In which you see I am a slavedriver

Me (dumping a new pile onto the bed): "Come and fold, Delaney."

Delaney (coming in to fold): "I knew you were going to say that."

Me: "Wow. How do you know such things?"

Delaney: "Because, whenever you see a pile of laundry and then you see me, you say, 'Come and fold'."

She totally gets it

We acquired some speakers and a CD player to go with them this weekend that know they have found a true home. We couldn't help but testing them repeatedly after Eric got them set up and made sure they worked (they were from an auction). First, some classic rock guitar. Then, bluegrass. Then, classical. Then, Newsboys. Finally, it hit us -- and, even though it was June, we pulled out the Trans Siberian Orchestra Christmas arrangement with everything from violins to guitar to piano and so on in it; this is the one where I always "assign" an instrument for everyone to pretend they're playing, because the instruments play at different places and they really have to listen for it.

So we are blasting it in the living room, (and really only my brother and sister know what I mean here by blasting) and Delaney and Sara are the string section, Levi's got the drums, Jesse is the bass guitar, Leah and Eric are the electric guitars, I'm the keyboard. We love the sounds, the speakers, our family, music, just....life. Right in the middle of one of the full orchestration points, at the top of her lungs, with a huge grin on her face, Delaney says:

"I broke a string!"

Expectations

Last evening, while Eric and the kids were playing in the back yard, two dogs came across the road running toward the kids and barking. I knew what was next, and it didn't take long: two screaming girls (Sara and Leah) and three other very nervous kids. Sara practically choked Eric while trying to climb up the back of his shirt as he tried to calm down the dogs, who were fairly small and friendly. The neighbor came quickly to retrieve her dogs. Fast forward to this morning, as we were making our way through a list of small jobs that needed to be done. Sara and Leah were tasked with sweeping the garage.

Sara, coming through the garage door into the kitchen with Leah: "Mom...um....we don't want to be outside alone."

Me (knowing why): "That's going to make for a pretty long summer and boring life, don't you think?

No smiles. Stone faces.

Me: "All right, here's the thing. I know that you feel scared that more dogs might surprise you outside. But, if you remember, you have been doing great petting new dogs you meet lately, and getting more comfortable. And, we know you don't want to miss swinging, and bike riding and soccer and everything outside, right?"

Them: "Right."

Me: "I think one thing we could do is to pray and ask God to help you not feel so afraid to be outside, to give you peace that He is always with you."

Sara: "So God would stop the dogs from coming and barking and just make them stand still?"

Me: "No, that might not happen. But He will definitely help you be brave and not be so scared. OK? You could pray right now in the garage."

A few minutes later. I'm in the bathroom and Leah yells through the door.

Leah: "Mom!? We prayed!"

Me: "That's great, honey!"

Leah: "What's Jesus going to do now?"

Me: "Well, He's going to help you on your inside...help you feel better about being outside."

Leah: "Like, move our hearts around?"

Me: "Um, no, not exactly. Like, help you feel brave about dogs and get your work done without being scared."

Leah: "Oh, so we'll be like Levi?"

(And yes, they did a great job sweeping.)

Growing independence

When our summer break hits, my mind always turns to "big" ideas that have been waiting (im)patiently in the back of my brain. These are often things I notice about our children that need some, shall we say, course correction. I like to use our extra free time to gain some ground in an area in which they are lacking, or let us all explore something new, or a new way of doing something routine.

Anyway, a recurring "idea" that keeps bugging me is what I see as the kids' lack of independence. I was driving back home from a trip to the post office in our nearby small town right about the time the school buses were making their rounds. I noticed a small girl with a big backpack making her way to somewhere...it didn't look like she was headed home. The thought hit me hard again: when do my kids ever walk alone in town? Oh, yes, NEVER. You put five kids born close together + homeschooling + living on a seriously-busy road + the potential-child-harm-gestapo-government, you get...well, my children. : )

Of course I'm not saying they never do things on their own. They do plenty of activities around here that require responsibility and have consequences. It's the little things that you would never think of: how do you replicate choosing and paying for your own food in a lunch line? Send them alone into McDonald's? Someone would call the police on you. How do you replicate walking to a friend's house to ask if they could play? Adopt-a-neighborhood? Kind of freaky. And how about those hours I would spend biking around the country roads by myself trying to get lost? Do that now on this road, and you might as well start making up missing-child posters.

It's very hard to discern what part of me is just over-protecting and what part is not. I see a real need to get them used to making bigger decisions without us around, but I don't want to be irresponsible about it. Ideas, please?!

Cost v. Benefits

I'm going to launch right in here with a really obvious statement: it matters where you live.

We wrapped up our annual barn sale tonight. I'm in that exhausted-happy state right now: glad to be done but sad that it's over. But I'm sitting here contemplating how we got to this point. An "annual barn sale" implies at least three key things: 1) we have something worth selling; 2) we have a barn; and 3) we think it's worth doing this every year.

Those of you who really know me will know that I have very little worth selling. : ) We specialize in hand-me-downs around here. When I had my very first garage sale after moving here 5 years ago, I agonized over the items I wanted to sell: was that given to me? should I give it away? After spending way too much mental guilt time on that issue, plus finding myself getting far too concerned about each nickel and dime, the Lord led me to His solution: have the sale, give away the money. This works well and we have way more fun. Now, most of what we sell is donated by friends and family who are lightening their closets and garages, and their stuff is much nicer than ours!

The thing that has left us most amazed is the fact that having this barn sale is actually worth the time and effort. Of all the "cons" we listed when choosing this house, the most obvious and looming was the location. We, the ones who are trying to keep alive five active children, moved into a home with an address with a nickname: National Road. Hello? And despite a perfectly acceptable and quite speedy interstate being close and parallel, the apparently-nostalgic truckers prefer this road for their daily deliveries.

As it turns out, traffic is good for something: barn sales (and break-downs, and lost elderly drivers, and bike races, and Model T caravans, but we'll leave those stories for another time). Our short, two-day, middle-of-the-week sale this week yielded 306 vehicles into our driveway. And trust me, yes, we counted. (Levi also monitored the make of each car and what state they were from -- there's really no chart that boy doesn't love). This may be nothing to some people, but is quite fascinating to a couple who has either lived in farmhouses located where you could advertise everything for free and still have no one show up, or in city apartments.

So after days of cleaning and sorting together, delighting in watching the kids interact with our "customers", Levi and company make change with their toy cash register, making chocolate chip cookies together to sell, meeting new people and explaining how their money will help, giving neighbors a reason to come over and chat, not doing dishes for two days : ), and figuring out how many Liberians will have shelter, or a Bible, or seed money for their business with our earnings, all I can say is Thank You Lord, for this house on a busy, busy road. Will we live here forever? Maybe, maybe not. Will I complain less about the "cons" and look for more "pro" opportunities? Yes, I will.

It matters where you live. It matters how you live.

Two things I never imagined in the same sentence...

...our children, and miniature donkeys. : )

How not to write a big, long, venting blog post

1. Go to Walmart at the end of a very long errand afternoon with all five children.

2. Go when Walmart is packed (i.e., anytime)

3. Fill your cart with everything you'll need for the rest of May. Seriously.

4. Go through the most frustrating checkout experience of your existence.

5. Determine to go home and rant about it on your blog.

6. Instead, get home and live your responsibilities.

7. Sit down three days later at the computer and realize Walmart isn't worth it.