Okay, so here's the real deal people. This blog is suffering. You know it and I know it. It's downright pathetic.

The problem is this: when you decide to be more accountable for your time, you end up, well, being more accountable for your time. yep. In the past, something funny, bizarre, or interesting happened in our lives and I willingly and happily blew off my children's care, supervision, education, and occasionally even their need to eat to share it with you. I was happy...you were happy...the kids were poorly attended, ignorant, and hungry but otherwise happy. ;-)

Now that Tim is here and we're back to homeschooling the medium-sized members of the crew while chasing down the wee partners in destruction and death-defying stunts, in addition to the neighborhood ministry, it's so much harder to blow hours on end staring at this computer. In some ways, this is a good thing. In other ways -it stinks. I don't get to keep you all up to date with the minutiae of daily life, I'm probably losing wonderful memories of the kids, having no written record of them now, and I rarely get to Skype with one of my best friends on the planet. (I love you, Chris!)

Maybe just maybe, some day I'll find a perfect balance for all of this but in the meantime I'll have to do the best I can and lean heavily upon the gracious and forgiving nature of my reading audience. =)

Here are a few moments that I've wanted to catch you up on:

Halloween Party 2009! We had a great time with lots of food, tons of candy (thanks to all who donated), crazy karaoke, and Monsters, Inc played on a big screen outside.

Melissa in her Pippi Longstockings costume.

Mamoune and Mia in their 80's punk get-ups.

And here's Tim is his ever so creative costume of himself. Party-pooper.

Yet, despite his lack of participation in our fall festivities, the boy built me an amazing potting bench out of a door and an old beam we dragged off the side of the road. Oh yes, skill and resourcefulness! It makes me proud.

And lastly for this long overdue post -a moment compliments of Bella. She's been potty-training herself for awhile now but was recently suffering from a back up in the system. While enjoying some quality time sitting in front of the toilet waiting for her "movement" this conversation ensued:

Me: Poor baby, I can hear the gas rumbling around in your tummy.

Bella: Dat's not gas. It's pwably the monkey in my tummy.

Me: uh, you have a monkey in your tummy?

Bella: yep.

Me: Okay, well what does he do in there?

Bella: Sometimes he eats my breakfast but he just had a snack so pwably he's doing nothing.

Goofy kid. But on the bright side, next time your feeling a little gassy, you can just blame it on the monkey in your tummy.

Aged to Perfection

During homeschool yesterday, I was doodling on my dry erase board (not a very good example to the kids, I know). Nathan asked me draw him so I did:

It made him happy. Then I did this and we all got a good laugh. Now we know just how he'll look if he really takes after his father. =)

Going Green

Tim here, making a cameo appearance on the blog:

Human beings got their start in a Garden, and the Bible's narrative tells the story of God's work to return us back to fellowship with Him in a new creation. There's a lot of theology in a garden, and maybe I'll write about that some day, but for now here are some pictures of what God's growing in our backyard:

I enjoyed this beautful head of broccoli in my salad today!

Looking forward to cabbage, and collard greens, too.

And turnips are on the way...

Compost: next year's fertilizer! Yum, yum...

We use the garden to supplement our food, teach us dependence on God, and teach the kids in the neighborhood about creation stewardship. The most annoying thing about the garden is when Mama Hazel (91 year-old who lives behind us) yells across the yard, "Amie's garden sure does look good!" (Amie has yet to pick and squash a cabbage worm between her fingers, which is the official initiation to green living).

Peeps on Parade

I want, I want, I want!

(maybe he just wants his other shoe)

As big as he is, we're still hoping he grows into those teeth. ;-)

Cutie patootie

Chubby cheeks, luscious lips, and chocolate eyes.

He should qualify as a candy bar - sweet.

She was torn between posing for the picture

and watching for spiders.

I love this and it makes me sad at the same time.

Goofiness personified.

Movie of the Week King

That was the exact title as it appeared in our little channel info box at the top of the screen. I kept thinking "King" what? The kids were just annoyed that whatever the title, it was preempting America's Funniest Home Videos. After they went to bed, I flipped back to that channel. I watched long enough this time to realize it was King Kong --the updated version. I was hooked.

You see, I remember the days when like "The Wizard of Oz" certain movies were only aired once or twice a year. King Kong was one of those special airings we were allowed to stay up and watch. Of course, the old black and white version was not nearly as gross as the newer one. Tim is forever traumatized by over sized, head-sucking, grub creatures.

I snuggled up to my sweet hubby and mused, "If I ever become the love object of an unnaturally huge gorilla, will you risk your life to save me?" He assures me he will. He's very good to me.

As the movie ended and the mighty Kong fell from his death perch atop the Empire State Building, I sighed, "At least I didn't cry this time." Tim shot me an incredulous look. It's true. I was a soft-hearted animal lover as a child. I knew that if some genetically altered beast attacked our small suburb, I alone would be capable of soothing the savage beast. I knew Ann Darrow's pain.

20 years later and five kids, I'm afraid to say that a love-sick monster roaming the streets and randomly throwing people to their deaths has less sentimental pull as it once did. I would more likely be one of the B-52 pilots than the ditsy, species-confused blond teetering off the edge of the tower. Call it cynicism, call it realism. Mostly, call it a relief to my husband who still can't believe I ever cried over such a stupid movie.

"How did he get to be so big anyway?" Tim asked.

"I think he was flushed down the toilet as a baby and lived off of radio-active waste in the sewers of New York city. Or maybe that was another stupid movie." =)

"And Justice for All"

You're familiar with the adage "two wrongs don't make a right." We've said it to our kids and I believe it's true...mostly. But since none of my kids bother reading this blog I feel safe in admitting to you that, despite its truth; that second wrong---sometimes feels really right! For example...

I do my grocery shopping at the same place, at more or less the same time, with the same basic list every single week. Which means that I look at the prices of those same items every single week. I know when something goes up or down by even a few cents. I also, have a reasonable understanding of marketing. I get that the cheap, no-name brands are gonna be on the most annoying shelves while the high-priced Tommy Hilfiger's of pantry staples will be at eye-level and easily within reach. Whatever. I'm not opposed to squatting or stretching to meet my budget needs. However, I am against blatant false advertisement. It bugs me. It irritates me. It assaults my sense of "liberty and justice for all" dog-gone-it! And sometimes when you reach this level of indignation, you are tempted to take the law into your own hands; to commit another wrong. I know.

It. happened. to. me.

For weeks, months even, I've noticed that the particular establishment wherein I do my shopping, which shall remain nameless, at least until the heat is off; places various "sale" tags through out the store. Nothing wrong with that, you're thinking. Agreed. As I've shared with you, I buy recycled toilet paper (shiver). The particular brand that we use costs $2.78 for a "big roll-4 pack." It has been at that price for the duration of the time I've purchased it. Months. But suddenly, there is a colorful, attention-grabbing, sales tag sticking out of the shelf stocked with recycled toilet paper that reads: "WAS $2.98, NOW $2.78!! You save .20!" Huh?

As I walk up and down each aisle I see tags like this one. Gerber baby food jars have always been .68. I know, because I've been buying them for almost two uninterrupted years. They were never 88 cents! I am not saving 20 cents. All over the store, I find that I am surrounded by lies. BOLD FACE (type set) LIES!!! Shameless deception geared to manipulate the naive shopper into spending unnecessary money in the name of savings. Innocent, God-fearing people being taken advantage of by "the man!"

There is only one thing to do.

I look to my right. All clear. I look to my left. No witnesses. I consider looking up to discern the location of the nearest security camera. But it could be just above me which would offer a direct shot of my face; that never turns out well for those of us forced into the life of a criminal avenger. I reach into my purse and fish for a weapon. I withdraw...a #2 pencil. Drat! I was hoping for a ball-point pen. It'll have to do. With the speed and precision of a cobra, I scratch the words "NOT TRUE" on the sales tag. Oh yes, in all caps!

sigh. I think I made my point. And now that they know what they're up against, I expect coorporate headquarters will repent and resolve to only offer truth in advertising any day now.

Your welcome. =)

Insanity

Tim requested that I post this. I had no intention of doing so. I am complying for his amusement. I've been reading a lot lately and that has a tendency to stir my inner writer. Problem is my inner-wanna-be-writer is sometimes sorely lacking in material. The following is an exact copy of a very embarrassing moment:

"I need to write. I'm not sure why. I don't know what there is to stay. Stay?! SAY! I certainly don't know why I am writing if I can't even spell. Silly. And yet I am compelled to sit here, pen and paper in hand, and dribble on in senseless words; which only further proves my point --I have nothing to write.

Strange though. It feels good to put the pen to the page. The motion of the letters and the flow of words is soothing. Weird. Maybe this is my therapy. Maybe I have something to say but don't know it yet. What if the pen figures out the message before I do? Goofy.

So far, I've manage half a page of absurdity and self-deprecation. Where is the therapy in that?

I think I am insane. Fortunately, I now have a written record of it."


I would just like to point out, that this was a brief moment of illogical, literary blabbering most likely brought on by stress and extreme fatigue. I am not crazy! Really. It's not like I hear voices inside my head or something whack-o like that.

What? Did you say something? Oh. Never mind.
=)

Maybe It's Just Me

Recycled toilet paper.

Some things just shouldn't be marketed as recycled. I know it doesn't mean what it sounds like it means; just the same, it conjures up certain images of, well, someone else having already taken care of business using the roll of paper now hanging in my bathroom. It's disturbing. But what's more disturbing? Knowing that I paid an extra 78 cents for the recycled stuff. 78 cents more to torture myself with images of double dipped tp. scowl.

I repeat: some things shouldn't be marketed as recycled. But maybe it's just me. =)

The Tell Tale Truth of Toddlers and Tantrums

Tim was drawing out an observation about Justus for our older three to ponder. Basically noting the fact that not long ago, he was a happy baby who only fussed when he needed something -food, drink, a diaper change. But now Justus is driven by a much greater force...want. And because of this wanting, he can be one fussy baby.

His new thing (besides trying to walk backwards- hugely entertaining) is to come running toward me, arms straight up, crying, "uh...uh...uh." Desperation in every step. I grab him up into my arms and immediately those chubby little hands stretch out for something else. "I want you! I want you! I want you! I want something else!" It seems for a moment that his greatest longing is to be wrapped up in the tender embrace of a loving parent. Turns out the spoon on the counter top is just as satisfying. And even though I try to snuggle, and squeeze, and kiss him; he's way over it and ready to climb down with his spoon and conquer the world. sigh.

And there lies the "tell tale heart." The part where God uses my own child against me.

How many times have I done this to my Abba Daddy?

"I want you, God! I want you, God! I want you, God! Oooh, that's shiny. I want that!"

From desperate to distracted in two seconds flat. And maybe God is saying, "Okay, I can give you that but first let's just look at each other and giggle. Nuzzle in and let me love on you for just a minute." But I'm already twisting and squirming and doing the limp fish so I can slide out of His lap and out to conquer the world. sigh.

I imagine God saying, "I love that kid, but she can be one fussy baby."

The Brainiacs

I am adding this new segment to our regularly featured posts. It will consist of quotes by some of the smartest kids we know. ;-)

You will probably see a lot from this self-declared Queen of Common Sense:

Mamoune: Nine million is like...more than a hundred!

Her third grade teacher should be very proud. We are.