off and run them through the scanner. (But they didn't ask Llama Papa to, which I found curious.)

The preschooler was excited to fly on a real airplane.

All in all, they were awesome travelers. Of course, they were all exhausted and happy to kick back and watch movies and play video games. We checked in late at the Disneyland hotel and after exclaiming over the cute little shampoos with mickey mouse ears, and jumping up and down a few times, we all collapsed into our beds, excited to wake up the next day and continue our Christmas adventure. Well, after reconfiguring our sleeping arrangements a few times. All you families of five will be able to relate! :-)

To be continued…

Christmas magic

2010-01-02T16:55:00.001-05:00

I didn’t think I’d really be able to pull it off, but I did.

Talk about a covert mission. I did all the planning during the day while the kids were at school, and on Christmas Eve, Llama Papa took the kids out while I packed.

On Christmas day we drove over to Grandma and Grandpa’s house—where Santa had left our gifts—and proceeded with Christmas as usual. Which is to say, loud chaotic joyful fun with the cousins while we ate cinnamon rolls and opened presents. I could hardly wait until the last one.

After all the packages were opened, Llama Papa left the room and came back with 3 more gift bags. We set up the video camera and waited while they opened their final gift—matching Mickey Mouse sweatshirts.

“We’re going to Disneyland!” I told them.

The boys just stared at me.

“Today! Our plane leaves today and we’ll be there for a week!”

“Oh,” Twin A. said, going back to his magnet building game.

“Boys! We’re going to Disneyland today!” I tried again.

They all smiled and nodded, but there was no shrieking or jumping up and down. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but looking back, I’m glad. Going to Disney without expectations is a good thing.

To be continued…

You know you're a mom when...

2009-12-21T08:57:00.002-05:00

You wake up, thrilled to have a slow day with the kids. No school or activity schedules to worry about and not much going on.

You just need to clean up a little bit, do two or three loads of laundry, make a quick trip to the grocery store, wrap half a dozen gifts, do a little baking, host friends for play and lunch, return a few phone calls and bring a meal to a neighbor.

Not much.

life lessons

2009-12-18T11:50:00.004-05:00

“Dear God,” Twin A. prayed, “Please help *Susie…” He paused and turned to me, “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. Me neither,” I told him. “But God knows how much you care about your friend. He hears you and understands your heart, even when you don’t know what to pray.”

As a mother, I want to have all of the answers for my children. When they hurt, I want to make it all better. But sometimes we can’t, and I believe the important thing in those moments is to teach them—show them—how to handle those moments when they come. Because they will come.

We can’t fix things for our neighbors, who are grieving the loss of a wonderful husband and father. But we can be a friend and build snow forts and play. We can make them a meal. We can make a donation. We can pray.

And in doing these things, we teach our children that people and relationships are important.

We’re holding each other tighter this Christmas season, savoring each moment. Because truly, none of us has any guarantee of tomorrow.

Enjoy your family. In the midst of the chaos and the errands and the wrapping, savor the moments when you’re together. Forget the mess and turn on some music. Dance. Hug.

We only get one life. Enjoy it to the fullest.

**name has been changed to protect privacy**

neighbor update

2009-12-10T08:59:00.002-05:00

Thank you for praying for our neighbor, Jay, and his family. I'm saddened to update this blog with news of his passing. My heart is heavy this morning for his wife and two children. Pray for them.

please pray

2009-12-05T17:59:00.002-05:00

I don't often post prayer requests on my blog, but this one is very close to home.

My neighbor was in a terrible car accident the day before Thanksgiving. Would you please keep him and his family in your prayers?

www.prayforjay.org

Thanksgiving humor

2009-11-25T15:56:00.002-05:00

At the dinner table last night…
Llama Papa: “Boys, our house is really clean right now. We need to work together to keep it clean for Thanksgiving in two days.”
Twin A.: “We need to keep it clean for TWO WHOLE DAYS?”
Twin B.: “I think we should just leave.”

Recurring conversation with the preschooler…
The Preschooler: “Are we going to eat turkey on Thanksgiving?”
Me: “Yes.”
The Preschooler: “Is it already dead?”
Me: “Yes.”
The Preschooler: “So we’re going to eat a dead turkey?”
Me: “Well, we’ll cook it. But, yeah.”
The Preschooler: “Who killed him?”
Me: “Um. The turkey farmer I think. They call it butchering.”
The Preschooler: “Did it hurt his feelings?”

Yes, I fully expect that he’ll eat nothing but green beans and mashed potatoes tomorrow.

And my personal favorite, yesterday before naptime…
The Preschooler: “I made a card.”
Me: “Nice! What does it say?”
The Preschooler: “Dear God, thank you for making me.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I’m beyond thankful for my house full of noisy boys. (Well, most of the time anyway!)

canned carrots

2009-11-17T09:26:00.003-05:00

What possessed me to buy these? I must have had some recipe in mind, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was. That’s how long these have been sitting on my shelves. Going through the pantry today, I scooted them over to the side—after all, they’ve been there forever. I’m used to seeing them every time I put away groceries. But today I stop and think: why am I keeping these?

I collect things in my heart, too. Grudges, ways of coping, reactions to people. Some of these served a purpose for a time—it’s the way I got by. But now, today, they’re useless. I don’t need them anymore. So why keep them?

It’s time to throw out the carrots.

painting tips

2009-11-02T10:13:00.006-05:00

Preschoolers love paint. Moms don't. It's messy and, well, it's messy.

I'm afraid I can't offer you much advice for making it less messy, but I DID repurpose an item destined for the garbage can into a cool paint holder.

Introducing, the camping egg carrier.

I bought this eons ago when it was just me and my husband darting off for a weekend of camping in California. Six eggs was plenty. Pancakes one morning, scrambled eggs the next...no problem. Enter three hungry boys. Now, six eggs don't get us through one morning. Last time I packed for a camping trip, I laughed at my tiny egg holder as I was putting an 18-count package of eggs into the cooler.

It's amazing how life changes.

Anyway, since our last camping trip, the egg holder has been floating around. The preschooler likes to carry things in it, so I let him play with it for awhile. I was just thinking it was time to toss it when the preschooler asked, "Can I paint today?"

Aha!

Introducing: our new paint tray. Perfect for a morning of messy painting!

time

2009-10-23T07:30:00.002-04:00

There’s never enough of it. Like most of you reading this blog, I’m busy. Juggling three kids, a part-time job, a work-from-home editing gig, and finishing a novel has proven to be a bit much. And before you get too impressed, keep in mind that by “finishing a novel” I mean “spending a few hours editing and writing at some point every week.”

Since there’s never enough of it, I’m learning to make time for what’s really important to me. I try to carve out time each day for each of my kids. Sometimes it’s just ten minutes of one-on-one conversation at the end of the day, or a game of yahtzee or chess (I’m learning! And believe it or not, the kids are teaching me).

Last week, I was story mom in Twin B’s class, and I decided to surprise him and take him out for lunch before my volunteer shift. I dropped the preschooler off to play at a neighbor’s house and caught B. as he was waiting in line to go into the cafeteria. I hope I never forget the look on his face when I called his name and invited him out to lunch. His entire face lit up, and he just grinned as he followed me out to the van. We chatted over burgers at Wendy’s and he kept saying, “I just can’t stop saying thank you!”

It wasn’t just the burger he was thanking me for. It was the time. He knows I’m busy and have a million things I could be doing with an hour of free time. The fact that I was choosing to spend time with him—not because I have to, but because I want to—made a huge statement to him. You’re special. I enjoy you. You’re worth my time.

We all get 24 hours a day. How will you spend yours?

Where are my chickens?

2009-10-06T07:12:00.003-04:00

Every day is an adventure with a preschooler in the house. Honestly, I’d forgotten how cute a three-year old can be. He loves going to school like his brothers (two mornings a week), and helping me with jobs around the house. Amazingly, his favorite “job” right now is cleaning the toilets. And everywhere we go, he checks the bathroom and often announces, “That potty looks dirty. They should clean it.”

Hilarious.

But by far my favorite part of this age is watching his imagination explode. Some days, he’s a cat, crawling around and meowing and telling me “the kitty likes to be petted.” Other days, he’s a “good guy,” keeping all the bad guys away with his assortment of pretend guns. (Don’t lecture me. I lost the battle against non-violent toys long ago.)

Even as I type, the preschooler is managing a small farm of chickens in a laundry basket. Invisible chickens, of course, which makes it tricky to play along. He just yelled out, “Mom! My chicken got away!” I tried to grab the invisible chicken, but when I gave it to him, alas, that was not it. He was looking for the OTHER chicken.

So he grabbed two plastic sandwich bags and put them over his hands for “glubs” and is off to recapture the escaped chicken.

All this fun and it’s only 6:08 in the morning.

The farmer has just invited me into the chicken fort and assured me that he’ll keep me safe. Because, according to the farmer, "the chickens really like you."

Which is why I love having a preschooler.

overwhelmed

2009-09-23T07:58:00.003-04:00

This past few weeks have been difficult. Not in a crisis rush-to-the-ER kind of way, but in a nagging, worrying kind of way. Llama Papa and I have been talking through family decisions,** and in the midst of it all, I became just a tad bit overwhelmed. Or maybe a lot overwhelmed.

Somewhere in all of my worry, I cried out to God. It was one of those really articulate prayers that went something like this, “God? HELP!” And while there were no magic answers emailed from heaven (I’ve always thought God should get email), I did begin to loosen my grip on all of the what-ifs. Breathe. Trust.

If you’re at a crossroads today, give it a try. Ask.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. (James 1:5)

** edited to add: We're not moving or planning any kind of radical change in our family. It's more day-to-day decisions with the kids that feel big and overwhelming sometimes.

mock chicken casserole

2009-09-08T07:18:00.004-04:00

I was eating Mrs. Mike’s potato chips last night, and noticed a recipe on the back of the bag. I am not making this up.

Mock chicken casserole

Prepare cream sauce with the following ingredients: 1 T butter, 4 T flour, 2 ¼ C milk, ¼ tsp pepper, salt to taste. Simmer until smooth.

To this add the following: 1 can flaked tuna fish, ½ C sliced mushrooms, 4 oz always fresh potato chip crushed. Season to taste.
Pour in buttered casserole, sprinkle top with crushed potato chips. Bake in moderate oven (350 degrees) for 30 minutes.

I almost hate to ask, but, well, why not just call this tuna casserole? I see no possible way this concoction could taste even the slightest bit like chicken.

I’m just sayin.’

friends

2009-09-03T07:47:00.002-04:00

Walking back from the school drop off, I’m struck by the strength of the women in my company. Each day we walk back and forth, chatting about homework and diapers and soccer practice and carpools. Most days we laugh, but occasionally we cry.

When I think about each woman and what’s on her plate, I marvel: how on earth does she do it? How do any of us do it?

Up before light, we pack lunches and fold clothes and unload the dishwasher. We check homework tucked into backpacks. We get the kids up and fed and off to school. Then we return to tend other kids, chores, and sometimes work. Pick-up in the afternoon is a bright spot. A chance to laugh at the things that didn’t go quite the way we’d planned. Playdates planned and favors freely given, we’ve formed a community for which I’m grateful.

And then we’re home for snacks and playdates and homework. We make dinner, clean it up, and make sure reading is done. We work some more.

And at the end of the day, we collapse and wonder why we’re so tired.

Today, women, I’m struck by our strength. Too often we complain of our weaknesses: too much chocolate, not enough exercise, our houses aren’t clean enough and on and on we list all the ways we don’t measure up.

But look at all the ways we do measure up. Take a good, long, honest look. And today, my friends, let’s celebrate who we are and what we do. Because it’s awesome.

Us and Them

2009-08-22T09:07:00.001-04:00

I don’t like to think of myself as a person with prejudices. I don’t think many of us do, and yet lately I’ve been struck by how often I put people in “boxes” and label them without even knowing them.

Boxes like:
unChristian
Homeschooler
Working mom
Uneducated

The list goes on. Your list may look different than mine, but we all have them. Maybe you classify people based on race or gender or socioeconomic status. And as much as we know that these labels are not helpful, and certainly not the way Jesus rolls, we do it—many times unconsciously. Becoming aware of it is often the first stop toward changing. (And now I’ll stop being all Dr. Philish. I promise.)

I’ve recently jumped categories. From stay-at-home mom to part-time working mom. I took a part-time job at a Music and Art Academy working a few evenings a week and the occasional Saturday. And I love it.

I’ve been working from home for awhile now, but I love actually GOING to work. Leaving my house and looking nice and talking to real live people. Not to mention starting a project and finishing it from beginning to end with very little interruption. It’s a beautiful thing.

And with the boys back in school, I’m aware of the other big label—especially in the Christian community: public school mom versus homeschool mom.

How many times have I sat in a circle of well-intentioned women and heard someone make an off-hand comment, “Well, it’s a sacrifice, but I just love Johnny so much, I COULDN’T send him to public school!” And as a public school mom, I’m sitting there thinking about how much I LOVE my kids and am doing what I believe is best for them. Did that homeschooling mom intend to slam me? Probably not. But in our judgment of the “other” we unintentionally hurt one another.

So, Moms. Can we try to lose the labels? Can we all work together and trust that we’re all doing what we feel is best for our kids? After all, we all have the same goal: to raise healthy, happy kids who are productive members of society.

new blog

2009-08-19T15:08:00.007-04:00

One of the amazing writers in my critique group, Kathy Bolduc, is blogging!

Kathy is a talented author and a deep thinker. Do me a favor and go check out her blog and leave her a comment with your very best blogging advice!

back to school

2009-08-18T10:03:00.001-04:00

I can’t believe summer break is over and the boys head back to school tomorrow. The noisy boys are looking forward to second grade, and the toddler can hardly wait to start preschool. (I guess we can call him “the preschooler” now!)

We’re all ready. I love the early-to-bed, early-to rise routine of the school year. (Or, at least, I love the memory of it. Ask me in two weeks how I feel.) The lists by the door. The new pencils and notebooks and markers. Our daily walk back and forth with the other kids in the neighborhood. New teachers to get to know. Old relationships to build on.

And, of course, the lunches. We don’t have hot lunch at our school, so we pack lunches every day. My goal this year is to get the noisy boys more involved with the packing and decision making. If you’re looking for creative and healthy lunch ideas, check out the Kitchen Stweardship blog. She’s compiled a great list of fun and nutritious on-the-go food.

I need you

2009-08-10T16:26:00.001-04:00

“Mommy, I need you!” The toddler grabs my cheeks in his hands and pulls my face toward his.

“Mom? Can you help me?” Twin A. calls out an hour later. With his broken arm, it’s hard to navigate the dark upstairs to use the bathroom.

Never mind that it’s the middle of the night.

Have you ever noticed how children don’t ever consider what may be convenient for a parent? They never think, “Wow. It’s 2 a.m. Maybe I should just try to deal with this terrible nightmare by myself.” Of course not. (Or at least not in my house!) They cry and call out for mom or dad, and one of us shows up at their bedside.

I’m so reluctant to ask for help from anyone—friend, neighbor, even God Himself. I try to do as much as I can on my own before I even think to ask for help. And yet I believe God delights in our childlike trust when we call out to Him first.

I didn’t do much for the toddler in the middle of the night. I let him hold my face for a few minutes as he said, “I need you, I need you, I need you.” I told him he’d be fine and gave him a kiss and told him to go back to sleep. That’s all.

Sometimes it’s enough just to know we’re not alone—especially when we feel needy.

How can you reach out for help this week? Do you trust that God will be present with you as you cry out to Him?

blessing

2009-08-03T08:50:00.013-04:00

We’ve had quite a bit of excitement around our house. Too much, really. Thankfully, things have settled down. Twin A. is healing just fine, and doing great. (Thank you for praying, friends.)

I’m at one of my favorite writing retreats ever, hosted by The Writing Academy. This community of writers has blessed me in too many ways to count. And it truly is a community—they’ve been meeting together every year for over thirty years. And still they welcome me warmly into their community and put up with all my talk of blogs and twitter and networking.

During open mic night, I timidly read a chapter from the young adult novel I’m working on. (I scanned it carefully to make sure there were no swear words!) I didn’t dare look up, but when I finally did, people were wiping away tears and grinning. The next person got up to read and gestured to me and declared, “This is the future of the Academy!”

No pressure.

The theme this weekend is “Apples of Gold,” taken from Proverbs 25:11. (A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.) As a part of the weekend, we were each given thirty beautiful stamped note cards and asked to write a word of encouragement for each of our fellow WAMS.

I just finished reading mine, and…I’m speechless. Oh, the power that exists in our words. Power to bless or curse. Today, the blessing overwhelms me.

Surround yourself today by people who can speak a word of life into your soul. And through your words, breathe life into the people around you. You will be blessed.

pain

2009-07-28T09:30:00.004-04:00

One day at a time. This is our motto around here. Along with, this will not last forever.

Twin A. is still uncomfortable whenever he moves. We’re managing the pain as well as we can, and doing lots of deep breathing to try to relax. Last night he told me the fear of the pain is actually worse than the pain itself. He has been through so much.

The Llama Papa took our other two boys on to the family reunion campout in Michigan. (God bless him.) A. is sad to miss it, but has no desire to drive 3+ hours, even if we stay in a hotel. We’ve promised him a campout when he recovers.

And today is the toddler’s third birthday. For the last six months, he’s been talking about his “birthday party on the camping trip.” So I loaded him down with Elmo partyware and wrapped presents, and expect that he’ll fully enjoy his special day today. And, of course, we’ll have another party at home sometime next week. But in the quiet of this morning, can I just admit to you all that I’m hating this? Those of you who know The Toddler personally know that he is a bundle of energy and personality, and absolutely delightful. I hate missing his camping birthday party. Happy birthday, little buddy. Mommy can’t wait to throw you another birthday bash and watch your face light up with each new surprise.

The hardest part of this whole thing has been watching Twin A. in pain and being unable to fully take it away. Or worse, actually causing the pain. A few times a day, I need to help A. elevate his arm. It hurts to get in this position, but is essential for his healing. Moving him around while he cries for me to stop is the hardest thing I’ve had to do as a mom.

I’ve thought more than once about how God must feel with me at times, pushing me to look at places that are painful while I scream “stop!” And yet He knows what’s best for me. I believe this. And just like my heart skips a beat when A. chooses to trust me, even though it’s going to hurt, I have to believe God is thrilled when we choose to trust Him just a little bit more.

One of the things I’m most thankful for are the seeds of faith planted in A.’s heart. In the most difficult moments, he says, “I want to pray.” He told me he wishes God would just magically heal his arm, even though he knows that’s not how it usually works. We’ve talked about what God HAS promised us: that He’ll always be with us, no matter what.

So be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid and do not panic before them. For the Lord your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither fail you nor abandon you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

I’m also thankful for incredible friends and neighbors, who keep sending cards and dropping by with goodies and movies and games. And I’m incredibly thankful for my friend, S., who has some downtime before her classes start, and offered to come stay with us for a few days. I can’t imagine this past few days without her, honestly.

God is good. God is faithful. God is trustworthy.

This is what we’re learning over here…well, that and that malt chip blizzards from DQ are really, really good.

unexpected

2009-07-22T21:37:00.002-04:00

What a day.

I’m sitting here next to Twin A. writing on my laptop while he sleeps comfortably in his bed. At the hospital.

Not where we thought we’d be tonight.

We were at my sister-in-law’s house and the cousins were all playing on the playground across the street from her house when A. fell off the monkey bars and started screaming bloody murder. He broke / dislocated his arm. I won’t describe the break here except to say that it was really bad.

(Llama Papa actually passed out while the ER doc examined A. For about thirty minutes, I was afraid he would be admitted too! Thankfully, he's fine.)

Long story short, I’m here with my boy after a long day at the hospital and surgery to put his arm back together again. (With three pins!) His surgeon anticipates a full recovery.

I feel like I should say something profound, but I just don’t have it in me tonight. I can't rehash the details of the day's events, not yet. This mama is exhausted—physically and emotionally. I feel like I need to just crawl into the corner and cry for a good long while, preferably with a large stash of chocolate, but that will have to wait.

So until then, I’ll just say that I’m grateful for my amazing family, who steps in without being asked and does whatever needs to be done. (Including putting my toddler down for his nap and showing Twin B. such a grand time!) I’m grateful for good healthcare and health insurance. And in this moment, I’m grateful for the quiet of this hospital room, and the grace that’s been here with us all day. God is good.

you can just make vanilla pudding?

2009-07-20T08:56:00.003-04:00

“What should we have for dessert?” I asked Twin B. His teacher is coming over for dinner tonight, and we were getting ready yesterday afternoon.

“I don’t know,” he said.

I looked in the fridge and saw three baskets of strawberries. “What can we do with these strawberries?”

Then I remembered the pound cake in my freezer downstairs. (Leftover from a 3-pack from Costco’s bakery—delicious and a great deal!)

“Let’s make a trifle!” I said, running down the stairs to get the pound cake. Then I reached into my pantry to grab some vanilla pudding, but couldn’t find any. I checked my overflow pantry in the basement. Nope. I really didn’t want to go to the store, but I also really wanted to make this trifle. I considered going door-to-door, asking neighbors for vanilla pudding when it dawned on me: I can probably just make it.

I googled “homemade vanilla pudding,” and sure enough, dozens of simple recipes popped up.

I quickly gathered the ingredients and got to work. Five minutes later, I was tasting the most amazing vanilla pudding I’ve ever eaten. Seriously. So creamy and delicious, I don’t think I’ll ever buy a little box of pudding again. It was that good, and I swear, so easy to make.

In an age of convenience, I tend to forget that some of the “ready made” products I use are really convenience foods. Truly, I thought of boxed pudding as a “staple” not a “convenience.” But homemade is so much better, less expensive, and uses ingredients I almost always have on hand.

And our trifle? I’m guessing it will be the best we’ve ever had. And I pray Twin B.’s teacher will feel honored and appreciated for all of her hard work last year.

Simple Vanilla Pudding

2/3 cup sugar
4 tbsp cornstarch
3 cups milk
4 egg yolks
2 tbsp butter
2 tsp vanilla extract

In a medium saucepan, mix together the sugar and cornstarch. Gradually add the milk and egg yolks. Stir it until blended and them cook on medium heat stirring constantly until mixture boils. Boil for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and add butter and vanilla. Stir until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap, pressing it right to the top of the pudding to prevent a skin from forming.

Enjoy!

(To make a simple summer trifle, layer pound cake, vanilla pudding, and sliced fruit in a clear bowl. Top with whipped cream, if desired.)

The difference between men and women

2009-07-13T20:38:00.003-04:00

We were at Lowes on Saturday for their kid’s building clinic, and as we walked through the front doors, Llama Papa said, “Oooh, oooh, oooh DeWalt!” In that super guy grunty, drooly way, kind of similar to the way I talk about dessert. Kind of. Anyway, I assumed he was interested in looking at the drill section after helping the noisy boys build their treasure chests.

After the class, I had a question for customer service, so Llama Papa grabbed our three boys and said, “I’m going to check out the DeWalt display.”

“Sure honey!” I waved. A few minutes later, I asked my question and started looking for the rest of my family. They were nowhere to be found.

I circled the store several times. Nope. Nowhere.

Now, I have to say I wasn’t too upset. After all, he had the kids. But I was curious. Where are they? In the bathroom? Plus, the store was entirely too quiet. Usually our toddler acts as a portable homing device everywhere we go. Just follow the screeching, laughing sounds.

Finally, I called his cell phone.

They were outside. At the DeWalt display out in the parking lot. And we laughed because, I swear I am not making this up, I didn’t even notice the semi truck full of power tools that we walked right by on our way into the store.

And that, my friends, is the difference between men and women.

(Or at least between the Llama Momma and the Llama Papa!)

baked ice cream

2009-07-06T09:26:00.017-04:00

Are you a “YES” Mom? Jill Savage issued a challenge for the month of July over on her blog that’s right up my alley. Saying “yes” to our children instead of “no.” (She’s not talking about the absence of boundaries or never saying “no,” but rather, saying “yes” whenever you can.)

When Twin B. saw this book on clearance at Border’s, he went nuts. “Can I buy it, Mom?”

“Sure,” I told him.

“It’s only $1.99. That’s a good price!” He exclaimed.

“It is. And a good value.”

And so we began our summer of science experiments. There was the raw egg that turned into a bouncy ball when submerged in vinegar…for a week.

Twin B. has spent hours pouring over this book, gathering random supplies, and excitedly conducting experiments.

But the one he really wanted to try, more than anything else, was the baked ice cream. At first, I put him off. “I need to make a trip to the store first,” I told him. “We need more vanilla ice cream.” But he persisted. Every few days he’d ask, “Can we try it tonight?” And I would say “Not today.” It just looked like a big mess.

But if you know me at all, you know that I love to foster my children’s imaginations. If it’s not dangerous or unkind, I’m usually fine with it. (I mean, come on, I let a raw egg sit on my kitchen counter for a week, people!)

So, one night, I said “yes.” We worked together to make the meringue. We put the ice cream on top of cookies. (Cheap, Aldi cookies in case the experiment didn’t work. You wouldn’t want to waste a good cookie on a science experiment.) Then we carefully covered the whole thing with meringue and put it in the oven. For an hour. Now, according to the book, the cream of tartar in the meringue acts as a sort of insulation for the ice cream. But an hour? I started to wonder if that’s why the book was on sale. None of the experiments actually work.

We watched through the oven window while the ice cream slowly melted, and cut bait after forty-five minutes.

We laughed and laughed at the craziness of putting ice cream in the oven for an hour…and then enjoyed “real” ice cream sundaes for dessert.

How about you? Are you a "Yes" mom?

Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity

2009-07-03T08:24:00.012-04:00

All week I’ve been blogging about Keri Wyatt Kent’s new book, Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity. I jumped at the chance to review the book because, a) I love free books, and b) I love Keri Wyatt Kent.

I’ve read numerous books on Sabbath and rest, and they’ve all contributed to my desire to observe the Sabbath. Keri’s book stirred the desire again with the reminder that, truly, God designed us to work hard, and then take a day to rest.

Stay-at-home moms, I can hear you clamoring in my head, “But I’ve got four children under the age of six! How can I possibly rest!”

Relax. Take a deep breath. God is not asking you to neglect your kids. But if you’re exhausted, and I know you are, I want you to read this book. If you’re local, I’ll loan it to you.

The thing I love about this book is the complete absence of guilt. I read it cover to cover and have a renewed desire to take my Sabbath observance a bit further—not because I think I should, but because I desire to experience all that God has for me. And it’s not just about the Sabbath—it’s about creating a life of sanity and balance, where we make room for relationships with God and others. We stop in order to connect with the people we love most.

I’m a fickle observer of the Sabbath. We usually attend church in the morning, and take naps in the afternoon, so the rhythm of the day feels different from the average weekday. Sometimes we invite friends over for dinner on Sunday night, and sometimes I go grocery shopping. Ahem. (Notice I said “fickle observer”?)

I’m wondering what it would be like to take this further. To work together to pick up our house early on Saturday, get the grocery shopping done if I need to, whatever needs to get done. To enjoy a leisurely dinner on Saturday night, turn the television off and play a game or go for a bike ride or a walk. Put the kids to bed and just be with my spouse, with no distractions.

Sunday would be for worship, rest, and fun. After church, we have a simple lunch, take our naps (the big kids can watch TV or read), then we enjoy family time together. Maybe we go swimming or biking. Maybe we have friends over. Maybe we play a game.

This sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?

And now I’m asking myself what it requires of me: being willing to work hard on Saturday to make preparations for Sunday, being disciplined to keep the computer off for a full 24-hours, and being fully present to my family. For me, those are the big ones. No doubt the list looks different for you.

One of the things Keri stresses in her book is to simply start somewhere. If you’ve never observed the Sabbath before, maybe just giving yourself permission to leave the laundry and read a book instead is the place to start. Wherever you’re at on your spiritual journey, Keri’s book will encourage and inspire you. It’s like taking a huge breath of crisp, fresh air.

If you’d like to purchase Keri’s book, Rest. A group study guide is included at the back of the book, making this a great “book club” choice!

I’d love to hear from you in the comments section. Do you observe the Sabbath? What has been the greatest reward to you, personally, from this observance? What are the biggest obstacles you face?

Rest on the Lake

2009-07-01T08:40:00.011-04:00

This photo captures a moment between my twin boys and my dad that is precious to me. Watching them ride a paddle boat out to the dock together and just relax in the sun epitomizes vacation in my mind: reconnecting with people we love, having fun, relaxing. And here are three of my favorite people doing all three.

This week, I’m writing about Keri Wyatt Kent’s book, Rest. One of the things she writes about that really resonates with me is the idea that to rest—whether it’s a daily rest, a weekly Sabbath rest, or an extended vacation—is to trust God.

Think about it. When we take a deliberate break from activity in order to reconnect with God and our families and friends, we’re trusting that God can keep on being God while we take a break. We don’t need to keep on consuming and working and checking email and being productive…we can stop. We trust that for today, we have enough.

Do you have a hard time stopping, even on vacation? What can you do ahead of time to make your time away more restful?

downtime

2009-06-29T07:49:00.015-04:00

Mom guilt has plagued me since the beginning of my motherhood journey. Truly. I even feel guilty about feeling guilty.

One thing I’ve stopped feeling guilty about, however, is napping or going to bed early. I’ve learned that in order to do this job day in and day out, I need to take care of myself. Getting enough rest is a big part of that.

With a two-year old in the house, naptime is still a part of our daily routine. At seven-years old, the noisy boys don’t need naps anymore, but taking a break in the afternoon from hard play is still a good thing. So when the toddler goes down for his nap, the rest of us have an hour of “downtime.” Downtime is any quiet activity that you can do by yourself, including napping, reading, working a puzzle, painting a picture…you get the idea.

Instituting “downtime” for all of us this summer has been a win-win. The house is quiet for our napping toddler, and we all feel refreshed after at least an hour of rest.

And, yes, sometimes I’m tempted to plow through the afternoon to get more work done, but I’m learning that for me, in this season of life, this just isn’t wise. Honestly, the days I do that I get less done, not more. I’m learning to pace myself as a mom. It’s not enough to get the floors mopped and the laundry done in the afternoon…I need to be able to make it through the evening—fix supper, get the kids to bed, and—ideally—have some energy left at the end of the day to hang out with my husband.

This week, I’m privileged to participate in a blog tour for Keri Wyatt Kent’s new book, Rest. I’ll be sharing more thoughts later this week, and you can also check out the other bloggers participating in the tour by clicking here.

I don't do many blog tours because, well, this isn't a book review site. But every once in awhile a book comes along that I feel passionately about. Rest is one of them. Plus, I've been following Keri's blog for quite awhile now, and I'm excited to partner with her on her new book!

and the winner is...

2009-06-28T20:58:00.004-04:00

The winner of the book, My Body Belongs to Me, is Much Afraid. I'm glad this book is going to one of my faithful, long-time readers! I hope this book speaks to you, Much Afraid, and to your son...and any other child who is able to read it.

summer survival cooking

2009-06-23T22:17:00.002-04:00

I love spending hot, summer afternoons at our neighborhood swimming pool. Love it. What I don’t love is figuring out what to make for dinner when we walk through the door and everyone is starving!

Summer cooking is all about survival at my house. Here’s what works for me:

Keep raw veggies and dip in the fridge to pull out as soon as you walk in the door. The kids will chow down, and if they spoil their appetite for dinner, who cares? They’re eating vegetables.

Ditto on the fruit. A bowl of washed grapes or sliced apples is easy to pull out for a quick and nutritious snack. (Just toss the apples with a little orange juice to keep them from browning.)

We like to grill. Did you know you can freeze your meat right in the marinade? So, when you find chicken on sale, buy a bunch, whip up a double batch of your favorite marinade, divide it into ziplock bags and freeze the meat right in the marinade. Here’s one of my favorite recipes for chicken and pork:

ZESTY DIJON MARINADE
(Cooking Light, July 1997)

1 cup balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup Dijon mustard
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 garlic cloves, crushed

Combine all ingredients, and stir marinade well. Yield: 1 1/2 cups.

Head over to We are That Family for more great tips!

childhood sexual abuse

2009-06-22T08:53:00.006-04:00

Not a fun topic, I know, but one we as parents need to talk about. We need to talk about it with eachother and we need to talk about it with our children.

In the year 2000, there were 879,000 substantiated reports of child abuse in the United States alone. 10% of those were cases of sexual abuse. (You can see the statistics here: http://www.prevent-abuse-now.com/stats.htm)

And those are just the kids who told. There are many who never do.

When Jill Starishevsky contacted me about her new book, My Body Belongs to Me, I was intrigued. As a mom, it’s not easy to bring up these tough topics with my kids. And I have to say, after reading the book with my kids, I’m impressed.

My Body Belongs to Me is short, simple, and easy enough for a preschooler to understand. Written for children ages 3-10, it explains in a straightforward and appropriate way what sexual abuse is, and how children can protect themselves. (In the story, a girl is touched inappropriately by a family friend, and she yells and tells her parents right away.)

Incidentally, one of my boys commented, “Well, you can’t always yell.” I asked why not, and he said, “You’re not allowed to yell at school.” We’ve had this conversation before, but we needed to have it again. The you-can-break-all-the-rules-to-protect-yourself conversation. You can yell, scream, kick, hit—whatever you need to do to get away from someone who is trying to hurt you, even if that person is a grown up that you’ve been told to obey.

The author of the book, Jill Starishevsky, is a prosecutor of child abuse and sex crimes in New York City. The case of a 9-year old girl who had been raped by her stepfather over a three-year period of time compelled her to write this book. Jill writes:

“One day, the girl saw an episode of ‘The Oprah Winfrey Show’ about children who were physically abused. The episode, ‘Tortured Children,’ empowered the girl with this simple message: If you are being abused, tell your parents. If you can’t tell your parents, go to school and tell your teacher. The girl got the message and the very next day went to school and told her teacher. I prosecuted the case for the District Attorney’s office. The defendant was convicted and is now serving a lengthy prison sentence.”

I don’t know about you, but thinking about a child enduring this kind of nightmare rips me up. I want to be the kind of adult that children can trust—my own kids and the other kids who are in our lives.

So parents? Talk to your kids about the tough stuff. Open the lines of communication and keep them open. Listen well. Our children need us.

And now I’d like to give away this book that Jill so graciously sent me. So leave me a comment and on June 29, I’ll pick a winner at random!

And if you’d like to order a copy of Jill’s book, click here.

writing retreat

2009-06-20T11:17:00.006-04:00

Four years ago, I attended a writer’s retreat that was so much more than a writer’s retreat. It was a vibrant community of writers who had been encouraging and supporting eachother for years.

The Writing Academy offers online writing classes, critique groups and an annual weekend retreat. If you’re a writer in need of community, I can’t recommend this group enough. Whether you’re a seasoned author with numerous publications or a newbie just starting out, you will find encouragement in this group.

I’m excited to have the opportunity to attend the writer’s weekend again this summer, and want to encourage you to sign up if you can. It’s affordable, it’s beautiful, and it will breathe life into your writing journey. (And if you’re a local, we can carpool!)

So, who wants to join me?

disappointment

2009-06-17T13:49:00.001-04:00

How do you deal with disappointment? I have to confess, my first reaction is usually to pull the covers over my head and just hide. Or eat chocolate. Or both.

As many of you know, my husband, Llama Papa, has been looking for a job since last fall. He’s had some great leads and some great interviews, but no offers. Yesterday, he found out he didn’t get a job he really wanted.

Which sucks.

Financially, we’re in good shape. God has been abundantly gracious to us, which we’re beyond grateful for. But still. It’s disappointing to not be able to find a job.

Beyond disappointing.

So if you think of us, say a prayer that the right job would come along for one of us. And if you’re looking for a great IT guy or a snarky writer, drop me a line.

dry roasted edamame

2009-06-08T11:26:00.005-04:00

Leaving 7-year olds in charge of the toddler while I take a shower can work out pretty well. Or not.

Technically, they didn't break any rules.

Technically.

Some days, all you can do is laugh, take a picture, and move on.

Today is turning into one of those days.

When I asked the toddler what he was doing, he told me he was making a pie for his aunt. Such a thoughtful boy.

I scream, you scream...

2009-06-03T14:56:00.002-04:00

Today was our last day of school, and we’re living it up over here at the Llama household. Each of the boys invited a friend over to play, and they had a blast playing kickball, having relay races, and making ice cream in ziplock bags.

That’s right.

Ice cream in ziplock bags.

Curious? Here’s the recipe:

Ingredients:

1/2 cup milk or half-and-half
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoons sugar (or to taste)
6 tablespoons rock salt

Preparation:

Put cream, vanilla and sugar into a pint or quart-sized freezer bag. Seal well.

Fill a large, gallon-sized freezer bag with ice. Add the salt.

Put the smaller bag into the larger bag and seal.

Shake and mix until the ice cream thickens, about 10 minutes. You can also let the kids gently throw the bag back and forth to help mix the ice cream. The bag gets very cold, so you might want to use towels to hold it.

Makes 1 serving.

We are that Family is hosting a carnival of ideas, so click here to read more fun summer boredom busters!

booger soup

2009-05-31T13:24:00.004-04:00

I love having boys. Talk about keeping it real. I’ve been consulting with a nutritionist to help me improve my own diet—and consequentially, my whole families’ diet—and one of her suggestions was to use barley in soups instead of noodles. The consistency is similar, and it just takes on the flavor of whatever it’s in. So a few weeks ago, instead of chicken noodle soup, I made chicken barley soup.

The toddler immediately exclaimed, “There’s boogers in my soup!” (Incidentally, it didn’t slow the boys down at all. Turns out they love booger soup.)

Today before church I started this recipe in the crock pot. It was ready when we walked in the door, and I served it with wheat thins and a bowl of grapes. Zonya calls it Beef Barley Soup, but here at the Llama household it’s “Simple Sunday Afternoon Booger Soup.”

(I made a few changes to the recipe. I didn't have celery or peppers, so I used 3 cups of carrots. Oh, and I ran out of basil, so I used Italian seasoning. I bought the barley at Trader Joe's and everything else at Aldi.)

You can find this super easy recipe here. Nobody has to know it's healthy. Truly. This soup is delicious!

not my final answer

2009-05-27T20:14:00.005-04:00

What a day.

I babysat for a friend this morning, so I had the toddler and an eleven-month old. The toddler was so excited when she came over, exclaiming, “Can we keep her?” By lunch he changed his tune. “I don’t like her.” Nice. And I don’t like you, buddy. (I’m kidding. Sort of. Don’t send me hate mail.)

Holy cow, I’m tired.

A few days ago, my friend, Em, asked a question on facebook. When do you clean? Or something like that. We all chimed in with our schedules and routines, but this woman has an almost three-year old and a six month old. Honestly. I wonder now, was she really asking us, how the hell do you ever do anything?

Because that’s how I felt today. Like I couldn’t even pee, let alone sweep the floor.

Things got really interesting when I tried to put the baby down for her morning nap. I was rocking her and just as she dozed off, the Toddler ran up the stairs and yelled, “Can I get myself a drink?”

“Sure.”

The baby’s eyes popped open.

A few minutes later, the same thing happened.

“Can I have a snack?”

“Yes. You can have a snack.”

The baby was wide awake. I finally gave up on the whole nap thing and we came back downstairs. And found this.

That would be a leftover baked potato. What a great snack, don’t you think? I mean, why go for the apples on the counter or the actual snack box in the pantry when you can have a cold, leftover baked potato?

And the drink? Don’t take the sippy cup of milk in the side door of the fridge. Go ahead and pour blue kool-aid all over the floor.

Perfect.

So, Em? I’m officially changing my answer to your question in light of the day I had today. When I had two very small children in my house, as I did today, I didn’t get much cleaning done. I just did the best I could every day, and that was that.

When the baby’s mom came to pick her up this afternoon, I breathed a sigh of relief. She’s still alive and in one piece and on her way home. And then I remembered my own motto, or shall we say goal, when the twins were small:

Everyone alive at the end of the day.

Sometimes that’s good enough.

potty training

2009-05-20T16:37:00.003-04:00

Gulp.

A week ago today, the toddler got up and asked, “Can I wear undies and use my little potty today?"

And I said, um, “SURE!”

It’s been three steps forward, two steps back, but all in all he’s doing great. And today? Today he pooped on the potty.

I know. It’s TMI. But at my house we’re throwing a party! Well, not really, but we are doing a lot of dancing and clapping. Stop by and we’ll teach you the “potty dance.”

Good times. I can’t believe my “baby” is using the potty. And for the record? Potty training one at a time is a lot easier than two at a time. (At least it has been at my house.)

WOO-HOO!!!

breakfast cookies and shakes

2009-05-12T09:18:00.004-04:00

I just gave the kids cookies and shakes for breakfast, and was glad to see them gobble them up. That’s because the cookies were packed with nutritious whole grains and nuts, and the shakes were actually smoothies loaded with fresh fruit and yogurt.

And my kids think I’m the coolest mom in the world.

The smoothies were simple: frozen mangoes, vanilla yogurt, and a little bit of orange juice. Often I use frozen fruit from Trader Joe’s for smoothies--the three berry blend is awesome--but I’ve also taken to freezing my own. Overripe bananas are a great addition to smoothies. Just throw them in your freezer—peel and all—and whip them up with other fruit. (Take the peel off before you put it in the blender.) Have a handful of strawberries leftover from dessert last night? Throw them in the freezer. Overripe pineapple or papaya? Throw them in the freezer. You get the idea.

I found the mangoes on the “clearance” shelf yesterday—four overripe mangoes for a dollar. What a bargain! I chopped them up, put them in my freezer, and was ready to roll this morning. Poke around the produce section of your grocery store for these deals, and if you don’t see a bargain shelf, ask. I’ve bought beautiful, ripe and ready-to-eat fruit for a song, and most grocery stores are thrilled to sell it to you.

You can find the cookie recipe here: Zonya’s Breakfast Cookies.

Don’t let the oat bran and ground flax seed scare you. You can find them in the bulk section of many grocery stores, or in the baking aisle. They may seem expensive at first, but a little goes a long way. Whole grains are so important, and most of us don’t eat nearly enough of them. I made up a huge batch of these cookies a few weeks ago and keep them in the freezer. I pulled a dozen out last night for our breakfast this morning.

And voila. Breakfast is served!

Nutritious. Kid friendly. Economical.

Three of my favorite things.

naked and unashamed

2009-05-09T10:50:00.003-04:00

According to my husband, a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast can fix just about anything. Well, not really, but it can give a person the needed perspective to simply deal with what is.

After a great night’s sleep in my quiet hotel room and a hot breakfast prepared by someone else, I enjoy a leisurely morning of writing, reading and email.

Then as I get ready to climb into the shower, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. (For the record, there are good reasons I don’t have a very large mirror in my bathroom.) As I climb into the shower, I begin to beat myself up. You really need to tone up that flab, lose some weight. And where did those wrinkles around your eyes come from? Is there cream for that? You should pay more attention to these things.

And then I hear myself and stop. Because, really, why do I need to beat myself up when I’m on a desperately needed getaway? What does God want for me today? Surely He’s not looking down at me thinking, “Wow. She’d be great if only she’d drop a few pounds and work out more.”

How can I see myself the way God sees me? Can I see the woman in the mirror, in need of rest, and just curl up and take a nap? Can I see the wrinkles around my eyes with gratitude, for the years and laughter He’s blessed me with? Can I see my chipped nails and chapped hands and acknowledge my own hard work caring for my family each day? Can I look at a body that has had the privilege of hosting life, and respect myself for that sacrifice? Can I see a woman who nurtures her children day in and day out, remembering all that I do, not all that I don’t do?

I stand in the shower and let the water wash over me. I remember grace, and breathe a prayer of thanks. Yes. Grace. It’s the only way I can stand before God. The only way any of us can stand.

How does God see you today? How do you see yourself?

Mother's Day gifts

2009-05-04T19:31:00.003-04:00

Okay ladies, this post is for the guys. So feel free to leave your browser open for your husband (or sons) to read.

Last year, I posted about mother’s day gifts and got such a great response, I thought I’d do it again. (You can read last year’s ideas here.

So if you’re anything like my husband, the Llama Papa, you really want to do something special for your wife for mother’s day to show her how much you appreciate her. You want to make her happy…you’re just not sure how. Maybe money is tight. Maybe you have no time between now and Sunday. Maybe you’re trying to figure out how to juggle honoring your wife and honoring your mom, and you’re not sure how you’ll fit it all in.

My first suggestion? Ask her. Tell her you want to celebrate her as a mom and ask what would be meaningful to her. And ladies? Tell him. The truth. (If it helps, I told Llama Papa I wanted to be completely alone for two days to celebrate mother’s day. So I’m heading to a local hotel on Friday…home in time for a large family celebration on Sunday.)

Now, I want you to think about your wife (or mom). What does she love to do? Shop? Talk with her girlfriends? Read? Garden? Now, given your particular circumstances of time and money, how can you make that happen for her?

With so many families on tight budgets this year, let me suggest a few low-cost ways to celebrate the moms in your life. (Because, let’s face it, if you can afford nice jewelry and days at the spa, you don’t really need to read this. Go. Now. Book the spa! Buy the jewelry!)

Maybe this is the first year you can’t afford to buy your wife a fancy gift and you feel crummy about it. Trust me. The fancy is optional. Do something thoughtful just for her and she will be thrilled.

For book lovers, give her a book she’s been wanting and a gift card to a coffee shop…plus a day “off.” Maybe Saturday can be her afternoon, if you have family obligations on Sunday.

If she’s nursing and can’t leave the baby, or doesn’t want to, spend some time tidying up the bedroom and tell her you’ll take care of everything for an entire day. Manage the children and household and let her just lounge around her bedroom (with the door closed) and read magazines or nap. Bring the baby to her when it’s time to nurse. Tell her how much she means to you. Bring her meals on fancy dishes with a flower from the garden. Let your children see you honoring their mother for her hard work.

If she likes to shop at garage sales, give her a card with $20 in small bills, the newspaper ads (or if you want to be fancy, a google map of garage sales you know she’d enjoy), and an entire Saturday morning to shop. (By herself or with a friend.)

Does she love to hang out with girlfriends? Give her a gift card to a restaurant you know she likes and send her out for lunch with a friend. Or coffee. Or a movie. Really, just give her time and your blessing to hang out with the girls. (This can work out as a "double" gift if you contact her friend's husband and organize it together.)

Weather permitting, skip the restaurants on Sunday and pack a picnic. This is great with little kids. Find a fun park, eat lunch and let the kids play. It’s way less stressful than eating out on a busy day, and you might actually fit in some adult conversation.

Whatever you decide to do, make sure you tell her what you appreciate about her. A mother’s work really is never done, and a kind word can go a long way in encouraging her.

Now, women, one more reminder: don’t make him guess. Tell him exactly what you’d like to do for mother’s day—maybe you want breakfast in bed, or flowers—tell him that. Would I have liked my husband to surprise me next weekend with a “weekend away” to write at a local hotel? Sure. Would it ever have happened if I didn’t actually TELL him this is what I wanted? Probably not. Not because he isn’t fantastic, but because he isn’t a mind reader.

I’d love to hear more suggestions in the comments…what is YOUR ideal mother’s day celebration?

boundaries

2009-04-29T07:19:00.001-04:00

Cars whip past us as we walk to school. Slow down. This is our neighborhood and our children are trying to walk to school, I think. Ever since construction started at a major intersection near our home, people have been taking a shortcut through our neighborhood to avoid the mess.

The unmarked police car comes out of nowhere, lights flashing. As if by magic, the cars slow down.

If I was driving the car that got pulled over, I’d be bummed, thinking, Why should I get a ticket? Everyone is speeding! Getting caught is never fun. And yet the boundaries are there for a reason. In this case, the boundaries protect my children.

How often do I rail against the boundaries, without ever considering why the boundary is there? Not to ruin our fun or stifle our creativity… but to protect.

isn't that the way?

2009-04-20T10:49:00.003-04:00

My basement is one big pile today. We’re getting ready for a garage sale with friends this weekend, and using the opportunity to really clear things out. Not only baby toys, but toddler toys too. (Our toddler doesn’t need two sit-and-spins, two rocking chairs…the list goes on.)

And you can guess what the toddler is doing right now as I write this: playing in the basement.

All of the toys he hasn’t looked at for a year seem oh so exciting now that they’re in the garage sale pile.

I can relate. It’s hard to let go of the stuff of life, even when I know I don’t need it. I don’t tend to hold onto things as much as I do emotions. It’s hard to let go of those, even when they hurt me and the people around me. Anger, grudges, even sadness sometimes feel like a warm security blanket. But I know that in order to make room for emotions like joy and contentment, I need to let go of some of the other stuff.

And like the big pile of stuff sitting in my basement, I know I won’t miss it when it’s gone.

teen readers?

2009-04-13T22:07:00.003-04:00

Anybody know any teenagers who would be willing to read the first few chapters of a young adult novel and give me their honest feedback on it?

It's about teen pregnancy, targeting young women ages 16-20. If you know anyone in that age range who likes to read, leave me a comment with your email address.

(And if you're the mom of a teenager and would like to read it, leave me a comment too. I'd love your feedback as well!)

Jesus and the Easter Bunny

2009-04-08T13:56:00.001-04:00

Me: We need to get ready for our party on Sunday.

The Toddler: Party my house?

Me: Yes, we’re having a party at our house with our friends for Easter.

The Toddler: Yay! Jesus!

Me: (Thrilled that my toddler is making this connection between Jesus and Easter. Must be the deeply spiritual home he’s being raised in.) Yes! Easter is all about Jesus being alive!

The Toddler: Yes. Jesus. Alive. Church. CANDY! Easter bunny come my church bring CANDY!

Me: The Easter bunny is coming to church?

The Toddler: Yes. Bringing candy after lunch. Jesus comes too.

Allrighty then. Nothing like lunch with Jesus and the Easter Bunny. I can hardly wait.

lost in translation

2009-04-05T10:29:00.004-04:00

A Brit, and Aussie, and an American walk into a bar…well, not really, but it sounds clever, doesn’t it?

Actually, I just flew in to the Brit's house for the weekend to catch up with my friend who's visiting from Australia for a few weeks.

When I first met D, my Aussie friend, back when we lived in California, I realized that even though we technically speak the same language, communication is not always straightforward.

One time she left a message on my answering machine, “Hey! Do you mind bringing supper for the group tomorrow night?” I listened to the message and thought, “Well, she has some nerve…asking me to bring supper for the entire group!” (We were in a bible study group together that met at her house.)

When I called her, I asked what she had in mind—spaghetti maybe?

“Nah, just a packet of cookies or something.”

Of course. Supper. A light snack.

And so we learned to overcommunicate everything to avoid misunderstanding.

I found myself chuckling yesterday at all of the ways we clash cultures. The Brit has a teenage daughter who asked for a “ham toasty” for lunch. I expected some kind of grilled cheese sandwich, or at least, ham. Nope. It was two pieces of toast with some turkey in the middle. A ham toasty.

Last night we had the loveliest curry for dinner--er, tea--and I noticed everyone used their knifes except me. For curry over rice. How they put up with this barbaric American, i'll never know. But I'm glad they do. My life is richer for knowing them.

Now, I’m off to the coffee shop to get my morning caffeine fix. Not that I don’t enjoy a cup of instant coffee now and then, but, well, um. Right. I’ll be back.

move back four

2009-03-29T18:43:00.002-04:00

Sorry. This is one of Twin B’s favorite games. Yesterday while Llama Papa took the toddler and Twin A to the park, Twin B opted to hang out at home and we settled in for some quality game time. Twin B will be quick to tell you that Sorry is mostly a game of luck, not skill, but still—nobody likes to lose. And about halfway through the game, Twin B. was losing badly.

Just when he would start to pull ahead, get some guys out of start, he would fall behind again. I would get a Sorry card, or trade places with one of his guys, putting him back where he started. And then came the true bad luck—the move back four card. This is a great card to get when you’ve just let your guy out of start, but a real bummer when you’re halfway around the board.

And Twin B. got six in a row.

When he drew the last one, he exclaimed, “Oh, man! Are you kidding me?” And then he flashed his toothless, first grader smile, threw his head back and laughed.

I laughed with him, and we both shook our heads at his rotten luck.

It’s just a game, but I’m glad he can laugh when things aren’t going his way. Sometimes life keeps giving you one Move Back Four card after another, and what else can you do?

Have a good laugh and keep moving.

shopping and toddlers

2009-03-24T17:45:00.001-04:00

It’s like pickles and peanut butter—they’re both great, but they just don’t go together very well. Now, usually the toddler is a good sport, and we have a nice time shopping.

Today was not one of those days.

He didn’t take his nap, which happens now and then. (Especially since he needs to nap early, so he’s up in time to walk the noisy boys home from school.) The plan was to have a snack, do homework, and head to the shoe store. (Buy one, get one half off!)

This is usually a fairly simple process. Measure feet. Pick out shoes. Try shoes on. Buy shoes.

Not today.

Today it was, “pull shoes out of the box and try them on without even checking the size because Mom is totally busy chasing our wild maniac toddler brother around the store to keep him from destroying things.”

Yeah. One of those.

I declared defeat after about twenty minutes, and we headed to the van. “We’ll have to come back later, guys. Without your little brother.”

About halfway home it sunk in, and Twin A. said, “You mean all of that was for nothing?”

“Yup,” I confirmed.

“Oh, come on!” He moaned.

I couldn’t agree more. Now on to the dinner hour. Always an adventure!

big mac attack

2009-03-16T07:55:00.002-04:00

I saw my first Bulls game on Saturday night. I’m not a huge sports fan (and by huge I mean not at all unless it’s MY kid playing), but it was fun.

We went with friends from Intervaristy. They received a donation of fifty tickets to the game by a generous donor who wanted them to be able to connect with supporters in a unique way, and we enjoyed hanging out and doing something we wouldn’t normally do. ($46 for EACH TICKET? REALLY?)

The crowd was jazzed. (And by jazzed I mean they could have been a little bit quieter so I could talk to the woman sitting beside me without shouting.)

The whole night was fun, until the end. The Bulls won the game 97-79 against the Hornets. Which is great, right? Except we all had these cards in our hands that said if the Bulls won by 100 points, we could exchange our card for a free Big Mac. So as the clock ran out, people started chanting, “Big Macs! Big Macs!” And then this poor guy (who probably makes quite a lot of money) took a shot and MISSED, and as the clock ran out, the crowd booed. Loudly.

And I thought, didn’t their mothers teach them anything?

Is this what America has become? Our team wins and we boo because we don’t get a free Big Mac?

Cantaloupe

2009-03-05T07:21:00.002-05:00

The toddler and I went grocery shopping on Monday. He loves cantaloupe, so I was thrilled that they were on sale for only $1.79 each. As soon as I put it in the cart, he started asking, “CANLOPE NOW?

Cantaloupe isn’t really a good “shopping snack,” so I explained that we’d have to eat it at home—after it ripened.

After we got home and unloaded the groceries, he went into full meltdown mode. “CANLOPE NOW! CANLOPE READY NOW!”

But it wasn’t ready. It needed to ripen. I tried to explain that the cantaloupe would be yucky if we ate it now, but he kept insisting, “NO! FINE!”

Toddlers and waiting patiently don’t go together very well.

I can relate. I hate waiting. We’re in a season of waiting right now, and it’s driving me up a wall. And yet God knows what’s best for us. He knows what we need, and He knows when we need it.

(Incidentally, the next morning Llama Papa fed the kids breakfast and sliced into the cantaloupe, much to the toddlers delight. When I walked into the kitchen he smiled and said, “CANLOPE NOW! DADDY SAID YES!” He ate almost the whole thing.)

balance

2009-02-20T12:37:00.003-05:00

Anyone know where to find it?

Between three kids, a husband engaged in a job search, writing a novel, and trying to be a halfway decent friend to the people who hang with me in real life, (Hi Dianne! Hi Dana!) I can't seem to keep up with my blog.

I'm still writing, though. I'm working my way through the young adult novel I wrote in November, and joined a critique group to help with the editing process. I officially hate my novel now, but everyone else seems to think it has potential, so I'm sticking with it.

Like everyone else in the Midwest, I'm tired of winter and ready for spring. We're expecting another big snow this weekend, so a few more trips down the sled hill are definitely on the agenda.

And hot chocolate. That's on the agenda too.

elbow envy

2009-02-09T17:51:00.001-05:00

This story is just too good not to blog about, but in an effort to thwart any attention from naughty google searches, let’s just rename that special part that only boys have—yes, that one—and call it, oh, an elbow. Hang with me here.

A couple of weeks ago, the toddler was sitting on the potty, and Twin B. was cheering him on. “Look at you! You’re such a big boy, going pee-pee on the potty!”

“Elbow!” The toddler said, pointing at his, um, elbow.

“Yeah, that’s your elbow,” Twin B. said.

“MY elbow.”

“Yes, that’s YOUR elbow. I have an elbow too. And Twin A. has an elbow, and Daddy has an elbow…” his voice trailed off and he whispered, “Mommy doesn’t have an elbow, but we don’t talk about that. It might hurt her feelings.”

Nice try...

2009-02-07T13:14:00.005-05:00

"Hey!" I said to the noisy boys this morning, on the way to their basketball game. "I'm going to stop by the library today and see if we can borrow the CARS movie for family fun tonight."

"Awesome!" Twin A. said.

The noisy boys saw the movie in the theater when it came out and loved it, but haven't watched it since, and our toddler has never seen it, but loves the character "Mater." He will go nuts over the actual movie.

"B. will love it, don't you think?" I asked the noisy boys.

"Totally," Twin B. said, "And if they don't have Cars, why don't you pick up Batman instead?"

Right. Because that's a totally even exchange. Cars. (Rated G) Batman. (Rated PG-13)

Nice try, boys!

(Lucky for us, they had Cars. I love our library!!!)

let the good times roll!

2009-02-03T16:46:00.005-05:00

We know how to party here at the llama household. Or at least the toddler does...

(Those would be sprinkles. All. Over. The. Floor. If you need me, I'll be sweeping. Until sometime next week...)

for my writing friends...

2009-01-28T16:20:00.003-05:00

I have a guest blog post up at the Writing Academy blog.

I went to a writer's retreat sponsored by the Writing Academy a few years ago. (2005 maybe?) The members I met there are some of the finest writers I know, and they continue to encourage me on my own writing journey.

If you're looking for a great faith-based writing group, check them out!

You put what, where?

2009-01-28T09:48:00.003-05:00

Winter in the Midwest is harsh on the skin—especially the hands! After a recent round of a nasty cold and flu virus, I found myself with chapped and bleeding hands from washing them so often.

It was just before bedtime, and I couldn’t find my favorite hand cream. (The good, expensive stuff that actually works.) So I grabbed what was handy: Diaper rash cream.

We’ve used Paladin cream since our twins were born seven years ago, and love it. It’s thick and when the babies had a rash, it went away quickly with a thick layer of this stuff.

So I tried it on my hands overnight. And sure enough—in the morning, my hands were soft again!

It sounds strange, I know. But diaper rash cream on my hands in the winter is what Works for Me! Now head over to Shannon’s for more great tips!

humbling

2009-01-22T11:57:00.004-05:00

I enjoy cooking. Multigrain waffles from scratch, homemade granola, Alton Brown buttermilk pancakes… the noisy boys know good food when they taste it.

Last week they went grocery shopping with me, and begged me to buy these. (It was Aldi, so hey, at least they were cheap.)

(Note -- ours didn't have the chocolate chips, though I'm sure that would have made a lovely addition to an already oh so nutritious breakfast!)

Last Monday I made them for the first time. Just unwrap, heat in the microwave for a minute, and voila. Breakfast on a stick.

Twin B. exclaimed, “This is the best breakfast you’ve EVER made!”

Twin A. agreed. "Yeah, this is a HIT, Mom. Put this on the 'family favorites' list."

And the toddler? He was too busy scarfing his down to say much of anything.

Alrighty then. It's good to know where I stand!

Wait! I know the answer to this one...

2009-01-18T20:22:00.003-05:00

The noisy boys are growing up fast, and their questions don't always have simple answers. Can they invite so-and-so over to play? What should they do when someone says a bad word at school? What if someone is mean to them, or to one of their best friends?

Behavior that is clearly black and white in early childhood takes on grayish tones as they mature and grapple with relationships and making good choices.

But I'm happy to report that tonight, Twin A's question was easy to answer:

"Mom?" he asked.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"Can we cut a hole in the wall of the basement?" He asked.
"No," I said.

Yup. No problem.

Don't you just love it when it really is black and white? So easy.

I take it back

2009-01-15T09:13:00.003-05:00

Wait.

Who was that upbeat woman who posted yesterday and said she was enjoying winter in Chicagoland?

Doesn't she realize it's -20 degrees outside?

Um. Yeah. Everything I said yesterday? I take it back.

I'm cold, people.

enjoying winter

2009-01-14T09:42:00.001-05:00

It sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it? Enjoying. Winter.

Yesterday I was walking the noisy boys to school, pushing the toddler’s turbo jogging stroller through a snow drift, and I had a sudden realization: I don’t hate this. In fact, I kind of enjoy bundling up and walking to school every day.

I’m a California girl at heart, and let me tell you, I hate being cold. I used to wear a coat in fifty-degree weather and stay in because it was, well, raining.

The first few years after moving from the Bay Area of California to the tundra that is the Chicago suberbs, I used to regularly think, “Why did we come here?” It was just so cold, and the memory of California’s sunshine was still too fresh.

Now I walk my kids to school when it’s three degrees.

And I like it.

Who would have thought?