the fence post

As many of you know, we live right next to our place of work, Church of the Good Shepherd (COGS). Matt once did a little video of his 30 second "commute" with much smug hilarity. On Sunday mornings we get all dressed up and trip lightly up our little walk to the back door of the church. Of course, when I say we, I mean Matt and all the children. It takes me a teensy bit longer to get there what with the fact that I can never find my shoes and someone has walked off with my Sunday School Lesson and then it turns out that the person who hid my shoes had also carefully scattered all the other shoes in the whole house all over the living room so that if we invite anyone home for a nip of sherry they will have to remove a wide ranging assortment of all fashions/all season's footwear. So anyway, this is the view out of my bedroom window. Matt "opened up a bed", a habit to which he has recently become addicted, and then, in a stroke of brilliance, filled it with all this lovely pebble so that we can sit about feeling practically French (except that it's way to muggy and buggy just this moment).

 If you stand on our walkway this is the view towards the parking lot. I've said before that if you sit quietly in this little area you can hear everyone going by across the parking lot, to and from the bus and grocery, and you can hear everything that's said in the church kitchen. Not that I would every sit and listen, mind you, but it may be that other people, who might be in my back garden, might be sitting quietly. You never know. Mostly, though, I don't sit. The moment I sit I leap up again to destroy some weed or slug or horrible beatle or something.

The space between our house and the church is very sheltered and safe. But by the point of the walkway, there has been a wide open vast expanse of green encompassing a straight shot to the main road on one side, and a straight shot to the other quieter, though highly foottrafficked road on the other. Either way, if a child or dog or cat wanted to make a break for it, there wasn't a thing besides our vigilance to stop them. Although, to be fair, my children, because of all the fear of God we threatened into them, are pretty obedient. Its all the strangers walking by and/or breaking into the church (well, I say 'all' but its only happened twice) that make me really nervous.

So now, when you look at the church from the quieter road, here is what you see. And who knows how many children and dogs might be back there? None, maybe, or a dozen. Ha!

And notice that the lovely big church airconditioner is outside of my bit. So guess whose children aren't out there wrecking and breaking everything? That's right! Mine aren't. They're on my side wrecking and breaking their own toys.


And here is that same section from the otherside, in what is now a capacious amount of lawn and what will eventually be filled with beds of flowers and vegetables. Matt is planning to "dig out beds" until there is only one tiny section of grass and there he will put in a "water feature". Knock yourself out, babe.
We chucked the pink plastic house fifteen minutes after Gladys climbed up and then slid down head first. I'd been biding my time for an excuse. Its the innoncence of children, I always say, that leads us forward.

 
Here is the fence in its initial stages.
There was a whole day of a huge post hole digger and cement mixer and many people to help put in the posts. And then another hot week of dedication by Wardens (that's an Anglican thing, not a prison thing) themselves who put the whole thing together, slat by slat. Every morning the dogs would rush out to attack and then stop for a long pat.

Alouicious, after observing the proceedings from some amount of time, realized that the space was quickly narrowing up and pitched a little fit. Turns out, though, that when we sit about eating our suppers of a long summer evening, when they go over to the other side of the fence, its much quieter. On the whole, a beautiful arrangment.





And here are the old arborvitaes. All green and fine and sheltering. Matt watered them faithfully until we started having rain every single day. 





 I hope to plant fruit trees all along here, or something. Who knows what tomorrow may bring.


Meanwhile, the children strut around and complain about how everything is too hot. Stupid northern children. Don't they realize this is the right temperature?

in praise of mediocrity

We're having a week "off" watching the Olympics and squabbling with each other. For my second day "off" I'm going to do laundry and write up my Individualized Home Instruction Plans (IHIP) for each child and then think about burying myself under a rock or something. Can you believe that I have every single book, apparently, that I'll need for the year ordered, arrived and shelved by child by subject in the school room...and my desk is clean? I can't believe it either. But its true and as a result of its being true, I am going to have to actually do all those other things I also didn't want to do, like laundry, and writing up a purpose mission statement for the Sunday School (sorry CHEC! I am doing it! I am! I am! I am!). But at least I don't have to dive off a huge tall diving board perfectly synchronized to someone else and then miss out on the dream of my whole life because my "partner" splashed into the pool slightly too much. Boy, that would rot. That's the take away lesson, kids! Don't pour your life into only one activity because it might turn out to be not that awesome.
"That's ok, mommy," Gladys assured me after this little speech. "I weally weally love bayblading but I love God more. AND" she said, driving the point home, "Jesus is God and God is Jesus."
Isn't it great how holy and spiritual my children are? Wish you could hear the supercilious relish with which Gladys talks about God. Boy has she got it all figured out. She could be an NBC Olympic Interviewer for her remarkable timing and self-righteousness.
Happy Olympic Viewing!

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!