Time-Warp Wednesday

This week's photo Time-Warp was brought to mind recently due to my mom and sister's repeated trips to Durango.  My mom is eight weeks post-op for a lumbar fusion and she's doing great!  In fact it has be an absolute delight to see my mom come through this tough healing process and find her sense of humor and zest for life intact; and to see my sister reveal an astonishing ability to provide tender and thorough caregiving for days on end ... even in the face of ER visits, blood pressure fluctuations and a periodically impatient patient.

You ladies are incredible!

They are headed back to Durango this Friday for another round of x-rays to insure that her fused parts are still fused and to hopefully begin her physical therapy.  And a (gentle) pat on the back from the surgeon for a job well done! :)


Hence my Time-Warp to a previous trip to Durango ...


My sister lived in this mountain town for a spell and during one of our visits, we wandered around downtown and then stopped off for a meal at a little pizza joint.  I don't remember the name of the restaurant, but I remember the novelty of a concrete floor and my children sitting UNDER the table and scribbling with chalk.  And everyone was happy.


On the way back to the van, we strolled past a statue that caught the kids' eyes.  For obvious reasons.

I mean, who doesn't want to be a jolly, nimble and muscular as Puck?  

Nana - we are praying for your full recovery and hoping to see you dance a little jig soon, too! :)

What's In a Name?

I am reading through J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Hobbit" with my boy.

Uhm.  Correction:  We were reading "The Hobbit" together, but then Aaron finished it and now I am just trying to finish strong.

Who knew that this classic would grab my son by his knobby little shoulders and take over his life for two weeks?  I'm absolutely thrilled (it sure beats the anime-addiction he was suffering from this Spring), but at the same time I was a bit surprised by his voracious appetite for the adventures of Middle Earth.

For those of you frightened off by the thousands of pages to push through in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, this novel is the prequel.  It tells of the first adventure of dear ol' Bilbo Baggins - headed off with a company of dwarves to recover their ancient treasure from the fierce and fiery dragon Smaug.  And it's the perfect starter book for those who love tall tales told well.

Tolkien is at once a storyteller, poet and master wordsmith.  He weaves a story overflowing with terrible danger, daring rescues, three foot-tall heroes and monstrous villains.  The world that he creates is strange and vast ... and as real as the neighborhood outside my front door.  Within moments of entering into Bilbo's home under the hill, the Shire, Mirkwood Forest and the Lonely Mountain come alive with strange creatures, ancient histories and beautiful languages.  And at the turn of every page, we are transported to Middle Earth and join Bilbo and Company as they trek along in search of their treasure.

Without giving too much away (because I know that you are going to read it now!) I wanted to share with you a passage that I read last night.  Bilbo is fulfilling his role as Burglar and with the help of his mysterious ring that turns him invisible, he has snuck down into the lair of Smaug ... for the second time.  The first time he snitched a golden goblet and Smaug, being your typical dragon, knew exactly what was missing the moment he awoke from his evening nap.  In his fury he hunts down the Thief but because of Bilbo's own craftiness, Smaug is left searching in vain.  During Bilbo's return to the dragon's lair, we read this curious interaction:

"Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamites," replied Bilbo.
"You have nice manners for a thief and a liar," said the dragon.  "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't seem to remember smelling you before.  Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?"
"You may indeed!  I come from under the hill, and under the hills and over the hills my paths led.  And through the air, I am he that walks unseen."
"So I can well believe," said Smaug, "but that is hardly your usual name."
"I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly.  I was chosen for the lucky number."
"Lovely titles!" sneered the dragon. "But lucky numbers don't always come off."
"I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water.  I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me."
"These don't sound so creditable," scoffed Smaug.
"I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles.  I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider," went on Bilbo beginning to be pleased with his riddling.

If you are familiar with the story, you know that Bilbo gives Smaug much more than his name.  He recounts his adventures over the past eight months including his terrifying trip in the grips of a giant eagle, his trip down the elven river atop a barrel-raft and, of course, his pitch-black battle of wits with the horrid Gollum, during which he won the mysterious ring.  This "riddling" reveals more of Bilbo's identity than just his mere name would.  These descriptions reveal what his life has looked like.

In the same way, I often find myself forgoing the use of my given name for titles and names that describe my life.  On any given day, I go by ...

• Sunny-side Up Egg Maker, 
• Plate & Pot Scrubber, 
• Super Sock Sorter, 
• Toddler Wrangler, 
• Pig-n-a-Poke Dresser, 
• Hair Snaggle Detangler, 
• Sibling Referee, 
• Eat Your Veggies Broken Record,
• "Bummer Dude" Discipline Giver,
• Minutest Achievement Cheerleader,
• Action-figure Itty-Bitty Gun Locater, 
• Don't Bite Me Floss Helper, 
• Cuddle Up Book Reader,
• Get Back Into Bed Shepherd, and
• Back In The Saddle Again Mama.

To name a few.  And there are many more that are not related to Mommying.

Of course, these titles don't actually describe who I am, but what I do.  From these titles you can get a pretty good picture of my day to day life and what my role as Mom looks like.  You can also infer from this list of names my love for my children and my passion for creating a haven for my family.  So while I typically shy away from labels, these monikers reveal more about me than my birth name would.

We can do a similar name study of God and discover His role in our lives and His enduring character.  Here are a few titles to get you started:

• Redeemer ~ Making Us New (Job 19:25)
• Bread of Life ~ Our Sustainer (John 6:35)
• Counselor ~ Guide & Help (Isaiah 9:6)
• Faithful & True ~ Dependable (Revelation 19:11)
• Abba ~ Our Daddy (Romans 8:15)
• Great Shepherd ~ Protector (Hebrews 13:20)
• Rock ~ Our Foundation (1 Corinthians 10:4)
• Author of Life ~ Our Beginning (Acts 3:15)
• Immanuel ~ God With Us (Isaiah 7:14)
• Living Water ~ Satisfying Our Spiritual Thirst (John 4:10)
• Potter ~ Molding Us Daily (Isaiah 64:8)
• Vine ~ Our Life Line (John 15:5)

With every page in God's Bible, we see another description of our Heavenly Father.  In much the same way that Tolkien wove together a picture of Bilbo and his warrior spirit, God paints us a picture of Himself.  Through God's Word we discover His strength, love, compassion, mercy and power.

Unlike Bilbo, however, God is not a creation or a character in a book.  He is real and Faithful & True.

Rock-a-Bye Baby

Perhaps you're a little waterlogged with all of my amazing tales of our waterpark vacation to Wisconsin.  We, however, are still drying out!  We continue to soak up all the wonderful memories of our family time and it's fun to "splash" through the pics and reminisce about this fantastic time away.  I have one more little story I want to share.  I think.  You never know ... there might be another little snapshot floating round in my head waiting to be written.

On our last full day at the condos, we headed over to the final remaining indoor waterpark of the campus.  One we hadn't been to yet.  Actually, the "we" I'm referring to was an abbreviated "we" as Brett was off enjoying a breakfast with the guys and would meet up with us later.  The "we" from above was actually just me and my four fish ... and a monster wave pool.  In my mind, I had a plan for how we would all enjoy the crazy, sloshing pool and all keep our heads above water.  But, considering how well my lazy river adventure went, I was feeling a little trepidation.

As we walked into the pool area, the first thing that struck me was the roaring noise that drowned out the (happy) screams of the swimmers being tossed among the waves.  The second thing that struck me was the impossibility of any of those friendly lifeguards from being able to tell the difference between a happily thrashed swimmer and a swimmer in danger.  Thirdly I was struck by the absurdity trying to do this without Brett.

My first task was to strap the two littlest into their life vests.  My next task was to march my little group over to the edge of the pool that filtered into the play-land and lay out some ground rules.

"You must stay where I can see you."


"You may not go out any farther than the blue pole."


"You need to stay in your inner tube at all times."


"Good luck ... and I love you."

The little girls frolicked over to the kiddy area while the big kids seized their tubes and gleefully flung themselves into the pool.  I stood in the middle of the two areas, tried to watch all four of the kids at once and prayed, "Jesus, keep them all above water, please. Amen."

And that was before the water started churning with the next cycle of waves!

Amazingly enough, the big kids actually enjoyed being tossed about and stayed afloat almost 93% of the time.  The little ones, on the other hand, were intrigued by the waves rolling by and soon lost interest in the boring ol' toddler-friendly zone and began edging out into the deep.  With a grip on my girls' little hands/wrists/arms/necks, we enjoyed the waves crashing against our feet/knees/legs/faces.

You can imagine my relief when Daddy showed up!

It was at this moment that I started breathing again and I began to truly enjoy myself.

The two big kids stayed in their respective inner tubes and Brett and I retrieved two double tubes.  A genius of some sort designed these fantastic tubes that were closed in on one end for little people to sit in comfortably while the other end was open so that we big people could hang down inside.  I would have LOVED one of these on our first day! Together as a family we waded out into the surf.

For the next hour we were buffeted around (in 10 minute increments with 5 minutes to recover in between ... I would have preferred it the other way around!) and sloshed from one end of the pool to the other.  Brett had Ashley in his tube and kept a close eye on Aaron while Lydia and I rocked and rolled around in our tube and tried to keep up with Norah.  My "professional" technique for keeping us afloat was to hang down in my end of the tube and grip the handle of the tube with one hand and Lydia's life vest with the other.  I found that I gripped both with an equal, yet unknown strength.

With each cycle of waves, there were more and more swimmers joining the throng.  It was quite literally a sea of heads bobbing up and down among the waves.  This congestion did little to calm the little waves of worry that washed over me.  As much as I would have liked to relax and enjoy the current, I felt a need to track my little-big kids, keep Brett in my line of vision and continue my iron-grip on Liddy.

I'll let you in on a little something:  this grasping for control is just a drop in the ocean compared to my need to be in charge of the rest of my life.

I admit that I'm a control-freak!  I am a micro-manager, a non-delegator, a "Me-Do-er" and a hyper-planner.  But I would like to add that I am also in rehab. :)  In the recent years, I have been able to let go a bit of my internal desire for utter perfection and allow God to rescue me from that ocean of failure, guilt and regret.  I have been able to release to Him my desires for "how things should be done" and invite Him to do my life His way.  I have been able to release my expectations on those around me, allow them to be themselves and celebrate who He is molding them to be.  I have been able to ride the waves of life and rest in knowing that in spite of feeling like I am in dangerous waters ... I am right in His hands.

So ... you can imagine my surprise and amazement when Lydia presented me with a beautiful illustration of this trust and rest!  As we bounced and bounded around on the top of the waves, sometimes bumping against other "wavers", sometimes being bashed against the walls of the pool ...

... she started to doze off.

In the midst of the roar of the water and the screaming of the other swimmers, she was rocked to sleep by the constant ebb and flow of the water.

She knew she was safe.  Her Mommy had her.  And because of this confidence, she could enjoy the ride, laugh and squeal happily as waves washed over her head and ... even doze off for a bit.

Oh, to feel such peace in my soul!

The next time that you feel like you are being tossed about by the waves of life, I hope you will remember that snapshot.  And this promise:

In Psalm 29, David writes about the power of God.  And in verses 3, 10 and 11 he specifically addresses God's sovereignty over the waters ...

³ The voice of the LORD is over the waters; 
   the God of glory thunders, 
   the LORD thunders over the mighty waters. 
¹⁰ The LORD sits enthroned over the flood;
   the LORD is enthroned as King forever.
¹¹ The LORD gives strength to his people;
   the LORD blesses his people with peace.


Remember ... You're safe.  God has you.

Food For Thought

I am currently in the midst of the Kellum Yard Sale of 2011 ... following the great Kellum House Purge of 2011.

In place of cooking up something yummy, I'm hanging out in the dusty garage, trying to make a few bucks on our surplus and hoping that the last several weeks of purging will result in a little monetary windfall.

A girl can hope, can't she?

If I wasn't bargaining with people over forgotten furniture, recently dusted Christmas decorations and gently (but thoroughly) used baby gear, maybe I'd be fixing up one of the following:

Asian Stick Salad
Refreshing Lettuce Wraps
Gnocchi Alfredo or
Chili Relleno Casserole

We, however, will be having an old standby, quick to fix, dinner:  Crispy Chicken Salad. (I fixed the link ... sorry!)

Enjoy your weekend ... and if live in Grand Junction, stop by.

I'll even cut you a deal! :)

The Right Loss

Oh, vile scale,
why are you so cruel?
In spite of my efforts,
It's my life you rule.

One day at a time,
Choosing good foods to eat,
Squeezing in a brisk walk,
Cutting out my sweet treat.

Keeping track of my meals,
And tracking my miles,
Making good habits
That should bring me smiles.

Instead I stand gloomy,
Peering down at the Boss,
Nary a number has moved,
So much for weight loss!

But, wait!  Don't go yet ...
I'm not done with my bit.
Turns out there IS change,
Hey, look!  My pants fit!

I am noticing a change
In my a-bit-flatter abs
And my hiney is higher,
With legs losing their flabs!

I am choosing more veggies,
And cutting out fat,
Taking steps toward good health,
Stretching out on a mat.

While the numbers don't lie
And I've more weight to lose,
I'm losing the scale ...
It's freedom I choose!

____________________________

Prompt #4:  Write a poem inspired by the word, "Loss".
Here's to knowing I'm healthier ... but not because a three-digit number on the scale told me so!

Time-Warp Wednesday

A few minutes ago, when I was half-carrying, half-dragging my little two-year old upstairs for her nap, I found a little treasure.  Right at the top of the stairs leading to the living room (right about the spot where Liddy collapsed in a puddle, rolled over on her back and screamed, "Hode Me!") there is a lovely, drippy, smeary smudge of cherry juice.  It's a terrific shade of burgundy and it stands out nicely against the butter-yellow wall.

Actually it seems to shout, "Someone snitched a cherry!  And squished it right here!"

I'll give you just a few clues as to who that little culprit might be:  She's short, she's dark haired and she was recently half-carried, half-drug upstairs for a nap.

This dripping, crimson splotch is evidence of a well-known occurrence taking place in our house right now.  I call it the "Me Do" phenomena.  And it would appear to be genetic.

My grandparents (who faithfully read my posts here ... I love that!) would be quick to tell you about how I, at the tender age of 2, would toddle around, exploring the world, and declare, "me do!" to anyone who tried to help me with my shoes, blowing bubbles, eating breakfast or feeding the dog.

"Me do, me do, me do!"

Right now, Lydia is a full-fledged "Me-doer".  Hence the cherry juice at the top of the stairs.

In itty-bitty Liddy's budding independence she is now fully capable of putting on her fop-dops (flip-flops), pouring her own cereal, changing her clothes, getting ice and water from the refrigerator, giving Gimli his breakfast and getting her own snacks (see cherry sploosh above) ... to name a few of her favorite tasks.  She is also aching to be able to wash her own hair (too many eye-burning bubbles), ride her own bike (too short of legs) and pour her own milk (too much to mop up).

Which brings me to today's snapshot flashback ...

Another little two and one-half year old and the unfortunate results of them independently getting themselves a snack.

Oops.

In the picture you can see sweet Ashley in the midst of a "Me Do" gone horribly, drippily wrong.  I actually remember quite vividly running from my room to the kitchen at the sound of the hysterical screams piercing the air.  I then remember, equally vividly, running back out of the kitchen to find the camera.

She was only attempting to pour herself a bit of milk following her nap.  And much to her horror, the milk just kept on coming!  For your own information, that is what approximately what half a gallon of milk looks like when it misses the cup, pours off the table and spreads across the floor.  I love that she's still clutching the empty yellow cup and is simply staring at the puddle.  What you can't hear are the sobs and sniffles from her failed attempt at independence.

So ... seeing as this is the sort of "Me Do" messes we have experienced in our house in the past, cherry juice rubbed into the stairwell wall is really no big deal.  I guess.

Swim, Little Fishy, Swim

Yesterday I came home from my early morning walk to find my three girls already in their swimsuits.

"We're ready, Mom!"

"Oh my ... you do realize that swim lessons don't start for another ... uh, three hours.  Right?"

"Yep!  We're just so excited!"

So I can see ...


In spite of our three hour pre-swim lesson prep-time, we were still just a mere five minutes early to the pool.  I am quite certain that there is a time vortex located somewhere in the vicinity of the door leading out to the garage.  Without fail, I am regularly proactive about leaving with 10 minutes to spare only to find myself backing out of the garage 15 minutes behind schedule!  How does that happen?!?

Anyway, as we walked across the pool deck, shucking shoes off as we went along, retrieving said shoes when Mommy asked, "Where are your shoes?" and high-fiving cousins, I had a few mini-flashbacks to previous swim lessons ...

Mom and Tot classes with Aaron when he was just a year old.  Lumbering out in my maternity swimsuit with my little tyke propped on my hip/belly.  He was happy to be in the water, motor-boating around.  I was happy to be in the water with front row seats to watching my little guy learning to blow bubbles.  My hips were happy to be in the water for the sheer relief of 30 minutes of weightlessness.

Little shivering Norah in her first independent swim lesson.  Sorta independent.  I remember shaking my head as I watched my tiny land lubber sit on the side of the pool and attach herself to her teacher's hip.  She was still dry from the waist up after every class.  I don't remember paying extra for the sherpa-version swim lesson, but I probably should have tipped the teacher.

Tiny Ashley tippy-toeing her way across the pool.  She was diligently making "ice cream scoops" with her hands.  As she climbed up on the side of the pool, I could tell from across the way that she was freezing.  Her little body was shaking violently, shivering from the top of her little pony-tail down to her itty-bitty pinky toe.  I was tempted to rescue her early, wrapping her up in a warm, dry towel.  I'm glad I didn't ... her radiant, "did you see me??" smile warmed her up as she walked along the deck at the end of class.

And now, here we are again.  Another year, another teacher, another splash.  The difference this year is that there are four Kellum kids suited up.  Even little Lydia is sunscreened, suited and ready to swim!

As my purple-suited little mermaid tiptoed her way to the water, I admit to being a little worried.

Would she get in the pool on her own?


Would she listen to the teacher?


Would she follow the other kids in the activities?


Would she have fun?

Yes, yes, yes and YES!

Thanks to cousin Mallory, Lydia had someone to hold her hand as she walked down the steps to the pool.  She stayed close to the teacher and participated in all the activities:  laying on her back, kicking her legs, bobbing up and down and doing her "ice cream scoops".  And the smile on her face as she sat on the side of the pool and kicked huge splashes with her pudgy little feet was proof that she was having a great time!

While I was happy to see my little fish so thrilled to be in her lesson, it was a little bittersweet.  A little poignant, perhaps. We have been participating in swim lessons since each of our little people were babies.  But there is something about the baby starting her lessons.  Does that make sense?

She's the last one.  The last one in her first swim lesson.  The last one to wonder, "How will she do?"  The last one to discover the wonder of blowing bubbles in the water.  The last one to celebrate her first front float.  The last one to explore the wonder of being underwater.

It's yet another season of change for my baby.  Isn't there something in Ecclesiastes 3 about that ... a time for everything under the sun, a time to cautiously tickle your toes in the shallow end, a time to jump with great gusto into the deep?  No ... maybe not.  But that passage is chock full of other seasons of change and growth, so I'm sure it could fit in there! :)

To all the other kids, swim lessons yesterday were a bit "old hat".  Aaron is a Barracuda and he swam the length of the pool three times and learned the basics of treading water.  Norah is an Angelfish and she excitedly told me of her adventures of doing eight cannonballs and bobbing forty times.  Ashley is a Jellyfish and smiled radiantly, again, as she informed me that they, "spent the WHOLE time in the super deep water!"

And Lydia, my little Guppie, is well on her way to being a fish like her siblings.  I just hope she doesn't feel the need to jump off into the deep end too quickly.  I need my little fishy to stay little just a bit longer.  Preferably in the shallow pool. :)

Of course, with all the kids participating in the lessons, this meant I had 40 minutes to enjoy kid-free ... I could certainly get used to that!  Just so long as they all decide to swim back to me when they're done. :)

Mommy, RN

I have been wearing a different hat this week ... one that doesn't fit as comfortably as the others.  I am quite at home in my "House-keepers" hat - as long as dusting or ironing isn't on the list.  I can wear my "Chef" hat quite proudly on my head as I toodle around the kitchen creating my latest tasty concoction.  I am also quite fond of my "Game Show Host" hat and I'm enjoying this season of, "Let's play a game!"

I am not nearly as comfortable in my "Nurses" hat, however, because it means someone is hurting.  And I am, most often, powerless to do anything about it.

My little Ashley was victim to a wasp ambush last week.  There she was just minding her own business and zooming around the culdesac when all of a sudden she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  In the blink of an eye, she was off her bike, screaming, flinging her arms around and jumping up and down.  The sort of thing that stops a mommy's heart and sends her running!

After the assault, we discovered a sting her arm, two on her hand and two on her face.  The mean little bugger!  As I snuggled her on the kitchen bench, trying to ice three different spots with just two hands - and her little breath caught in gasps and muffled sobs - my heart broke.  My little ice cubes were no match for her pain and fear.  All I could do was hold her, tell her how brave she was and assure her that she was going to be okay.  I had no magical wand to bibbity-bobbity-boo her back to being pain-free.

Then there was Aaron.  Poor little dude ended up with a doozy sunburn after an awesome day at the pool.  Now, several days later, we are still nursing his wounds.  His bright red, itty-bitty blistery wounds.  He has been so brave to endure my futile attempts to "make it all better".  From aloe vera to vinegar to tea bags, he's put up with a lot, but he's yet to experience instant relief.

It broke my heart to hear him crying in the midst of his cool shower, mumbling about not being able to move his arms or sleep on his back or shrug.  If only I could summon Madam Pomfrey and get her burn-healing paste or browse through a Hogwart's potions book in order to search out the healing properties of horned slugs.

I know that my kids will be just fine.  They come from two parents who survived childhood bee stings and sunburns ... and lived to tell the tale!  But that doesn't make it any easier in the midst of it all.

How do you know what to do?
How can you be sure to do more help than harm?
How do you help them to move on from sad to brave and from clingy to bold?
How do you let them cry without allowing them to stay in that "woe is me" hole?

That feeling of helplessness is an uncomfortable place to be, but it is necessary because it moves us out of our self-sufficiency and into a dependence on God.

And being in God's capable hands is the perfect place to be.

I can't say that God speeded the healing process for either of my kids, but He brought peace into the middle of their little season of suffering.  In the midst of their pain and His presence, I was able to speak to my kids about God's goodness and His love for them and His ability to make them well again.  Then, upon feeling relief, they were able then to put together the promises of God and their healing and see God's fingerprints ... and a little glimpse of God's care for them as the Great Physician.

I hope that this little spell of pain mixed peace will help them to have compassion for others who are suffering.  And in this heightened state of compassion, be able to pass on the gift of God's peace to others, too, through prayer and a little extra TLC.

I'm also hopeful that we can steer clear of wasp's nests and remember the importance of sunscreen ... so Mommy can enjoy wearing a different hat for a bit!

______________

Nurse's Update:  


Ashley made a full recovery, seemingly overnight.  We used apple cider vinegar on her little stings on her arm and hand and were amazed at the speed with which the welts disappeared.  By the next morning, you would never have known anything happened.  While she cuts a wide path around the scene of the zingy incident, she is back on her bike!


Aaron has moved on from the "can't raise my arms" stage to the "look, Ma, I'm better" stage to the "aaaahhhh ... I'm so itchy!" stage.  Poor little dude ... this is a long lesson we are learning.  He has swim lessons this week, but from under his new swim shirt, he intends to stay sunburn-free. 

Food For Thought

My family enjoyed a trip downtown last night.  Moseying along through the farmer's market, hearing some live music and walking off a little ice cream treat!  Seeing all that fresh produce (while still savoring my non-veggie deliciousness ...) is a reminder to me of the Joy of the Summer Salad!  This time of year, it is such a delight to toss together fresh ingredients (some from our very own garden) and savor a bit of summer.

Here are three salads we've had recently.  The first is an old favorite while the other two are new to our family ... but sure to become old favorites!

Hope you're inspired to enjoy your veggies ... so you can enjoy your ice cream, too!

Taco Salad
(A family recipe, i.e. "whatever I have in the kitchen".)

Ingredients:
Lettuce (we use ice berg or romaine)
Tomatoes
Scallions
Ground Beef, cooked and seasoned to taste
Black beans, drained and rinsed
Cheddar cheese, shredded
Sour cream
Salsa & Guacamole (here are our favorites)
Lime, quartered
Anything else that says "taco" to you!

Pile the chopped lettuce in a bowl and top with any and all of the above.  Brett and I enjoy this dinner in place of the tacos or burritos the kids are having.  We get all the good stuff with a few less carbs ... makes us feel a little bit healthier!

The fresh squeezed lime makes all the difference!

Blue Cheese & Walnut Coleslaw

(This recipe is from "The Dinner Doctor", with a few adjustments.)

Ingredients:

1 package coleslaw mix (or 1 small cabbage, shredded)

1/3 cup walnut pieces

1 small jicama, peeled and grated

1/2 cup ranch dressing

1/4 cup blue cheese crumbles

Black pepper

First, toast the walnuts.  Place the walnuts in a small saucepan and place over medium-high heat.  Stir slowly while they toast.  When their skins darken, they are ready.  Transfer to a small bowl to cool.

Combine the dressing and blue cheese in a large bowl and mix until the cheese is incorporated throughout the dressing.  Add the cabbage, jicama and stir well.  Sprinkle with black pepper to taste and top with toasted walnuts.  A delicious addition to any picnic!

The jicama is a delicious and refreshing surprise!

Cauliflower Tabouli

(This recipe is from Food Network Magazine, May 2010, with a few adjustments.)

Ingredients:

1 head of cauliflower

1/3 cucumber, chopped

2 roma tomatoes, diced

1/3 cup fresh lemon juice

3 T. olive oil

2 T. soy sauce

2 green onions, chopped
1/2 bunch of fresh cilantro, chopped

Salt & Pepper

Grate the cauliflower on a box grater.  The cauliflower will be in grain-sized pieces.

Great grated cauliflower!

Add the remaining ingredients and toss well.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  I was pretty thrilled with the flavor of this dish.  A great substitute for bulgur wheat tabouli, without sacrificing any of the flavor!

Not a grain to be found ... but you don't miss it!

Dry Watercoloring!

My name is Morgan and I don't like Play-Doh.

Whew!  That feels good to get off my chest ... but I think there are a few more confessions to make:

I don't like glitter.

I don't like beads.

I don't like stamping.

I don't like watercolors.

Uhmmm ... hmmm ... I think I need to go back and rephrase those statements.

I don't like when my kids play with Play-Doh ... 

and the clean-up involves twice as much time as the actual "fun" had by the kids.

I don't like when my kids use glitter ... 

and I find my floor still sparkles nine months later.

I don't like when my kids are beading ... 

and all I can hear the tippity-tappity-tip-tip-tips of the itty-bitty seed beads dancing around the table only to roll to the floor to join the glitter.

I don't like the clean up involved after my kids have been stamping ... 

and I find myself wiping not-so-washable ink off the table, chairs, the kitchen floor and more than one knee.

And as for watercolor ~ I don't like when my kids watercolor because of the sheer amount of water that goes into their drippy, soggy, colorless paintings.  They definitely have the water-part of watercoloring down, in fact, they use so much water that they "paint" right through their paper to the table below.  We also find that their sodden works of art have to be ironed flat after drying due to their sheer saturation.  And due to the ginormous amount of water used, there is no discernible color ... just a lot of dishwater grey.  (And don't get me started on the periodic floods that cover the table when some little person's elbow collides with the rinse cup ... effectively turning my MOPS notepad a lovely shade of dishwater grey.)

Until ...

We discovered Crayola No-Drip Watercolors ... and suddenly I'm saying, 

"Yes!  You should watercolor!"  

This little number is terribly cool.  It comes with two brushes/markers and a tray that includes six colors, each in their own little contained capsule.  There is also a "cleaning pad" that you can use to wipe the brush clean.  This eliminates the pesky need for an opened jar of ready-to-be-spilled water which makes me happy. (see above)

Your little artist sticks the brush into the small opening of the desired color, the tip absorbs a small amount of vibrant color and then your little one uses that mess-free tip to color to their heart's content.  Want a new color?  No problem!  Simply wipe the brush clean on the pad and choose a new hue.  When the pad gets dirty, which it does, just rinse it off under running water (the same with the brush tips) and then you are ready for the next masterpiece.

There is no spilling, no soggines, no tearing sodden paper ... and your kids can discover the COLOR aspect of watercoloring!

Ashley is hard at work painting her yellow daisy yellow.

Even Lydia enjoys getting her artistic-groove on.

I don't think the gloves are necessary
... the paints are non-toxic.

A garden masterpiece ...
straight out of Alice in Wonderland.

Proof that even the littlest hands can manage this craft.

I have found that my girls are happy to sit and "paint" for long stretches of time ... much longer than the actual amount of time needed to clean-up!  And that makes Mommy happy, too.

Now ... my mom might disagree about this craftiness falling under the heading of watercolor.  But that's only because she can do things like this with her watercolors and brush:

Yes!  She's amazing!  Maybe someday one of my little people will create such wonderful pieces, but first we have to master the water-containment issues!

For more wonderful watercolors to enjoy, head over to my mom's website.  You won't regret it!

_________________________________

Linking up with Mama Kat today ...
Prompt #4 ~ something that keeps your kids busy for 20 blissful minutes! :)

Time-Warp Wednesday

When our herd travels out into public (which is often ... too often I think, sometimes), our number one comment from perfect strangers is regarding the kids' hair color.  Without trying :) we managed to create four follicle-ly distinct children.

Aaron is our red-headed one.  Not Carrot Top red, just a terrific shade of cinnamon.  It's not scratch-n-sniff ... but it is wonderfully touchable!

Norah's hair is a lovely strawberry-blonde.  A perfect kiss of red to make other people ooh and aah.  And search the Clairol boxes in vain for, "Sweet Strawberry Kisses".

  

Ashley is our blondie.  She doesn't have any red in her hair, just long golden, wavy locks, reminiscent of Rapunzel.  With a few hyper-blonde highlights thrown in for fun!

And then there's Lydia.  Our brunette.  She has straight brown hair.  Completely different from her siblings.

This would be a perfect example to me of the mystery of DNA.  Each of us has a distinctive and unique cocktail of genes that make us who we are.  What an amazing tribute to God's unending creativity and artistry!  And you know as well as I do that their one-of-a-kind hair color is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to all the myriad of ways in which they are each individuals!

Now, someone from the outside could look at our kids and wonder if they all come from the same family - the same two parents.  (Of course, they truly only have to hang out for a few moments to watch them and listen to them to see that they are, indeed, related!)  Even though at times we might desire to distance ourselves from these four little people who follow us around, it doesn't take long to see the similarities between them and us.

"Yep.  They belong to us."

Recently, Brett's mom and dad passed on a snapshot of their little tyke when he was about Lydia's age.  We now have photographic evidence that I believe would hold up in the court of law as proof of Brett being the undisputed father of our Godzilla, er ... Liddy.

Daughter

Definitely Daddy

Isn't it a little crazy?!  The same straight brown hair.  The same severe bangs.  The same furrowed brow of concentration.  You'd have to trust me about the nose and mouth ... but she makes that same face with her lower lip pooched out.  That is, when it's not stuffed in an ice-cream cone.

So ... the next time Lydia pitches a full-blown, I'm-screaming-til-I'm-blue, watch-my-feet-fly fit in Target, I can confidently turn to Brett and say ... 

"She's yours."

Polynesia

The other day I was in the basement waiting to put my little Ashley down for her nap.  As I sat there, I surveyed the disaster zone ... toys strewn haphazardly around the floor, doll legs hanging out of the dress-up bin, a half-built race track dangling from the bookshelf, PlayMobile people scattered across the carpet like a long line of refugees looking for asylum and the play kitchen devoid of all food paraphernalia because it's in a heap on the floor.  Sigh ... and a mental note to do some serious purging down there! 


Ashley was taking an inordinately long time to join me downstairs, so I took advantage of a few minutes to tidy several bins.  Underneath a purple, feather-fringed cape I found a blow-up beach ball globe.  I knew the kids had been looking for this (and they never would have thought to look there!) so I set it beside me to take back upstairs.


Still waiting for Ashley ... doo-dee-doo ... 


I glanced over at the globe on the futon beside me and the bold letters "Polynesia" caught my eye.  It stretched across a large portion of the Pacific Ocean and dotted here and there among the letters were little islands.  According to this globe, those islands didn't have names, they just belonged to "Polynesia" and that struck me as puzzling.


About then Ashley finally dawdled downstairs and snuggled into her bed.  I tucked her in and then tucked the beach ball under my arm and headed upstairs for my own quiet time.  But that word "P-o-l-y-n-e-s-i-a" stretched across all that water and all those islands and all those people was still kind of pestering me.


Here's what Merriam-Webster has to say about it:


Polynesia |ˌpäləˈnē zh ə|a region of the central Pacific Ocean that lies east of Micronesia and Melanesia and contains the easternmost of the three large groups of Pacific islands, including Hawaii, the Marquesas Islands, Samoa, the Cook Islands, and French Polynesia


That's a lot of territory for just one little word.  I would imagine that there are a lot of people on those islands that have a lot more to say about themselves.  I imagine that they have individual names, unique cultures, distinct traditions and their own remarkable identities.  And they would probably appreciate being recognized for their individuality and their uniqueness.  Instead of being glomped all together.


And maybe that's why that globe struck me like it did.  Because ... I know that I'm not much different in that respect.  I don't much appreciate when I am assigned to a broad, generalized category like:  Mom, Christian or Woman.  I am a unique individual and I like it that way.


I have carved out my identity as a mom and while I can relate to other moms, I'm not just like all the other moms.  We each have our own tricks of the trade and our own challenges and our own perspectives about the "rights and wrongs" of parenting.  Each of us faces the challenges of discovering what works for our family:  spanking or time out; homeschool or public school or private school; mac-n-cheese or whole grain noodles with red sauce; sleep with mom or sleep with stuffy; The Wiggles or Veggie Tales; and breastfeeding or bottles ... just to name a few!  I love to lend encouragement and, when asked, advice.  And I appreciate hearing from other moms and gaining insight into how they handle challenges and celebrate milestones.  But I get to choose what my Mommy-Identity looks like and it looks different than those around me.


I have also embraced my identity as a Christian ... but I know that my spiritual life looks different than other Christians around me.  This is one area of labeling that really bothers me because it's such a personal aspect of life.  I will make many choices for myself that are not spelled out word for word in the Bible.  And it's important for me to not pass judgement on others because they choose not to do things different than me.  


I also don't like to be clumped together with other Christians when they speak their minds ... especially when they shouldn't have.  When I hear about a church leader making a brash statement that wouldn't have come out of Jesus' mouth, I cringe.   I don't want to be associated with that sort of yuck, and yet so often that un-Jesus-like comment gets attributed to the group as a whole and it makes me want to come up with a different name just for me & Jesus! :)  In truth, that is just the way it is (what with us none of us being perfect) and my responsibility is to live my life in such a way that is above reproach and try to be a better reflection of who Jesus really is and what He would really say and do.


I have also accepted my identity as a woman ... and not a size 2 woman, but me.  I am so tired of feeling like I need to measure up by being several sizes smaller.  Nothing puts me in a sour mood quicker than going clothes shopping and finding myself grumbling about the emaciated mannequins wearing, as Liz Lemon would say, "A Vietnamese, size 2" and then being less than thrilled when I see the same top on a normal-sized person.  That would be me.  I'd be the normal-sized person. :)  Those letters (S, M, L) and numbers (10, 12, 14, 16) are not my identity ... they are sizes arbitrarily assigned to a pair of pants!


Whew ... sorry about that.  I got a little worked up there! :)  That just really irks me.  


ahem ... where was I?


Oh yes ... I am a woman.  And I am uniquely made.  I have my own interests, my own sense of humor, my own passions, my own anxieties, my own quirks ... just the way God made me.  And I don't want to feel like I should apologize for those differences or try to be like anyone else.  I am not cookie-cutter made.  And I'm not a nameless person in a sea of people.  I'm me.


I understand that on a little plastic beach ball globe, you can't list Pukapuka, Funafuti or Manihiki ... or all the other hundreds of islands found there ... but I can try to look past that little label to see the life-sized people living there with their own quirks and personalities!

Maybe She's a 80's Girl

I've been savoring this post for a little while ... thinking about it, making notes, humming some familiar tunes.  It's put a smile of my face a number of times and helped me to look at my little Lydia in a different light.  A more musical light.  An enlightening 80's light.

What if my Lydia had a soundtrack to her day?  

Seeing as her vocabulary is still a bit limited (although she does share new words with us everyday) ... maybe she would enjoy having some famous folks sing what she's trying to communicate with her garbly-gook words and emphatic hand-waving.  Maybe if she had Cyndi Lauper speak for her, there wouldn't be so much desperate crying and more smiley interactions with her Mommy.  'Cause maybe she really does "just want to have fu-un!"

Maybe ...

Instead of yelling, "No! Down!  No!" when she is frustrated by the fact Mommy wants her to have one measly bite of lunch, Tears for Fears could jump in with "Shout, shout, let it all out!  These are the things I could do with out!  Come on, I'm talking to you, come on!"  That would make it so much more fun ... and cleaner, too.

Poor Liddy is the brunt of a lot of tattle-taling.  On a regular basis, Ashley comes running to me with the latest update about what Lydia has touched, broken or eaten.  Poor girl.  I'm sure that she and Bobby Brown could sing a little duet about how, "Everybody's talking all this stuff about me now, Why don't they just let me live ... Make my own decisions, That's my prerogative."  I can just see her strutting her stuff.

There are times, however, when I'm glad that Ashley has alerted me to Lydia's current location and potential trouble.  Having extra eyes has saved us from serious destruction around the house.  That little girl was nicknamed, "Godzilla" for a reason.  But perhaps Peter Gabriel describes her better, "I'm your sledgehammer, Let there be no doubt about it."  Nope ... I don't doubt her ability to clear a bookshelf in 1.2 seconds.  And she can gouge out a chapstick faster that you can say, "Sledge, Sledge, Sledgehammer."

When Lydia is feeling like Ashley is bossing her around a bit too much, instead of slugging it out, I would love for the song "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" to fill the air instead.  Wouldn't it be a treat to hear that in place of the of crying?  Not everyone can be the boss ... even if we want to be.

But I have my own songs about that little girl ... songs that go on inside my head when I'm face to face with my little sweetie.  On a regular basis (almost moment by moment), I'm joining Pure Energy in singing, "I want to know what you're thinking, There are somethings you can't hide, I want to know what you're thinking, Tell me what's on your mind."  Really.  Just tell me.  With words.

Because sometimes words are helpful.  I get plenty of non-verbal communication:  pouty lips, scrunchy face, flailing arms, kicking legs, grabbing hands, even a little spitting at times.  You know, "She's got the look."  The look of someone who wants to say something, but doesn't know how yet.  The look of someone who's desperate to communicate it's her turn for the iPad.  The look of someone who just really needs a hug.

It's those moments when I can't figure out just what would put a smile on her face - because, "Ma ... po ... bobo," doesn't mean much to me - that I join The Fine Young Cannibals in singing, "She drives me crazy, Like no one else, She drives me crazy, And I can't help myself."  Because even though I sometimes feel exasperated by her urgent, "Dee, Dee, Dee's," she is still super cute.

And I can't help but love her!

Food For Thought

As you might remember, I am a bit of a tea drinker.  Until recently, I was still grieving the loss of my dear friend Almond Sunset.  That is until I discovered one last box that had snuck away into the back of the pantry!  Now, of course, I'm in full-blown ration-mode ... savoring each and every little sip.  In light of that, I have been icing up just regular old Lipton tea and sweetening it up a bit as needed for my afternoon refreshment.

Then came the most recent Food Network magazine!  Nestled in the pages of this month's tome of deliciousness was a spread of make-it-yourself flavorful teas.  And through experimenting a bit, I have discovered a new love.  Actually three new loves ... but the first is certainly the best.

Introducing ...

Lavender Tea
(This recipe is tweaked a bit from Food Network Magazine, July/August 2011.)

Ingredients:
3-4 sprigs of fresh lavender
4 tea bags (decaf or regular)
5 cups of simmering water
1 cup water
1/3 cup sugar

In a kettle, bring 5 cups of water to a simmer.  In a small saucepan, heat 1 cup of water to a simmer.  Add the sugar and stir to dissolve.  Add the lavender (still on the stem) to the sugar mixture and let this sit for about 10 minutes.

In a medium sized pitcher, use a clothes pin to clip the tea bags to the side with the bags low enough for them to sit in the water.

Add the kettle of water and let steep for 4-5 minutes.  Add the lavender water by pouring it through a strainer to catch any flowers that might have fallen off.  Remove the tea bags and mix well.

Fill a glass with ice and pour the lavender tea over ice.  Enjoy ... and feel refreshed and relaxed!

I have also tried and enjoyed:

Mint Tea

and

Lemon Zest Tea

The recipes are essentially the same.  Simple replace the lavender with either mint or lemon zest in the sugar water.  A whole new way to enjoy some icy refreshment!

Cheers!

Yes, that's my yellow cup. :)

Lavender Tea

Something Yellow

Hmmm ... something yellow.  Something yellow.  Write about something yellow.

As I was working around the house and contemplating Mama Kat's writing prompts, I was struck by the variety of yellow things around the house that I could write about.

~My lovely bouquet of yellow alstroemeria sitting on my kitchen table ... a gift from my sweet hubby this past weekend.

~My hardy yellow rubber gloves that protect me from having to actually touch any of the nasty, soggy, slimy food particles during dish-duty.

~My amazing  yellow bottle of Tea Tree Oil.  One little dab and those pesky mosquito bites are itch-free!

~My trusty plastic yellow cup that follows me around the house.  Filled with ice water and always within reach when I get a little "firsty", as Lydia would say.

~The soft yellow glow of the lamp in the living room.  A sweet beacon beckoning me to settle into the couch for a good read ... with my feet up.

~The economy-sized yellow tub of Clorox Wipes that leave my counters, sinks and kitchen knobs squeaky clean and smelling clean.  Even in the hands of my littlest helpers.

~My  yellow sweetie Petey canary ... still singing to me as I toodle around the kitchen.  He has great taste in music!

~ My ...

... hold on a minute.  What is that?!  Is it? ... Yes.  Eww.  A piece of TP on the bathroom floor.  And it's yellow.  Gross.

Even with all of my efforts to find something yellow and sentimental to write about, I'm left with something yellow that makes me feel mental!  Aaahhh! ... As I stooped down to retrieve that little yellow memento that someone left for me, I couldn't help but think about all the other unfortunate bathroom habits that my little people have right now that I am in the process of working on.  My hope is that at the end of all this training and teaching, I will be sending responsible, fun, enjoyable and hygienic people out into the world!

I am working hard on training my kids to ...

• Aim for the toilet.  More challenging than it would seem.  And not just for my boy.
• Throw away their used tissues.  All the way into the trashcan, not just near it.  And most definitely NOT back in the box.
• Rinse the used up toothpaste down the sink.  As opposed to allowing it to dry and crust over.  Same goes for the actual toothbrush.
• Avoid spraying toothpaste on the bathroom sink.  Essentially, keeping the toothpaste in the mouth is the main goal.
• Forgo using their hands to wipe said toothpaste spray off the mirror.  It's not really cleaner, just smearier.
• Keep the hairbrushes away from the toothbrushes.  Makes me gag just thinking about it.
• Throw away the bandaid wrappers after binding their wounds.  This also goes for the used bandaids.  shudder ...
• Pick up the teensy-weensy, itty-bitty hair-do parts.  If they fall on the floor, they don't disappear into the bathroom rug.  They still need to be picked up.
• Flush.  Seems simple, but apparently this is a tough one.
• Keep the hand towels off the floor.  They seem to jump off the hook a lot, those pesky little hand wiper-thingies. Help Mommy keep them from misbehaving so much.
• Keep the water in the tub.  Of course, Liddy is the biggest culprit here, but the big kids are just as guilty of dowsing the bathroom floor on a regular basis.
• Put your clothes in the hamper.  Emphasis on "IN".  "Near" doesn't count and neither does hanging on the towel rack.  IN.

And finally ...

• Remember that Mommy loves the smell of a clean kid.  That goes for hands, heads, and hineys.  Take the time to actually use soap.  

Thank you.

Now ... if you'll excuse me, I need to pull on my yellow bathroom scrubbing gloves and get to work!

_____________________________________________

Prompt #2 from

Time-Warp Wednesday

It's been a little while since I warped ... too many things happening today to even think about reminiscing about yesterday!  I love having my kids home for the summer, but I can't help but think about how things should settle down a bit once we are in a regular routine.  That or we will ramp it up another notch and be forced to begin mommy-atom-splitting.  Again.

Ah well ... here's a Time-Warp post that I have been eagerly waiting to post.  For one thing, it's one of my favorite pictures.  For another thing, it involves one of the stories that we tell a lot in my family.  And finally ... it explains a lot about Norah and how she is her Mama in miniature.  (Anytime she pouts through a picture time, I can't help but think, "Yep ... she's mine ...")

This snapshot was taken in September of 1982.  Growing up, we had "the bench" where we would take family photographs.  It was a rickety old thing (my mom's great-grandfather's bench?) and it sat in front of the giant blue spruce in our yard.  Over the years we had a huge number of photo shoots with us perched on that bench.  But none quite as memorable as this one.

For some reason, which is forever lost in my almost-eight-year-old mind, I was a grump.  My mom wanted a snapshot of her kids and because I was a girl and had perfected the pouty lip and was rumored to be a bit of a drama queen, instead of smiling for the camera like my siblings, I protested.  I turned my little lower lip out, slumped my shoulders, severely crossed my legs, covered my eyes and refused to smile.  I thought, in my puny pubescent brain that I was in charge of the situation.  As you can see, I was wrong.

It was my mother who had the final say.



This snapshot became the hallmark of the Nadel kids.  From this point on, my mom referred to us as, "Her Three Little Monkeys" and she has gathered a rather extensive collection of the iconic "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil" little fellows.

But I think we are still her favorites.

In this case, I was smiling ... I promise.

We love you, Mom!

(And let this be a lesson to you all ... one little snapshot in time can go down in infamy ... following you around for the rest. of. your. life.  Be very, very careful ... and smile.)