Lucille Ball lives on.

Someone once commented here that my life reminds them of Lucille Ball on I Love Lucy. I have to say, her comparison wasn't off by much because the thing is, discombobulated moments just seem to find me. Allow me to share the great poo bomb incident if you will.

We were at Denny's tonight for dinner. Sure, it's not Shea Chic or anything, but they do put the most delicious cherry tomatoes on their salads (much better than Cracker Barrel's), our kids like the pizza, and hey, kids eat free on Saturday nights. It's all good. Well,...was good.

Before I go on, let me just say that my kids love soy milk. If you've heard some negative things about soy, let me just say that it's important to know who is behind the message (about soy, politics, or anything else for that matter). I've done my research and feel confident that it is best for our family. It's kind of like HRT, where women need to educate themselves and then make the decision that's best for their own situation. 'Nuff said.

So, they drink soy with the exception of Brandon. His system is too sensitive to it and he ends up with too frequent bowel movements (Oh, stop your gagging. Everybody poops).



Don'tcha know it, I got up this morning and we were out of cow's milk for Brandon so I had to tap into the kids' soy milk for his cereal and a glass for lunch. I figured that small amount couldn't hurt. Famous last words. Back to Denny's.

We finished eating our meal and were on our way out of the restaurant. Carl led the way from the back of the restaurant where we had been seated, through the aisle between rows of tables to the front. Behind him went our three oldest, then Brandon (who was walking) and about 10 paces after him, me.

I thought I smelled, you know, something.
"Couldn't be," I pondered, thinking about the glass of soy he drank at lunch time.
And then......the unthinkable happened.
I saw mud bunnies running down the back of his leg. Lovely (NOT!)
And what happened next (because that wasn't bad enough) will forever redefine gross as we know it.
A huge biscuit plopped out of his shorts, right in the middle of the aisle.
People, I'm telling you he launched a poo bomb smack in the middle of Denny's.

A dining establishment.

At dinner time.

While people were eating.

I felt a surge of adrenaline as I RAN to him (noting that the mud bunny trail was dangerously close to filling his shoes), scooped him up by the arm pits, and sprinted past dh as I groaned, "Carl! He dropped a log in the middle of the aisle!"

The look on Carl's face had the makings of a credit card commercial and I'm sooo not kidding.
The cost of a gallon of gas? $3.65
Cost of family meal at Denny's on kids eat free night? $22
The look on a guys' face when his wife frantically tells him that their son just pinched one off in the middle of Denny's? PRICELESS.

As I continued my marathon for the door (not wanting a repeat occurrence and not wanting poo puddles in Brandon's shoes), Carl looked back and noted the sizeable log laying right in the middle of the aisle. Half way back. How to get a napkin and casually pick it up before anyone noticed? You tell me.

By this time I had made it outside, where another log fell smack in the middle of the rubber mat that rested in front of the entry door. No time to pick it up. Must change seriously pooped up baby. Only..........

Where exactly does one lay a pooped up baby in a Denny's parking lot? On the sidewalk? In the blacktop parking lot? Folks, options were few and, as things usually play out in my world, I had no keys to open the van where I could have laid him on the floor to work on the major clean up to follow.

So, out of options, I chose the sidewalk. I couldn't wait and if you had been there, I assure you, you would not have waited either. He was a drippy brown mess. I frantically opened the diaper bag and dug to the bottom for that dinky plastic changing pad that comes with diaper bags. That'll teach me not to check these things out in advance because...naturally...no changing pad available.

So I grabbed a change of clothes, diaper and the wipes.
And,...Oh, lookie here! Swell and dandy. My kid is pooped to the max and I have two, count e'm, TWO wipes in the bag. I quickly emptied the wipes bag so I could use the plastic as a changing pad on the sidewalk (which would be akin to trying to cover a semi truck with a cocktail napkin). I had no choice. I was so pathetic desperate that I just got down to business, knowing how entirely insane I appeared to every passing soul.

May I suggest to you that there are these little moments that come up in life where you just don't care? You just don't give an owl's hoot about what the other person is thinking because they're not standing in your shoes (or your kid's shoes that are about to be poo filled any second) and sheesh, you just need to get 'er done.

Well, Carl walked out just then, but it was simply too late to move the dirty job to the car. I had already removed Brandon's shorts and diaper, and was busy cleaning him up with my two miracle wipes. Towering over me, Carl's eyes met mine. He wore a look of stress and slight humiliation. I too was feeling the defeat when suddenly I did what any supportive and rational thinking wife would do.
I burst out laughing.
"My wife done lost her mind," was what I read next in his eyes.
"It's all going so status quo," I mused.
Which made me laugh even harder.

Within seconds, I could not see through the tears to have the slightest clue what his next expression was. That is, until I heard him join me in my crazed fit of laughter.

It happened.
It really, really happened.
Our kid dropped a poo bomb in the middle of Denny's and his momma proceeded to change him on the sidewalk in a moment of desperation.

I don't dare say "end of story" though, until I tell you what Carl endured in the moments that followed my frantic exodus. As he noted the poo in the middle of the aisle, he immediately scanned the establishment for a napkin. According to him, it would have been easy to "just scoop it up like a dog pile."
That is, had he been successful in his napkin hunt.
You don't think he actually found one though, do you?
Remember, Lucille Ball here and Ricky Carl was to have no such luck.

But he did find a substitute.
A children's menu.
Uh huh, swell.
He said that every time he tried to get under the log to scoop it up, it rolled away.

And so....there he was. Squatted down in the middle of Denny's, chasing after a run-away log in front of complete strangers.
All while trying to remain incognito.
Deflated by a moment so surreal, it felt like a slapstick comedy. Seems fitting that I really did love Lucy.

Sometimes folks, sometimes, all you can do is laugh.

"If you can't make it better, you can laugh at it."
-Erma Bombeck

Toni

WHO?

There's a little conversation that occasionally used take place between Olivia and Carl or myself. She was a young preschooler at the time and this unique conversation was affectionately labeled the "Who?" dialogue.
Her version of, "Who's on third?"
This is how it went.

"Momma, that man is tying his horse to the pole. Why?"
"He's Amish, honey. His horse is like his car. He uses it to get around and he needs to be sure his horse is safe while he's in the store."
"Who?"
(my facial expression was one of bewilderment; things that make you go, "Hmmm?!")


"Momma, why does Miss Bonnie always make me sing my ABC's?"
"Because she's your playgroup leader and she's helping you to learn your letters."
"Who?"
(my facial expression was one of bewilderment; things that make you go, "Hmmm?!")


Got the picture? Okay, then.
So today the kids were doing their chores. Reece was busy sweeping the kitchen. More like resweeping, thanks to Brandon, who loves to "broom" (as my kids call it). He used to drive us nuts with grabbing the large broom and then dangerously winging it around like numchucks as he passed through the house, threatening to clear coffee tables or tarnish an eye with the broom handle. So we bought him a smaller broom, one that he could manage without rearranging glass (or, say, facial structure). So, he likes to "help" with his new broom. Which, to a 1yo, means scattering our sweeping efforts all over the kitchen again.
Sigh.



So poor Reece endured the "assistance" of Brandon today as he presented his version of "Who?" in the following conversation...

"Mommy, guess what!
I'm gonna go to a sweeping place when I'm older, where they teach us...."
(trails off in a scuffle with Brandon over the dirt pile)

(me) "Where they teach us what, honey?"

"Where they teach us how to sweep."

(me, giggling silently) "Ah, good idea."

"What, sweeping?
Um, is there a sweeping school I can go to?"
***
(my facial expression was yet again one of bewilderment)


Sheesh, it was definitely one of those things that make you go, "Hmmm?!"
Who?
Did I say that out loud?
What?

Toni

Oh, the temptation!

But instead, it was an excersize of mercy in action.

Because seriuously, could I have really hit him? I mean, in Dodge'ms, the entire point is to plow into some unfortunate victim and knock them off their game, yes? In fact, my three siblings and I pretty much defied mercy when we were kids, quickly scanning the bumper cars for the weakest link and then planning an all out, 4-strong, head on collision with our chosen victim (I'm soooo not making this up). But...could I have hit this guy? Seriously, why the heck else would he have stuffed his little old self into a bumper car, unless he was ready for a showdown.

Right?

You be the judge!


Can you believe I made Carl get a picture of it?
I knew you wouldn't believe it unless you saw it with your own eyes.
I tell you the truth, the guy was at least 85 years old.

Game on!!!

Toni

"WHAT'CHA BEEN UP TO?"

I'm glad you asked. Goodness, what a busy week it has been. We took the kids to Indiana Beach last Sunday for our annual "KICK-OFF/SEND-OFF" celebration. We kicked off our homeschool year as we said goodbye to summer. We stayed at Jellystone Park in a rented cabin. I can't say enough good things about a Jellystone campground. It's the only one we've ever stayed at so I can't say whether they're all like that, but let me tell you, this Jellystone park is absolutely meticulous. Not a bug to be found in the cabins, bathrooms or showers. Not a cobweb. Not a dirty counter, floor or toilet anywhere. Spotless. Perfectly maintained landscaping. Not a chip of paint anywhere. The pools are exceptionally clean and well maintained. I'll try to post a few more photos when I get a chance, but here are the bunks in the back room of our cabin.


The kids swam in the heated pools (they have a wonderful kiddie pool in addition to the deeper pool), roasted hotdogs and marshmallows, and then we all walked through the amusement park at night so they could see the lights. The next day, we enjoyed the rides, paying an unbelievably affordable homeschool rate and standing in virtually no lines. It's AWESOME, I tell you. Here's what the parking lot looked like when we arrived about 20 minutes after the park opened.

As you can see, there might have been 10-15 cars there at the time.
Sweet mother of roller coaster rides!
And there's such an oh-so-cool way you have to enter the amusement park. It's via a very long cable suspended footbridge (the park sits on an island). Sweet!


Anyhoo, the plan (uh hem) was to start school on September 2nd. I'm somewhat of a fanatic about that because of how it was when I was a kid. School never started before Labor Day. Ever! And really, C'mon! Is summer reaaally over before August ends? I think we both know tha answer to that. ;)

But alas, in the great ball game of life, you're bound to handle a curve ball now and then. And so it was. Carl has had the same work schedule for a year, with Sunday/Monday off. We were able to attend church together as a family, something we greatly value. And I was able to count on a consistent homeschool plan. That is, until the schedule changed. It came about very recently and suddenly, forcing me to rush our start date. We began this past Thursday.

This is our fifth year of homeschooling and I have never had to work from a "rough draft" time management schedule until now. People, that plan had more patchwork on it than Dolly Parton's coat of many colors (and her mama made that for her, mind you). But guess what? I had some prayer warriors lifting my homeschool situation up to the Lord for me and He was so very faithful to listen and answer. It went off without a hitch, three days in a row. Perhaps, dare I say, the easiest start yet. Here's a glimpse of the school room just minutes before my kids showed up for day one.


We're so enjoying the focus of our year too. Creation to the Greeks. We're also studying Greek word roots, celebrating Jewish feasts, and digging in to creation science, just to name a few. The kids are working diligently, not wasting time transitioning from subject to subject (thanks to an early start, two timers, a functional rough draft for time management and an interest in the subject matter) and we're finishing by about 1pm every day. LOVE it!

Plus, teacher-mom learned a new vocabulary word already. Can you say "delegation"? I knew you could. I devised a chores chart for each child with the goal of teaching them to serve joyfully as to the Lord. And they are. They LOVE their chores chart. Okay, "for now", I realize. But you can bet I'll be drinking it in 'till then. They have always done the obvious; straighten their rooms, bring laundry down and put their own clothes away, help with dishes, etc. But now we have someone changing cat litter, gathering garbage, sweeping the kitchen floor, dusting, vaccuming the family room, wiping down sinks and mirrors, organizing the book shelves, and moving laundry from the washer to the dryer. I'm not paying allowances, but they are earning points toward a goal they've each selected. Olivia wants movie tickets. Reece, a frisbee ball. And Cierah, a princess Barbie. It'll take 84 points to reach that goal and they can only earn one point for each day they complete chores without my having to nag. They're in charge of their own destiny, lol.

As for homeschool, the other day I went to the library to gather a two week supply of "living" books for two grade levels (we put these books in a basket and assign the kids 15 minutes of independent exploration of them during book basket time. Most titles compliment our science and history lessons and I include content that is at, above and even a few books below their reading level. I can't tell you how this one activity alone has fostered a love for reading in my three oldest children.)

After I finished at the library, I headed to a thrift store to pick up a few utensils to use in science this year. They were all stored in large, shallow bins at the back of the store, filled to overflowing with every fork, spoon, or knife imaginable. Because there were so many and I was looking for some specific items, I decided to pick up the bin and place it on the floor for easier searching. That's when it happened.

CRASH!
BOOM!
BANG!

The bin, you see, was somehow fastened to the metal shelving it sat on (my guess is with a big ol' carriage bolt or the like).
And when I tried to use all my strumph to lift it, the overflow came crashing toward the floor.
Toward my feet!
Did I mention there were knives the size of jackhammers in that bin?

Ever see the movie Dodgeball with Ben Stiller? Yeah, well...there I was, doing my version of Patches O'Houlihan:
"If you're going to become true dodgeballers, then you've got to learn the five d's of dodgeball: dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge!"
I tell you, forks and knives were threatening to hack off a toe down to the nub, so Sheesh, I surely looked like one of the misfits from Average Joe's gym as I danced out of the way, just like they did when Patches fired the tools at them.

Toni

DEFLATED

Okay, so. Carl and Liv were in Krogers the other day buying some Izze (mmmm, Izze). So Carl picked up the Izze and the bottom of the cardboard container gave way.

CR-ASHHHH!

A glass bottle fell through to the floor and shattered, sending glass flying everywhere.

"Cleanup on aisle 9."

And that wasn't just a broken glass cleanup either. No sirree.
Somebody stop by the cosmetics aisle on your way over and bring a box of bandaids, please, because my husband and daughter are bleeding like a couple of stuck pigs.
Oh yeah!

And the store clerk was all, "Are you okay, mister?"
And Carl was all, "Gimme a couple-a bandaids, would'ja?"
And naturally I'm all, "Are you sure you guys got all the glass out of your flesh?"
And Carl's all, "Look here. This baby's bleedin' reeeeal good. Do you think I'll need stitches?"
And I was all antsy because if Reece saw the cuts, he would have freaked out royal.
Can't send my clan anywhere, I tell ya.

Btw, if you live in the midwest, then you know that last Sunday and Monday were two of the most beautiful weather days we've had all summer. Mid 70's. Full sunshine. Zero humidity. Ah, mighty nice.

That is, if you didn't spend hours on end, both days, disassembling a swingset that a friend so generously offered to us for free. Would have been a great gift too, but for a little problem.
NINE "little problems" to be exact. The carriage bolts. We had disassembled and hauled away wood in the back of our pickup truck for two whole days, only to be defeated in the end by some carriage bolts that had a death grip on their little places in the wood. Yee gads.

And now we have to haul all that wood back. I'll pause here and let that sink in a bit.

And now we have to haul all that wood back.

Why?

Because Ray-Ray (our pet name for the local trash collection) won't pick up items over something like 6 feet long. So I'm thinking a 10 foot tower and a 12 foot cross beam might be difficult to hide in the can. Ya followin'?

I think I'm gonna enter the ironman competition when all that wood is returned. I can definitely display my "strumph" with the best of them. After all, I served as half of the 2-man crew that moved us here to Indy.

And, Heave.........
Ho!
(Is my lip curling up over my nose yet from low potassium?)

Toni

It's no coincidence

I love Mark Schultz. And I specifically love his song He's My Son. Honestly, I've known several girlfriends who told me that Bob Carlisle's Butterfly Kisses made them cry. And okay, yes. That song chokes me up if I dwell on the lyrics for more than a moment (and yes, dh used to think it was a silly "gravy train" song as he calls it. That is, until he had a daughter. Now it makes him swallow lumps with the best of them, lol).

But back to Mark Schultz. It's no coincidence that I made it the music of my blog this past week. In fact, it is there to honor a little 4 year old boy named Connor. Connor is my second cousin, the son of my first cousin Mark and his wife Cynthia. Connor has two older siblings and a a beautiful baby sister too. And Connor has something else too. Courage and lots of it (you have no idea). In August of 2006 at just 2 years old, Connor was diagnosed with T-cell Lymphoblastic Lymphoma (Non-Hodgkin's). His diagnosis came swiftly, as did the grueling 2 year treatment.

Often, when I would get updates on his progress and what his family was going through, I would get the most vivid images in my mind. Images that completely mirrored the words in Mark Schultz's song. And so, it became a prayer point for me. Every time I heard the song (or any Mark Schultz song for that matter), I was reminded to pray. Of course, our family was (and is) praying regularly for Connor. But the song, it deeply connected me with their need for constant prayer. Incredible how we can be touched by a song, isn't it? How much more our God must be moved when we worship Him in song.

I am so happy to report that on Monday, August 11th, Connor finished his chemo treatments. Two full years after his diagnosis. He and his family are understandably eager to enter this new season together. Won't you please join me in praying for Connor's continued health and God's continued provision for his family as they courageously (and excitedly) move forward. And thank you to those who already knew of Connor's illness and have been praying accordingly. To God be the glory.

Toni

The realities of a homeschool family

Sheesh, it's been an expensive couple of weeks. I'm deep in the trenches of homeschool prep for our coming year, and that included purchasing needed curriculum items. All I can say is, Rosetta Stone better live up to its claims (tongue-in-cheek; we used it free this past year and loved it, so we purchased all 3 levels of the Latin America Spanish homeschool edition). The next 3 levels of math (one for each student) was also pricey. A few grammar and language arts items plus some basic supplies, and,...
well,...
Does anyone know if cat food can double as a family meal?
(Oh now, stop. Just stop! I know you know someone who tried it before.) Btw, that's not all of our curriculum. I mean, couldn't you just see it?

"Finish your math?
Spanish?
All done, now VAMANOS, pronto!"

No, I already had most of what we needed. It's just that what I still needed was "big ticket" costly.

I have also been busy arranging several fieldtrips for our large homeschool group (approximately 135 families). We all plan at least one event or fieldtrip for the year. Last year, my kids took pottery, toured backstage at the performing arts theater, went to the zoo, participated in the national spelling bee (exhibition round due to age), enjoyed history club (several from our group won at state and got to go to the national History Day competition), toured the mounted police facility, visited residents of a nursing home, visited and learned about various farms, and more. There are many great events we passed on for one reason or another, such as father-son camping, International Missions Festival, various academic classes, and spending an entire school day in a one-room schoolhouse . You're confused on that last one, eh? I mean, don't all homeschoolers attend a one-room schoolhouse? Well, yes.

And NO.

Yes, my kids are learning at home with a curriculum that is custom fit to their specific learning needs and enhanced by their specific interests. But no, they are not alone all the time. In fact, they are very much immersed in our local community, interacting regularly with children and adults of all ages and walks of life. Perhaps we're the opposite of a family who lives in a very remote, rural area. For 6 or 7 hours a day, 180 days per year, their children are in the midst of other children (though not for the main purpose of socializing, but rather focusing on listening to instruction and completing necessary school work). For the other 18 hours a day, those kids are at home together, participating in the dynamics of family life.

Flip the coin. My kids are learning at home during school hours. 180 days each year. They may meet with other homeschoolers for an event or fieldtrip during those hours. Or not. But after school, they are interacting with neighbors and other members of the community. Cashiers. Postal workers. Doctors, dentists and more. They participate in extra-curricular activities like soccer and swimming lessons. They attend Sunday school classes. Birthday parties. Visit family and take vacations.

Needless to say, homeschooling is not life in a vacuum. And if you've ever met my kids, you know they're not shy, withdrawn or anti-social. In fact, they enjoy interacting with people of all ages. When Olivia attended VBS this summer, one of her very favorite people was the elderly volunteer who assisted her VBS teacher. She sought this woman out each evening to sit by her during music time. She loved being with her friends too, but not to the exclusion of this woman whose company she enjoyed just as much.

So,...
Where am I going with all of this? I'm assuming if you're reading this, you may well be aware of what I'm saying. However, there are still so many misrepresentations of what homeschooling is about. Sometimes (as seems to be human nature), a single negative impression is generalized and assumed of all. Often, the misrepresentations come through the media (don't even get me started on the misrepresentations that often occur there). Sometimes it comes through family members who are unsupportive and/or are poorly educated about homeschooling before drawing inaccurate conclusions (not my family, btw. They've been quite tolerant and unbiased regarding our choice).

All that said (whew, long winded), I laughed so hysterically at the video I'm about to share. Many of the stereotypes are there. And while we don't have any Doogie Howzer's in our own homeschool family, we DO ascribe to classical education. No, we have NOT sponsored a Haitian, but only because we were asked to sponsor a child from Indonesia instead. ;)

Kudos to Tim Hawkins for this very funny play on some the stereotypes of a homeschool family. Tim, you rock! Bahahahaha! :D
(move to the bottom of this page and turn off the audio player before starting the video).

Toni