it's seven o'hug

Gagey steals my watch - & straps it onto his sturdy little man-wrist.
"Sloan!" he exclaims, looking studiously at the numbers, "It's seven o'hug!"
With abandon, he flings his three year old self into her waiting arms. He melts into her as she so gently circles his frame. They snuggle on my bed, and she breathes half to me, half to his white blonde head, "Best time of the day is seven o'hug..."
And He's held,
loved,
tenderly adored...
And then there was the moment of truth, when i was in Sobeys, picking up a few things for lunch. It was a mad dash with my two oldest girls, and we laughed as we chugged through that store, adding to our basket... "Sign here" the machine asked me...
i picked up the pen and began to scrawl, "Mom"...
Cairo laughed at me - because i am so used to signing their teacher checks in their LifePac's with this handle... that it seems to me that sometimes i no longer answer to any other name at all... and a tiny voice chides that i have no other identity that would give me a name...
But i do...
Have a name...
& He knows it -
& He whispers truth to me, using the words of the Psalmist;

"13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. 17 How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God! How vast is the sum of them! 18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you."

and He says to me, "i know you, loved one... "
& i feel myself held,
loved,
tenderly adored,
- just as my little one longs to be held...
at seven o'hug.

you're the one...

My motherly oldest tries to snuggle a wiggly one year old who is entering that age-old one year old's fight with slumber...
i walk around the corner and he pushes her mightily away, reaching, reaching, reaching for mama.
"i can't wait..." she sighs, resigned, as she passes him over to me, "till *i* have babies, and you'll be holding them, and they'll want me, because i'll be the mama..."
& i know that those days will come all too soon.
& so i let him bury his downy head in my shoulder - gripping my neck with chubby, clutching arms. i hold him close and drink in another one of these moments that are just too good to pass up.
These are the days when i'm rich with the moments... when i get to be the mama.

on my way...

to nowhere...

it's raining, it's pouring...

And it reminds me of dating neil... of the day we realized that we both loved the rain and we stood outside in it. My hair plastered down around my dripping face that he held in his sun browned hands in that torrential downpour when he kissed me.
What did we know then of our likes and dislikes? Us two, who were mere babes - thinking ourselves all-knowing and wise...
How did we not notice our glaring differences, our glossed over flaws? We never imagined we'd change from those two wet children - drawn to each other as 'like to like' - under the summer showers of growth giving rain...
i'm reading a book to the little ones, it's called _The Bridge_ by Jerri Massi. In it, the princess thinks her father's most trusted knight is betraying the king's confidence. She shouts arrogant rebukes at him, while he knows he is not betraying but rather loyally laying down his life for the sake of the king and his kingdom - choosing certain death so there is a hope of victory.
As the princess is carried off to safety, still shouting words of distrust and anger, the knight responds gently, "These words of yours have dropped to the ground between us. Think nothing of them when the time comes."
See that?
Foreseeing her remorse, he forgave her in advance...
& isn't that love?
Oh, Neil, forgive me...
Forgiveness is such a soul stretching thing & to give it without being asked....
is faith-building.
And so, instead of hissing, "You'll regret that... mark my words..." and stomping home from church wearing high heels, carrying a 20lb baby (hypothetically)...
i wanna be the kind of girl whose face he held so tenderly in his dripping hands... just as it all began... i wanna see kindnesses big - and flaws tiny. i wanna be able to let the hurtful words drop to the ground between us - and we'll think nothing of them when the time comes.

i'm in a season...

i'm in a season of schooling, cooking and laundry. i'm in a season of driving to lessons, to appointments and errands. i'm in a season of teaching to drive, of baby wearing and my street hockey boy. i'm in a season of crowded, noisy and sleepless.
And i know... that what i'm doing is important and valuable - and even amidst the occasional moments of drudgery, it's a beautiful little life... These seven children need me. They need me to work hard, to be a diligent task master and to gently lead them while i tenderly meet their needs.
There often isn't the time - or the energy - for girls nights out, coffee with other homeschool mama's, shopping with friends...
And that *has* to be ok.
i often hear quarrelling voices in my head - things i have heard like, "You need to make time for YOU, put yourself first - nobody else will, you need some "me" time..."
& maybe those statements are all... a little bit true.
But they do battle with the still small voice that bids me to lay down my rights - and care for these ones i love so very much - in this brief season of service to them.
Seasons come - and seasons go... there is much to be appreciated in this every day beauty of motherhood: My tiny son's shouted, "mama!" as he wakes from his nap, my jammy clad 'nearly teen' - who now stands toe to toe, and forehead to forehead with me as she wraps her arms around me - still needing to be held. My seven year old who sits too close, her hair done in tidy braids by my ten year old - whose earnest eyes beg approval. Sunshine boy - who told me, "i never wanna be five - i only wanna be free!" My oldest darling - who laughs till she cries - and then cries till she laughs... & my long haired boy - with his first short haircut - looking more and more like the man he will become.
i silence the doubts that point out all manner of "good things" i could be doing. i'll take those 'me times' when they come & enjoy them if they do... but not begrudge their absence when they've been pushed aside for worthier pursuits.
i'm in a season...
The air is sweet - the branches are beginning to bear fruit and though my body is weary - there is work to be done, and in this season...
i'll do it.

Who's Your Favourite Person On Earth?

She came upon me unawares, as i tidied our breakfasting from the kitchen and put it back to rights.
"Who's your favourite person on earth?" she asked, all traces of her kindergarten lisp evaporated in my first grade girl...
"Daddy." i said - not glancing down at blond head bobbing beside me.
"You're mine, 'cause you made me." She grins, her eyes sparkling, reaching to hug me as i laugh and grab her to me.
And that's when i plunged over the precipice...
"Well, daddy helped."
The flame of intelligence alight in her eyes, i see the mechanisms of her mind spring to life and she utters the unanswerable, "How?"

The Afterthought Babies...

i don't know where that phrase originated.
But, we all know some babies to whom it applies - the ones who snuck along 6 or 7... or more years after their siblings. The ones who brought back the diapers and cradles when their brothers and sisters were already in school. The ones who remember their siblings as sort of make-shift mama's in a world over run with big people.
i remember once, my parents talking about so-and-so's 'afterthought baby', and i asked them what they meant. They explained to me that they were suggesting the baby was a surprise; one who came when the couple thought they were done - they meant that the child was simply... an after thought.
i recall thinking it was a painfully romantic idea... In my childish mind, i pictured that these lucky couples were the kind that threw caution to the wind, laughed in the face of vigilance and lived life with a swagger. i imagined them swooning over their imprudence, chuckling in the dark as they lay in bed waiting for sleep to come at the world that was so shocked with their indiscretion.
i envisioned them - smitten with the tiny reminder of their social faux pas - fiercely protective of the life they never anticipated, and eternally grateful for the one who might never have been.
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40 Weeks is now available in a Kindle version. i get so excited at each of these little milestones. Check it out here.

samurai swordswoman

My inlaws wanted to take Neil & i out for a nice brunch - so we went to Cora's on Sunday morning when 5 out of the seven littles were otherwise engaged.
The line up was all the way out the door and the seating was back to back. There was an energized hum of activity as the bustling servers squeezed between tables and highchairs, bringing heaping plates full of steaming crepes, pancakes and waffles - bowls of fresh fruit and cups and cups... and cups - of hot coffee.
Ephraim was drinking the creamers and Gagey was eating jam with a spoon... y'know, your typical breakfast fare with two wiggly boys in a crowded restaurant.
Suddenly - there was a break in the din - almost like the heavens parting... and the woman seated directly behind me broke wind.
Nope.
Make that *shattered* wind.
If cheese is sometimes cut - she was a master samurai swordsman.
If gas is expelled, hers was banished.
If one had been ripped? She shredded that sucker.
i happened to be making eye contact with Neil at the precise moment that that sound began to ricochet and reverberate on her plastic seat...
First of all - let it be recorded here, that *someone* should remind Neil something about that "casting the first stone" story... but regardless - the looks that flashed across his face in those three seconds... (one green elephant, two green elephant, three greenflippingelephant... ) contained a lifetime's worth of emotion.
First - there was mild curiosity, recognition and shock, which immediately melted into a kind of horrified anguish - his eyes opened just the slightest bit wider and locked on mine (which must have already begun to dance with hilarity) - and for just the smallest fraction of an *instant*, a hint of, "That's not YOU, is it? Please, Paige - let that not be YOU..." swam across his sweet, tragic face.
Really.
He could take life a little less seriously.
When the last fragments of sound ceased to echo through the crowded restaurant, the waitresses resumed waitressing, patrons slowly resumed eating, the chef in the kitchen resumed poaching eggs and the line up outside resumed waiting... the birds resumed chirping, the babies resumed cooing and the cash register resumed collecting.
The woman behind me didn't flinch.
Maybe she thought life was too short to eat her breakfast in discomfort - & honestly? i agree.
Carry on, my flatulent friend.
i got your back.

Hey, Bess -

Hey Bess,
Just so you know - i'm not afraid of working hard - or of looking foolish, a little too adoring, a little too grateful- when it comes to our love.
i'm not about measuring it in cups or gallons, carefully levelling off the tops with a butter knife before greedily pouring each hoarded, recorded molecule into an airtight storage container.
No.
Ours is more of a generous type of love - lavishly pouring and overflowing. Enough to give and take... Never measured, hoarded or stored.
The currency of our love spent, brings unreasonable, unfathomable returns.
And even in the dry...
even in the solitary...
even in the cheap, careless, vulnerable....
When seasons of less, seasons of tired, seasons of 'not the same' hit...
i want you to know - that what you've got is enough. Who you are is adequate.
Our stumbling, drunken miscalculations didn't cost us too dearly.
You can't lose me.
In this season of more - i see with clarity. The sands of our love cover a beach as far as my eyes can reach - and if i scoop up a handful, and let it run through my fingers - it's warmth brings light and life to my very bones.
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My hands leave the keyboard just as my husband's long legs bring him through the back door.
"Babe, you gotta come read this..." i say, feeling a bubbling hilarity begin to rise in my stomach.
He sits in the chair and his hazel eyes trail the words on the screen.
"Ohhhh noooo..." (hands over head...)
Bubbling, bursting laughter.
He squirms. Neither understanding, nor appreciating my declaration of adoration.
& that's ok too...
Sometimes even tho the love part is for him...?
The declaration part is for me.

drivers seat

She got her learners last fall - and lucky for us, winter hit shortly after, so her driving experience consisted of driving around one empty parking lot (and hitting a shrub) and pulling from one parking stall into the next one.
We figured there's no rush - she can't get her licence till she's 16 anyway so we have lots of time to practice... Thing is, that little licence is burning a hole in her wallet.
My girl wants to drive.
All 85 pounds of her...
And so, my tiny heart unfolds her legs behind the wheel of our 12 passenger van, The Silver Fox. She checks the mirrors and moves the seat forward. She holds that monstrous steering wheel at a picture perfect 10 and 2 and with her small foot on the break pedal, she shifts that beast into drive.
My feet try to boar holes in the ground, i'm sweating and nauseated and audibly frustrated with all the vehicles parked on the road that she attempts to navigate around... she's over correcting to the right, over correcting to the left - the panic chokes me and i find there are no space bars in my speech.
"i'dbeturningnow i'dbeturningnow turnturnturnturnTUUUUUURRRRRRNNNNNN!!!!! Notthatmuch notthatmuch NOT THAT MUCH!!!!!!"
i glance at the speedometer.
10 kilometers per hour. Ten.
Three times around that block - i don't think we went over ten.
"Okay," i breathe, "You can pull over now - gently."
She pulls about 3 inches over - directly in front of someone's driveway and breaks hard.
"Good enough?" she asks.
i glance behind us. No one is coming.
"Yup. Good enough."
i slip into the drivers seat and buckle up.
You never know what kind of crazies are out on the road these days....

summer school

i told my sister that after reading through my homeschool posts, (looking for some gems to use for my Circle of Mom's Top 25 homeschool blogs interview) - i realized that i only blog about homeschooling when i'm insecure.
& that's ok.
i like the tentative nature of those posts - the fear and trembling that i sense surrounding the decision to educate our littles at home. It's probably good & right that i take it so seriously - with the lives of seven precious saplings weighing in the balance...
Spring always leaves me feeling a little insecure about homeschool. We wrap up some subjects, give up on others - we often have some exams or debriefing - some kind of self examination - & the kind of examination i hate the most... where i find myself looking at my little ones, trying to spot their weaknesses before they cause decay... i feel my brow furrow deep and i watch my little ones prance to be unleashed and i gauge my supposed success or failure by the elation or dread that wakes me in the wee hours during the weeks that i begin to plan for our next year.
Today i purchased some materials for summer school...
& as i walked in the door - i thought to myself - couldn't this be it? Couldn't they get by with little else than these two armfulls i brought home this afternoon?
i place these supplies on the counter next to the groceries: six new bibles - all of the same translation - in the same year - so that no one is left behind when we read the Word of God together... Food beside food....
and...
Five new journals - to write what's on their minds & hearts as we break from traditional school - & set our eyes on the refreshment of summer.
Six bibles, five journals - sounds like the five loaves and two fishes...
Will you multiply it Father?

lemme out

This tender photo resonates with my oft imprisoned feeling soul.
It was taken a few weeks ago - when there was still snow on the ground... but now it is work and chores and driblets of schooling, and my own exhaustion at the end of it all that keep me entombed within these walls.
lemme out, spring -
summer, i'm comin' for you...
Neil has been taking me out for tiny snippets of runs. Since i fractured my knee cap last year, i have been struggling with pain if i run too far, too fast - but our little tastings are only enough to whet my appetite.
The sun on my head and the wind in my face feel so right.
& soon my little driblets of schooling will be swept clean - and me and my tiny chickies will run free...


photo of ephraim by uncle T

refueling

We stop on the way home at a gas station. A reprieve in our journey home from my sister's birthday party...
i hardly notice the little ones leaping out of the van - i'm deep in thought, mired in exhaustion and peacefully vacant.
i'm helping tiny boys out of carseats, gathering rubbish and making sure doors get closed.
My head down, not watching where i'm going, i bump straight into him.
We're a foot apart in height, Neil & i - & as i raise my eyes to see why he stopped so suddenly right in my path - he kisses me.
Lightly.
On the lips.
And just as lightly, he bounds away with his long loping stride- through the sea of our children...
Later, driving again, i glance at him. The sun is shining through the window and glinting on the peeping greys that seem to multiply with every hair cut...
Ah love, is there any food more satisfying than a well timed kiss?

could'a should'a would'a...

Yeah...
We can't live there...
But - i can't help but believe that there is an inestimable benefit to our children to at least explore those words with them every once in awhile...
Maybe that wasn't a great choice, maybe we could have done it differently, considered other options, worked a little harder. Maybe i should have thought that through & grasped the implications of the decision that was made for convenience....
Maybe i could have...
Maybe i should have...
Maybe i would have...
Because what we have to offer our little ones is our life experience. i want my daughters and sons to have the courage to take back the things that my generation lost. i want them to keep the ground i took back from my parent's generation. i want them to hold the ground that has been held for generations in their family line - & pass those traits, decisions, and harvests - that are good, profitable, and right.
There is value in 'could'a, should'a, would'a'...
We just can't *live* there.

Life Wins

Science books strewn on the front step of our house. Their owner has left them abandoned to follow a tiny pied piper - toddling boy in a white romper & a simple bib chasing barefooted his brother who whoops as he rides ahead on his tricycle.

Baby throws back his head and laughs in triumph.

He walks.

All those long tentative months of trailing fingers on furniture, crawling on sandpaper knees and grubby palms, pulling himself to stand on mama's pantleg.

Over.

He walks like a tiny stick man - side to side - hands raised as delicate rays of sunshine cut between each chubby finger.

Oh, science books. How can you compete?
Don't worry - you'll be picked up and studied when the time comes...
But for now, Life wins.


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It's the last day to vote for the top 25 blogs on circle of moms.
If you wanna vote for me *one last time* - looks like the voting is really pickin' up for the last 2 days...
Click Here.

Sure of what i hope for

Reading out loud to my children is probably one of my favourite parts of homeschooling. i don't know how much longer i will be able to keep everyone involved in this tradition of sprawling teens, middlies tiny bums finding seats to share, tiny ones finding laps & then toddling off to the next set of willing arms while mama reads aloud in the morning, but i guess i hope it lasts forever...
Right now, i'm reading them a biography of George Muller (the one who opened all those orphanages in Great Britain in the mid to late 1800's) & his story is totally one of faith.
(For those of you interested, it's a part of a series on Christian Heroes: Then & Now - by Janet & Geoff Benge)
i can't seem to get it off my mind. i sent an email to a friend trying to unwrap some of the ideas that kept coming back to me & i wanna peek at it a bit again.
The part we read the other day was when he wasn't sure if he was supposed to continue on in his ministry, so he asked God to send him twenty pounds if He was going the right direction. He told God he would use it for bibles for the poor if God sent it.
Sure enough later that day, a lady showed up with a sealed envelope & gave it to him, no strings attached. He followed her out the door though & asked, "if YOU could choose, what would you want me to spend this money on?" Finally, when pressed, she said it might be nice if he bought bibles for the poor. He thanked her & walked in the house & told his wife that he believed there would be twenty pounds in the envelope - & there was.
i was thinking about this the other day. The story of God coming through for him *moves me* - BUT - if he didn't ask God for that sign... God still had His hand on the ministry. The sign was because *George Muller* wanted confirmation - not because his prayer for a sign changed what God was *already planning to do*...
i think part of me is tempted to pray, "if / then" prayers... because i see the powerful testimony of faith filled believers who got to see God come through for them... but i wonder if He wants me to be faith filled - without the signs?
& tiny ones watch mama's tears spill on the page - as we read about the man who understood that 'the least of these' - were exactly the ones who God was interested in; the man whose faith God chose to stretch, and grow - time, and painful time again.
Oh, God, give me confidence in what i hope for... and assurance about what i do not see...

mama

i know...
i don't always blog on Sundays -
but it's Mother's Day - & i find myself grateful.
i'm grateful for my mama who birthed me & grew me -
for my mother in law - who did the same for my rare man.
i'm grateful for these tiny & not so tiny ones who made me a mama myself.
i'm grateful for my sister-mama's who, having seven children each of their own - are almost as familiar with my life as i am myself.
-& whispered voice from deep offers comforting truth...
i'm grateful for the two who are waiting for me in heaven - whose tender, brief lives make me a better mama - and human being...

& gratitude grows...

So? How'd it go?

My daddy called me this morning to ask me how it went last night.
"It was good."
& it was good.
It was right to speak those words - to share those whispered thoughts - to allow those memories to be voiced.
& i guess while i can't really answer my dad in the precise manner he'd asked - (there was a moment midway when i thought to myself, "am i really saying this out loud?") - i can say that speaking to a room full of ladies - about the One thing in my life that i'm sure about -
was good.

My Drafts Box

i decided to clear out my drafts a little...
Do you ever do that?
Sometimes there was just a title, "Do you hafta Go?" (about a business trip maybe?) or, "I'm too Tired" and apparently i was, 'cause that's all there is to the post...
Then there were other posts that i reworded & reworked into new posts., and i left the skeletal remains to rot in an unpublished draft for eternity.
Then there were the ones i started, but couldn't finish - and can't delete, because there's something undefinable in them that still rings true to me.
& finally - there were the ones i finished & just didn't want to post - yet.
It's an interesting little passel - & i found a few little treasures in there.
It's kinda like life - figuring out your ideas - what you believe - what will work for you & what you just can't say out loud. Speaking out when you're passionate - hitting 'save as draft' when your ideas are sometimes half formed, or hopelessly flawed & you're just not ready to see it yet.
i hope God gives me the courage to work through my 'draft box' in life... to sift to find what He's teaching me - to have the courage to post *truth* - and the wisdom to delete the chaff.
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Another review added this week: Sweetness in the Small Stuff

Ballerwalley Ish

So - it has been far too long since i have posted a poetry challenge from Minerva. She gave me a stinging rebuke (i'm kidding) - & so i took *nine minutes* to write this poem... & i'm kind of in love with it.
The challenge was to write a "nonsense poem".
i had written her a note, giving the following reasons for not having done an entry yet - and a promise that i *did* follow through on:

minerva, i LOVEd the nonsense poetry callenge... i just find it hard because it feels like a LOT of poetry is nonsense to me - but really it's not supposed to be :) haha. i read an ee cummings poem with the littles today. "What if much of a which of a wind" - & i couldn't make head nor tails of it... & yet i loved it. i'm like a little baby that loves her mama's dangling jewels because the words are so pretty - but i have no ability to comprehend their value. Everytime i read something (a poem or books too) i feel like i need to go somewhere to get the "behind the scenes" story about it.
*sigh* k - i will go do your challenge right now - & i have NO time 'cause it's almost supper, but i will give you WHATEVER comes in my head in those tiny moments! Here goes.

And here, is the poem i came up with:


"Ballerwalley Ish!"
was the shout from the tomb
that went 'round 'oer the moon
that rang out far too soon.

"Ballerwalley Shong!"
echoed back the refrain
that was never the same
from the one none could tame.

"Ballerwalley Ish!"
Makes me sad, makes me long
makes me cry, sing sad song
like great bell's final gong.

"Ballerwalley Shong..."
whispers soul covered deep
and might lull one to sleep
when darkness does creep.

crystal

It's our crystal wedding anniversary.
(Yeah... i had to look that up.)
Fifteen years i have called that man 'husband' - i have warmed frozen toes on his warm legs, i have reached up, up, up to cling to his prickly neck.
Fifteen years we have sanded down each others rough edges - bent for each other's weaknesses and forgiven petty grievances.
Gimme fifteen, fifty, a hundred more with him.
Call me his wife, his love, his girl - from here till then,
till death do us part.

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hey - thanks for all the votes on circle of moms! i changed the button so that it's a direct link for those that asked!

holding the course

Finally the sun saw fit to come out.
There was still a chill in the air, but i put on my runners & decided to walk to the store to pick up a few things.
As i climbed the hill & put some distance between myself & my house with no human being in earshot, i finally spoke.
"Father, i don't know what to *do*..."
& as prayed aloud about my situation, i held a picture in my mind from our homeschool lessons as of late - of the explorers trying to find new routes to distant lands with no maps, no guide, no *sure* knowledge.

What is my destination?

Sometimes as i read aloud these stories to my children, i felt like i wished i could reach across time & tell the captain to change course - he was going the wrong way, the path ahead was too dangerous, he wouldn't find what he was looking for. Other times, i wished i could whisper, "You're almost there - hold your course - i know all you see ahead of you is dark choppy seas, but if you hold fast, there will be land ahead..."
Contentment doesn't mean we have to sit still & cease to grow.
Contentment might mean we'll need to ration our supplies for the next months of pressing on. Contentment might mean we have to adjust our coordinates - and not continue foolishly into dangerous waters.
Content to follow the One who knows the coordinates of my ultimate destination.
& as i whispered my sorrows to my Creator - i felt Him comforting me back.
My coordinates? They're pointing at Him - & right now... they're just fine.
All i gotta do, is hold the course - & hold it, i will.
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Fantastic new book review is up: Kolden Blogspot

Homeschooling in May

Homeschooling in May is pretty different than homeschooling in September (for me).
Homeschooling in September has this "brand new runners" feel to it. You pull them out of the box, release them from the crisp white paper, and put them on your feet. The bottoms are free of any scratches & they're pristine. The laces are bleached white & the sight of them makes you itch for a run...
Homeschooling in May is like those same runners... 8 months later... after running through spring sludge and wearing them day in... and day out, week after week.
There are holes forming in the sides & the rubber is starting to flap on the bottoms. The laces are a grey brown & the grips are fading away...
i always hate my May Homeschool runners... i'm trying to tie up loose ends - i'm finished some things, lagging behind in others. i check my distance against the clock & try to figure out how much ground we can cover before calling it a year.
But you know what? My dirty, broken runners are my reminder that...

i ran this year.

Their pitiful state is evidence of the ground we've covered. Those muddy laces show that through rainy patches, we kept on putting one foot in front of the other. The lack of grips came from pounding the pavement day after day.
So, May asks politely when we'll retire. May requests some new September shoes. May feels a little 'end of my rope-ish'...
But rest assured... i've started my shopping & planning lists already & i'm getting ready to sweep around our sweet homeschooling kitchen room & get all the straggling bits and unfinished pieces. i'm gonna clean house, let the littles run in the sun - and get ready for our next marathon year of teaching these little ones at home.