It’s not the candy. It’s not the creepy decorations (though I absolutely abhor the fake hand “planted” in someone’s flower bed…yuck!). It’s not the spider webs or the zombies or piles of chocolate–because yum!

It’s the costumes.

Seriously, very little in all of motherhood terrifies me like the thought of putting 4 kids with opinions into costumes for trick-or-treat. I mean, when they were little, it was easy. Give my mother-in-law a pattern and an idea and wait a month. Voila! Cute kids in adorable costumes.

Now, though, they care. They have ideas. And I don’t have the creativity, much less skills, to pull off what they have in mind. Last year, I actually tried. I worked all day on a costume someone said they wanted…only to have them turn up their nose after school which left me rushing around trying to help them throw together some other costume. It was frustrating and not.at.all.fun.

And I just want it to be fun. I remember pulling together random costumes from stuff in our house and for one day, just having fun dressing up. Maybe my mom remembers it differently, I don’t know. But the expense and expectations of Halloween costumes is just more than I can handle.

So this year, I sent my kids straight to my MIL. Except for Tim, whose costume I found at a kids consignment sale, they all worked with her. She took their ideas and, I’m telling you, they turned out so much better than I could have done. To top it off, Eric actually stepped up on the final details. He did the attaching and gluing and wiring pieces together. And they all worked (which is totally not what happens when I do it!)

So tonight, all I have to do is put my kids in said costumes, take some pics, and bundle up to enjoy watching them trick-or-treat. And for the first time in a handful of years, I’m actually looking forward to it.

Happy Halloween!

My children’s screen addictions are at least 50% my fault.

Asking for help is not just about showing my vulnerability. It’s also about letting other people rise to meet their full potential.

Pressure cooker canning is not hard, but I find its precision daunting.

Canning is much more fun as a team sport.

I am a book hoarder.

I still like cross stitch.

My kids are able to do a lot more than I give them credit for.

Alex likes soft tacos.

I absolutely hate it when people ignore me, particularly my emails or texts.

Harry Potter is still a great story.

I have no idea how to find the joy in my life.

I still dislike riding ferris wheels (I rode one for the first time in years), but I absolutely love Scrambler rides.

My kids are showing all the signs of becoming incredible little people.

All these years, I’ve seen my life in terms of God testing me, waiting to give me a big fat F, when really, he’s been extending me a never-ending stream of invitations to join him.

A thank-you card is always worth writing and totally amazing to receive.

Reading the Culture Translator emails on Saturday mornings is great (even though the topics are teen/tween level).

And lastly, I really need good sleep patterns to be functional. So…off to bed I go!

So this morning was … challenging.

We had to be at the car place around 10 for them to replace the handle on our minivan’s rear sliding door which broke in my hand a week ago (the automatic sliding feature died years go and is too expensive to fix so we tug on the handle a lot and it finally broke).

Anyway, at 9 a.m. I had to wake Erin up. From 9:10 to 9:30, I begged for shoes to be put on and for everyone to get in the van. They all needed hats for some reason and turned on lights I’d already turned off and looked at me strangely when I shoo-ed them out the door. And finally, we were all in the van.

Which wouldn’t start. Apparently, I also have an electrical problem in the van.

So I got out to jump it. But I forgot to pop the hood first, and the driver’s side door has a loose panel on the bottom so it won’t just open. So I had to yank it open and bang the panel back into place, and THEN I could release the hood and hook on the Cobra JumPack that my parents got me for Christmas (best present ever, seriously). Started the van up and headed to town.

When we got there, I found the guy I needed. Moved my van to his area. But the 30-minute quick door handle fix turned into a 1-hour, 2-man job. I felt so bad for them. I had all 4 kids with me, too, and no easy way to go anywhere else. So we hung out. We looked at the cars on the lot. We found some shade and goofed off there for awhile. Until Timmy fell and scraped his knee in the gravel (I did have band-aids, PTL), and boo-hoo-ed until they finally said the van was done.

And it wouldn’t start again. But I guess a car lot is about the best possible place for a dead battery, so one of them jumped the van for me. I paid, thanked them again, and drove through Tim Horton’s for Timbits.

THEN, we headed on our next adventure. Megan’s dentist appointment had been rescheduled for today (instead of next Wednesday), so we were heading from Zanesville to Coshocton. My 30-minute cushion of extra time had been used up at the car place and there was serious concern (on my part) that the van wouldn’t start when we came out of the dentist. YIKES.

But there wasn’t much to do but go. And it went well. Everyone pottied. Megan had a great visit (no cavities and a purple Belle toothbrush!). The other three played screens and behaved themselves. And when we got back outside … the van started up on the first try!

THANK YOU, JESUS!

So it was a challenging morning. But I got rescued. Over and over again. In big ways and little ways. By people like my parents who gave me a Christmas gift last year that meant my today wasn’t derailed before it ever got started. And the guy at the car place who jumped my van without a hesitation. And my MIL who was willing to come if we needed.

And Jesus did a great deal of rescuing. My attitude never crashed (okay, at least not after I beat the driver’s side door panel back into place). I managed to keep my kids afloat on a long, boring morning. My van started when I needed it to. I even found the tiny piece of plastic that covers the prongs in the JumPack … twice. I’d dropped it first thing this morning, found it as soon as we got home, dropped it again, and (after one final plea) found it a second time far from anywhere I would have expected it to bounce. Well, okay, then.

To tell the truth, though, I don’t much like to rescued. It requires admitting I need help in the first place. And frankly, not every rescue means “all is well,” or “I get my way.” It was not a fun morning. But it drove me hard toward the Jesus who claims He is enough to satisfy me. I’m learning to lean into that promise. Even when things are challenging or complicated or just not what I had in mind. Hard as it is, I’m learning to wait expectantly for him to show up.

And I’m finding that He always does.

Defining Terms

Just before the end of school, I declared that this would be a Summer of Boredom. The criteria for what-this-means was not complex. Basically, I had two “rules.”

1. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are no-screen days.
2. I am not your activity director.

We absolutely had to address the screen addiction we have going on in our house. The constant asking to play or watch. The willingness to sit and do nothing rather than find something non-screen to do. The reality that most of the conversations had by certain of my children are entirely focused on video game characters or videos they watched. Not cool.

Also, I am far too willing to think of things for my kids to do. They come and stand under my elbows, waiting for me to decide to go somewhere, come up with a craft or activity for them to do, or tell them what they could do next. Nope. Not anymore. I am not your activity director. Go find something to do. Preferably outside, but that’s negotiable.

Getting Started

School finished on a Tuesday, and we signed out at 11:00 am. For the rest of that day, I let the crazies do pretty much what they wanted. Screens were fine. Relaxing was the rule of the day. You want another snack…go for it!

Our first full day of summer break was a Wednesday. So, no screens. And there was some whining, but much less than I expected, to be honest. They played, they read books, we ate lunch and snacks. They bickered. Good times.

Near the end of that first week, I sat down and wrote out three papers: a daily “schedule,” an “I’m Bored” list, and an “Extra Chore” list (chores they can earn money for doing, on top of their daily, expected chores).

Evaluation #1

So we’re about two-and-a-half weeks into summer, and honestly, it’s working well. I thought I’d get a lot of pushback on no-screen days, but I haven’t. They get up and start playing or reading. They do things on their own. And when it is a screen day, they have done well putting the screens away after the timer rings, for the most part. Knowing they can have another turn later keeps the whininess at bay. Also, having the schedule in place means I can say, “It’s 9:30, so let’s do our daily chores before we get too far into the day.” And the dogs get fed, the toys get tidied…it’s nice.

It took about a week to figure out how to live together 24/7 again. Timmy’s used to having the house, and me, all to himself. So it was a hard shift to welcome three big kids back into his “kingdom.” The big three weren’t used to playing with each other all the time, so that took some practice, too. But for the most part, we’ve settled into being “us” again.

Also, it helps that the big three can read, are willing to read things for Timmy, and are learning to do things for themselves (like printing coloring pages from the computer or getting out their own bikes or scooters). I like having big kids, I must admit.

And lastly, I’ve been pretty impressed with what they’ve done without screens constantly in their grasp. Alex wrote a book, pitting the battle bosses from his Mario games against each other in a multi-round tournament. He drew them all, listed their strengths and weaknesses, and declared the winners. Then the winners faced off from there. (Baron Brrr won the whole rumble, in case you were wondering.)

In addition, the girls have made some books of their own. Megan’s was a memory book of sorts, and Erin did a book about our family, interviewing each of us on the same eight categories of things we like, so we could see out we all compared to each other.

In addition, we’ve climbed trees and enjoyed the disc swing, done a lot of bike riding, coloring and reading, and run errands. We’ve done our chores (mostly). We just finished our ball season this week, so we’ve had softball or baseball games most nights. I actually made my first-ever trip to Aldi’s with all four kids in tow (and survived!). And the big three got their own library cards this summer, to great excitement.

At this point..I’d say boredom is a very good thing.

Eric’s grandpa passed away on Friday. He’d been in congestive heart failure for a year, so it was not unexpected. But we didn’t expect it last Friday. That was hard.

Calling hours were Monday. I really hate calling hours. They feel so … heavy. You are there, all sad, and other people come with their sad, and we all stand around sad. And yet, every single person asked, or was asked, “How are you doing?” To which they replied, “Good, really.” Or “You know, doing pretty well.” Except we’re standing in a funeral home, and it’s just that we haven’t seen each other for a long time that makes us say that. Because, just then, nobody’s particularly good or well or whatever. Not really.

Also, I find calling hours hard, because I don’t feel sad much during the calling hours. They are something to DO, so I do them. But because I’m doing them, I put off feeling much. So it’s weird.

The funeral, on the other hand, is good and hard and good. It’s not for doing. It’s for remembering and honoring. I like that part. But it’s hard. Because final goodbyes are just plain hard. The last time you’ll see that face. The deep sadness of people you care about. It all comes spilling out, and it’s hard. So very hard.

But it’s also good. Because as was said in Steel Magnolias, “Laughter through tears is one of my favorite emotions.” And we did laugh. Because Grandpa Powell loved to laugh. And his humor lives on in his family.

And then there was Timmy, whose age-four-ness is also good and hard and good. So when the pastor announced during the funeral that the mic was now open for people to come share memories about Grandpa Powell, this happened:

Tim: Mom, when I go up there, I’m going to take off all my clothes except my underwear. Then everyone will laugh.

Me: Tim, you are not going up there.

Instead, Uncle Chuck spoke, then my MIL, then Eric’s cousin Morgan. And as Morgan was going up to share, Tim continued.

Tim: (looking very annoyed) Hey, I had my hand up before him.

I shared his comments after the goodbyes had been said and the funeral directors were preparing the casket for transport. He may have not actually taken off his clothes, but he definitely brought laughter to those who were so sad just then. And that was good.

So good and hard and good. I guess much of life is like that. The kids played ball last night. Alex’s team won. Erin & Megan’s team played well but lost. Good and hard and good.

Both of my in-laws and my dad are retiring this summer. Good and hard and good.

I’m trying to pursue a more purposeful life. Good and hard and good.

And every day, I find God’s goodness in the land of the living. Because even though life is hard, God is good. It doesn’t always feel good. Like in funeral homes and ball game losses. But it is good. Because we connect. Because we laugh. Because He is with us.

And because, today, we are alive. And that is good and hard and good.

A short list of things I’ve learned this spring…in random order.

1. Strawberries “breed like rabbits.”

We put in 50 free strawberry plants in May of 2015. This year, we harvested around 20 gallons of strawberries. For most of two weeks, I picked almost every single day. It was insane. And yummy. And I can’t wait for next year. 🙂

2. I don’t have to try so hard

I spent much of the last 3-4 months learning this powerful, deeply revealing, and much-needed lesson. My entire life, in things spiritual and mundane, has been entirely based on “trying.” And I had a massively uncomfortable spiritual crisis. But it has been very good, too. Instead of doing, I can actually rest. Instead of living self-ordained penance, I am already accepted. Instead of thinking it all depends on me, I can actually accept grace. It’s been huge and hard and holy. I’m still learning (slowly), but it’s already made a marked difference in nearly every part of my life.

3. More energy is not always helpful.

I am a high-energy person (no kidding, right?). But sometimes, okay, most times, pouring more energy into a situation actually works against the outcome I’m looking for. Stopping Megan’s meltdowns. Engaging Eric. Getting the to-do list done. Using a less-frenetic, more-focused energy has been much more effective than my spastic, frustrated, random energy. It’s not easy for me to do this. I have to be strategic and intentional. It requires deep breaths, many prayers, and patience. But it can be done. And when I do it, we’re all happier for it.

4. I learned how to coach softball.

I have never played a game of softball in my life. Just last year, I learned to keep book for my daughter’s softball team. This year, both girls are playing together, and (long story short) the woman who was going to be the assistant coach ended up not coaching. And that left me. We finished the regular season games this week, and it hit me. I actually became a coach along the way. I can describe what they need to do. I’m learning the rules. I’m able to rally the girls who are definitely sweet and fun to hang out with 2-3 times a week. I don’t know enough to be totally in charge, but I somehow turned into a coach, nonetheless. How fun!

5. PSA: Rawleigh’s medicated ointment is absolutely the best remedy for a bad sunburn ever.

It’s an old, little-known ointment my family has used for years. It’s amazing. I got horribly burned at my kids’ field day at the end of school (they did not, thankfully). I went home and rubbed a thin layer of this on my skin right after school and again before bed. I had almost no pain and none of that pulled-tight feeling I get when my skin burns. Yay!!

And now, on to a summer full of more growth, more learning, more fun…

Can you believe it? These two little wrinkly peanuts…

…now look like THIS.

And what amazing little people they are becoming.

Alexander is a learner and thinker. If he’s interested in something, he becomes a veritable encyclopedia about it, and whatever he learns, he shares in crazy detail with whoever will listen. He is also quite a collector; he’s got a “village” in his bedroom for the family of stuffed dogs he’s been given (or managed to talk his siblings into letting him have). But Scruffy Puppy is still the favorite, no question.

Our Alex loves to laugh. He loves jokes. And he’s super creative. He draws all the time, and he writes books and stories. He’s even started to brainstorm a video game he’d like to create someday. And he enjoys the outdoors. He loves to go to the barn when Daddy does the cows’ foot baths. He loves the trampoline and wandering down at the creek. And because he’s in Cub Scouts this year, he went fishing, camping, and shot a bow and arrow–all for the first time.

Erin Elizabeth is turning into a special lady, herself. She is a helper and order-keeper. She likes to know what to do and the “right” way to get it done. She’s a voracious reader and a natural teacher (both Megan and Timmy have had “lessons”) and she loves to learn new things. She always says she likes lunch and recess best, but school is an easy fit for my smart and capable girl.

Erin loves sparkly, pretty things. She is a born night-owl. She has a collection of stuffed bunnies (still ruled over by Jingle Bunny, of course). She loves to jump on the trampoline and play with friends, In fact, the measure of a good time is always whether a friend was there to do it with her. And she is a great, great friend. She’s considerate of others, always wants to help, and no one is better at thinking of others than my Erin-girl.

Being twins, they still have to share a lot (like birthdays). But every year, they’re growing up into special individuals. They have faced many new challenges this year; they are learning to deal with more difficult things. But each one is a natural support and encourager for the other. They protect each other. They rarely fight. And I am thrilled to see them connect with Jesus more, also in their own special way. Alex was deeply touched by the concept of a “peacemaker” in Sunday School, and Erin loves to read the Bible on her own more and more.

These two little people rocked my world 8 years ago today. They are unique individuals and a powerful team, but they are and will always be wonderful gifts to our family.

Happy Birthday, Alex and Erin. 🙂

The other day, I posted this picture on my Facebook page:

The twins were 22 months, and Megan was barely a week old. And what a sweet picture, right? But after my initial “Oh, they were so cute,” an odd sensation balled itself up in my chest.

Looking at that picture, I suddenly FELT the exhaustion of those days. As adorable as those three were, those days were just plain hard. The never-ending needs, the constant attention they required, the mental fatigue, the lack of sleep. That time of parenting we called being “in the trenches.” It is so.very.hard.

And just this summer, I realized that my family is finally coming out of the trenches. My kids’ needs are rarely immediate. The twins can make a basic PB&J or get a drink of water for themselves if needed. Everyone is potty-trained. I sleep all night more often than I don’t.

We are moving on. And I’m grateful for it. Man, am I grateful for it. But I’m also grateful that I still remember. That this picture was enough to remind me. I’m not so far away that I’ve forgotten just how hard the trenches are.

And I was even more grateful because, shortly after seeing this picture, I had a meeting with a young mom who works at the kids’ school. We were chatting about our families, and she said her oldest turned 4 in August and her younger daughter is 18 months.

As she said it, this picture popped into my head, and I said, “Wow…so you’re totally in the trenches.”

She stopped, turned to me, eyes wide. There was a tiny pause, and she said, “Yes, that is exactly what it’s like. That’s, that’s, just the perfect way to say it.” And then she told me about picking up her kids from daycare and how it had been hectic and disorganized and she was holding the baby and trying to find sippy cups and blankies and it was just…hard.

She said how her younger daughter had ear infections for months until finally tubes, but then she’d had another rough patch where, in the middle of the night, all she wanted was her mom. And of course, she still had work and daycare drop off and pick up and dinner and clearing and life.

“Yes, the trenches. Definitely the trenches,” I said, as compassionately as I knew how.

And I know, oh how I know, that she is not the only one.

So to the moms who are, today, in the trenches…let me say this: You are such a good mom. You are doing a great job. Whether working in your house or outside it. Whether you are following all the conflicting “expert” advice on everything. Whether you have social media sites convinced you’ve got it all under control…to you, mom…it really is as hard as it feels. The trenches are no joke.

And while you’re in those trenches, you don’t have to love every minute. Some day, I promise, you will look up and realize you made it out of them. But for today, just know that we moms, we get it. We understand it. We see you. Even in the hardness of it all, you are doing a great, great thing.

Keep up the good work.

This was posted halfway down the comment section of a “Why We Grieve” article. I think a lot of young, liberal-leaning folks would agree with it, but I’d never seen anyone actually SAY it out loud. (And it’s as problematic as all the horrible, racist, offensive stuff being said and done by the right. IMO)

You think territory is America?? America is people, and Hillary won the popular vote. Don’t fool yourself into thinking “America” elected Trump. Scared, middle-class, middle-aged white people from the country who only think about themselves (no good samaritans in that crowd) elected Trump. You are the past of this nation, we, the young, the urban, the allies, the queers, the colored, the immigrants, the educated, the progressive, the environmentalists and scientists and artists and intellectuals and engineers, WE are the future. This is not your country. It’s OUR country. Learn to act like loving human beings and we’re happy to have you along. Otherwise enjoy your last hurrah, and then get out of our way, because we are so over your small town backwards-thinking crap.

This article. THIS is what I spent 7 years trying to teach in my composition classes. About how listening is fundamental to good arguing. And the power of language. And logical fallacies. And why, honestly, too many times the “Christian” view is dismissed out of hand.

And why I love Mike Rowe.