some quick takes

Now we are six.
Romulus turned six yesterday.

His hair is all shaggy and wild and he's been running around for days amending a long, but compared to his sister, uncomplicated list of things he longs for: Knights, a Pokemon 50 pack, cars, cars, cars, a Batman mask. He wanted a "rainbow" cake with that part inside. So, as far as I could figure out, he meant Funfetti, that vile sugary "cake" like substance that is so ubiquitous in childhood. A table full of little boys hopped up on Funfetti and icing led to a nearly sonic sized amount of noise. In other words, a good time seemed to be had by all.

    

Before we were two. 

Marigold cut her own hair last weekend. I'm not the least bit surprised she was the first to do such a thing. If anyone in this family has an undercurrent of anything, its Marigold. She is silent and devastating wherever she goes. This morning she went and took the baby's bottle away from her while she was rolling around in bed causing much rage and frustration. Nasty little flower.

And we were also one.
Baby Elaine, whom I'm seriously thinking of just calling Honoria, what with her being such a solid girl, pushy and so forth, is far away from silent, shouting and bellowing wherever she goes.

She has taken to "singing" in church. She picks a note and hollers it, waving her bulletin in the air in a managerial sort of way. Her volume is matched only by her caution. She is cautious about the vacuum, about climbing on things, about water, about going outside, about Other People. Its ridiculous because if anybody could survive anything, it would probably be her, what with being so fat and all.













But one of us is four.
And very fussy about the wretched and horrible bow on every single dress worn every single day.

"Elphine tied my bow to be weally ugly" she said yesterday and then looked at me accusingly, "and your bow looks just like hers."
Ouch
  














And eight is a pretty good number.

But loud, and posturing and silly. Alouicious is entering into all the silly obnoxiousness that Elphine is blessedly leaving behind. He manages to throw everybody off task by just talking to them All The Time. BUT, he is lately really good with the babies. He has a knack for keeping them laughing and occupied and Baby Elaine Honoria prefers him to just about everyone else.














And ten is too old for me.

I was done growing by the time I was twelve. Done Growing. I looked at my shrimpy ten year old yesterday and prayed that she would at least get to be as tall as me, which I admit isn't much to boast about, but still. Each generation in my family seems to get slightly smaller. Soon we will barely exist at all. She found her camera from Christmas and charged it up and has been going around all morning making news reports. "This is Elphine reporting live from the living room" she announces with relish. "There was a big storm yesterday and the community is struggling to recover." She points the camera at her brother, "Alouicious, what can you tell us from the streets?"







And so we were all very busy.
My garden has been growing.
Except the storm tumped my biggest most glorious tomato over last night. About to go out and see what can be done about it, if anything. And I've taken every single thing off of every single shelf in my school room and either trashing it or putting it where it belongs.
 Booooorrrriiiinnngggggggggggg. To make it go faster I've been watching ancient episodes of Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister. SO Funny! Matt thinks I must be out of my tiny mind. But anyway, tonight we get to watch the Olympics. Any bets on how weird the opening ceremony will be?

7 quick takes

one

The pouring rain gets us out of going on any kind of outing today. You know. You ought to do something "fun" with your children but the idea fills you with a nameless dread and you would much rather spend the day cleaning the children's rooms because you went up there once last week and realized one child was hoarding paper and another child was hoarding what looks to be actual garbage and the babies had got hold of some kind of book and shredded it to a fine dust and so you feel really bad, as a parent, and know that if you get up there and actually clean, you will feel better about yourself. And that's what its all about anyway--feeling good about yourself--isn't it?

two

I know that its all about feelings because I happened to watch a little TV yesterday, which I don't often do. I just turned it on and flipped around and watched a bunch of commercials. There's a commercial for something called Beneful Dog Food. I don't know what they're trying to achieve with a name like 'Beneful' but I can, of course, imagine. So anyway, there's the big golden retriever running through a meadow chasing a ball and we get to hear what the dog is thinking. Turns out he doesn't know the word for 'ball' but he does know words like 'round', 'object', 'what makes me happiest is that when we're playing out here in this meadow my beloved friend and parent smiles and is happy whereas normally, when we're not playing in the meadow, he is a grim horrid man.' My own paraphrase. How remarkable to have advanced so far that dogs, once our obedient, if slightly less intelligent than cats, companions, now care more about how we feel than they do themselves.

three

Speaking of intelligence, our white "dog" barked loudly at the tv during this commercial and then this morning refused to go outside because it was raining.

four

Part of the flipping around landed us on The Real Hutterite Wives of some Wind Driven Snowy Location. I don't know what the program was really called but it was totally strange. Who are these cursing, gossiping, lard eating, education eschewing Hutterites? Elphine and I were entranced as acres of pie were churned out and many many women talked about how they had ditched their education to cook for the community. And the swearing. wow. No more TV for us.

five

Because I really feel like I oughta read more books. Other than blowing through Grace Livingston Hill's The Old Guard I haven't read anything in at least six weeks. Matt's idea of an ideal holiday was to lay around "reading books and watching movies". This idea brought tears of rage and frustration to my eyes because that's what he does when he's working, except for the laying around. He reads All Day (imagine) and then watches a movie while he makes dinner. And then he reads some more. Whereas I wander around picking up toys and yelling at children and then, on the rare occasions when I do pick up a book, fall asleep almost immediately, deeply enough to drool. On my vacation I'd like to...actually I have no idea. If Matt wants to read more that sounds fine.

six

I have a lovely artist friend who has taken up blogging. Go check her out! We don't agree about almost anything, well, except food, which, for me, trumps everything, so I hope you'll go read her! Now! Go! Skip Number Seven!

seven

Because I have to go take breakfast out of the oven anyway. Six cups of cooked oatmeal, whipped together with four eggs, 2T of baking powder, fat pinch salt, some sugar (or whatever), a couple of mushy peaches, some handfuls of blueberries, 1/4 cup oil or melted butter, 3 cups flour. Mashed into two buttered pans and then topped with great slabs of butter, a whole lot of cinnamon and some more sugar. Then into the oven at 350 for awhile until a toothpick comes out clean. And for a brief bright moment the whining stops and I can go back to sleep for fifteen minutes.

Cheerio. Go Check Out Jen!

a huge thank you to cogs

Three weeks ago Good Shepherd threw a party celebrating these last ten years of our ministry here in Binghamton. We had advanced warning of about 3 days which allowed us, or rather me, to fret with anxiety and consider being sick on that day. In the intervening time I dreamt twice that everybody stood up, one by one, to tell us, in detail, what a disappointment we've been and how sorry they are that we've been here this long.

But of course, it wasn't like that at all. In fact, the people of this church went quite the other way to embarrass us with praise. I was veritably and completely overwhelmed by the lovely and encouraging things said that day. You would think we are giants of faith, continually hard working, abounding in righteousness and perseverance from all that was said instead of people who regularly struggle to believe, who frequently let things fall through the cracks, who sin all the time. I praise God so much that he has worked so much, and used us even a little, to bring so many to himself and deepen and strengthen so so many in this church.

One thing, because were I to name them all this post would be as long as the whole blog up to this point, stands out as a particular grace. The MC of the day, one of the first people to welcome us when we arrived (and, may I just say, an extremely gracious person to me who was 36 weeks pregnant at the time and feeling like it was possible I would never give birth) read a beautiful letter in which she thanked us for bringing the gospel in such a way that it transformed Good Shepherd from a social club or gathering into a body of believing Christians motivated to go out into the world. That our mission to Good Shepherd would have so succeeded that the people here see what God has done and are grateful for his work was encouraging beyond what I can say. That God should so transform and form a people for himself to take a true and sacrificial stand for the truth of the Gospel and then push out into the community and the world is so strengthening to me personally.

Because many many days, when Matt is struggling to study while children whirl and shout and want to tell him about pokemon and Little House on the Prairie, when we pray and pray for people whose lives are coming apart, when I paint tiny little sheep only to have a helpful child color all over them with marker, many many days we are discouraged. Many many days we wonder if God is really doing anything at all or if we are striving in vain.

So thank you for telling us what God has done. Thank you for the amazing amazing gift and the beautiful heart for my garden. Thank you for all the balloons and the cake. Thank you for loving on our kids and being patient with them. Thank you for forgiving us when we've been wrong, for being patient when we've been slow. Thank you for taking care of us all these years--bailing out lakes of water from the basement, providing us with a gorgeous house and a vast safe and beautiful yard, bringing us meals and boxes and boxes of fancy sugar cereal, for all the cookies and chocolate milk during the early service, for moving us on the coldest day of the coldest January, for spurring us on to work for you and serve you and love you.

Thank you Good Shepherd! Here's to the next ten years!

elphine turns ten

Elphine turns 10 today and has been up since 4:30. She is the one child that sleeps till at least 8am, sometimes 9. It breaks my heart to find her banging around singing and smashing up the general peace and its not even 7 yet.

Matt looked reproachfully at me just now as I screamed for the seventh time, "stop kicking me in the head! If you can't be still go back to bed!"
and whispered, "when I was a child and woke up at four on my birthday my mother got up with me and gave me whatever I wanted."
"Well she's not here is she!" I gurgled in despair.

Now, at least, I've had that vital first cup of oolong and can begin to emerge from the shattered recesses of sleep. After I post this I have to begin to shove us in the car to go up to a small lake for the day. I've made what looks to be awfully like Hot Pockets but they taste a lot nicer. "Call them Satchels" said Matt, ever helpful. Ham, Cheese and Potato, Pepperoni and Cheese, Ham and Tomato. And then a lot of little tiny fruit pie bites--blueberry and nectarine.

"We need to make brownies," said Elphine surveying the vast array of bread and pie after we had put everything away.
"!! What!?" I said.

She's being given a bike and some dishes and a black skirt and shawl (! I know, I have no idea!). Yet again she goes without An Old Fashioned Doll because none of us can figure out what she means and sort out a way to acquire such an object.

And now, if I don't arise, there will be no hope for my child and I will loose my mind. Pip Pip.

hoof and mouth and stuff

 (Sorry about the horrible picture quality. Fingerprints all over my phone.)

A lot of us have Foot Mouth and Hand disease or whatever its called. Not me, I don't have it yet, but a bunch of kids have it or have had it and a couple of other ones have been throwing up and one has had some headaches and probably a few have bad attitudes and one certainly has some bad problem in his soul.

I don't know. I stopped keeping tally a few days ago. Basically, since Ma Jolie Petite Maman went on to her next lovely thing I've been wandering around sweeping, remaking beds and trying to get some kids to eat Something, Anything.

 

Fortunately, its summer! So the poor suckers aren't missing anything important, like school work.

Anyway, a few blog posts in the works are: 
The Gorgeous New Fence
Elphine Turns Ten
All the Shiny New School Books
How Do You Do It All?: A question from a friend who thinks I'm better than I am
Theology Matters: A reflection on how your bad view of God really will badly affect your life 
Blog Awards: Thanks Guys!
and finally
Stuff: You can run around simplifying your life or you can sit and surf the internet...I think we all know which is the better choice

i'm so embarrassed

It is really really hard not to become soppy and cliche about growing things in a garden. One would think, or at least I always did, that putting your fingers in the dirt and mucking around with cheap packets of seeds and flinging slugs over the fence to the poor neighbor (whom, of course, I love as Christ has commanded me) would be a task sent to ground me in terminal Reality.

And yet, morning after morning the nearly same euphoria of having a new baby is constantly attacking me as I Inspect My Garden. I am daily grossed out by my own nostaligic love for the various badly arranged plants in my back yard and bit of community garden.

I know you must all be horrified to hear that on occassion I am overcome by delight for my own children, and now also my own garden. Soon you will find me canning and driveling. And before that, swooning over my new fence.

I'm so sorry, and yet, I think, not really.

blown along

As usual at this time of the morning, there is some kind of crazed circus being played out by a variety of children who wake with every dawn ready to jump, shout, twirl, kick,  whine and in other ways make me count the minutes till my walk at 7am. Four out of six are sleeping the sleep of the stayed-up-till-9:30 but those two babies...my goodness. They could go to sleep at 3am and still wake ready to kick me in the head.

This week has wandered quickly away from me before I could catch it and make it do something sensible. I've had extra children in amongst my own to play and I've been weeding my lettuces and staking up my tomatoes. And all the way along I've been feeling really sad about my friend Lauren. Elphine, who happened to be around when we read all the news reports on Sunday (see the post directly below this one), has wanted to talk about it, so much so that I had to forbid her from talking or thinking about it before bedtimes so that she would be able to go to sleep. And honestly, as I wake up morning by morning, and think 'maybe I should blog' I usually choose instead to have a look at the garden and destroy slugs etc rather than clutter up the internet with anything extra. The simple domestic rites of opening the curtains in the morning, picking up toys and crayons and shoes scattered all over from the day before, making a child brush her hair, holding someone else's baby for an afternoon, pulling out and throwing away the six pairs of shoes I long to wear but never will, is it possible that these are more important, more weighty, this week?

Lauren has been carrying on writing on Facebook since her blog has been shut down. Reading her is like gazing down into a great abyss of grief, so vast, so immeasurable, that only God could gather it up and measure it. On Tuesday we started reading The Silver Chair after dinner. Jill, you might remember, immobilized by fear, stands on the edge of the precipice as Eustace tumbles over. And then, as it seems that all is lost, she sees that rather than falling, he is being blown through the air, and then she looks over and sees it is a lion doing the blowing. That is all my prayer for Lauren and her girls. That she be blown along by Jesus, that her feet not touch the hard rocky ground.

please pray

If you have a chance to pray for my friend  Lauren who blogs at Sparkling Adventures I'd be so grateful.
I've had her linked on the side for many years now.

She lost her baby, Elijah, this weekend and it seems that her husband, David, is under suspicion.

Please pray for Lauren and her girls and her family as they struggle to discover what happened and grieve the loss of their precious baby.

quick birthday takes

one
If I was going to start a new blog (which I'm not going to do) I would call it My Obese Cat. But then I would have nothing to say because everything is contained in the title.
two
Today is my Mother's Birthday!
Happy Birthday Mother!

Earlier in the week she made a gorgeous dinner for us and my aunt and uncle from Norway.

 The salads were beautifully abundant enough to feed us for a whole week. 

But we ate them all and then ate Zanzibar Chicken (unphotographed) and finally chocolate pots.

 

 And Elphine made brownies AGAIN!

 The dogs lay about hoping for food to rain down, upon the place beneath.

 

three

And then, because... well....when Landers gather together inevitably the subject of my late grandmother's unfortunate habit of crochet rears its startling head, my mother put on the famous purple teacozy? or is it a hat? And she and my aunt talked Lander Legs, Lander Arms and Lander Hearts.

Anyway, today, in furtherance of the festal birthday, we're going to go to a local park with a lake to pray against the scattered thunder showers. Elphine made brownies YET AGAIN for our lunch and we'll probably have some other nice things. And while we do that
four
the fence will be going in!
The wood is here, the cement mixer is here, the massive post hole digger is here. And we will be here except for when we're picnicking. SO Exciting!
five
Also very exciting and wonerful, albiet boring to all those whom I love, is that I got my quarterly and end of the year home school reports in on time. Not only so, but I've put serious time and energy into next year's plan, both calendar and curriculum. The glow of well being and accomplishment is only slightly softened by the large pile of other work sitting on my desk and in my heart--like going over our Sunday School program with a fine tooth pen.
six
Also, I need to wrest out of the grubby grasp of the baby some horrible birthday card that, when you open it, sings 'Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh, tubby ol something something'. She was rewarded in her twice daily dig through the waste paper basket ("STOP THAT BABY" the whole world yells as she hones in like a remotely controlled Obama drone) by finding this card which sets us back days and days in the breaking of this vile habit.
seven
And that, dear friends, is the substance of my life. If I don't get up and start finding sunscreen, hats, umbrellas and food, these children will rise up as one and fling me into the Susquehanna.

Go check out Jen!

hee hee

David Mitchell is doing soap boxes again! And since practically everybody at Good Shepherd stood in front of the vast array of coffee hour celebratory Anglican cake yesterday and 1. knew they shouldn't eat it and 2. had been told not to fast by the preacher, I thought this really would cheer them all this fine Monday morning. Except, don't believe him! heheeeee

ar·bor·vi·tae

 On Tuesday, a very cool awesome backhoe came to our yard to pull up and replant a hedge of arborvitaes.

 They were pulled right up out of the ground and carried along and replanted along the back fence of the church property. It rained and rained and rained as a something like 14 trees were pulled up and replanted.

 We all came out and watched for a while in the rain, trying to keep well out of the way. Marigold had to be held because she was afraid of the back hoe. She worked on saying 'back hoe' all day. What a helpful word to have on hand. Last night she worked hard on saying 'pizza cutter.' Language is so interesting.

 So amazing, how the tree dances along through the air, before being rooted back into the ground.

 Here they are basically all in place. While all this was going on, Elphine was baking her brownies (God help us).

Here was the fence before the trees.

 Here we are, looking back at the house, the trees all gone. It looks very bare and exposed, but a fence is going to go in later. Meanwhile, there's a huge stretch of grass upon which to run races.

 Here they were, right before they were moved.

 The Long View.

 By the end of the day, they were soaked through and mud covered.

 This is still my favorite bit, tree after tree, dancing through the air.

a little gardening

Last Monday we forced the children to help in the community garden. They worked hard for five minutes and then the boys started whining. "Its too hot. I'm too tired." Told them to "man up" or they would be in for a "world of hurt". There's nothing like a cliche here and there to carry forward a morning of great parenting and helpful gardening.

Gladys and Marigold got to help plant tomato plants. Marigold just helped herself to the plants without being asked. That's just the way she rolls.

Here is my own plot! Look! Its not dead! Amazing!

 These are alive carrot plants. Don't say what you're really thinking. Say something nice instead.

 A lettuce and a half.

 Cucumbers

 Someone planted lovely flowers to dress up the whole garden.

 More children working hard, or something.

 And when we were all through, Marigold put a tea cozy on her head.

cook with your children, the experts say

Elphine is making brownies.
She's been making them since about 1pm this afternoon. I've been trying to patiently not loose my mind, but as we head into the fourth hour of brownie making (from a box, let the truth be known) I feel that the battle may be too much for me.

First she got the boxes of brownie mix out of the cupboard.
Then she read the directions. We got all the measuring cups out and talked about fractions....again. Her eyes glazed over and she stuck her chin out until that part was over. Then she got a half a cup of water from the sink, and a cup of oil  from the cupboard and six eggs out of the fridge.
"You're only making two boxes" I said, "you only need four eggs." So she put two eggs back.
(God help us all.)
Then she poured all the liquid into the dry mix and stirred it for a while.
And then she added the eggs.
One
crushed
wreched
shell
at
a
time.
Then she stirred it some more.
"Good job." I said smiling through clenched teeth, "Let me stir it a little bit more so that there are no lumps."
Then she spooned the batter into muffin tins.
At this point I went and did something else because of the possibility of either infanticide or suicide. When I came back, she was covered in chocolate.
I know, as a parent, that its easy to toss that off--covered in chocolate--like, you know, the child has a lot of chocolate on the face and some on the elbow. I just want you to stop and rethink that image of "covered in chocolate" and instead of a child with a little bit of chocolate on the face and elbow, think of first a berry covered in chocolate, and then think of my whimsical meadow loving child (can you feel the positivity oozing from my pores?) covered in chocolate.
She was covered in chocolate.
Then she put the pans in the oven. After a bit she undertook to take them out. One pan was done, and then a few minutes later another pan was done and she took it out. But in all the comotion, she also took the third pan out--the bigger muffin sized tin. Through the course of the afternoon I have put it back into the oven no less than four times, and each time she has taken it out again almost immediately.
And so the final product (I hope its final, she is now in the shower trying to get the chocolate off) consists of a lot of underdone brownies jammed into a small casserol dish and then lathered with chocolate frosting. I expect they will be declicious, but they look a little worse for wear.
So there we are. Elphine made brownies. Maybe later she can make something else. May God have mercy on my soul.

a decade

Another church picnic come and gone (yesterday). As I stood in the water at the lake counting five of my children plus two others (one...two...three four five six.....don't see the seventh...oh, there it is) and catching up with friends I've not seen in a month, I realized that it was really the picnic that was our "first Sunday" ten years ago. We weren't ordained yet and we had just arrived so it wasn't our first Sunday in terms of work, but it was in terms of meeting everyone.

And, of the ten picnics come and gone, I guess I was probably pregnant for a full six of them. Well, I'm not sure. I would have to figure out when I was pregnant each year, bla bla bla, and that's too much trouble. I'm sure, however, that the sheer number of children has made the time go faster than it otherwise would.

So I think I'll go count up my gray hairs again, and reexamine the lines on my face.

7 takes to catch up

one

I think its been a busy week but I can't really remember. My mom and dad are here and yesterday they drove down to NJ to pick up my Great Aunt and bring her up here for a visit. So that's very exciting and wonderful, and the explanation for why I've barely popped open my computer except to check my email, and even then I've been forgetting to do that.

two

I have been rather successfully keeping school going. I'm dreading the moment we finish everything and the multitude of the Kennedy children can wake up and careen around purposeless and triumphant. Some of them are already negotiating the level of their academic pursuits over the summer.
"Half an hour of reading" Alouicious has decreed, "no math, no writing."
"We'll see," I've said, "But whatever it is will definitely be more than half an hour of reading."
On the whole this year has been pretty good. ('High praise indeed,' you might scoff, unless you homeschool, in which case you know what I'm talking about.)

three

And I've sorted out my next school year, and planned when to buy what I'm going to buy. And I've deep cleaned my school room. And I finished the Great Clothes Change Over of 2012. But no I haven't weeded my garden, or planned Summer Sunday School (still accepting teachers, all you Good Shepherdians!), or gotten a handle on the laundry, or removed the horrible green marker dots from Glady's lovely pink dress, or clipped the dogs heavy coats of hair and given them a bath (Rain Rain! Go Away!).

four

Speaking of which, here is the little pom. Cute, if loud. But he is cured of barking on walks. Now he weeps at not being allowed to bark. And he is eating and sleeping comfortably.

 

He must be mixed with something. From all the pictures of Pomeranians I've looked at, he doesn't look exactly like that and his body is too squat I think. Anyway, there he is. Or rather, here he is with us.

five

I'm trying to read, or rather listen to, the Bible chronologically. This is the second time I've started (like a Pharisee, I never make it past Deuteronomy) so I've blown through the first 90 days of the plan in three weeks. I started this years ago when Jessica blogged so beautifully about it and I thought, 'Oh, that will make me so spiritually mature, like her' but then, obviously, here I am, three years later, still in the Pentateuch. Anyway, I finished Deuteronomy This Morning. So now I have only to click forward with my mouse, instead of sabotaging myself by going backwards.

six

 As part of the Great Clothes Change Over of 2012 I came across a bin of pre-marriage skinny clothes and........I fit back into them. I almost wept with hope and wonder. And also wept because even though I can get into them, they don't look the same as they did so long ago. My shape has been irreparably altered by the six enormous human beings I've given life to. And, what a joy and wonder that's been. Anyway, I am heartened because I've been eating less food, which, if you read the books, you have to do to get skinnier, and walking up the wretched hill. And I've been hating every minute of it. But I think its been worth it. Of course, having written it down in a blog, I'll probably accidentally eat a whole cake today and balloon out. But there it is, marked in time and space, Anne Got Skinnier one time.

seven

Matt's parents are moving out of their lovely and beautiful home this weekend. They sold it very quickly when it went on the market, so quickly they haven't found the next house of their dreams. Matt looks like he could use a cake to cheer him up (just kidding, he hates cake! Don't bring cake! He won't eat it but I will! Srsly! NO CAKE!) and I'm sure they could use your prayers as they move into an apartment and keep house hunting. Don't you just hate change? And yet God is always asking us to change and be different and grow. I think some time he should just let us sit and not move house or anything.

And on that note, go check out Jen and have a lovely weekend!

seven more quick boring takes

one

The dogs are curled up together. It looks hot and uncomfortable. The two babies that are awake are fighting and hitting each other and me. Every now and then the baby tries to sit on my head. They are also 'singing' which just means they are just shouting really loud.

two

Really sad and discouraged by this news yesterday. Seems like we're not just sneaking up to the line of barbarism and violent ruination but are sprinting there.

three

My mom and dad get back tonight really late from their jaunt to the West Coast. So why am I lying here? Why am I not cleaning and doing laundry? Why? Why? Why?

four

Good Shepherd's Ice Cream Social/Health Fair is tomorrow from noon to three tomorrow! Pony rides! Ice Cream! Face Painting! Tons of awesome cool stuff! Come see us! You'll find me wandering around trying to keep track of all my kids and making sure they don't scam the system and take more stuff than they should.

five

Some of my seeds are coming up! And Elphine planted a little garden on Monday. And we're going to plant a little apple tree this weekend in between all the other excitements going on.

six

Naval Gazing is blogging again for those of us who regretted her long silence. Here is the best line of all my blog reading anywhere this week.

I don't think God blesses righteous people financially unless everyone in the third world is an unrighteous piece of crap. 

Read the whole post, as I've obviously taken this totally out of context. heh. 

Seven

And on that note, I'm going to move on to the next thing since I started writing this at 6am and now its 10:37 and basically in that time the house has vomited on itself, the children are not doing even one thing they're supposed to be doing but are instead fighting and wrestling and being awful and Matt keeps looking over at me pointedly like 'so, um, are you going to do anything today besides sit there blogging?' to which I reply, with my pointed glance 'you're sure one to say anything about blogging.'

Have a great weekend and go check out Jen!

the pom among us

Yeah, so the dog is still here.
He comes if you shout 'Bonzo' really loudly and hysterically.
He has no microchip.
He has no tags.
He isn't being sought after on Craig's List.
I'm going to see what the paper can do for me today, and the Humane Society has written my message down on a piece of paper, may they not loose it. The next step is posters put up around the neighborhood this weekend.

Meanwhile, he seems to have made friends with everyone and especially likes to sit on the feet of whoever is making dinner, which has wrought much cussing and screaming as both Matt and I end up a mass of contusions from tripping over him in the dinner rush. He's also terribly behaved. He barks at all other dogs, even dogs who could eat him, and goes on barking until you pick him up and scuttle home in shame. He sits in the living room and barks just if he feels like it. He sits in the back yard and barks at the sounds he hears over the hedge. And then he growls when you try to take him inside and he doesn't want to go. BUT all that is worth it to see Matt holding him sheepishly and also walking him round the block, stopping every few seconds a la Cesar Milan to do that SHWEUP bite thing to make him stop barking at everything.

I won't hold him or walk him because I already have a dog. As for me and my dog, we are extremely embarrassed by the behavior of that dog and we stand around and gaze up to heaven as he is forced to sit until he stops barking.

I don't know what the Almighty is thinking. In the meantime, as I move about the house in the daily pursuit of my various and sundry domestic rites, I am followed by the gentle clicking of these two psuedo dogs and a couple of babies, and, in the far off distance, one or two cats who also cannot imagine what the Almighty must be thinking.

why I'm a calvinist

My favorite part of The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, and I'm going from memory here, goes something like

Laid a fleece. If a midget in a Japanese admiral's uniform arrives at the door at 9:04 precisely, I would know that God wanted me to sing carols.

Wish I'd had the presence of mind to lay just such a fleece this evening. Something like

If, at 8:56pm on Memorial Day while I'm watering the community garden, five very tall African American young men come up to me bearing a fat white puffed Pomeranian dog then I would know that God wanted me to..........

But I'm not struggling with any big decisions lately and didn't have the foreknowledge to lay any such fleece. Drat it all.

So anyway, these nice young men unloaded this ridiculous dog on us tonight. He seems to be fairly well looked after and has a collar but no tags. If you're in Binghamton on the southside could you ask your friends and neighbors if they know anything about him? We'll be posting something on Craig's List in the morning and calling around.

On the bright side, this thing (Matt is refusing to call it a dog) makes our own dog (a Toodle? or a Perrier? Which do you think sounds more stately?) look and sound like a veritable tower of manly dog strength. Sure he twirls, but in a menacing way. And sometimes he barks, but only to protect his spot on the bed. Plus, he sure is ugly, so that must count for something.

So, for those of us foolish enough to think that we can order and arrange our own lives, God says,

Here, take care of this Pomeranian.

the gentle idiot gardens

I have acquisitioned a plot in Good Shepherd's community garden. I plunked some seeds from a trusting and knowledgeable friend who never-the-less has seriously overestimated my abilities. Things like "swiss chard" and "peppers" went from her seed packets into my plot, and a tomato plant I acquired on Amazon (did you know you can buy plants on Amazon? Weird). Even so, it looks pretty dismal.

But then yesterday someone from church, let me rephrase that, lovely people from church brought vast amounts of tomato and squash plants and set them carefully next to my dead brown smear of earth. In the evening, as an act faith (the American kind, not the biblical kind) I tossed back a glass of wine and mucked them about into the soil. So now half my plot is alive and thriving (at least for the night) and the other half still looks rather dead. I'm going to give it three more days before I plow it under and move the squashes over.

And on Saturday I dug up a very sick rose bush and moved it gently and prayerfully to a different spot. And along the side of the house sunflowers are coming up where I didn't plant them. And I took a clipping from a bush in the front and plunked it in the ground in the back in the hopes that it will not die, but will live and grow.

Matt generally watches me messing around in the dirt with a tolerantly sarcastic air. Apparently he knows how to make plants stay alive. That being the case, he doesn't understand the terror and thrill of putting something in the ground and having it come up. He is nonchalant. He is breezy. He says lightly, "it will be fine." But also he doesn't know what a miraculous and tenuous occurrence it is, to have the wretched thing actually grow.

seven boring boring quick takes

one

Matt and Alouicious are about to go to men's bible study. Alouicious usually calls it Man's bible study. He gets up early and drinks a cup of sugary coffee and then is allowed to have some kind of soda during the study. He goes and eats the massive breakfast over there (church) and then comes home and gets in on the breakfast everyone is having over here. He's usually able to tell me what the text was and what was discussed but mainly its about the food and sugar.

two

That means that I'm left here with two awake babies who look like they've slept well and would therefore like to do something interesting, like take all the spices out of the cupboard. There's also the remains of the John McArthur sermon on the text from Acts for the bible study gently wafting over me. Its always a bit of a jar, listening to McArthur preaching on Acts on Friday mornings. On the other hand, I'm probably becoming a more mature and thoughtful Christian. Or something.

three

I pretty well have all my curriculum chosen for the fall. Of course, every time I get another catalog in the mail I go back to my list and make a few adjustments. Unfortunately, nobody seems as excited about it as I am--certainly not the children, and surprisingly not Matt who smiles a pastoral crinkly smile at me when I ask him if he'd like to hear about it.

four 

(several hours later)

Elphine and Gladys got to go sleep at a friend's house Wednesday and apparently Elphine stayed awake all night. I didn't really believe her when she told me this fact, but I guess she was right because she's still asleep at 9am. Far be it from me to wake her up. May she sleep and sleep and be in a good mood upon arising.

five

My zinnia seeds appear to actually coming up, and some of the pink English daises. And three lonely sunflowers. And a lettuce. But nothing else, blast it all.  Going to pray over all the seeds and shake my fists at some birds.

six

And also try to complete the Great Clothes Change Over of 2012. I have a ginormous pile of clothes to give away if anyone wants to come look through them before they disappear. But I wouldn't get excited, I'm weeding out all the ruined junky stuff.

seven

And on that note, I guess I should stop this and do all that. Cheerio!

that's not safe

Monday we all went together to take two of the children to their well baby appointments. In general we have tiny children and so were astonished to discover that the baby is in the 30th percentile for height. "What a giant" said the doctor sardonically. We all laughed together.

Never mind that she, the baby, had thrown up a mere half an hour earlier.
Stupidly, we thought we'd make a day of it.
Pick up the house, get in the car, go to Wegmans for a serious stocking up, buy something for lunch, go to a park and then end up at the doctor to round out the whole day.

So of course it was raining as we wended our remarkable way out of Wegmans. I say remarkable because I can tell so many people are remarking on us in their own minds. I generally plaster a smile to myself as one adjusts a mast or something, grab a couple of hands of children and talk cheerfully to Matt or Elphine as we pass in front of the checkouts, not making eye contact but noting the startled mothers with one or two children in their carts, the bemused boomers who gently lift their eyebrows to the heavens, the gentle grandmothers who usually smile and sometimes say something helpful like "you sure do have your hands full."

The rain rained long enough for us to decide to eat our lunch in the car. Matt has a rule about this. A rule that says "No Eating In the Car Ever."
"You value the cleanness of the car over the health, well being and happiness of your children" I always say, "I'll clean the car, I promise."
"No you won't. You always say that and then you never do."
"That's true" I ripost (its the same conversation every time) "but this time I will for sure clean the car."
So we ate in the car and only the baby shredded her delicious ham salad sandwich all over the seat. One out of six is very reasonable. And we drove around looking for a park. Up a hill, round a bend, up another hill, back the opposite way, round another bend and then
blecheheheeeeee.
"What was that?" said Matt cautiously.
"The baby threw up."
Turns out ham salad and cookies don't sit well with her on a windy car ride. And I'm not the kind of mom to drag around a lot of extra clothes and diapers and stuff. I don't carry anything for children except a tiny book about a bunny and horse and a chicken who get left out of a parade and so make their own parade, a better parade. And I have a pen and a piece of paper. I don't carry bottles or sippy cups or snacks or anything. Certainly no extra clothes.
"We'll just take her to the doctor naked, "said Matt.
"Oh, that'll be good," I say, "perfect."
But the park has a lou, so we clean her up a little and remove all the offending garments and then go play at the playground.
Except that the playground is awful. Awful.

Only Marigold has a good time because she's too little to know better. There are swings and a sort of climbing thing that if you fall off the top of it, you can't possibly get hurt. And there's a thing to throw a ball through (except there's no ball), and a very very safe bouncy thing that you can sit in and sort of jiggle around, and a stupid little house. And then, as I watch my children wandering around looking at the lame lame set up, I realize, there probably are no fun play grounds left in America.

You can't have a high slide because you can try to jump off or go up the wrong way. You can't have a see-saw because its so easy to fall off at the top, or hurt the other kid by coming down yourself very sharply. You can't have a merry go round because once you get it going really fast and get ready to jump out, you can fall and scrape yourself. You can't have monkey bars because you'll definitely fall when you're in the forth grade and break your arm. And even though you and your mother didn't dream of suing, some other mother did and so there are no fun play grounds left, at least in Binghamton, at least the ones I've seen.

And so on the one hand we're kind of shocked by the whole idea of children at all, and on the other, we're terrified that anything will happen to the few that we have. We follow them around on playgrounds and everywhere saying 'do be careful dear, don't climb up there, don't do that, don't swing too high, don't do that' and then we bring them home and let them play angry birds (well me, I let my kids play angry birds but I feel really guilty about it). And so they learn not to take any risks, except maybe on the internet.

On that note, I'm going to go tell the child I hear meddling in the kitchen to Stop It, risk or no risk, naked or clothed, vomitous or not.

monday morning haze

I'm supposed to be starting the Great Summer/Winter Clothes Change Over of 2012 and rousting us all to work in the garden and do other long neglected tasks. But I'd much rather lie here and fritter away my life reading snippets of things on the internet and petting the dog.

The dog, as can be noted by just looking at him, is a poodle of some variety and wishes to be held or to sit on you all the time. If you, for some stupid reason, stand up, he looks at you with a deep sadness, his eyes speaking to your depths. "Don't get up, sit here for a few more minutes" he says. Because of this foolishness, I have recently wasted quite a lot of time. Meanwhile, the cats sit at a distance and glare with profound contempt and rage. I caught one yesterday and petted her for ten minutes while she growled and hissed at me.
"I love you" I said, "and I know in your heart you love me and some day you will thank me for bringing change and difficulty into your life so that you might grow stronger."
"To whom are you talking?" Matt inquired in the midst of this gentle speech, "Because if it's the cat you're wasting your breath."

So anyway, two children have a well baby/child-visit today, both of them to receive vaccinations. We might all go since its our day off and we like to be all together (hardy har har) and then gather in some food lest we starve to death. And then I really want to saw the legs off another table. Its become kind of a thing for me, making tables shorter. Having discovered this amazing possibility, it is tempting to do it to every table I meet. And then we should remove that poor bird I found two days ago. One of those lovely delicate little brown sparrows (I assume sparrow, but as usual, I'm not rushing to look it up) lay right at the side of the drive very peacefully dead so I thought we might give it a Christian burial. And we will fend off the child who wants to play "The XBox 360". When referring to this device, he lowers his voice and speaks worshipfully, but also, I think, with the hint of a whine.

And by the end of the day, we will be So Well Rested that we will dive joyfully into the week, ready to work hard and build up the kingdom (again, hardy har har).

poetry

There once were six children all whining
In spite of their mother's insane crying
That they should all stop
Before she went pop
Dissolving into a vague gray shadow of herself...........

I've had this stupid non limerick stuck in my head for two years and I can't finish it or make it into anything. It just rattles around there in the back of my mind. But its a little bit better than Elphine's terrible mother's day poem.

Poppies are red.
Marigolds are orange.
Mothers are sweet.
And so are you.

"Nothing rhymes with 'orange'" I shouted, after laughing for a while. "Also, Marigolds can be yellow. Try"

Poppies are red.
Marigolds are yellow.
Mothers are sweet.
I'm wishing I had jello....
I'm feeling kind of mellow....
My voice is a kind of bellow....
I knew of a little fellow....

 Me embarrassed that I can't write a limerick. Baby Lady Elaine not surprised about it at all.

No use. I'm going to go fold laundry.
Pip Pip!

Ordinary Time

We are fast approaching the green season of Ordinary Time in the church year. The garden will grow, vegetables, flowers and weeds together. I will eventually get summer clothes out of bins and sweaters put away. We will slack off school for a couple of months. The boys will wear short sleeved shirts to church. A lot of Sundays it will seem sparse because it everyone is out of town. And our days will race by so quickly by the time September rolls around we will have whiplash. And then, just when we think the liturgical season should change because the school year has, we will go on being in Ordinary Time.

But from this vantage point, ordinary is so to be desired. The long exhausting season of feasting needs to folded up and put away or we will become like Aileen in Word Girl--monstrous, green, whining 'But everyday is my Biirrffffdaaaaayyyyy!'

I think a long Ordinary Time is a pleasant rebuke to our always-on-to-the-latest-thing-culture. I don't want anything new right now. I want some things to be useful until they become threadbare. I don't want to rush out and buy a new pair of shoes just because the shape of my heel is clearly last season's...well, I shouldn't lie, it is a lot more seasons before last season. From this angle nothing is to be gained by a new pair of shoes.

But I know that come September, the endless green of Ordinary Time will cause me to bite my lip and fret that we will never get on to the next new shiny thing. And that is when the rebuke will be for me and not for the general masses out there. Then, ordinary will feel insufficient. I will rearrange the furniture and be lured by school supply displays. Who knows what time it was when all the crowds left Jesus (well, obviously, someone probably knows but not me as I'm writing this) but I always figured it was sometime like September, or a change of season time. The crowds flitted away, thinking, 'whatever, if you won't give me bread I'm going back to see what's on sale in the market'.

And on that note, I am going to pick up this ordinary fat baby and hope that she doesn't move into any new stage for at least three days.

Happy Mother's Day

I hope you'll are bustling about getting ready to honor your mothers in a serious and heartfelt way through the weekend. I, of course, am deeply grateful to my own mother for being willing to have me. And to Matt's for being willing to have him.

And so, to show my deep appreciation and love, here is a little weekend present. Happy Mother's Day!

order and balance restored to the universe

Somehow every single one of us have contracted varying levels of a cold. Nobody wants to touch the baby because of all the snot. And I seem to have mislaid my ....what is that part of the body that you try to think about stuff with? Can't remember.

But it doesn't matter because we have a dog!--a small fairly ugly but very cute lap dog.

Basically we found him on a local ebay listing. The person who gave/sold him to us (what is a 'rehoming' fee really) was really nice and also the only person who got back to me of all the different listings I responded to. Actually, I'm pretty sure I didn't respond to his listing. I think I passed over the dog several times and then he must have dialed my number by divine accident.

So, here he is.

He's come with the name 'Panda' which doesn't suit him remarkably well. He doesn't really need a name at all because he's always right at hand, ready to sit on your lap or gaze up at you adoringly or be sat on by a tottering and badly balanced child. But Alouicious would like to call him 'Ash' and Matt would like to call him 'Ashurbanipal' and Elphine would like to call him 'AshurPandabal'. I sort of thought Goliath would be nice.

He arrived with the knowledge of sitting, staying, walking on a leash, playing fetch, and dancing in a tiny circle on his hind legs when there's the possibility of food. He doesn't seem to bark much at all and he doesn't shed and he was deeply cautious and respectful of the cats and so, as far as I can tell, is perfect.

And now I need to arise and make some breakfast because someone is coming momentairly to repair a pipe that spews water all over my laundry room every time you turn on some faucet or other.

ashur panda bal

 

 

 

 

 

seven quick quick reasons we need a dog

Last night a tiny baby squirrel was discovered chirping and freaking out in our back yard. There were about 10 kids back there playing and shouting and banging sticks together when they noticed him dancing along the ground under the hedge crying for help and comfort. Fortunately my friend held the hoard at bay. I wandered out to inquire about the commotion and the poor baby ran straight up to me, climbed into my hand, tucked his head into my bosom and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, Matt and my friend conspired against me, Matt getting a box together and my friend greedily making off with him at a remarkable speed.


So anyway, here are seven reasons we need a dog.

one

I'm really tired of sweeping the floor. With six children dropping food on the floor, all I do is sweep. I could use the help.

two

It took me forever as a child to aquire a dog and its ridiculous that as an adult, I'm still waiting around to have a dog. Its like there's no benefit to growing up and getting a life.

 three

The children are old enough to assist in caring for such a creature. They clean the wretched cat boxes, feed and pet the cats, they get up early to do school work, they participate in the household work. They are old enough to care for a dog.

four

The cats are getting fat and need the exercise. Besides, one of them is already like a dog and would appreciate the company.

five

Getting a dog affirms the memory and love of all previous dogs. When a person dies, does one refuse to have anything more to do with people? I hope not. The more animals you care for in life, the better a time you will have in heaven. Those who refuse to have pets here on earth will get off the bus in heaven and will have no one to welcome them. They will be like the poor saps who get off the plane and have to walk through the crowd alone to the rental car, eveyone looking at them and saying sorrowfully, "nobody loves him".

six

The price of gas and the number of our family make travel prohibitive and therefore a dog will be of no inconvenience on that score.

seven

The children and I had a lovely prayer time together and we really feel the Lord leading us, as a family, to aquire and care for a dog. We don't have any peace, right now, about not having a dog. 

rein, rein, gueux eveille

gomme a gaine, en horreur, taie.

"Queen, Queen, arouse the rabble

Who use their girdles, horrors, as pillow slips."

It looks to be another long day of rain. The corner of that hedge cutting into the gray sky makes me think about maybe gazing at the brick wall of the church instead. But probably not. Those bricks seem to go on for miles and miles and miles. Told Matt yesterday it's what I imagine a prison wall might look like. "Not with that cross," he said. But really, doesn't that make it worse? I mean, when Paul said he was a 'prisoner for the sake of the gospel' he wasn't speaking figuratively or metaphorically, he really was one. And here I am, a free person, luxuriating in my opulent bed, merely looking at a gray sky and a rather plain hedge and wall. Were it not for the cross, looming over me, reminding me that I am suppose to be chained to the gospel, I could just mutter to myself, but now I have to feel guilty about the muttering.

Anyway, we won't be able to go out, if it rains. I don't think Paul, for all his chains, was ever cooped up in a house with six children nagging him to check their math and tell them what a meteor is. And no prospect of making them run laps around the yard, or dig for more rocks, or cut back the fading tulips.

We will just sit inside and wallow in piles of clean laundry that have been washed in our own house in a washing machine that works quietly and reliably--a free machine, I might add, an Incredible and lovely gift from incredible and lovely friends. And we will be grateful that Matt doesn't automatically have surgery coming for his hand. Hopefully it will be something like gentle therapy and anti-inflammatory somethings. And we will try to replicate the amazing miracle of yesterday wherein we finished school by noon (!!!!!) and had the rest of the day to play and scrub the kitchen floor.

For the last two weeks we have returned to our long lost custom of saying Morning Prayer over breakfast. Is it possible that that might have had some effect on our ability to get through the day in a more reasonable manner? "What! Prayer?" as some might say, "Has it come to that?" I will try to thank God, all day, and count things together for joy, especially that cross done so solidly in brick. And maybe the rain will go away, loosing us from this tiny prison of our tiny minds.