Richard, Winslow's dad, is here working on our electrical for our addition. Jacob is working as his helper. He's learning and working hard. And sometimes he's daydreaming :).
Richard is telling our kiddos all about the fun things their daddy did as a boy.
Rachel has learned a nursery rhyme from her grandpa. There was a crooked man... She practices with her crooked cane (aka Jacob's marshmallow gun.)
Abby is learning the first nursery rhyme her daddy ever learned.
Rachel and David are helping Grandpa take off his boots at the end of the day.
Laurel has learned to wave and she waves at her grandpa every chance she gets.
Winslow is loving all this time with his dad.
And I LOVE watching it all happen. These are the days that memories are made of.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
life as it really is
I long for many things. A clean house. Polite children who quickly obey and treat each other with love and respect. Time to myself. Dinner ready and waiting for Winslow when he gets home after work. The patience to never raise my voice when above mentioned children forget to do their chores or quarrel with each other. Fancy clothes.
The reality is... my house is filled with toys and school books on the kitchen table, or the couch, or the floor, or the lazy susan. (Yes, one day I found a math book in the lazy susan. Not sure if the child got distracted or was trying to HIDE their book!) The kitchen table is clear long enough to move from one activity to the next. Just when I think the kitchen sink might actually be empty for more than a few minutes, here comes the stash of cups from the bathroom. There are barbies all over dressers and even in drawers sometimes as make shift make believe happens everywhere.
Today my umbrellas and a quilt were dragged outside for exciting adventures while I taught piano. (Wish I had had a chance to grab my camera and capture that moment.)
My children wrestle each other to the ground on a fairly regular basis. My boys are always in need of torturing each other, (my husband included.)
Dinner often runs late, and I am stressed during the few minutes of "free time" I have in the afternoon while the teething baby (Laurel) sleeps, to get everything ready before Piano lessons start.
Our school day is filled with moments of me hollering instructions from the back bedroom while changing the squirming baby's diaper, (again, Laurel). Some of them are simply, "do your math, I'll be right there." Some of them include threats, "Stop pestering your brother/sister or I'll make you do his/her chore!" Others are hollered from the bathroom. "Can I please go to the bathroom without the whole world falling apart?"
Fancy clothes would be nice. Heck. Getting dressed would be nice. In order to maintain some sanity I go walking. I get up, I make breakfast, I go walking. Then I come home, clean up breakfast. Encourage my children to finish their chores and be ready and happy to start school. But alas, somewhere in the chaos I am lucky to get a shower. I try to get dressed and be presentable in the short period of time where I am also trying to get dinner ready. Thus, some days I am clean and dressed, and some days dinner is ready, but usually not both.
And somehow the Jehovah's Witnesses always pick the days when I am still in my exercise clothes or jammies, to show up at my door. When I open the door there are school books everywhere, Lincoln Log towers all over the front room floor, and David and Rachel are about to take eachother out like WWF wrestlers. I'm sure it all comes across wonderfully.
But there are moments when it all comes together. Like when I get to rock my baby to sleep and she leans her head against my shoulder. Or when I can sit and talk to Jacob about teenage life and important decisions of virtue and integrity. Or discussing the beauty of God's creation with my girls. Or teaching David how to read. My girls won't remember if the house was clean or dirty the day mom sat and painted their nails while they talked of what was important to them. David won't care if dinner was a few minutes late because I sat down to read with him. And I won't remember if we got all that was on the schedule done they day I sat rocking my baby to sleep and smelling the sweet shampoo in her hair.
Life is happening. It's nitty, it's gritty, and it's often messy. And more than likely it's louder than I'd like. But I love that David loves to brush my hair. That Rachel can play her piano piece two times before having it memorized and wanting to play it every time she passes the piano. I love that Abby is writing her own novel, that she has taken courage to write despite the challenges she has with writing. I love that Jacob is growing to be such a handsome young man, yet he still gives me hugs infront of all his friends. (He even says he loves me!) And Laurel, sweet, crazy Laurel who is getting teeth and trying to walk at 8 months. She knows exactly what she wants, and she is going to tell you about it. And my heart melts every time that sweet full head of hair lays on my shoulders.
The reality is... my house is filled with toys and school books on the kitchen table, or the couch, or the floor, or the lazy susan. (Yes, one day I found a math book in the lazy susan. Not sure if the child got distracted or was trying to HIDE their book!) The kitchen table is clear long enough to move from one activity to the next. Just when I think the kitchen sink might actually be empty for more than a few minutes, here comes the stash of cups from the bathroom. There are barbies all over dressers and even in drawers sometimes as make shift make believe happens everywhere.
Today my umbrellas and a quilt were dragged outside for exciting adventures while I taught piano. (Wish I had had a chance to grab my camera and capture that moment.)
My children wrestle each other to the ground on a fairly regular basis. My boys are always in need of torturing each other, (my husband included.)
Dinner often runs late, and I am stressed during the few minutes of "free time" I have in the afternoon while the teething baby (Laurel) sleeps, to get everything ready before Piano lessons start.
Our school day is filled with moments of me hollering instructions from the back bedroom while changing the squirming baby's diaper, (again, Laurel). Some of them are simply, "do your math, I'll be right there." Some of them include threats, "Stop pestering your brother/sister or I'll make you do his/her chore!" Others are hollered from the bathroom. "Can I please go to the bathroom without the whole world falling apart?"
Fancy clothes would be nice. Heck. Getting dressed would be nice. In order to maintain some sanity I go walking. I get up, I make breakfast, I go walking. Then I come home, clean up breakfast. Encourage my children to finish their chores and be ready and happy to start school. But alas, somewhere in the chaos I am lucky to get a shower. I try to get dressed and be presentable in the short period of time where I am also trying to get dinner ready. Thus, some days I am clean and dressed, and some days dinner is ready, but usually not both.
And somehow the Jehovah's Witnesses always pick the days when I am still in my exercise clothes or jammies, to show up at my door. When I open the door there are school books everywhere, Lincoln Log towers all over the front room floor, and David and Rachel are about to take eachother out like WWF wrestlers. I'm sure it all comes across wonderfully.
But there are moments when it all comes together. Like when I get to rock my baby to sleep and she leans her head against my shoulder. Or when I can sit and talk to Jacob about teenage life and important decisions of virtue and integrity. Or discussing the beauty of God's creation with my girls. Or teaching David how to read. My girls won't remember if the house was clean or dirty the day mom sat and painted their nails while they talked of what was important to them. David won't care if dinner was a few minutes late because I sat down to read with him. And I won't remember if we got all that was on the schedule done they day I sat rocking my baby to sleep and smelling the sweet shampoo in her hair.
Life is happening. It's nitty, it's gritty, and it's often messy. And more than likely it's louder than I'd like. But I love that David loves to brush my hair. That Rachel can play her piano piece two times before having it memorized and wanting to play it every time she passes the piano. I love that Abby is writing her own novel, that she has taken courage to write despite the challenges she has with writing. I love that Jacob is growing to be such a handsome young man, yet he still gives me hugs infront of all his friends. (He even says he loves me!) And Laurel, sweet, crazy Laurel who is getting teeth and trying to walk at 8 months. She knows exactly what she wants, and she is going to tell you about it. And my heart melts every time that sweet full head of hair lays on my shoulders.
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