Chores and Kids: Putting it into practice (Part 2)

If you've not read Part 1 on Chores and Kids, do that first. You can click on this link.

Now that you have a foundation of why you want your kids to do chores, you have to implement the how. This part is, by far, the most taxing on you as a parent because these first few weeks of your new system will require lots of teaching, correcting and side-by-side cleaning with your kids.

But I promise, I promise, if you put in the hard work in the beginning, it's worth it and your children are more likely to do their work correctly, efficiently and even, dare I say, joyfully. (Or at least with minimal complaining.)

Again, as I am teaching our children how to do their chores, we talk about why we do what we do. Why do we keep our room clean? Because if it's clean, you know where all the pieces are to your toys. And, it's a blessing to your Mom and Dad and we will enjoy your room with you. Your room is your place of refuge, the calm away from the chaos of the house. Keep it tidy and you will enjoy spending time there!

Same is true for the bathroom. No one enjoys using a dirty bathroom, one that has trash overflowing, clutter all around the sink, hair all over the floor and a disgusting toilet! And, if one day, you're sick and spending more time than usual in the bathroom, TRUST ME, you'll be glad it's been cleaned recently.

Always putting the why behind what we are doing seems to help our children grasp the purpose behind good work ethic, putting in your very best and being really efficient (after all, the faster you can do your job, the sooner it's over with usually, right?).

Whew, okay. So, first, let's talk logistics.

CHORE CHARTS. This has been a source of wailing and gnashing of teeth for Luke and I since the beginning. Some of our first chore charts were so complex that it required lots of work on the part of us, the parents, to keep up with who had done what, when they'd done it, etc. We'd ask the kids to do chores and if we hadn't putting up a clean chart, marked off the list the things they'd already completed, rotated them for today, blah, blah, blah, then basically chore time was an epic fail. Finally, I realized...

K.I.S.S.

Keep
It
Simple
Stupid

So, we simplified it as simply as we could. I scoured Pinterest to find an easy chore chart. One that didn't require me checking boxes or flipping cards or spinning wheels or erasing or standing on my head while playing the tin whistle or ANYTHING because really, this thing should be self sustaining mostly, with minimal work for you, the parent. I found this link to make my own magnetic charts and adapted it just a bit for our family. I skimmed her post on the actual chores themselves and basically just stole her idea for the charts themselves.

Here's what ours look like:

(I painted them that color before we moved into our new house. The kitchen paint just-so-happened to be the same color as our chore charts. I don't really love yellow that much.)

Once you are 3 years old in our house, you get your own chore chart. Before that, you just help with keeping toys picked up, throwing things in the trash (any 18-24 month olds dream) and basic odds and ends. I keep our charts hung in the kitchen area of our house because that's the most central room where I can see what has and has not been done for the day.

Those are just pizza tins I found at the Dollar General and spray painted them yellow because, well, that was the cheapest color they had. See, here's the back of one:

I gave the kids creative control of their wooden discs and we took advantage of some paint supplies we already had and they painted their discs to their heart's content. Then I glued their chores to the front with clear modge podge. I think it helped them take a little bit more ownership over their chore charts. Maybe not, but I like to tell myself that.

For the older 3 kids, their chores are written out on their charts in words.

Elizabeth and Lucas decided to swap a chore permanently, thus the odd ball looking disc on her chart. For the younger four kids, I used clip art to show them what their chores are.

Their names as well as "To Do" and "Done" are simply some scrapbooking stickers I had laying around and I covered them with a thin layer of modge podge so the letters wouldn't pop off. Last, I bought round magnets and hot glued them onto the backs of the wooden discs. (I tried the peel and stick magnets and the magnets kept coming off the discs. Just fyi.)

Every morning that we are home, sometimes while I'm cooking breakfast or sometimes immediately after breakfast (if we have cereal or something from the crockpot) is chore time. Pick a chore time that can be relatively consistent. Before school, as soon as they are home from school, just before bed, etc. I've found that if we do it around the same general time every day, they see it coming and the complaining is minimal. Now, all I have to do is announce it's chore time. They all go to their charts, slide their magnets back over to the "To Do" side and begin. It's glorious, most days.

Now for the harder part of making charts: deciding what chores you want your kids to do. (I did a quick search on Pinterest of "chores by age" and got a gazillion results so if you're at a loss, try that.)

Here's what our kids do, but of course, you can decide which chores work best for YOUR family. I read somewhere that it takes about 3-4 weeks for your kids to master a chore, I think that's true. I think it's also important to keep in mind that some kids will be naturally gifted in doing some things rather than others. I also read somewhere (or someone told me?) that they had one of their sons on laundry duty. After several months, he politely and quietly went to his mom and told her, "Mom, can I have another chore other than laundry? When I have to fold your underwear and my sister's underwear it embarrasses me. Can I switch chores with someone who isn't embarrassed by stuff like that?" I was super impressed. Not only because he was able to articulate that it wasn't a chore he enjoyed, but he could say WHY he didn't enjoy it and he understood that just because he might not have that chore, he would certainly have one to replace it. It gave me hope that my kids would be able to do the same and it showed me that I need to respect their feelings if something like that should arise with our kids.

Lucas was in charge of sweeping for a long time. And honestly, he sucked at it. He was just BAD no matter how many times I showed him. I don't think it was lack of effort, it just isn't something he's good at. So he and Elizabeth switched. Now, Lucas does dishes and Elizabeth sweeps the floors. I'm not quick to allow kids to swap out chores because I want them to master their job so they can do it quickly and effectively. But like I said in my last post, some families have rotating charts and it works for them.

We do our chores EVERY DAY, except Sundays (and usually, if we have a busy Saturday we ditch them then, too). Soon, the older 3 will probably get one additional item on their list as will Ella, Olivia and Aaron. After all, just like in the real world, the more responsible you prove yourself to be, the more you are responsible for doing.

Everyone does these chores:

Make their bed

Clean their room

Pick up Toys

The older 3 also have this one in common:

Put away clothes (Luke or I will fold and sort them by kid. The older 3 must put theirs away.)

Our 3 and 4 year olds only have 4 chores total. So in addition to the 3 listed above, our 3 year old, Ella, also feeds the dog and our 4 year old, Olivia, (who just turned 5) cleans off and wipes off the table.

Aaron, our other 5 year old, has 5 chores. The three listed above plus he cleans up the outside toys that have been left out and he also cleans up the living room (our hot spot for toys and clutter). He also puts his clothes away and I can't seem to remember to give him another disc for that.

Finally, the older 3 kids have 6 chores each. Lucas and Ashlee are 7 years old and Elizabeth is 9. Elizabeth does the above 4 chores plus she sweeps the floor (one zone per day) and starts a load of laundry (or folds a load if there is none to start). I divided our house into 3 zones for sweeping: the kitchen, the dining room/foyer/sitting room, and the school room/hallway outside their bedrooms. She rotates each sweeping zone every day.

Lucas has the above listed 4 chores and also does the dishes once per day (unloads and loads the dishwasher) and takes out all the trash - which also includes him hauling the trash to the curb on Monday nights since pick up day is Tuesday.

Ashlee has the above listed 4 chores plus she also cleans one bathroom every day (we have 2) and she vacuums every, single day.

The hard work comes in when you, Mom, have to teach your children how do do each of these things. If you simply tell them what to do and release them, then not only will you be dissatisfied with their work but they will be frustrated with their lack of knowing what your expectation is for them. Therefore, when I taught Ashlee how to clean the bathroom I walked her through every step. We alternate between using sanitizing wipes and a spray solution with paper towels. I showed her how I want the bathroom cleaned, step by tedious step. At first, it was just the basics like wiping off the countertops, mirror, toilet, putting away stray toothbrushes and rinsing out the sink. Now, we are about to move her into scrubbing the inside of the toilet.

I talked with Ashlee about making the bathroom counter a place free of clutter and that it's important to make it hospitable for when we have guests, because they use our bathroom too. A few weeks ago Ashlee did her chores and later I entered the bathroom to find it like this:

It made me laugh all day long. And I think that's the thing about watching your children do work. You should take joy in it and laugh along with them when they do funny things, cheer with them when they do a great job and when necessary, gently correct or redirect them when they don't do it just how you've shown them. Sometimes, we have to have retraining sessions and that's okay. Sometimes, Mommy completely loses her junk because her daughters' room is a black hole of death that looks like a wild pack of wolves have taken up residence. Later, Mommy has to apologize for being someone who is rude and belligerent and talk to them nicely about her expectations.

The first time I helped the older 2 girls clean their room to my standard it took FOUR HOURS. FOUR HOURS y'all. And we had just moved and I had already purged a ton of crap. Somehow, a liquified banana made it through the move. Ew.

Now, we do random checks of their chores. We don't tell them when we will come behind them and inspect their jobs. But once they are fully trained, we will.

The bottom line is, have grace with your kids. Teach them and expect high standards because I truly think, as adults, we don't give kids enough credit for what they are capable of doing. But also do your best to be merciful with them when they don't meet those high standards each and every time. Because one day, you'll walk into a room, it will look very unswept, you will realize it wasn't done, lose yourself on your child who SWEARS SHE SWEPT, you'll both be on the verge of tears, you'll retreat to your room for a breather and realize that your darling daughter DID sweep. She swept your bedroom. And made your bed. And turned down your sheets. And organized your nightstand. And left your nightstand light on so that your room looks oh-so-very inviting. And you'll feel about this big.

We tell our kids all the time that when they do their part around the house they are helping our home run smoothly, but when they go above and beyond they overwhelm us with blessings. They do a lot of the latter. Especially when I don't expect it.

Oh, one last thing! We DO NOT PAY our kids for their chores. The way we see it, Luke and I do things around our house because we live here and we love each other and our kids. They can do stuff around here because, you know, THEY LIVE HERE TOO and they love us and their siblings. So I guess I'll drag this out to a third post and tell you about how we plan to implement a new system called "Jobs for Hire" where we pay our kids for helping out around the house, above and beyond their actual chores. Because y'all, we've got some money hungry kids and, honestly, we want to teach our kids how to handle money. So, until next time....

***Edited to add***

I should include that there are other things that our kids do just because they live here. Like putting their dirty clothes in the hamper, taking their plate to the sink after meals, keeping their shoes in their shoe bins, you know, normal stuff that people do when they live with other people. Just so y'all know. That's why those are NOT included on the chore charts. In my opinion, those are part of just being a human who lives with other humans.

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Question for you: Do you already do chores? If so, what chores do your kids do at your house?

Questions for me? Ask!

Chores and Kids: Setting a foundation (Part 1)

After I posted this video on Instagram I got several inquiries about our chore system. I figured this was the best place to post about what works for us with chores.

We've tried AT LEAST 5 or 6 different chore systems since our oldest kids were old enough to comprehend chores and offer some help around the house. Elizabeth is 9 and the twins are 7, so we've been at this chore thing for about 4-5 years. Just when I'd think we'd found the holy grail of chores, life would happen, Luke and I would forget to implement it and it would flop like a dead fish. My point is, we've failed, a lot.

But finally, FINALLY we have a system that works. For now.

I've decided to break this into two parts because I REALLY BELIEVE that this first part is a big reason why our system has worked so well and lasted. So, bear with me. Part 2 will follow soon. But, first, read this:

Here's where I think we messed up a lot in the beginning, you (and your spouse) need to decide WHY you want your kids to do chores. Aside from the fact that you desire a clean house and your children can provide free child labor, what are your hopes with a well executed chore system?

For us, these were the big ones:

* There's a lot of us. We make a lot of (big) messes. Luke and I were ragged from doing all the cooking/cleaning/housekeeping/laundry/parenting and our house was a perpetual wreck (like, not just toys strung amuck or dishes in the sink - DIRTY). We needed help. Plus, our kids live here too. The last thing we want is to raise entitled kids who think that everyone should serve them all of the time. Responsibility is learned by having things you are responsible for.

* We want our children to know and understand the value of hard work.

* We wanted to be able to take pride in our home. It may not be the most immaculately decorated house in the world, but a clean house is one to be proud of, in our opinion. When our chore chart doesn't flow smoothly, our home is habitually a wreck. Our family (even our kids) enjoy having company and friends over. When the house is messy we are all embarrassed by our home. It's not fun to have company over, often on short notice on our part, when your house is always messy.

* Luke and I can more readily enjoy our children, spend time doing things they enjoy and feel like our home is a place of refuge, not stress, when our home is tidy and everyone does their part. Luke comes home from work less stressed, I yell a lot less, we can do fun projects together or play football in the yard, or roast marshmallows, whatever, when the inside of the home has been cleaned that day.

* Luke and I set appropriate expectations for what our home should look like. After all, we have almost 8 children ages 9 years and younger. Our house shouldn't look like it belongs in a magazine. It should look like children live here! Messes are to be expected. When our children help clean up, it won't be perfect. But it will be better than it was before and we can gradually help them get better and faster at their chores which results in one step closer to "perfect" than before.

So what are your goals for chores?

When our children were really young, our main goal was to teach our children to help out, take responsibility, and see that even as a child they can do something to help their family and be proud of themselves when they accomplish a task. Now that some of ours are older, we expect more.

For example, when Ella's chore is to make her bed, we are perfectly fine with it looking like this:

We've shown Ella (3 years) how to make her bed and this is her very best effort. And her best effort is good enough for now.

But for Ashlee (7 years), when her chore says to make her bed, we expect much more. Her bed should look more like this:

When it doesn't, we remind her that she didn't do her best and ask her to try again. Our expectations and even our goals change as our children get older.

A few weeks ago our children were grumbling and complaining about doing their chores. Nearly every time I announced it was chore time, wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued. So, I had a quick family meeting off the cuff. I had already tried yelling, getting angry, making threats and none of those things worked (shocking, isn't it?). I realized I hadn't sat the kids down in a while and reminded them why we need them to do their chores.

I told them all very simply, "When you do your part around the house, our home runs more smoothly. When the laundry is put away, the floors are swept, the dishes are not piled high in the sink and your bedrooms are clean, it gives us more time to spend as a family. Daddy comes home and enjoys his house rather than having to start another job after he's worked all day.

When you don't help out, then it makes life more stressful for myself and your Dad. And right now, our lives are stressful enough. We can't do it all, so we need help. If you are not willing to cheerfully help us around the house then we will have to hire someone to help us. But Daddy only makes a certain amount of money. So, if we hire help, we would have to take that money from another area. The only area that money can come from right now is your extra activities. So, if you decide you cannot help cheerfully, then we will use the money from horse riding lessons, karate, ballet and gymnastics to hire someone to help clean our house. It's really your choice."

We've not had much grumbling and complaining since that day. And I didn't tell our kids that as a threat. I was totally serious. I explained it to the kids calmly and matter-of-factly because it's true. Luke and I cannot do it all and we do need help. (And if you think you can do it all, Momma, you're kidding yourself. And doing an injustice to your children.) They can choose to bless their family by helping and in return receive blessings or they can choose to not bless and reap the consequences from that choice. (One child did lose the privilege of their extra activity one week for having a T-total meltdown when asked to redo a chore that was only half-way done. Life lessons, friends. It was hard on Momma, too.)

Kids have the ability to understand much more than we give them credit for.

Second, we used to have a more complex system where people rotated chores each week. And maybe one day we will try that again. But for now, and with our children, we've found that giving each of our kids a set list of chores that stays the same each week makes it easier for them to accomplish their jobs more quickly and with more efficiency. After all, how you feel if each week you went to work and you had to learn your job all over again? What if your job changed each week, yet your boss expected proficiency upon demand? That seemed stressful to me, especially for our children at the ages they are. Yet, I do know families who have a rotating chore chart and it works beautifully. For them. Not so much for us. Plus, when our kids do a chore week in and week out they get good at it. Ashlee can clean a bathroom in 5 minutes flat. As it gets easier for her, I add one tiny thing to make the bathroom sparkle just a little bit more. It's not so overwhelming for her and in turn, the bathroom is one step closer to the kind of clean I really desire. Win-win!

Finally, (for this post) choose age appropriate chores for your children. I'll go into this in further detail in the next post, but this was key for us. It's a balancing act to figure out when a child's chore is too easy or too hard. For a long, long time Elizabeth's chore (she's 9 years) was feeding the dog. She enjoyed it so it stayed her chore for much longer than it probably should have. But finally, she passed that chore off to Ella and, GET THIS, she was the one who got to show Ella how to correctly feed the dog! Elizabeth enjoyed the time of teaching and Ella enjoyed the thrill of being in charge of something a "big kid" used to do. Ella aspires to do it well because it was a big kid job and Elizabeth is proud be a teacher.

It boils down to setting a foundation for your family, a tone, of what the purpose of chores are in your home. We want our kids to feel empowered by accomplishing a job all on their own and doing it well! We want them to see that they are able to bless us just by doing simple things. We want them to know that when we all work together, we can accomplish big goals (like having the house clean in under an hour)!

What are your goals for your family with your children doing chores? I'd love to hear your reasons and ideas!

Das Not Funny! Friday: Orphaned Ninjas

After my previous post, y'all are going to think I'm bipolar by following it with today. But geesh, somebody's got to lighten the mood around here, right?

So, here's a long overdue, Das Not Funny! Friday! Not sure what Das Not Funny! Friday is? Click here to find out.

These are from the last several months. Good thing funny stuff doesn't go bad.

I'm sure y'all have noticed that I've not exactly been completely emotionally normal lately. A while back I had been especially short tempered with the kids, yelled at them, said some things that wasn't patient or kind or edifying to a loving environment in our home.

I sat the older four kids down at the table to read to them and before I started, I took a deep breath, began to cry and apologized to them.

"Guys, I'm really sorry. I haven't been kind or gentle or patient with all of you lately. Mommy needs to do better. I'm really, really sorry."

With a sad look on her face, Ashlee climbs into my lap, snuggles up to me, pats me gently and says, "It's okay Mommy. Daddy needs some work too."

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Often, when the kids are picking on me Luke will tease with them and tell them to "stop messing with his wife!"

Luke and I were in the kitchen hugging and kissing. Aaron comes into the room, stops in his tracks and says, "Hey! Stop kissing my wife!"

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Ashlee is smitten with Abigail. Actually, babies in general. It's not uncommon for Abigail to spend most of her time on Ashlee's hip, wrestling on the floor with Ashlee, kissed by Ashlee, tickled by Ashlee, hugged by Ashlee..... you get the idea. So when Luke offered for Ashlee to give Abigail a bottle while I was at Bible study on Monday night, Ashlee was over the moon happy.

A little while later, I got this text from Luke:

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Me: "Ella, please don't play with those, okay?"

Ella: "But Mommy, my tummies are hurtin'!"

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Our boys are into anything Ninja/Star Wars/Karate/Army. Basically, your typical boy stuff. Lately, Lucas and Aaron both walk around singing theme songs to the shows they like to watch. Aaron's especially make me giggle.

Aaron: "Teenage Ninja Ninja Turtles. Ninjas in a half shell. Turtle Tower!"

But my favorite is,

"Go, go, go, go, go, go Power Rangers! Mighty, mighty orphan Power Rangers!"

Those poor, orphaned Ninjas. ;)

Y'all have a great weekend.

Das Not Funny! Friday: Poop and weapons. What else do you expect?

I figured it's time for some laughs around this joint. I know I could use some. What better than a Das Not Funny! Friday to give me a good chuckle?

A few days ago I was in desperate need of a hair cut. I decided to take Ashlee over to my grandmas and let Elizabeth go with me. On the way over to my grandmas Elizabeth, Ashlee and I started talking about babies.

Y'all have to understand, Ashlee is a baby lover. She spends the majority of her day kissing, hugging, screeching in the loudest voice possible talking to Abigail and trying with all her might to make her laugh. So I figured it would only be natural for Ashlee to want several babies of her own.

"Ashlee, how many babies do you think you want to have when you grow up?" I asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.

"OH, NO! NO! NO!" she said, waving her arms in front of her, "I'm not having any babies. I'll adopt some though!"

"What?" I said shocked, "You don't want to have any babies from your belly? Why not?"

"Because," she said, as a look of terror crept across her face, "I don't want to be pooping any babies out of my butt! No.thank.you!"

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We live in a town with limited restaurant options which means we frequent the same places often. The older 3 really don't need my help in the bathroom anymore, and when we're in a place that's smaller and if I can see the bathroom doors, I'll let them go on their own.

But, I'm always telling the kids that if a stranger approaches them in the bathroom they are to be nice and polite but if they start asking them too many questions they are to simply say, "My Mom is expecting me back at the table" and then politely excuse themselves and come straight to me.

One afternoon I took the biggest 2 girls out for a lunch date. Elizabeth went to use the bathroom and, of course, a few minutes later Ashlee had to go. Elizabeth emerges from the bathroom giggling, loudly, following quickly by Ashlee doing the same thing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Mom," Ashlee said through spurts of giggles, "Wizabets and I were in the bathroom washing our hands and I said 'Hi' to her..."

"and I said," Elizabeth interrupted, stifling her own laughter, "My Mom is expecting me back at the table."

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One of the ways we discipline Aaron is to take away any toy resembling a weapon. Just threatening a day without weapons makes his little 4 year old self straighten right up.

However, once those toys are taken away, I'm faced with a barrage of questions about when the next day will be when he can have weapons.

"Mom," he said, looking at me with his big blue eyes, "tomorrow, can I have weapons again?"

"Yes, buddy" I answered, "tomorrow you will be able to have them back."

"Good! Then I'm gonna cut your leg off. And you'll have to hop like dis" (insert a 4 year old hopping on one foot) "and you'll never catch me again and take away my weapons!"

Well, that's one way to avoid punishment. Or not.

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Yesterday morning he had his prized weapons taken away, yet again. As he played in his room he sang the following song:

"I'm Aaron. Da supa-he-whoa boy! I can fly through da air and kill all da emenies. But I can't use da weapons because my Mom took dem all away!"

Good to know his consequences are sinking in a little.

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At the beginning of July we were temporarily living at my grandmother's condo while our house was being treated for an outbreak of fleas. It's pretty glamorous to say your house is flea infested, by the way.

Anyway, one night Luke and I had tucked all our little babes into bed. We'd stuck Ashlee in the bed in the master bedroom because she was having a harder time settling down.

The door to the bedroom creeped open and her little head squeezed through.

"Dad? Mom? I need to show you something."

Luke replied, less than thrilled with, "What."

"You have to come in here," she said, almost whispering.

"Is it a green light on the ceiling?" Luke asked.

I whipped my head around, looking at him nearly in shock.

Ashlee, equally shocked said, "Yes."

"That's a light on the smoke detector. Go to sleep."

"Oh," Ashlee said.

The door clicked shut and we both started giggling.

A few minutes later the door reopens and she stammers, "That's not funny!"

The door slammed behind her. Yeah, actually, it was.

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Olivia has beads in her hair. Something she's wanted for so very long but I've not been able to make happen.

Now, she enthusiastically runs up to me and says, "Momma! Wanna hear my beans?" as she frantically shakes her hair from side to side.

And all this time I thought it was a marble.

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Ella regressed a bit when Abigail was born and decided that poop was best made in her diaper, not in the potty.

The last two days, however, she's gone in the potty! Yay!

Yesterday I asked her if she had pooped a lot in the potty. "Was it a big poop?"I asked, wondering if she had really finished or just relieved the pressure until nap time and a diaper was secure on her bottom.

"Yep," she responded, her blonde curls bouncing around her as she flipped her head up and down, "a big poop. Daddy poops."

"Daddy poops?" I asked.

"Yep. Daddy do big poop. I big poop like Daddy!" She was real proud of herself.

I, on the other hand, while proud of the poop in the potty could have gone with out this information.

Y'all have a great weekend!

Das Not Funny! Friday: Ashlee's antics

Our sweet Ashlee girl, how she delights my heart. She brings laughter, joy, silliness and affection into our home. She's just a fun person to be around.

She can tear through a math workbook at lightening quick speeds. She reads above grade level and enjoys all aspects of learning. She's a sharp one, that girl. However, she doesn't always use her smarts in her favor. This girl can keep us laughing that's for sure!

Two weeks ago we had a duel birthday celebration for Ashlee and Lucas. The boys used a nearby gym and had an indoor "campout" complete with wrestling matches, ball games and, of course, Star Wars. The girls had a sleepover at our house complete with a full nail and hair salon and capped off by Barbie movies.

Because the best part of a birthday is singing "Happy Birthday" to yourself.

After the weekend full of birthday festivities, Elizabeth was having a moment of pouting because she didn't think she was getting her fair share of birthday attention. My Mom pointed out to Elizabeth that she doesn't have to share her birthday and that in a few months, she'll have her very own special day and party. My Mom turned to Ashlee and said,

"You see Ashlee has to share her birthday, don't you Ashlee?"

To which Ashlee replied, flabbergasted, "WITH WHO?!?"

Anyway, back to the night of the sleepover. We had a good time and finally, at midnight the girls decided it was time to settle down there was a mother-enforced mandate to settle down. Since the time she was an itty bitty baby Ashlee has slept with a little blue bear we so originally named, Bear Bear. To fall asleep, Ashlee sucks on her bear's ear. She never took a pacci but she can hardly fall asleep without Bear Bear.

About 12:15am Ashlee appeared in the doorway of my bedroom.

"Ash, what's wrong sis?" I asked, thinking maybe she was upset about not sleeping in her bed.

"Momma," she said, with a worried look on her face, "I'm shy. I don't want any of my customers to see me chewing on my Bear Bear."

Earlier this week we sent the kids off to do their chores. One of our rotating chores is for one of the older 3 to clean one of the bathrooms. It was Ashlee's turn for that chore. She comes bounding into the kitchen, with a roll of paper towels under her arm.

"Mom?" she asks, "Where's the Oxyclean?"

"The what?" I reply.

"The Oxyclean!" she says again, like I'm dumb to even ask for clarification.

"Honey, we don't have any Oxyclean but we have the spray you always use to clean the bathroom. It's right there," I say as I point to the solution under the sink.

"But Mom! I need Oxyclean. You know. It gets the tough stains out!"

With hair color at her sleepover party

Indeed our Ashlee girl is a laugh a minute, our resident clown. Even if the majority of the time it's completely unintentional.

Oh deer!

Alternately titled: "A series of poor wildlife rescue choices"

It's never a dull moment around here, that's for sure. And most times, the kids are only a sliver of the reason it's exciting.

Let me preface this by saying that I was raised in the country. I went huntin' and fishin' with my Daddy plenty a' times. "Goin' up to tha huntin' club" was a regular event for me as a young girl. Often, I was the only girl there. I've spent a lot of time in the woods, let's just say. (Which, you would think would equate to the fact that I know better. We rarely take our own advice, do we?)

So when Elizabeth and I went on a bike ride Thursday night and a friend in our "neighborhood" told us about a fawn in a nearby bush, I didn't think much about it. However, after a quick trip back by our house, Elizabeth begged to go see the fawn.

Okay. No big deal, right? We rode our bikes just a little ways from our house, park them and walk over to the bush where the fawn had been spotted. Since I had experience with fawns and Mommas hiding their babies, I figured it would be hard to find.

Um. Not so much.

See that large mass of concrete behind Elizabeth? Yeah. Momma deer hid her baby in a landscaped median of a parking lot.

My friend Shannon said on facebook, "You are the third family I've seen in the last 24 hours to find fawns. Seems like animals are becoming questionable parents just like humans."

That made me laugh. The truth is funny.

Anyway, as Elizabeth and I sat looking at the not-so-hidden baby fawn, Elizabeth asked, "Can I pet it?"

I rolled the thought around in my mind and figured she was already arm distance away from it. I told her to take a small scoot toward the baby. As she did, the baby became uneasy. Not wanting to disturb the poor thing, I told her, "Baby, it's getting scared. Let's back away and leave it alone."

As she and I scooted away, we spooked the little guy (gal?) anyway and it jumped up and ran into the road.

Awesome. Way to be a protector of nature, Jessica.

Elizabeth began yelling the thoughts that were already in my head, "Mom! IT'S IN THE ROAD! It's gonna DIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!"

I walked toward "Bambi" (as Elizabeth later so originally named it) and Bambi began to run with long, lanky, unbalanced strides across the road and toward a nearby home. Without giving too much info for internet creepers: where we live, though in a residential area, it's not uncommon to see lots of deer, squirrels, etc. We sort of live in a community with other folks, but off the beaten path. All of that to say, wildlife isn't exactly afraid of people in our neighborhood.

Ahem, anyway. Bambi wasn't in any REAL danger of being hit by a car (though it was possible) but more so I was now worried that her (his?) Momma wouldn't be able to find her (him?) later. Even though her hiding spot sucked, it was still her hiding spot, ya know?

Bambi, stupidly, jumped down into a stairwell that led to the basement of a nearby house. Elizabeth and I stood at the top of the stairwell and looked at a very frightened little deer and wondered what in the world we should do.

I texted and called anyone I could think of that could google, "What do you do when you spook a baby deer?" but alas, no one answered or replied to my cries for help. It's times like then that I would enjoy the luxury of a smartphone.

Anyway, I panicked and did what any girl does when she panics, I called my Mom. Together, we decided that the baby deer wasn't hidden very well and now that it was spooked it would surely die at the hands of nature and that I should catch the pitiful thing and take it home.

Divinely, my Mom was just around the corner after finishing an exercise class and she promised to come over straight away and help me get our bikes and Bambi the whole 1/4 mile back to our house.

While I waited on her to arrive, I eased into the shallow stairwell and cornered Bambi. It crossed my mind that this little precious thing might kick or bite me. I grabbed Bambi by the hind quarters and he (she?) let out a loud bleet. At that point, I half expected a Momma deer to appear from nowhere and begin ramming me in the backside with her head.

This scene from Tommy Boy played through my head as I climbed into my Mom's minivan and we drove the quarter mile back to our house. I had a death grip on this poor deer and his (her?) heart was pounding wildly. Poor little fella was terrified.

We got home and I could hear Abigail screaming the minute I opened the car door. She reserves a special hate cry for Luke. It's sad really. However, I knew if I tried to pass Bambi off to someone else there was a high probability that he (she?) would kick free and then we'd be back to chasing a baby deer all over God knows where. So I clung to Bambi tightly and asked my Mom to relieve Luke from the wails of his 3 month old daughter.

When I got inside, I received a less-than-thrilled greeting from my husband. I wasn't exactly sure how long Bambi had been left unattended so I did what any normal, rational, self-respecting mother would do.

I thawed out some breastmilk and attempted to give Bambi a bottle.

Isn't he (she?) a doll? Oh my word. And she (he?) took about an ounce, too! Once Bambi got a taste of the milk, I think he (she?) realized where it came from because it began to lick - and then tried to nibble - at my shirt. Ahem, you know, in the "upper" region.

Meanwhile, my Mom had managed to calm Abigail down a little bit but she was still in desperate need of her Momma, if you know what I mean.

My next thought turned to where in the world could I put this deer down without A) our dog killing it and B) it not destroying our house.

I needed to google something fierce and figure out what in the heck we're going to do with this little thing because if we wait too long, Elizabeth's going to have a leash on it and be walking it around the neighborhood. And, ahem, you know, I only have so much breastmilk in my freezer.

So I sent Elizabeth to gather up some baby blankets and we made a little bed for Bambi in the best place I could think, the bathtub.

I sort of wondered what was going to happen when I put this baby down. Will it freak out and gash our heads open with it's hooves? Will it slip on the bathtub and tile floor and break it's leg?

Turns out baby deer lay down where you put them. Probably because, you know, THAT'S WHAT THEIR MOMMAS TRAIN THEM TO DO. Ahem. You know.

I fed Abigail and began googling "what do you do with a fawn" like a mad woman. Nearly every.single.flippin. article I read says, "DO NOT TAKE A FAWN HOME IF YOU FIND IT."

Duh, I think. But they clearly don't know my circumstances. I read on.

More instructions say, "If the deer appears to be in danger by it's hidden location, simply watch the fawn from afar. Do not attempt to move the deer or pet it."

Double fail.

Finally, after talking to my Mom and reading virtually everything on google, Elizabeth and I decided to take the fawn back. A few sites said that if you moved a fawn but get it back by dusk, the mother would come back and take it as she had originally planned. At this point it's nearly dark so we hustled to gather up the fawn, load up the car and get back to the rendezvous point before it's totally dark.

As Elizabeth, Bambi and I pulled into the parking lot near Bambi's former hiding place, we see two deer sprint in front of our headlights. Elizabeth, not so calmly screeched, "MOM! THERE'S HIS MOMMY! HURRRRRRRRY THEY'RE RUNNNNNING AWAY! BAMBI'S GONNA DIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!"

I threw the car in park and jumped out with Bambi in my arms. I contemplated throwing Bambi into the air and releasing him (her?) back to her (his?) mother like a dove would take to flight but I figure I'd already failed Bambi enough and a broken leg wouldn't work in his (her?) favor.

I calmly walked over to the less than obscure hiding spot where Bambi was first spotted. Gently, I placed my newly nursed baby Bambi back in his (her?) snuggly, pine-needly bed. He (she?) stood and then took a few steps. I backed away slowly and Bambi faded from my vision thanks to the now pitch black that surrounded us. Elizabeth and I pulled my Mom's minivan to the other side of the parking lot, cut it off and sat and waited hoping that Bambi's Momma would come back quickly.

About 20 minutes later, as Elizabeth and I both are beginning to get quite bored of staring at bushes, Elizabeth spotted a deer! The doe grazed and slowly wandered around the grassy areas near the median that holds the bushes and Bambi. After watching her for about 25 minutes we decided we'd better head home. We started the car and the doe leapt about 30 yards then stopped and stared at us as we drive off.

The next morning we went to check on Bambi and he (she?) was gone! We prayed and we are trusting that God reunited her (him?) with Momma Deer.

Moral of this story?

God is merciful. For about 2 hours my eldest daughter got the privilege of loving on the sweetest little baby deer I've ever seen. She was in heaven and we made some memories that neither of us will ever forget.

And also, don't touch wildlife.

The end.

Carolina, Callie and the Stink Eye

I'd like you to meet my daughters, Carolina and Callie.

Originally Olivia was Callie but then she changed her name to Carolina so Ella took up Callie where Carolina left off.

Confused yet? Welcome to my world.

Callie has always been a popular name in our house. I'm not sure why because we only know one person named Callie and our kids are hardly ever around her.

When Elizabeth was about Ella's age (2 years) she had several baby dolls all named Callie. One baby had pants that wouldn't come off so she was "Callie Pants." She had another that had a blue dress so she was "Callie Blue."

You get the idea.

My favorite things about the video below:

1) When I confirm that Ella's new name is Callie and she says, "What?" Like I was calling her name.

2) The Stink Eye

3) The fact that Olivia really responds to the name Carolina. And without hesitation. I sometimes think that I'll call her Carolina and catch her off guard and she won't respond. That's not happened yet and this has been going on for several months.

These kids crack me up, that's for sure.

When I was in elementary school I desperately wanted my name to be Lee Ann. I guess they come by it honest then, huh?

Have you or your kids ever gone by another name?

Objects not obstacles: A mothering confession

In the early hours of Monday morning, my husband returned from a four day trip to Colorado. At which point I droggily blew my stinky morning breath in his face, kissed him somewhere in the vicinity of his lips and then slumped back into my pillow, grateful to have my husband - and subsequently - my normal life back.

He left supremely early Thursday morning to catch at 6am flight. So, with the wonderful help of grandmas, I was a single parent for 4 entire days. It's not a job I'd like to apply for anytime soon.

Typically, when my husband gets an extended break and I do not, I have duel emotions. While I'm thrilled that he's getting some time to recharge, somewhere in the recesses of my selfish heart I face each day with a countdown mentality. Only 92 more hours and then he's back, sort of thing.

But somewhere around Friday morning, amid the chaos and the noise of all of these blessings, I felt myself having a supernatural amount of patience. I'm sure we've all had spurts of that at some point but for me anyway, it has never lasted more than a few hours and then I bottom out like a ship in shallow water at low tide. I ride the waves of selfishness until, finally, I blow up at the kids over something trivial like opening a box of crackers or refilling a sippy cup.

But not this past weekend. Granted, I had much help from my Mom and Grandmother, but even still I felt different. I felt peaceful, patient, kind and even, dare I say, joyful to have all seven kids all by myself.

Trust me when I say that this is not the norm for me, y'all. Sure, I enjoy my kids immensely. I love being home with them all day and schooling them. I love their quirks, the funny things they say and how they give and receive hugs and kisses freely.

But by 5:30pm, I'm ready for my husband to walk through the door.

On Sunday morning, I cheerfully arose early and got all seven kids dressed, fed, hair combed, snacks packed and loaded into the van. Alone. And we got to church early y'all.

Last Sunday is proof that the Lord still works miracles people. Not because we were early for church, per se, but more because I didn't lose my mind (or my religion) before we got there. Sometime on Sunday evening, I sat in bewilderment at how and why I'd had so much patience, joy and cheerfulness over a long four days of what could have been stressful, annoying and down right ugly.

I felt the Lord press on me a truth that nearly knocked me over.

You see your children as an obstacle to your mothering.

Um, excuse me God? What?! How can my kids be an obstacle to my mothering? They're the reason I'm a mother!

He whispered in my soul...

Really? So the frustration at spilled drinks, messes, bottoms to wipe, loud chatter, you don't see those as an obstacle? I think you do.


Yeah. I guess I do. The truth is, instead of expecting my children to be, well, children I expected them to be less hassle. I had this expectation in my mind of what I should look like a mother, what our children should look like and how our days should flow seamlessly and when reality didn't meet my expectations, I lost control.

Yelling, frustration, angry words, unkind redirection, quick to anger, slow to show mercy...that pretty much sums up my mothering over the last several months.

I was seeing our children as an obstacle to my mothering instead of the objects of my motherly love.

The same was true for homeschooling. We use Sonlight curriculum which involves lots of reading on my part, as the teacher. As I would read or teach, the children were constantly stopping me asking questions, making comments and just generally being inquisitive. It frustrated me beyond what it should.

I slowly began to realize that we homeschool so that our children can interrupt the lesson and ask questions and their education can take on a personal form that allows for their interests to be explored.

I was viewing my own children as an obstacle to my homeschooling instead of the object of my teaching.

Then, on Sunday evening I got the heartbreaking news of a dear friend losing her unborn son. As my heart cried out to God on her behalf, I realized even more how much I should be treasuring these children God has given me rather than viewing them as distractions and obstacles.

Truly, my mind has been so focused on accomplishing tasks, getting our schooling done and all the things that come with motherhood that I lost sight of what is really important. Having a large family means that lots of things must work in a specific way for laundry, meals and everyday life to run smoothly. But those specifics should never be exchanged for discipling my kids, in every moment showing love, mercy, compassion and a genuine interest in things they are interested in.

I need to cherish my children and all of the frustrations that come with them.

Are there going to be days ahead where I lose it, get frustrated and make mistakes? Of course. Should I have expectations of my children and set boundaries? Without a doubt! But I was focusing on the tasks and not the people, which should never be the case.

Before I know it, these treasures of mine will be grown and graduating college and moving out to accomplish the lives and tasks the Lord has set before them. And I will have the joy of watching them from the sidelines as they do wonderful things for the glory of God. Until then, teaching them to love each other, love the Lord, serve Him faithfully, cheerfully and obediently is my goal. I pray that I never again see them as obstacles to my goal but rather, the objects of it.

Das Not Funny! Friday: The Wrestling Match

Welcome to a LONG overdue edition of Das Not Funny! Friday.

Das Not Funny! Friday is where I share the funny things that our children have said and done. After all, if having 7 children ages 7 and younger isn't funny, I don't know what is!

Since it's been a sweet forever since I've posted a Das Not Funny! Friday, some of these will be from a while back, but they still make me chuckle.

First of all, a while back I read a post about Why Having Toddlers Is Like Being At a Frat Party. Read it and I think you'll agree.

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The first few weeks of Abigail's life our amazing friends rallied around us and set up meals to be delivered (Do you know about takethemameal.com? If not you should it's awesome. And no, I didn't get paid to say that.) Anyway, one of our sweet friends came by and brought us dinner, complete with a container of chocolate chip cookies. Lucas saw them, raised both hands in the air and said,

"Thou shall NOT covet!"

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The awesome thing about having a new baby when you have older children is their desire to help. Elizabeth is probably the most consistent helper, offering to change diapers, grab a pacifier or help a younger sibling while I'm feeding. But every.single.time Abigail cries I have a barrage of helpers all ready to tell me the thing I usually already know.

"Mom! Abigail is crying!"

"Mom! Abigail is screaming!"

"Mom! You made Abigail cry!"

It's sorta funny when she's in the next room and borders on annoying and hysterical when I'm holding her, while she's fussing.

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Luke and I both have an iPod touch. We're both holding off on smart phones for as long as humanly possible. At any rate, our older children take a special delight in taking videos and pictures with our iPods. The results vary anywhere from humiliating (for Luke and I) to side splitting.






This is a small glimpse into our evenings at home. Except that the it's 4 less kids for this match because Lucas, Aaron, Olivia & Ella were already in bed.

Here's what I love:

1) Elizabeth's accent. What the heck? We don tawlk lie-yuk thay-ut here in tha Sow-uth.

2) Elizabeth promoting her new "Toe Nail Shop" which is located in her bedroom. Only $20 folks! It's awesome that all of her advertising is on the walls (hallways, kitchen, living room) of our house but she "doesn't charge family." Next time a stranger shows up at our house looking for a mani-pedi, I'll know where to direct them. Or not.

3) No wonder Luke is having to go through extensive treatment with a chiropractor.

4) "Here's where I come in!" Hysterical.

5) Ashlee's last effort at crazy just before the camera clicks off.

And that's just with 2 kids y'all. Just two. Imagine 4 more crazies in the mix.

Happy Friday y'all.

Long days, short years

I stumbled across the above video the other day. Actually, Luke stumbled upon it. And as I sat and watched it, I thought of a few things.

1) Why didn't I ask Elizabeth to put on some clothes before I began videoing?

2) Lucas' chubby baby fat is all gone. In its place is a scarred, bruised and constantly scabbed little boy.

3) Ashlee's temper is the SPITTING IMAGE of Ella's (and they look more alike than I thought!).

4) How have I so quickly forgotten this time in my children's lives?

Lucas's little voice falls on my ears as a voice I vaguely knew at some point in my life. I had totally forgotten that Ashlee had those whispy waves in her hair after bathtime. Now her hair is as straight as a board.

I remember the busyness of our home, the constant trips to the potty as the twins learned to use the toilet and how hilarious (and stressful) it was when all four kids had meltdowns at the same time.

I remember the chaos, the dirty house and I remember laughing a lot. But truly, I can't stop and picture in my mind Lucas and Ashlee as 2 year olds or Elizabeth as a 4 year old. It's almost impossible for me to remember Olivia at the age of 2 or Ella as a chubby 8 month old.

With guilt washing over me and tears stinging the back of my eyes, I realized something. Two years from now, I probably won't be able to picture each of the kids at the ages they are now.

My breath caught somewhere in my chest and it hit me. I'm so caught up in living life today, in getting through today, in teaching them today that I am not burning this time into my brain like I'll wish that I had.

For the last several months the twins have been asking when it will be their birthday. Several months before Abigail was born we kept saying, "Not until after the baby comes!" Well, now she's here and for a 5 year old, that must mean that their birthday is just around the corner, right? About mid-March they began asking more frequently, almost daily, and I continued to say, "You've still got 2 and a half months!"

They asked me again a few days ago, and this time the answer blew my mind. "45 days."

What? How can that be? In 45 days I will no longer have twin 5 year olds. What?

The thing is, I think as Moms we focus so much on just surviving that we forget that the days are flying by at warp speed. In 45 days my sweet babies will be SIX and I don't understand how that's possible because it was just a few months ago that Elizabeth turned six, right? Heh. Try two YEARS ago, nearly.

I know I've said this here before, but I'm going to say it again...a couple of years ago I was at a Homeschool convention and one of the speakers said something like this,

"When your children are young you are so busy. You are meeting their every need. But let me promise you something...the days are incredibly long, but the years are incredibly short."

Boy, was she ever right. Somehow, amid laundry and diaper changes and schooling and discipline and having babies, my big babies have turned into nearly six year olds. And in two years, I'll look back and hardly be able to remember them being five.

Which seem ridiculous to me right now because in my mind I think, "Psh. Trust me. I'll NEVER forget this stage. It's chaos and busy but every day is pretty much the same. Ella throws a fit and I laugh at her ridiculousness, Aaron shows me his fish lips - and then requests a kiss, Olivia has a meltdown and then is giggling 10 seconds later, Elizabeth is the biggest helper on the planet but can turn around and sass me like a teenager, Lucas lives on his bike and, in turn, lives covered in band-aids and Ashlee waivers between being an independent artist and wanting me to sit with her so she can read.

I'll always remember this season, right? Wrong.

In fact, just as the 3 kids in the video at the top of this post show me, all too soon I'll forget key things I thought would never leave my mind. Like Lucas' tiny sweet voice and the way he rubbed that kitty cat on his nose at bed and naptime or Ashlee's incredible temper tantrums and the way she used to look at me out of the top of her eyes and grin or Elizabeth's mouth when she used to say the word "Jesus" or "gentle" or "gymnastics."

I forget that in a few years I'll forget. I want, so desperately, to remember these precious treasures and their egocentricities and the little quirks that are the result.

I don't want to ever forget how Aaron asked for months upon end what happened to his tooth after it was pulled or how Ella excitedly told her Lamby (the lovey she sleeps with) how she was a big girl because she pooped in the potty. I don't want to forget that Elizabeth is going through a phase of wearing faux glasses that resemble Buddy Holly and that she's so darn cute in them I just giggle when I see her. I don't want to forget that Lucas is Star Wars crazed and all he talks about ever is Star Wars.

I don't want to forget that Ashlee's new favorite hobby is reading or the look on her face when she realized she could read all by herself, without my help. I don't want to forget that Aaron almost always asks everyone he meets, "Do you know about trains?"

I don't want to forget that Olivia wants, more than anything, to wear a pretty dress each and every day even if it's freezing outside and she'll need an ankle length coat over it. I don't want to forget that she hides her Harrietts (the lovies she sleeps with) under her pillow, but each night before bed she'll pull back the corner of her pillow and tell them goodnight.

Such precious things these children do but somehow, I know I will forget most of it. That is the biggest reason I blog. To remember. That is the biggest reason I take pictures. To remember.

And I pray that I will always remember to do both of those things as life continues to move at warp speeds. I want to always remember as much as I can. Because one day, I'll look back and wonder how it all happened so fast.

Now, I'm off to look at good (but inexpensive) digital video cameras online. Anyone have any good suggestions?

Motherhood is no joke

As I swollenly sit on the verge of swaddling, nursing sessions, sweet little diapers and tiny baby noises, I remember, so vividly anticipating the arrival of our first child.

Eight years ago I held another precious baby girl in my womb. Nestled inside, I could only wonder what lay beyond the delivery room doors.  You know, out in the real world. The world of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, colic and growth spurts. I wondered, very little actually, about life beyond the first 12 months of motherhood.

Consumed with thoughts of labor and delivery, soft spots, co-sleeping and nursery decor, I didn't think much about life beyond my baby's first birthday.

Now, that baby is 7.5 years old and about to be a big sister six times over. (And she's really awesome at the big sister gig, if I do say so myself. I think she's more excited about the baby than I am. Too bad people who only see us from a distance think our kids are "suffering" through another sibling.)

Eight years ago, I had NO IDEA that our lives would look the way they do now. Luke and I never really sat and planned out the whole big family thing. It just sort of happened as we followed God's lead. I remember six years ago, when we were eagerly anticipating the arrival of the twins, I would tuck Elizabeth into bed her crib (she was only 22 months old when the twins were born) and then I would sob over the loss of her childhood. I was so afraid she would be scarred for life by having Lucas and Ashlee dropped into her lap before her second birthday.

And if I'm being honest, some days I still worry. Not so much about Elizabeth but more now about Ella, Aaron and Olivia. Am I going to have time for them like I wish? Are they going to resent the baby because she will consume so much of my time? Will Ella have a hard time adjusting to her new life which will entail a lot LESS time on my hip?

But then there the things that happen that prove to me that our children will be just fine.

Olivia knocks her drink off the table and Lucas enthusiastically scrambles to clean it up for her, assuring her that it's okay and it was only an accident and "Bubby will get you some more."

Or a time when Ella is fussy because I'm cooking dinner and can't give her my undivided attention. So Ashlee goes out of her way to entertain her, finding every toy that Ella enjoys and playing with them so ridiculously that Ella can't help but giggle and squeal. Which frees me up to finish making dinner.

Or when I'm gone to Bible study and Luke is trying to put the little three to bed. Without being prompted, Elizabeth cleans off the table, clears all the dishes and puts all the left over food away.

She's SEVEN y'all. We've never asked her to do such a task because, well, she has chores and that's not one of them. But she did so because of the overflow of her tender, loving, serving heart.

God knew she needed to be first among this brood of kids. He knew. And just as He knew all the things that I was overlooking eight years ago as I carried her in my womb, He knows now. He knows that my mind drifts to life beyond the next 12 months much more now than it does the next 12. He knows just how much I want to SLOW DOWN TIME because I'm afraid I will forget so much. I'm afraid I'll look up and eight more years will have passed, just like the last eight have.

But I rest in knowing that the God who orchestrated the complex design of our growing family will lead us in the future, just as He has in the past, if we look to Him.

I rest in knowing that the time of sleepless nights, spit up, seemingly endless fatigue, cereal for dinner - again and loads and load of laundry will be short lived in the grand timeline of my life. I know that when I look back at my life 20 years from now, I'll wonder where it all went and I'll probably laugh at my immature self a whole lot.

Just as God has known from the very beginning that we'd have 7 children in 7.5 years, He too knows how the next months of my life will pan out as we transition to our 7th child. He is good. He is faithful. He's got an incredible sense of humor (I mean, COME ON, 7 kids in 7.5 years?)

And He knows that even though motherhood is no joke, most of the time, it's really funny.

Das Not Funny! Friday: The king is in danger

Oh, it's been way too long since I did a Das Not Funny! Friday post. Way, way too long.

Not sure what Das Not Funny! Friday is? Well, nearly 3 years ago I wrote this little post talking about all the funny things our kids had said over the last several days. At the time, Elizabeth was 4.5 years old and Lucas and Ashlee were a few months shy of 3. Aaron was nearly 12 months old and Olivia was bouncing 5 month old. Our lives were, um, busy to put it mildly.

Our lives were (and still are) also hysterical. Kids kind of have that effect on life, don't they? They make things funny, often funnier than they intend. It never failed that one of our kids would say something funny and Luke and I would try our very best to stifle our laughter.

Typically, Ashlee would hear us laughing, give us the look in the photo above and say, "Mom! Das not funny!"

Which, in turn, made us giggle even harder. I have always heard my Mom, my grandmothers and other moms say that they really wished they'd written down the funny things their kids said when they were little. Well, Das Not Funny! Friday is my attempt to do just that.

Now, our kids are older - but equally as funny. Elizabeth is now 7.5 years, Lucas and Ashlee will be 6 in May, Aaron will be 4 in June, Olivia is 3.5 years and Ella is a feisty 22 month old.

Our lives are still busy and I really want to remember the hilarity of our young years with all these young kids. So here's goes nothing....

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Aaron said to me the other day, "Mom, you're belldy is realwe realwe big!"

Me: "Yep. It sure is buddy."

Aaron: "Jep. But it not popped yet!" Then he laughed like he'd made the biggest and best joke ever.

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Ella has developed a new, slightly inappropriate and yet totally hilarious habit. When I'm holding her, she pulls the neck of my shirt open as far as it will stretch, peers down the front of my shirt and says in her loudest 22 month old voice,

"Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww."

Awesome. Self esteem boost #1.

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Lucas enjoys telling me that I'm getting huge. I don't think he intends on it being offensive because I really don't think he understands that it's offensive to say that someone is "a big fat pregnant lady."

After several times of him lovingly patting my stomach and commenting that I "sure was getting fat" I though that maybe it was time to have a conversation with him.

Me: "Buddy, I know you aren't trying to be ugly, but most of the time it's not really nice to tell someone you think they are fat. It might be true but it still isn't an appropriate thing to say because it might be something that hurt their feelings."

Lucas: "Oh. Okay. But your stomach is getting fat. But I know it's because you're fat and pregnant."

Me (stifling a chuckle): "Yes. That's true. But sometimes people can get their feelings hurt because they are upset about being overweight and it's not nice to point it out to them."

Lucas: "Okay mom. I won't call anyone else fat. Even though I don't know ANYONE else as fat as you."

Good. Glad we cleared that up. Except, not really.

Self Esteem boost #2.

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I've been making a conscious effort to spend real, quality time with our kids before the baby comes. I know that when baby girl gets here, she will command most of my time and my 1-on-1 time with the others will be limited. With that in mind, I've been taking the kids off on Mommy-dates, which includes them choosing where we eat and where we go. I'm simply their chauffeur, bouncer and bank account.

This week, Lucas and I went out. He decided he wanted Japanese food so we sat, on the same side of the little booth and enjoyed our rice, while conversations of guns, army men and ammunition graced our table.

Suddenly, he asked me, "Mom, how do you say, 'I like red' in Spanish?"

Me: "Um. I think it's 'Me gusta rojo.'"

Lucas: "Me gusta rojo! How do you say 'The King is in danger'?"

It's probably a good thing he was beside me because I'm pretty sure I spit rice clear across the table.

Y'all have a great weekend!

Das Not Funny! Friday: We take our freak show on the road

Remember about 2 months ago when Luke went to Guinea-Bissau, West Africa and the kids and I went out of town?

Yeah.

Well, during that trip the kids said so many funny things. My friend Grace was my sanity (read: traveling companion for over 1,400+ miles) wrote them down and emailed them to me, you know, the week after we got back. And since I'm nothing if not efficient, I was too lazy to COPY AND PASTE them from her email into a blog.

So, without any further ado (or more weeks of procrastination) I present to you, copy and pasted hilarity.

Try to contain your excitement. And remember, these are from Grace's point of view. Added hilarity, if you ask me. I can vouch for her accuracy and authenticity.

1. While we were on the way to Tennessee, all the kids fell asleep in the car. Lucas woke up for the last TWO HOURS of the drive, and decided he needed to talk until we arrived. But usually, he only had 2 things to ask. Every. Time. The song changed- "Mom, is this song about Jesus?" and everytime the car sped up/ slowed down/ switched lanes/ got passed/ passed someone- "Mom, are you speeding?"

2. Lucas again, talking to Grandpa Beaver: "Grandpa Beaver, what's your favorite kind of car?"
Grandpa replied, "Well, I don't know.. I guess I really like.."
"MINE IS A MOVING VAN." Goodtoknow Lucas.

3. While at Monkey Joe's burning off some energy, Olivia felt like she needed to have an in depth conversation with me. She just kept jabbering and pointing, and I assumed she was talking about the bounce house. I looked around a lady who was standing between us and saud bounce house and said, "Hey Liv, how about you go show me how fast you can go down that bouncy slide?" She giggled and turned around and skipped/ran/danced in the direction of the bounce house. On her way past the stranger standing between us and said bouncey slide, Olivia screamed, "BOOTY, BOOTY!" and spanked the woman. The woman was, understandably, horrified. I promptly pointed her in the direction of the child's mother. You're welcome.

4. One morning at breakfast, Aaron asked me for a napkin that were in the middle of the table, just out of his reach. When I stood up to hand one to him, he exclaimed, "WOW Grace! You are very tall!" Yes, Aaron. Yes I am. [You should probably know that Grace is the shortest person I've ever met. You know, besides my children.]

5. While in the car, we rotated through the kids and let them pick the songs we listened to. Aaron ALWAYS wants to listen to "You are my Joy." Even when it's not his turn. Even if we just listened to it for the 80 billionth time. Even if there world ended right now and Jesus came back, and pretty sure Aaron would request "You are my Joy" as the rapture's soundtrack. After asking to hear it AGAIN.. You replied, "Nope. I don't like that song!" Aaron said, "But why? It's my pay-brit! You just gotta try it, mom!"

6. One afternoon, while getting Aaron and Olivia ready for nap, I was running from one bathroom to the other, waiting for both of them to poop before they went to lay down. When I came into the bathroom Aaron was in, he let one rip- big time. I said, "Whoa, Buddy! Are you all done?" He replied, "Nope. That was just my snake sound, Grace! Here it comes again...." I left him alone with his snake sound, and went to check on Liv. I asked her if she was all done, and she held up her toy princess, looked under its dress and exclaimed, "Princess dress not pooped in her diaper! Yayyyy!" Good job, plastic princess. I guess this means you're a big girl now!