MIA

I haven’t posted in a while. My 10-year-old daughter was hit by a Toyota Tundra last Monday night. She’s doing fine, except for a sore neck, and may be home in a couple of days. I’ll answer questions if you want details, or just pick up on regular life at that point.

Now, That’s What I’m Talkin’ About!

Just before noon on a Monday morning, los kiddos are enjoying C.O.R. lunch. C.O.R. is my mom’s anacronym for Clean Out Refrigerator. We have chicken noodle soup, stir-fry, and ham-bean soup to choose from. Since it’s in the mid-50’s, the hot soup is getting lots of votes.

#1 and #2 are done with their schoolwork, except #2 is strenuously avoiding her math. #3 has a reading and a science quiz. The laundry is 1 load of 3 finished.

I don’t even feel guilty about missing whatever appointment we were supposed to keep at 11:30 this morning. I wrote “dentist” on the calendar, but when I called their office to confirm, they said they didn’t have a record of it. I tried the orthodontist’s number immediately afterward, but there was no answer after 20 rings. Since the appointment was for #1, who has a small cavity and a retainer, neither condition is an emergency anyway. Nope, neither office called Friday to confirm, so I’m guessing the whole appointment thing was just a dream on my part. See? No guilt.

Los kiddos cheerfully helped save our rep with the neighbors by getting the LOUD rooster into the coop after he had some breakfast in the back yard.

A Netflix video is due this afternoon: Volume 1 of “Jacob’s Ladder”, a lighthearted series of pre-teen-targeted Bible history and application. Angie, I recommend it for your family, BTW…

Dinner is taco salad, I’m further ahead in my American Lit prep work, and when AmLit is finished, I can turn off “teacher brain” until Thursday morning.

Nice!

We Interrupt this Message…

My poor kiddos- I’m losing it this morning. Interruptions are pushing me over the edge- and I’m not doing a very good job of hanging onto God for help!
It took me an hour to mix the oatmeal bars for next week. Now, this is the eleventy-upteenth time I’ve made these things, because we all like them so much (thanks, Angie!), and since I’m OCD the ingrediants are actually close to each other in order in my pantry. So it should take 10 minutes, tops.

Only Mr Wonderful was heading off to a gig with #1 at the same time. He’s visiting a college buddy afterwards, so they took snacks. #1 noticed how wet the trash bag was, so she opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink…..

and discovered the THREE leaks that have been soaking the wooden cabinet since Mr Wonderful fixed the faucets.

Stop mixing, mom! Grab a towel!

As I was pulling out cleaning supplies, I found a can of flea spray. We’ve been needing to spray the livingroom furniture, so I set #2 (who is already done with her schoolwork) to reading the label…..

and discovered that all the cushions need to be removed (easy for #2 to take that task) and ALL the foodstuffs need to be covered.

Stop mixing, mom! Get the coffeepot put away! Get the dough cooked so the oven is free for the oatmeal bar mix!

Did I mention I was monitoring #3’s schoolwork at the same time? He was down to scrubbing the tubs and studying a song for science. (The Rodent Song. You probably don’t want to know.) I hadn’t heard anything for a few minutes, however, so I stepped over to check that #2 had laid the cushions as close as possible, continued down the hall….

and discovered #3 needed Immediate Negative Reinforcement (aka a spanking), since he was sitting on the floor of his room, playing with a toy.

And it’s not even noon. I am looking forward to worship and re-aligning my thinking tomorrow, to put it mildly.

Like I have Problems…

It’s raining again.

The co-op had a praise & worship time in honor of my friend today. I miss him a lot, I hurt for his mom, dad, sister and brother, and the friends he left behind.

When I got home, los kiddos and I watched a video from Netflix about the Kindertransport. The movie is called “Into the Arms of Strangers”, and one should be close to a box of tissues before hitting “play”.

Teaching los kiddos about the Modern Era for the first time is not easy. Continuing to process the grief of loss is not easy. I am so, so thankful I have an eternal, loving Father Who sits with me thru it.

I also feel very sad for the part of humanity that believes easy=nice=good. Makes me want to teach a philosophy course and open their minds to other views of aesthetics and morality….

May your loving Father in heaven give you a truly good week-end.

Loss

Friend of mine is looking seriously at moving to Canada.

About Halloween would’ve been a young man’s 15th birthday, had he lived.

My mom is 86 years old and 1000 miles away.

God is not unfamiliar with the pain of loss. He is not cruel.

It just hurts.

It’s Here- Can It Go Now, Please?

It’s a mind-boggler that I teach. Anybody. By nature, I’m a loner. I love sitting alone, a cuppa in one hand and a book in the other. Now that I have a list of “College Must-Reads” from Stobach, I could happily become a stalagmite on the livingroom couch.

Mid-afternoon yesterday, I put my head on the table and begged God to kill me. Yep, a depressive day. The depression is still creeping around the dark corners of my heart. Nope, I haven’t gotten to the mental state of, “How about if I kill myself?”, so that’s good.

I may not get there. Sometimes it’s just a depressive day, or two, worth self-monitoring and then forgetting once it’s over.

The sentence that springs to mind and sets off the tears, the acid etching wounds in my psyche, is this: my life is worthless.

Really, what good effect am I in the world? I teach Sunday School. Well, are they listening? More importantly, are they learning to love and trust the Lord, to work with Him through all the ups and downs of life? (Hey, wouldn’t that be a lovely piece of advice to take, myself? Oh, wait, I am praying and giving myself back to Him instead of taking my own life.)

I’m raising 3 kids. They’re nice kids. Even if they become Nobel Peace Prize winners (yes, it’s a joke. Dark humor is still humor.), will they really matter in the march of history? Does human history even matter? They aren’t likely to win Nobel prizes- they, too, are just small cogs in the wheel of American 21st Century culture.

I teach English. Please. I’m not one of those “Learn to Write the Great American Novel” teachers- what was that movie, “The Freedom Writers” or something. I teach the mechanics so the students can communicate clearly, without, the, like, um, “like, totally”s. Now Middle Georgia will have a bunch of BMX bikers who don’t end sentences with prepositions. Yay.

Meaningless, all is meaningless.

Please, please don’t comment with a bunch of “Oh, you are so important!” knee-jerk responses. That sort of semi-panicked reassurance proves that you are nice, not that I am worthwhile.

Just buy stock in Kleenex. I’ll be driving the price up this morning.

It’s Comin’

Routine. Groundhog Day. What’s the diff? One is comfortable, one is not? So, my feelings make one “right” and one “wrong”? Post-modern thought must stop with me, IMO.

Friday!

Wednesdays and Thursdays go by in a blur this season: We homeschool until about 2 pm Wednesdays, then make Wednesday dinner and pack Thursday lunch, and set out Thursday’s schoolwork. There’s usually time to watch a few minutes of the Netflix movie (this week: Lives of a Begal Lancer, Gary Cooper in British Colonial India displaying patriotism and personal loyalty). Then it’s off to the library to tutor Latin (and a supply of good books for Los Kiddos), then to AWANA until 8:30 pm. When we get home, los kiddos hit the beds and I clean the kitchen.

Thursday I get up, get ready for tutoring at the homeschool co-op, kiss los kiddos good-bye, and head out the door by 7:30. God is gracious, and I teach my FAVORITE subject, Latin, first! I’m finished teaching at about 2:45 Thursday, and home by 3. Los kiddos jump in the van and we do around-the-town chores. (Mr Wonderful has a grad school class on Thursday nights, so doesn’t come home until 9 pm.)

Suddenly it’s 6 a.m. Friday morning, and I’m kissing Mr. Wonderful good-bye and pulling up The Message online and downloading a new game (if it’s wholesome), putting biscuits in the oven and praying a bit.

Friday morning is a chance to check Reality against my feelings. I’m tempted to think my whole week is teaching, pouring out, work. Reality is: we do homeschool on Friday, but that’s fairly easy. The next real teaching won’t be until Sunday morning. There’s a lot of fun between Friday 6 a.m. and Sunday 9 a.m. If I get back into the discipline of time with the Lord Friday morning and Saturday morning, there’s a lot of refreshment, too. My secret fear of getting drained of energy is just a fear. Bye-bye! Good morning, Reality! Let’s go!

Juggling…

We -los kiddos and I- had last week “off” at the JerseyChick house. Meaning, they watched innumerable re-runs of the Dick van Dyke show, and helped with housework, and I caught up on 80% of the paperwork and deepcleaning, fixed and cleaned up 3 meals a day, and trimmed the hedges.

Getting back into the groove went well for them yesterday. I let them sleep in until 8, they got around to school by 9, and we finished school at 4:45. #3 still has a map to fill in, but there were no tears all day.

Me, I was a lazy slob and spent way too much time on Facebook, waiting to grade each subject and/or answer questions.

Hmmm- I suppose the proof in the pudding will be Thursday, when I go off to teach for a couple of hours and all 3 have worksheets to complete. Will #3 stare at his fingernails for 2 hours, or will he apply himself to the task at hand? #1 is in charge this week, which either goes very well or, um, like a Senate Finance Committee meeting… (I’m in a cliche mood this morning, can you tell?)

I’m considering entering all 3 kiddos in the local spelling bee. Hmmm again.

#2 made herself scrambled eggs last night, since the 11 hens delivered 18 eggs over the past 2 days. 2 days, since we didn’t realize they were laying under the back porch. The hens have been getting out of the air vents at the top of their coop- Mr Wonderful has it on his list to put wire mesh there- but they need a place to huddle together as the weather turns cooler, and they can’t maneuver well enough to get back in the air vents. So they have claimed squatter’s rights under the back porch.

I don’t mind being Mom at Home, since I’ve got a very pleasant routine in place which regularly results in peaceful afternoons. I certainly don’t mind being Teacher, now that los kiddos are taking turns more patiently. Cafeteria Lady is the pin I wish I could drop in the juggling routine.

I’ve tried making light of Cafeteria Lady- picturing her a secret superheroine, wearing a white apron that doubles as a cape when danger threatens (feel free to draw it up, Bloggin-Dazs!), but the levity doesn’t outlast the dishwashing.

Well, we still have credit at the Habitat Resale store, maybe they’ll have a working dishwasher and some of Cafeteria Lady’s daily drudge will be alleviated. Sad to say, the store where we have credit is 2 counties south. Now, if I dig up their phone number and write it on the credit coupon, we could call on a Saturday morning and save ourselves gas money a drive if no such working dishwasher exists…

I’m quietly ecstatic that I finished work on this week’s co-op classes Saturday night. Was that the sound of a pin dropping?

Morning Vent

We are trudging along, getting out of debt. My heart wishes it could be done overnight. My head knows we’re learning valuable lessons along the way.

I’m watching a dear friend mourn her son. It makes me cry. She is worth crying for. My head wishes it could be done overnight.

I’m thankful to be teaching my own kiddos and the local teens. I wish I could wave a magic wand over them all and turn them into selfless, morally strong individuals. My heart wants them safe and able to spread joy. My head feels like a cement block, trying to figure out how I can help get them there.

I have a smallpile of papers to grade, and 2 books to take notes on (deadline: Monday). I can’t take notes without my reading glasses on top of my contact lenses, but walking around the house with my reading glasses on makes me a bit seasick.

The blade has dislocated from the lawnmower. The local repair shop wants $75 to look at it. We need someone to truck it over to the repair shop. I’m going to get on the phone with The Wonderful J, who used to cut our grass, and beg for him to cart it there. This yard stuff has got to be mowed!

Mr Wonderful has to supervise detention at his school tomorrow morning. He has a restaurant gig tomorrow evening across town. I wish we could be free from all responsibilities for about 24 hours.

Amidst the running around town paying bills this week, I lost my driver’s license. The DMV has a Net page just for fools like me- but the first piece of info they ask for is your driver’s license #. ??? (Thankfully, I wrote it across a check at the grocery about a month ago. Sadly, one of the digits is unreadable, and the Net page only allows 3 tries per day. Thankfully, I don’t have to drive again until Thursday.)

Somebody hand me $1 million. I could do some serious repair in the local economy with los kiddos along for the ride.

And the small voice keeps reminding, “Where do you go when you hurt? Do you ease the pain with alcohol, like your father did? Food? Shopping? Why don’t you turn to Me?”

Here I am, Lord, wretch and chief of sinners. You are my only hope.