They are worth it, and I am able because He is faithful

5 years ago, I anticipated, that by this point in our lives we'd be on the brink of returning from a 4 year term in Kenya. Our lives would be revolving around taking the gospel to the nations, building relationships with nationals, living among the people and serving them with open arms and glad hearts so that they experience Jesus in me.

Back then, I would have never imagined our life would look like it does today. After all, we were chasing hard after God, He was guiding us to this foreign land. It was bound to transpire just as my perfect, little brain could propose it to be.

And then, loss.

Grief.

Disappointments.

Financial setbacks.

Broken family relationships.

Pain.

Wrestling.

I have doubted my God on every level. I've begged to walk away, tried even. I've searched the scriptures for evidence that this God I devoted myself to is on a power trip and decided to wreck my life just for fun.

I've watched my children grow, as a shell of their mother attempts to shepherd them toward a God that she's uncertain of herself. I've cussed Him out, shut Him out, turned and refused to talk or listen. I've been at a place where I wondered if I was seriously delusional and if I dreamed up this whole missions thing because it was trendy, sounded fun and looked like it made us a better version of ourselves.

In every aspect of our lives over the last 3 years we've been broken. I've spilled tears over the simplest of things and shook my fist at God from the darkest parts of my heart. I've turned bitter, angry and spiteful.

Who needs God anyway? I mean, really. What kind of a God loads your whole family onto a rug called obedience then jerks the damn thing right out from under you? Not any God I want to follow, that's for sure.

The arrogance in my heart and the trust I had in my "strong faith" disappeared. In an instant, the person I thought I was and the things I thought I believed seem to lay before me on the ground like the contents of a beautifully potted orchid that had been thrown from the 10th floor window.

I couldn't read blogs, attend missions events, listen to songs or fake my way through a missions Sunday at church. I would get up and leave, telling God to screw himself as I walked out the door and down the hall.

Was this some kind of a sick joke? Who does that?

I've asked, desperately, what we should do now and the only thing I have gotten in return is silence. No whispers of His voice, no profound truths from scripture, no words from the teaching of the men and women that had so clearly been instruments of His words anymore.

The anger continued to well and finally pour out. I've been angry at everyone and everything for a very long time.

Anger does crazy things to you. It makes you blind, deaf and cold. I would interact with my children and I could see myself, almost in the 3rd person, reacting in ways that I would not typically react. It was surreal and almost as if I was living a life that I was simply watching, not a participant.

Finally, after a long silence with the Lord, I begged Him to reveal to me why we are in this place when it's not at all where my heart desires. I got no profound answers. I didn't see a hand writing on the wall or hear the voice of God audibly.

Instead, a dirty faced, chubby cheeked almost 15 month old toddler came toward me with her half drunk saunter. She grinned and juicy animal crackers dripped from her chin as she struggled her way into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

A clingy 3 year old rounded the corner and squealed with the delight at the sight of me. I delight her every time I she sees me.

A fresh, new 5 year old crawls into bed with me on the morning of her birthday. Soft, blond, wild curls cover my face as she nuzzles her head under my chin. "You smell nice Momma. I think my nose is better when I'm five," she giggles.

Two six year olds sit poised with pencils in hand and scribble out shaky letters. One of them reads every word his eyes see and he beams with joy, the other beams with pride over words of praise and affirmation.

An eight year old boy finds a love for baseball. He carries his glove with him everywhere he goes and he wears his Daddy's number from college on his back. He's the scrawniest player on the team but he hustles and works hard and he's determined to prove himself.

Eight and ten year old sisters find a love for horses and cultivate a friendship unlike anything I've ever seen. They giggle and talk about horses and boys and how to decorate their room until long past their bed time.

When the anger subsides, this is what I see. I see the nations. I see my life revolving around these people who desperately need the gospel. I see me serving them with open arms and a glad heart so that they experience Jesus in me.

I see the one job my arrogant self assumed was not good enough now being the most important, the most challenging, the most necessary.

I see the nations before me. I see them in dirty socks left on the kitchen counter, unending loads of laundry and middle of the night nursing sessions. I see them in gentle corrections, hugs after a hard consequence and love despite their flaws. I see them in endless snacks and cup refills, in spills and messes, in cherrios crushed under my shoe.

I see the stage being set for world changers who grew up sitting right around my very own dinner table.

I see that in order for me to live within the full glory of God's desire for my life, and in turn to create these people who will no doubt love others beyond themselves, it begins by serving my children joyfully and with a heart devoted only to their very best.

I have spent much time wondering why the pain of the last few years has been heaped upon our family. I've wondered why the anger and resentment has been rooted deep inside my heart, seemingly planted there by the One who is suppose to take away doubt, fear, shame and bitterness. I wondered why He set us up for failure, for grief, for brokenness.

And then I looked up and I was overcome by exactly what I was suppose to see all along. They are it. We were not set up for brokenness. We were set up for this. This perfectly chaotic, unkept, totally filled-to-the-brim life. The scales tip whichever way I give them weight. I can choose anger and grief or joy and grace.

As the anger is slowly being washed away, joy is filtering through. Joy in the lives of these 8 people that are forever connected to me so deeply that there is no grief, no disappointment, no financial loss, no brokenness nor pain that could ever sever me from them.

They are my mission. And finally I can say with fullness that if they are my sole purpose in this life, it is enough. They are enough. Just as they are, just as I am, just as He has always been, I will fully pour myself into them, not reserving even one drop for what could have been or what I could hope will one day be.

I will share with them the good news of a Savior who never quits on them, even when they try with their whole self to give up on Him.

With love, I will serve them with joy and gladness, just as I would have the most honored guest at our Kenyan dinner table. Because they are worth it, and I am able because He is faithful, forever.

Easter nostalgia

Some Moms do the Christmas Eve photo in front of the Christmas tree with all the kids in their Christmas pajamas. I'm not one of those Moms. In fact, despite that I really enjoy taking photos, it's rare that ask my own children to sit and take a photo all together. And getting myself in the picture is even more rare.

For whatever reason, Easter is the one time a year I hand off the camera and force beg coerce bribe my kids (and husband) into taking a yearly family photo. It rarely ends well (and by well, I mean that we are all perfectly posed and I've not issued threats or made unreasonable promises), but it always makes me laugh. At least, afterwards. Many years afterwards.

It also appears to be the one thing that Lucas hates most on the earth. Olivia, on the other hand, has always rocked the Easter photo. I'm guessing it's her favorite holiday, ever. Besides her birthday and Christmas and whatever holiday is exactly next.

Easter 2010 can be found here on my blog. It's hilarious. But for comparisons purposes, here's a quick picture.

That would be itty bitty Ella on my lap next to Olivia. Goodness

Easter 2011 was apparently not blogged about and this is probably why:

The best one we got that year features our dog's back. Again, LUCAS. He's probably mad because he's wearing the exact same sweater vest that he wore the previous year. Fashion is clearly his thing. Or not. Seeing as how he's worn the same pair of jorts for the last week.

Easter 2012 things seemed to go a big more smoothly.

That's teeny, tiny Abigail on my lap.

You know, except for Lucas. At least Olivia is rocking it out. And Aaron. Clearly they were being bribed with excessive amounts of candy. Momma had a newborn. Momma was tired.

Easter 2013 apparently did not exist because I have no photographic documentation of it. Not even looking back through all the pics from my phone. So weird.

Which brings us to this year. Easter 2014. I knew I wanted a pic of all of us. My parents, my two grandmas and all the kids. Please note Lucas' over sarcastic smile because it took several photos of him not doing pointy, happy fingers at the camera, or throwing up some sort of gang symbol or staring off into the yard in the opposite direction.

23 photos later, grandparent photo: check. I mean, one kid out of 8 isn't looking but LOOK AT ABIGAIL. The cute. I can't even handle it.

And then, I politely asked Abigail to remove herself from my Mom's lap and sit with me for a nice family photo. She also loved that idea. Or not.

Okay, Abs, please just stop before you upset your baby sister.

Well, at least Lucas is happy for once.

I hope your Easter was a scream.

Simply Remember

I feel like I've spent a lot of the last 9 years of my life trying to remember things.

Return those library books, don't forget to get a gallon of milk on the way home, so-and-so's birthday is tomorrow, send a follow up email about such-and-such, don't forget to ask so-and-so about that thing, take the trash to the curb, take a meal to this family, etc, etc.

But then there are the important things. Don't forget the way Elizabeth said the word "juice" the first 5 years of her life. Don't forget the way Lucas and Ashlee liked to trade plates when they were still chubby-faced toddlers. Or the way Ashlee hid food under her leg and would eat it all at the end of her meal. Or the way Olivia would dance to any beat from the age of 6 months on. Or the way Aaron held his pacci in the side of his mouth like a cigar when he was learning to crawl. Or how an 18 month old Ella could be pitching an epic fit one minute and belly laughing the next.

That's the thing when you add 1 or 2 babies every two or so years, you tend to be caught up in the busyness of the day to day and you forget a lot of things. Luke says the first six months of the twins' life is a complete blur to him. I say the first three months. I remember getting up one morning a few days after the twins were born. I walked into the living room and my Mom had swaddled two of Elizabeth's babies up. She was pretending to nurse them, sitting there in just her underwear. All of the sudden she seemed SO BIG. And I just started crying.

I'll never forget this though, the twins were tiny, less than a couple months old. I was getting Elizabeth ready for bed and I stripped off her shirt, pants and undies. The stench that came from her small, 2 year old body was enough to make me recoil. I looked at Luke, shocked, and asked, "When was the last time we bathed Elizabeth?" We both thought for several minutes and we could not remember. I'm sure it had been over a week.

I've always taken a lot of pictures. I guess somewhere subconsciously I knew that those pictures would be the lifeline to my memories. But with the purchase of our smartphones and the conception of my photography business, using a real camera on my own kids is something that's sort of slipped onto the back burner.

So yesterday, when Abigail was upstairs "helping" me make lunch while the other kids were happily entertained with the electronic babysitter, I could have gotten swept up in the moment of hungry kids, lunch time, my pelvis begging me to sit down, my bladder beseeching me to empty it's contents. Again. But instead, I noticed my sweet 21 month old, in a princess dress that she INSISTED on wearing, standing on top of our shoe bins, eating a banana and completely captivated by a squirrel doing only-a-squirrel-knows-what in our front yard. The light hit her face and I moved as fast as my feet could waddle me to grab the camera. My real camera.

Because THIS is what I don't want to forget.

This girl, a cheek full of banana, pointing at a squirrel, telling me to "come 'ere," giggling when I say, "That's not a puppy!"

Her dimple on that one side. It's becoming less obvious the bigger she gets. I've seriously prayed it will stay forever even though she'll probably hate it as a teenager,

sticky, slimy banana finger prints all over my window sill,

her amazement at how fast that little squirrel ran away when she knocked on the window,

and how I wouldn't let her stand on the microwave, so she would stretch a tulle covered foot over there, then look at me over her shoulder and grin.

And how after she realized the squirrel wasn't coming back, she spent the rest of her time "helping" me make grilled cheeses by licking the butter when I wasn't looking. For me, it's less about not forgetting and more about remembering the little things. Savoring the details, letting go of the things that are suppose to be these big memory makers and just enjoying my kids exactly where they are. Breathing them in and trying my best to simply remember.

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!

Coming this winter....

The countdown to Christmas has begun in our house! Baby #8 due this holiday season! Oh the JOY!

Supermom I am not

Her feet slam against the side of her crib (yes, at almost 3 years old she's still in a crib) and she cries out. I roll over and look at the clock.

2:43am. Awesome.

I shake Luke awake and ask him to go upstairs to calm Ella down.

2 minutes later he is back in bed, his breaths deep. He's back into a REM cycle.

How does he do that?

The slamming begins again so I roll out of bed and trudge to the kitchen, pour a sippy of milk, shuffle through a drawer to find a stopper for the lid and pull myself upstairs.

"Here Ella," I say as I rub wild curls off of her face and forehead, "here's some milk baby." She takes it and settles back in. I cover her up and fumble my way back to bed, reminding myself that I really should clear a path down the hallway for when people wake up at night.

An hour later, Lucas climbs into bed with us. At some point I get an elbow to the face. He gets angry when I ask him to go back to his own bed. But I manage to steal a kiss before he slips back into the darkness outside our bedroom door.

Luke and I raise our voices at each other and a kid because neither of us want to deal with a night time bed wetter and finding all new bedding.

Abigail clings to my ankles as I desperately try to make dinner. It's already 6:00pm and I'm just now getting started. It's a new recipe and that always makes me nervous. What if it flops? Then I've not only wasted food but we have nothing for dinner.

She cries out and I lift her to my hip. "Ashlee! Please come take your baby sister for a few minutes so I can put dinner in the oven!"

"Mooooom!" She yells, "I'm busy!"

"What do you think I'm doing??!! Would you like to eat tonight??!!"

She stomps into the kitchen, grins at Abigail and laughs as I pass her over.

Aaron cries because I ask him to take a bath. He ends up in bed early for the 3rd night in a row because of incessant crying.

Olivia keeps stealing toys from the other kids and then lying about it. The lying infuriates me and I snap at her.

Elizabeth is as dramatic as a 17 year old girl suffering from PMS. I roll my eyes at her and she sees me and runs off to cry in her bedroom.

I fail. Daily I fail. I wonder if I'm ruining these little people when I raise my voice, use too much sarcasm or lock the kids outside because it's the first nice day in weeks and I just need the house to be quiet for FIVE MINUTES.

I hear it often, "Oh! You are SUPERmom!"

"I could never handle that many kids! You must have the patience of Job!" (By the way, Job wasn't particularly patient. Read the book, people.)

I look at people when they say that. I'm bewildered. Because here are two truths that I know to be certain without a shadow of a doubt.

1) MOTHERHOOD IS HARD. It's hard if you have one child. It's hard if you have 10 kids. It's hard if you work outside the home. It's hard if you stay-at-home. It's hard if you homeschool. It's hard if your kids are schooled outside your home.

It's hard. And I'm going to say this as plainly as I know how.

My journey is motherhood isn't any more difficult that any other mother.

Yes, I may have more kids. Yes, they may all be younger. Yes, I'm crazy enough to homeschool. Yes, it may appear that way. But girlfriend, when you call me SuperMom you are downplaying the hardships in your own life so much. And that breaks my heart.

Do people who have fewer children get more time to themselves? Maybe. But not necessarily. Do they have more money to go on vacations and spend money on themselves? Maybe. But not necessarily.

Girls, MOTHERHOOD IS HARD. End of story.

2) And this is a soapbox issue for me.

These little people drive me crazy. They make me cuss under my breath, wonder if I've lost my mind and question if we'll add anymore. But more than any of that, I know this to be true.

Children are a blessing. Such a sweet, irreplaceable blessing. We've never had a child come into our home and thought, "Well, crap. That was a mistake."

These people are gifts. Messy, loud, selfish, totally depraved, unconditionally loving, forever forgiving, smelly, cuddly BLESSINGS.

Yes, they are a lot of work. But they are the best kind of work. They're the kind of work that women pray for every day of their lives because their arms ache. They're the kind of work worth investing in. And I think that if our society recognized this more readily, then SUPERmom wouldn't show up on my radar. Instead, BLESSEDmom would likely be my nickname.

I'm majorly flawed. I'm no where close to being a SUPERmom. I make mistakes every, single day. And then I try so hard to press into His grace, extend more love than harshness. I load up my 15 passenger van, count heads, crank up the radio above the noise and press on. Because that's what Moms do. Regular moms.

And really, that's all I am. A regular mom with a larger than average family, pressing on through the daily grind. Wondering if I've lost my mind and trying to count each blessing along the way. SUPERmom, I am not. BLESSEDmom I am certain.

Abigail is one!

One year ago I sat in a hospital room, sniffing, cuddling and soaking in a brand new baby. Now, that tiny little baby, who was my first baby to be born without an induction, the seventh blessing in our growing family, is ONE.

How is that possible?

Some how that sweet little baby we've all ooohed and ahhhhhed over has grown into a curious, crawling baby that EVERYONE continually dotes over.


Isn't she lovely?

I snapped a few photos of her about a month ago. I've started a small little photography business, even though I've still got LOADS to learn. It's a nice hobby.

Anyway, our sweet baby girl has been a beautiful distraction considering our last year's events. Cuddling with her in the calm of a dark room, nursing her quietly as she falls asleep in my arms, hearing her giggle, laugh and squeal at her siblings has been soothing balm to our hearts.

And, as her little personality emerges, I'm looking forward to learning the quirks, habits and character that God has planted into our tiniest treasure.

Last night we went out to eat Mexican food for her birthday, something that's becoming an unplanned family tradition. Because what else says "Birthday" other than chips, salsa, Mexican food and mediocre cupcakes?

Our sweet girl is ALWAYS smiling.

This girl is curious. Always wondering what is going on and usually breaking out into a crawl-sprint to find out.

"What 'cha doin' there, Dad?"

At first she was so shocked that everyone was singing, to her, in unison.

Then, she decided she liked it. A lot.

Then, it was time to DIVE IN. So delicately, she tasted the icing.

Then, she was all in.

She kept looking at Luke and I as if to ask, "I'm really allowed to eat this? And make a huge mess?"

Our sweet, baby girl. Already a year old.

First birthdays bring so much bittersweetness to my heart. I'm thrilled because I know that the last year has been filled with sleepless nights, countless feedings, lots of baby wearing and diapers galore and soon, most of that will be a thing of the past. But it's also sad that we will quickly watch this young baby turn into a toddler who needs less and less of Momma and is eager to walk, explore and wean.

We made it to a full year of nursing! Something I've not been able to accomplish with any of the other children. My plan is to allow her to self-wean, though with each day she's becoming less and less interested, I'm afraid.

At one year old, Abigail is cruising on furniture, has eight teeth, can sign milk, more, eat, and all done. She loves the dog and shows no interest in wanting to walk. She says Mom, Dad and Dog and can emit the most shrill scream of delight in an older sibling who is trying to make her laugh.

She is thrilled to see Daddy come home at the end of every day and is addicted to her pacifier.

When she was about 4 months old I bought 4 little ducks on the clearance rack at Target. All of our kids have "lovies" we've bought them as we've transitioned them from our room to their own bed and bedrooms. Abigail wasn't having anything to do with any of those ducks. Instead, she adopted her old swaddle blanket as her lovey and she sleeps with it smashed over her face. She loves it and it freaks me out.

She loves to be held, likes to be in the mix with all the other kids and won't shy away from a good cuddle. She has the most delicious dimple on her right cheek and every time she smiles and it comes into view I can't keep from kissing it.

Certainly this sweet baby girl is a delight to us all. Happy first birthday Abigail Mercy. How I love you so very much!

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."

-------

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!"

-------

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:

-------

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

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

-------

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.

My Elizabeth is 8!

Over a month ago it happened. My first baby turned eight.

Eight.

My mouth hardly is able to form that number without a lump in my throat. How am I even old enough to have an eight year old?


God certainly knew what He was doing when He gave us Elizabeth as our first born. Oh how my heart swells with love and pride when I think about her precious heart, her giving spirit and her desire to continually help.


She's the BEST biggest sister. Even if I could have dreamed up a first born, big sister for our army of children, I doubt my best and wildest imagination could have ever designed Elizabeth. Nearly always patient, eager to help a younger sibling, loving, gentle, kind and caring - she is exactly what our younger children need in an oldest sibling. Never too big to act silly enough to elicit a giggle or laugh from one of the younger ones or too proud to allow them to smother her with kisses. Often, she's way more patient than I am and she teaches me continually about grace and mercy.


How could I ever make it through my days without this girl? She showers me with hugs, help and love. And I am just so, so thankful for the young woman she's growing to be, the young lady God desires her to grow into and the friend I will one day have in her.


She's sassy. She has a style and a way all her own. Eight is a fun age but a hard age too. She's just grown enough to do almost everything on her own while she still needs regular guidance, direction and input. It's a fine line to walk, allowing her to stumble when natural consequences would be the best teacher and gently guiding her when she needs direction before an impending failure.


She's an amazing forgiver, which is good because her mother makes regular, epic mistakes and has to ask for forgiveness often. Not too long ago we were all outside playing with some neighborhood kids. She and Lucas got into a spat and she over reacted physically toward Lucas. In my own sinfulness and over reaction I reached out and swatted her firmly, right on the bottom in front of her friends. It broke her heart. She ran into the house, tearfully, to escape certain humiliation.

I followed her quickly, realizing that I did no better than she had just done with her brother. Asking her for forgiveness she threw her scrawny arms around my neck, climbed into my lap and told me I was a great Mom and we'd always forgive each other.

Oh baby girl, how I pray we always do.


She humbles me, showing me often what real forgiveness, genuine laughter and unconditionally love looks like.

Man, I just love this girl.


I know harder days are ahead. Days where I'll be last person she wants to talk to, her relationships with her friends will take precedence and I'll miss her sassy eight year old self crawling up in my lap and begging me to cuddle.

So for now, I breathe her in. I take in every part of who she is: artist, friend maker, compassionate stranger, understanding big sister, Abigail's personal assistant, my sweetest, biggest baby girl.

And I thank God for the gift of her every single day. What a treasure He's given us in our oldest child!


Happy (Belated) Birthday Elizabeth! I love you so very much!

Click these to see Elizabeth when she turned seven, six, five and four.

1,200 miles, 13 kids and counting

We're still alive. Whew! It's been a busy, busy, blessed week.

Luke's healing nicely from his emergency appendectomy 3.5 weeks ago. On the heels of his surgery and all that was going on I packed us all up, loaded the u-haul and we got out of dodge.

We left late last Thursday night (the 28th) and drove through the night to Luke's Dad's house in Mississippi. Then we drove over to Arkansas to visit my family and see friends. Then we drove back to Mississippi again spent the night, then to Memphis to see more friends and Luke's Mom for a couple nights. Currently, I'm sitting in northern Tennessee. We've driven over 1,200 miles in the last 9 days.

Tomorrow is sure to hold some surprises as we look forward to a day jam packed with 13 children under the age of 8.

I'm not even kidding.

In this great big bloggy world Kate (and her Savvy little women & 1 little man) and I have forged a friendship that can only be bound through the common understanding of lots of kids and lots of chaos and lots of laughs. We met up with them this evening and immediately her 6 and our older 6 hit it off. Giggles and chatter and crumbs flowed freely from around the table.

Now, all 13 kids are snoozing away.

Tomorrow's going to be fun day. For sure.

We hit the road again Sunday and roll on home.

I'll have stories to tell, pictures to prove them and lots to share, I'm sure.

We're a gluten for punishment

Alternately titled:

Soy ya later

or

Don't you dairy eat that

-----

Jello makes me gag. Not the taste but the texture. One day when I was in elementary school, I had a stomach ache. Some kid sitting beside me at lunch one day scooped all of his red jello into his mouth, looked at me and squished it through his teeth, spitting it onto his lunch tray.

I puked my own red jello all over myself and the table. To this day the texture of jello makes me queasy.

My point is, food affects us. All of us. Though my example above is a trivial one, you see my point. Nearly 25 years ago a simple thing changed the way I interact with a specific food.

We have a precious child who brings life, laughter and joy into our home. However, with her comes DRAMA. And I'm not talking about your typical drama where someone hits her or takes her toy and she looses it (though that happens as well). I'm talking about IRRATIONAL DRAMA.

Like, "THERE'S AN ANT!!! I'M GOING TO DIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!! THE ANT IS GOING TO KILLLLLLLL MEEEEEEE!!!!" (Insert screams likened to those of someone being seared by hot coals repeatedly.)

Granted, our little treasure doesn't say those specific words because she's usually too busy drooling, screaming and clawing her way to the furthest corner of the house to use actual words. But you get the idea.

Bugs freak her out to put it mildly. She can fall down and scrape her knee open to bleeding and have a normal response. But if she bumps - or possibly barely scrapes her leg - on something much less painful, wails and thrashing ensues and our treasure LOSES HER EVER LOVING MIND.

Sand goes directly into her hair and impulse control? It's non-existent. She's been loosely diagnosed with sensory processing disorder, though I'm sure none of her medical charts say those exact words. But our sweet girl is certainly sensory seeking. Screaming, yelling, hammering, loud clapping, whooping and slapping are just a few of the (more annoying) ways our princess seeks sensory input.

Her impulsivity goes beyond the normal irrational impulsivity of children her age. If I directly ask her not to do something, she will look at me, smile and then do the exact thing I just told her not to do, despite knowing the consequence of her disobedience. She was drumming on the couch one afternoon near where Abigail was laying. Casually, I said "Please be careful or you will hit Abigail and hurt her." Our girl looked at me, looked at Abigail, a sly smile crept across her face and before I could yell "NO!" she hauled off and slapped Abigail in the face. Which is NOT in character for her. She loves her baby sister, all of our girls do. And they all dote on her endlessly with kisses and coos.

I feel like we are very consistent parents and we administer consequences for disobedience quickly and routinely. In fact, our little sweetie can often tell us the result of her disobedience when we sit down to talk with her before her consequence is administered.

Our treasure goes to one hour of Occupational Therapy per week and gets weekly adjustments at the chiropractor. Even still, our sweet baby girl just continues to display the behaviors listed above, plus a few that I've omitted.

I am quickly coming to the end of the knowledge that I have.

In December/January I read this book on child discipline (and I recommend it highly!) and through a series of events and conversations, realized that one of our pediatricians has done quite a bit of research on diet and how the food our children (and adults) eat can impact ADD/ADHD, sensory processing and host of other commonly diagnosed disorders.

We had some blood work done on our sweet girl and while none of it was absolutely, without a doubt conclusive, our pediatrician has suggested we do a two week trial period where we exclude all gluten, soy and dairy.

So, we're going to give it a try. I went grocery shopping today and MAN it was hard to find things without gluten, soy AND dairy. Usually eliminating one wasn't difficult but all 3 is very hard.

So, my friends, what do you suggest? Have you ever lived gluten, dairy and soy free or any combination of those?

We are a fairly healthy eating family and I typically cook the vast majority of our meals. But I know this trial period will not be easy. Our prayer is that we try for two week and either see a MAJOR improvement or none at all. At least then we can know where to go from there.

Thank goodness Jello isn't a staple food of a gluten, soy and dairy free diet. Or else, I'd be a gluten for punishment, wouldn't you say?

Ba doom ching.

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.