A Healthy Dose of Chaos

The kids and I just cleaned the house. The floors are scrubbed, the legos have been plucked out from under the registers and there are new ABC sheets on Peter's bed since the former ones were mysteriously drizzled with Elmer's Glue. Hmmm.

We do this every Thursday – spend a few hours scrubbing, folding, wiping, and throwing out broken HappyMeals toys – but this week the tribe is putting in a bit more effort.

Their two cousins are in an airplane right now, flying 24 hours around the world to land in our feverishly excited arms. Right this very minute. I imagine that by now the two little girls have worked their way through any surprise presents/movies/snacks and my sister Leah is now doing tricks of many kinds to keep them happy.

Our house is clean for them, but it won't be clean for long.

I am glad really. What fun is a clean house? I am basically cleaning it so it can be a staging ground for the next three months of play-doh, recipes involving copious amounts of cheese, bathing chubby babies, and watching ridiculous comedies late at night with the ones I love. Don't get me wrong, I love how it looks right now, how it smells like Pine-Sol and sunshine. The floor on the boys room is free of guinea pig food and legos, and the girls have their pink flipflops in perfect rows.

I love a clean house, but most of my happy memories are of the messy times.

Like eating cake batter with my sisters as a kid. That was not a clean kitchen that day. Or the time our dog Heidi decided to deliver her 10 pups behind 10 different pieces of furniture throughout our house. Great memory. Not the cleanest. This week, I had a friend over for lunch – with her busy little baby, we had ten kids in this house. There were duplos on the floor, half-finished sandwiches on the table, and every one was happy.

I know I am misquoting Nietzsche when he said “You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star,” but when the dancing star is a family, I fully believe we all need a little bit of chaos. That's where the living happens. It's in the middle of baking chocolate chip cookies/soccer practice/late night cereal parties. When there is flour on your floor, a pile of laundry in front of your washing machine and a suspicious smell coming from a certain child's room, I know the urge is to freak out (I know because I do it), but take a minute to look past the chaos and find that dancing star. You will be glad you did. 

Now, let's mess this place up and make some memories. 

The Numbers Game

Today is significant to me. Thirty-six years ago there was a lunch that was interrupted by labor pains; the country doctor largely discounted it on account it was the girl's first birth but by the time she got to his office her baby was almost born. That woman, of course, was my mother, and the baby was round-headed, big-eyed, me. That day was important because it started my story. 

Every August 22 since has been important because it is a chapter marker: another year is gone, a new one comes. 

In my line of work, there are few project completions, assignments, promotions or incentives. One perseveres rather than completes; believes, finds joy, grows bitty things into bigger things. These are good but very hard to 'achieve' or to quantify. I don't want to forget the little things that made the year good -- the things that made me grin, or made my heart hammer against my ribs, or made me laugh until I cried. 

In true list fashion, I have tallied some of those little things -- the gifts that the year gave to me. It is no way conclusive (I limited myself to twelve, after all), and some of the things are a bit silly.

Twelve things I have loved about my life in 2012:

1. Luke climbing into my bed at 4:30 every morning, wakened by Jon's alarm, and falling back asleep in a ball beside me.
2. The absence of pain. I had surgery two days after Christmas in 2010 that culminated two years of doctor's appointments, emergency room visits, CT scans, ultrasounds and many tears. There were days I thought the pain would be my constant companion – the gnawing reminder of the bitterness of this broken world. Thankfully, the reason was finally found (a complication from my c-section with Peter, the second twin) and surgically fixed. I am grateful for this every day.
3. Peter's laugh. Do you know someone who laughs with their whole body – tummy clenched, eyes pinched shut, head thrown back, crazy laugh? I love to laugh, and I love how much he does too.
4. The fantastic quiet of my house at 6 am. I liked to sleep in until I realized the gift of those purple-gray minutes of dawn when my mind is sharp, the quiet is deep, and the coffee is as strong as a sultan's. Mmm.
5. My sisters. I wish everyone had someone(s) who were different enough to offer perspective, mature enough to offer grace, and close enough to understand the unsaid words.
6. NO MORE DIAPERS! What did you say? NO MORE DIAPERS!
7. The smell of baby's hair. Carl Sandberg once said that a baby is God's opinion that the world should go on. Mine are no longer babies, so I smell the golden heads of other babies: Julia, Thaddeus, Alissa, Jake, Jackson, Adilyn. I am waiting for you, Avea, to sniff that little black feather of hair on top of your head.
8. Tarte concealor in light (I warned you I was including silly things). After 20-odd years of buying makeup with the accuracy and discernment of a drunken sailor looking for a date, I have decided to buy better and less. I don't know what took me so long.
9. Rebecca. Every year about this time, I read this line: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” and I plummet headlong into the world of the unnamed narrator and her Maxim. It never grows old.
10. The leather bag of all good things: sanitizer lip gloss kleenex checkbook library books clean size4 underwear lollypops wallet notebook and pen ipad bandaids rescue salve keys happy meal toys. The ephemera of a blessed life of five crazy children and their mother. The roadtrips. The memories. I am treasuring the moments and carting them around in my big old bag. 
11. Autumn. This coming season is my favorite time of year. Oh, the cider, sweaters, leaves, school books, crisp apples crunching!
12. Twelve years with a man who both understands me and loves me. Those two are not always compatible – familiarity breeds contempt and all that. But this one knows the way and loves it all the more. It is a gift, that like good wine, gets better with age, deeper, less bite; full and lasting. 

Chocolate Covered Cherry Granola

Chocolate Covered Cherry Granola

I love breakfast and I love oatmeal, but granola has never been my thing. For one, it always seemed a little greasy and secondly, I do not like dried peaches and apricots. So when my sister posted this recipe for chocolate granola with bitty dark chocolate chips and dried cherries, I did a jig. Well, did a jig and then promptly made it. This is low sugar and chock full of stuff like antioxidants, energy boosters and vitamins. And it is so chocolatey, you might skip the cookie for this crazy good stuff. There are a few modifications, but the heart of this recipe is all my lovely sister Hannah's.

* Note that this recipe can easily be made gluten-free – another plus!

Chocolate Covered Cherry Granola

1 Cup of Coconut Oil

1 C honey

1/2 c. raw sugar

1/2 c. water

2 tsp salt

3 tsp Vanilla

1 c. cocoa

Warm on low-med heat in a sauce pan, stirring until mixed.

Mix and pour over below dry ingredients

12 Cups Rolled Oats (Use Gluten Free Oats if Needed)

2 Cups of Wheat Germ or Ground Flax Seeds (Wheat Germ is high in fiber and B vitamins, but we use freshly ground Flax seeds, which are high in vitamins as well as fiber and Omega 3s!)

3 Cups of Nuts of your choice (My favorite is 2 c. almonds and 1 c. raw pumpkin seeds)

1 c. unsweetened coconut (opt)

Stir wet and dry ingredients together.

Spoon onto pans, mixture should be about 1" thick. 

Bake in oven, stirring every 5-10 min. Bake until slightly golden~about 30 min. * Note – this will be several pans baking at once. Rotate the pans that are on the bottom rack onto the top rack every time you stir.

Remove from oven, allow to cool fully in pans.

Pour into large bowl and add 2-3 cups of chopped dried cherries and mini semisweet chocolate chips. (you can switch this for any combination – peanut butter chips and white grapes, etc.)

Stir ingredients and store in a glass container. Plastic will make it taste iffy and add chemicals. Big glass containers are $6-$8 at Wal-mart and probably available elsewhere cheaply too.

Makes approx 18 Cups of Granola

Enjoy!

Pesto

The garden and I are not usually on the best of terms. It is so needy, frequently messy and needs attention during the hottest times of the year. But today, the garden's peace offering to me was basil. Ok, garden, you and I are at peace today. Because today I am making pesto.

Pesto is EASY to make and yummy.

You can:

• toss it with penne pasta, some diced tomatoes and chicken for an easy pasta dish
• mix it with a can of tomatoes to make homemade marinara
• spread it on french bread, top with mozzarella and put under the broiler
• use it as a pizza topping with sliced tomatoes and bacon
• use it as spread in a grilled sandwich

If you are a measure-it-all, play-by-the rules cook (good for you! Will you teach me?), here is the recipe. However, this is not how I cook – I do the 'eyeball method' of making pesto – no measuring required. If you want to do it that way, read on past the recipe.

4 c. basil leaves;

3/4 c. olive oil;

2 t. salt;

4 T or more lemon juice;

2 cloves garlic;

5 oz container shredded parmasan;

1 c. nuts like pine nuts, pecans or walnuts.

Put in food processor until smooth

The Eyeball Method

You will need

a bottle of lemon juice

a jar of chopped garlic

1-3 5 oz. containers of shredded Parmesan

salt

bag of walnuts (I stopped using pine nuts when I realized the taste difference was negligible and the cost was nearly triple for pine nuts. So walnuts it is.)

• pick basil. I am sure everyone has their own method, but I try to leave the basil plants looking like this so they will regrow throughout the summer until frost.
  
  
  
• Wash basil and remove stems
  
  
  
• loosely pack leaves into food processor
  
  
  
• put in 1/2 container of shredded parmasan
  
  
  
• pour a bit of lemon juice (approx 1-2 second pour, like you are adding cream to coffee)
  
  
  
• olive oil – if using one with a pour spout, count to 9 while pouring
  
  
  
• add a heavy dash of salt
  
  
  
• add a spoon full of chopped garlic
  
  
  
• dump in some nuts (about a cup)
  
  
  
• blend until smooth and creamy
  
  
  
• Repeat if you have more basil! If you are doing several batches, combine them for continuity of flavor.
  
  
  
• Use within a week or freeze. Today's cheapy cheap freezing – because I didn't feel like going to the store – was using the Parmesan cheese containers, and then putting the rest in greased mini cupcake tins that I will freeze, pop out and put in ziplock bags to keep in the freezer.   
  
  There it is -- recipes for the left brained and right brained! If you make it, I want to hear how it turned out and your favorite way to eat it! 

Love Songs of the Home School Proselyte

“Don't you love New York in the fall? 

It makes me wanna buy school supplies.

 I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils

 if I knew your name and address.” 

– Joe Fox, You've Got Mail

How does it happen, this school-time magic? Just a few weeks ago, we were feverishly counting the days until it would all be OVER, and now the air is filled the smell of new backpacks, sharpened pencils and scotch tape. It may be a little bit of the learning-geek in me, or just the beckoning of the books that are already unpacked and waiting on the shelves, but I am getting pretty excited about this coming school year.  

Because we home-school, and this is our story.

Before I start, I feel compelled to say that this is not an anti-public school post in any way. I don't have anything against public school or private school. Well, let me take that back. I have lots of opinions about lots (and lots and lots) of things, including some excessive baggage about insular homeschooling, but I am not a gentle ranter, so I am not even going to venture into that territory. For a well-balanced view on the other side of the public school/homeschool decision, see this great post by my smart and beautiful friend.

How we got started:

(this is long-ish – if you want to skip to the 'now' in the story, scrollllll down)

In 2007, I had a 5-year-old, a 4-year-old, a 1-year-old, had just quit my job and found out that I was (surprise!) pregnant. The pregnancy, as most of you know, had its own surprise waiting, but I didn't know that yet. So picture that woman with me: three little ones, finally able to quit her job to stay at home with her littles, idealistic, hopeful, and scared of doing the 'wrong thing'. 


(I have since found that the fear of doing the 'wrong thing' is often camouflage for lack of courage for doing the hard thing.)


 Since I had just quit my job in order to stay home, we didn't have the money to send Ellie to private school without me going back to work, and putting the younger ones in daycare. I didn't want to do it, so now the options were down to homeschooling and public school. I was filling out Ellie's public school paperwork when two things transpired: I found out that our little, bitty Mayberry-esque elementary school was too full and she would be shipped to the bigger school farther away, riding with middle school students (young mom says ACK!); and Will, who had just turned four, was reading and writing fluently, and wanted to start kindergarten. I was overcome with the decision. Paranoid, paralyzed with inadequacy, pickled in selfishness (what about Me?) and not sure I wanted to venture into the world of homeschooling that I inaccurately saw as being awash with rigidity, white tube socks and denim jumpers (refer to copious amounts of baggage above). I had been homeschooled and loved it, but I am bit of an loner – when I was in high school, I did much of my studies myself, reading 300+ books a year, taking classes at Penn State in the evenings and going to the nursing home to sit in the room of a World War II nurse while she told me racy stories about her wartime adventures. Was homeschooling for everyone, or just strange-child Me? I wasn't sure.

Around that time, I found out about Sonlight curriculum. The first thing I saw on their site was a list of reasons not to buy their curriculum. (I already had a hefty list of my own things I wanted to avoid: America-centrism; too much busywork v. actual learning; memorization v. critical thinking; legalism masquerading as discipleship. But I read on cautiously.)

Here were a few of the reasons people should not to buy Sonlight (complete list here)

-They don't want to do a lot of reading

-They prefer classroom-style study with lots of quizzes, tests and grades.

-They want to guard their children from anything offensive—at all costs. Rather than exploring and learning what you believe – avoid conflict!

- They want most school years to focus primarily on U.S. history and culture.

-They want to present all content and history as absolute truth, without question or doubt.

Oh my goodness, my jaded heart cracked open. A curriculum that loved education, explored conflict, eschewed America-centrism and promoted Christ-following through loving God with all your heart, soul and MIND? Sign me up! I was hooked. Now I just had to fit myself and my two little learners into the equation. And that was the hard part. I ordered the kindergarten package, and when it came in the mail, I was sick in my stomach.

The first day of school, I met with a few moms for breakfast. They were teary-eyed that they had just put their babies on the school bus; I was tear-eyed that I had not. Was it going to work? More importantly, was it worth it? Every choice we make has a benefit and a sacrifice. I already knew the sacrifice as I cut up cinnamon buns and cleaned spilled milk off the floor of the diner while retirees asked my kids why they weren't in school. But how measurable was the benefit? I did the first day, and the second, and the third. I made a secret vow that if I didn't like it, I wouldn't do it the next year. And, as an escape hatch, I also promised that once the youngest was in school, I was going back to work and putting the whole tribe into school. So there.

Today

That was in 2007. This, the 2012-13 school year is (what!?) my sixth year of teaching. I remembered this year about my whispered pledge of sending them all away to school while I sat in some mythical office in new clothes, typing on a shiny computer. When I told the kids of my escape-hatch pledge I had made so long ago, Ellie said, “Mom, are you serious?” 


No, I don't think I am anymore. Thankfully, the time since then has sanded me down a little, making this version of me a bit more laid-back, more journey-loving. I still don't know what next year holds, or high school, but who really does?

Since I am a list-maker, let me tell you what I have grown to love about learning this way:

• Being able to find each child's learning style and use it to help them master learning.
• one-on-one coaching with each child in the subjects or areas in which they struggle
• cultivating the gift of independent learning – something they will use all their lives.
• seeing everything – vacations, field trips (heck, even Kung Fu Panda 2) – as learning opportunities
• deep friendships with peers who share their interests, sports, and activities. We have been blessed with some incredible homeschooling friends who are invaluable to my crew.
• helping them to learn to THINK – not memorize, regurgitate viewpoints, pass tests, consume, but actually THINK, debate, understand.
• Being able to have 'mid-course corrections'. A spelling program isn't working? Try another one. And another.
• Incredible education through classic literature and history – education that is not reliant on school boards, lack of funding, etc.
• Individually-paced learning.
• Keeping the childhood passion for learning and exploring alive and thriving.
• the 'colorblind'ness of my kids. I don't just mean with color, although that is true. They are 'ageblind', 'shapeblind', 'cliqueblind'. I joke that it is because they are so happy to see someone other than their family, but the truth of it is that they haven't learned the intricasies of recognizing 'not cool' people. Having spent my elementary school time as one of those 'not cool' kids, it is something I love to see.
• FIELD TRIPS! I love to road-trip, and I budget them relentlessly. This past year, we went to Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Erie, Washington DC, New York City and Hershey Chocolate World. The kids say: “I can't wait to see where we are going next.” Yeah, guys, me neither.
• The adventure of learning that we are doing together as a family. I know this isn't exclusive to homeschooling. But I love it. Our curriculum walks through ancient civilizations in 1^st grade through modern history in 4^th grade. Do you know how many incredible books that is? Museums? Foods? Luke is starting 1^st grade this year, and I am excited to start it again.
• The flexibility! Ellie can take horseback riding lessons in the middle of the day; Will can focus on animation and piano, all while keeping up their schoolwork. They can work ahead in their studies, take more time to master something, research a tangent topic. Ellie took her books with her while she went fishing in Cape May for a week this spring.
• We can sleep in! There is no reason on this green earth why we need to get up at six when it takes ten minutes to eat and walk to the school room.
• I love to read with my kids. Exploring the world together. Watching their minds come to life when they learn something new.

Don't get me wrong – there is another list that grows by the end of the year with things like “They never leave! They are always HEEEEERE!”. But that list is shorter, and by this time of the year, it is crumbled up and thrown away and replaced with the new school boxes filled with scotch tape and sharpened pencils.

Here's to the learning that never stops, no matter how old we are. 


PS: If you are interested in the curriculum we use, here it is. Using this link will earn points for my account, and maybe even add a free book or two this year. Thanks! 

Sweet Hot Lobster Love

Picture a lobster. No, not in that slimy tank at Red Lobster, rubber-banded and sulking as they wait to be overcooked. Picture the boat and the sunburned fisherman and jumble of slick, speckled, scissor-clawed beasts lifted high above the water in a dripping net. Before they are boiled to turn the color of my skin after a day at the pool, those lobster ladies are one beautiful, fighting, swaggering piece of work.

But when it comes time to mate, they are even more impressive. First, the girl approaches a male's lair and sends in some pheromones (through, ahem, a liquid. Yup, she is peeing him to love. But let's focus here). The guy goes crazy, fanning his tail so the scent permeates his whole lair. He wants to be permeated by her. He pursues her, big and strong and splendid, and she decides – contemplates – mulls the choice. Because of the gravity of what she will have to do. Because if she decides to mate, she will need to shed her shell and be utterly defenseless. To leave would be far easier, so sometimes that is what she does. Shell-on, she takes off.

But. If she decides to take the plunge, she tells this to him by resting her mighty claws on his head. I could hurt you, but I won't, she says in her lobstery way. Don't hurt me. And she molts her final defense, that beautiful silvery speckled shell. He could eat her if he wanted – ruin the vulnerability of true HER, but he doesn't. He cradles her, protects her tearable flesh. In his crustacean way, he loves her. He completes her.

Now, I am going on a limb here, but I am seeing some striking parallels. I, too, am speckled, walk a little bandy-legged, and rely all too much on my prickly shell and on what I alone can do. And while this relates almost wholesale into how I see marriage and true love – real molted-shell love that involves standing so stripped down that the other could destroy you if they wanted, but they complete you instead – but that is not what made me think about lobster love today. It was the story of Abraham and Isaac.

We are on vacation, and Vacation Sundays are “Home Church Sundays” even though we are not at home at all. Sitting on camp chairs, smelling of wood smoke and sunscreen, me braiding Ellies's hair, Will retold the story of God asking Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. To recap – Isaac was born when Abraham and Sarah were one hundred and ninety, respectively. It was fairly evident in their decrepitude that Isaac was a gift directly from God. And when he had been celebrated, coddled, rocked to sleep and kissed for several years, God asked Abraham to sacrifice him. 

At this point, Luke says, “This story is about how much Abraham loves Isaac.” Mother-me thinks, yes, yes, yes. I could never do it. Don't ask me to do it. Why would you put him to such an awful test. 

Ellie shakes her head. “No, it isn't.” she says. “God is asking Abraham how much he trusts Him.” GodFollower-Me, Woman-me, Crustacean-me thinks, Wow.

Because God is leading Abraham through a fairly simple exercise:

God: What are you relying on? Where is your confidence?

A: My confidence is in my legacy – have you seen my son? He's gorgeous. So muscled, that curly hair. He's perfect.

God: Where did you get this son?

A: Um. You.

God: Do you trust me enough to give up what I've given you? Do you trust that when you've been stripped of what gives you courage, I will be enough for you? That I will complete you?

A: <deep breath> Yes.

God: Let's see.

God asked me to give up something recently. If I tell you, it will sound silly, so you can let your imagination run riot. Let me just say – my word, it was starting to DEFINE me. It was starting to put shapes around me that were different than the shape I usually am: pizza-baker, gardener, teacher, band-aid applier.

Things started going crooked, and God said: What are you relying on? Where is your confidence?

Lobster Girl: This THING! I love how it makes me feel! I love doing it!

God: Where did you get this thing?

Lobster Girl: Um.

God: Do you trust me enough to take off the shell of talent and connections and ideas and how you define yourself? Will you give yourself to me, stripped of how you define YOU? Will I be enough for you?

Lobster Girl: What about Abraham? You gave his dream back to him. Will you give my dream back to me?

God: That's was his story. Don't you want to see how your own story will turn out?

There are a lot of words for this act that look at it from different angles.

Surrender.

Sacrifice.

Submission.

Worship.

Right now I prefer molting. Because that is how I picture myself right now: shimmying out of my sculptural, glossy, hard-as-nails shell and standing vulnerable/waiting/open/loveable/open-handed/teachable before my Story Writer. And I finally reply:

Yes. I want to see how my story turns out. Show me. 

What I Did in the Belly Button of the Year

Projects in the Ides of June

I homeschool for many reasons that I will get into in another post (Box Day is coming!!), but some of them are selfish. It is, for example, a ready excuse to jet off to New York City or Philadelphia, buy dazzling books and visit great museums. But I have a secret reason even more selfish than that.

Without it, I would be a terrible stay-at-home mom.

No, I am serious. With my first baby, I took twelve weeks off, and after just five weeks I was smuggling work home from the office so I would have something to do. I was shocked by how much she slept throughout the day. What was I supposed to do? Clean? Find a hobby? Just sit? I don't know how to just sit. I have never discovered the gift of longueur –  the ability to while away periods of tedium and boredom. The more time slows, the more I quicken. I am not saying that as a matter of pride, more of a “do they have a pill for that?” confession.

So.

With school out, and the older ones at day camp this week and the younger three running wild through the front yard with butterfly nets in one hand and popsicles in the other hand, and the canning/freezing/jam- making-time still a few happy weeks away, I find myself there again. What am I supposed to do? Clean? Find a hobby? Just sit?

The ides of June -- the middle -- is close to the ides of the entire year --  the tawny belly button of 2012. 

And while this weather begs to just be sat in, I didn't. 

So this week was a week of projects:

1) The Makeup Station

In my bedroom is a big hole in the wall where a window used to be. It was a window that looked from my bedroom into the living room. Hmmm. I don't really know what went on before I moved in, but the window had to go. It was drywalled over on the living room side (now the boys room), but the big hole stayed in my room, covered over with a dreary curtain. This week in a fit of passion (how every.single.project I do begins), I RIPPED down the curtain,

found a mirror from the attic

cut a really old suitcase in half and screwed it into the wall

painted an old silverware tray

… and made a little makeup station.

 No more smooshed makeup brushes or lost mascara, or trying to put on my makeup in our single bathroom while three boys are peeing into the toilet at the same time (it happens)! Hooray!

Cost: $0 (this was all stuff I repurposed from around the house)

The Bulletin Board

My bulletin board was once practical, but now with my calendar on my ipad and too many notes made with permanent marker, this thing needs to go.

SO -- I took an old window (thanks Leah!)

cut cork tiles and hot glued them to the bottom three panes ($4 for 4 tiles at Lowes)

tacked white cloth behind the rest of the panes (for added visibility when you write on it) ($1 for 300 tacks)

spray-painted and distressed 2 metal baskets to use for paper ($0 – repurposed)

made a funky little pic for the top corner ($0 – paper from realsimple magazine and one ratty old book)

and done!

What My Mom Told Me

On June 12, it will be two years since my mother died. I could tell you, I suppose, about the last two years of her life, how she fought, or how we prayed and begged God to stop the enemy troops that marched deep inside her body. Maybe I should tell you about the way we sang her home in her bed, and rubbed her feet and whispered to her as she drifted into Jesus' arms. I could tell you about the time since then, of the numbness that turned raw, of the loss that brought tiny new things.

But I won't.

Those memories are in a different memory-building than all the other memories of my mother, and the door is locked, and I don't have the heart to pick it right now. Maybe another time.

Sometimes I hear other people talk about Julie – sometimes I hear myself do it too – and she starts sounding less than real, like a statue of a saint. Now don't get me wrong. My mother was a saint. One look at our house with all the children and the homeschooling and 80 dozen ears of corn every year and the rabbits in hutches and the home business … sainthood was a requirement in her job. No, I mean she starts sounding one-dimensional and serene and haloed and wearing something satin and lemon-colored. That just wasn't her. Yellow wasn't her color.

I want to remember her today by telling you some of the things she told me. If you ask me, they are things every girl should know.

Find a way.

When I was in college, I went with my singing group, WCC, to Europe. It was lovely and I ate loads of Nutella and saw Notre Dame... and got terribly homesick. I remember one place we stayed – all I remember was how dark it was, and everything seemed upholstered in velvet, and I called her from a little box in the hall. I had no money, so called collect, told her what country I was in, the name of the building and asked her to call back at 10:00. (This was pre-google and instant knowledge.) Because I knew she would. I knew that no matter what, I knew she would find a way, never give up, get it done. I don't remember her making excuses for very many things. She found a way.

If it's important, it will be important.

When I had my first baby and was whining about losing the baby weight, she just said “If it's important, it will be important,” and kept doing what she was doing. Well, yeah. It took me a while to really grasp what she meant. If the size of my bum was all that really mattered, it would absolutely matter. It would be small and perfect. If, however, learning the secrets of my new baby were a teeny bit more important than that, the bum would have to just take a backseat, so to speak.

Fight for your family like a badger.

OK, she didn't actually say that. (see Mom, I am still 'twisting everything you say' as you used to accuse us of doing!!) But she did it. Case in point: when we were really small, my dad logged for a living (and was a park ranger on the weekends. He worked hard.) Anyway, on this momentous day, he forgot his packed lunch and was out in no-man's-land doing hard labor, foodless. Mom packed up the food, packed up us kids and we walked into the woods to take him his lunch. Across a creek. Up the bank. Over stumps. Under branches. (Mind you, I quake taking my kids to Wal-mart. This woman rocked.) She fought for what was important. It was us.

Memorize. Memorize. Memorize.

Since I've already misquoted her, I will continue. My sisters and I were always spouting movie quotes to each other (Mawage is what bwings us togever today. Lydia, oh Lydia, oh have you met Lydia. Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters.) and she was always saying, “If you kids could just memorize scripture the way you memorize those movie quotes!!” She said with a smile because we were memorizing scripture too. And, oh, how I've needed it. When I was pregnant with the twins, throwing up six times a day, I took to saying into the toilet as I knelt in front of it: Your grace is sufficient for me. Your strength is made perfect in my weakness (2 Cor 12:9). Quailing inside a scary MRI: The Lord is my shepherd, I will not want for anything. (Psalm 23) At moments of self-doubt: Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name. YOU ARE MINE. (Isaiah 43: 1, emphasis mine) I tell my kids what she told me – hide them in your heart and when you need them, they will be yours for the rest of your life.

Champion the ones you love.

Tina Fey once thanked her parents for having faith in her that far out-measured her capabilities. If she thought they were laudable, she hadn't met Mom. My mom mailed countless support letters for missions trips, sent letters to camp before we went so they would arrive when we were there, sewed dresses so the girls would match, bought coon skins caps for the boys, taught us to drive stick-shift on winding roads, tirelessly fanned the little flames of talent in our lives, applauded, cheered, motivated, prayed. She championed us when we ourselves didn't see much to champion.

Make do.

I don't mean make do in the “make do or do without” sense of the word, although she knew how to do that. I mean that she rolled with the punches. No buttermilk? Oh – throw some vinegar in that milk there. No brown sugar? A drizzle of molasses in white sugar. A snap. Have you tried putting whole wheat flour in that? Tastes the same, much better for you. She was a seamlessly improvizational woman, doing hat tricks we never even realized she was doing. I learned it without even knowing I had. No flour to thicken the soup? Instant mashed potatoes. Tastes better too. Have you tried spinach in that? What recipe? This also works for rained out plans, missed directions, just about anything. Make do. Find a way. (And it is a surprising amount of fun.)

Celebrate the Days.

In our house, birthdays were a super big deal. Not costly parties or anything like that. Just good food and lots of people and laughing. And graduations. Baby showers. Bridal showers. Open houses. Well, Sundays, if it comes to that. My mom liked to make days worth celebrating. Her 4-H training to good use, we had lots of good, colorful food and people everywhere. It didn't have to be fancy or wildly decorated, or really even that tidy. Just lots of people having a rollicking good time. (And by rollicking good time, I mean speed scrabble.) Looking for things to celebrate in our every day lives makes every day something special and good.

This morning, Ellie declared Breakfast in Bed Day. Didn't know how to make dippy eggs? Oh, she was sure she'd figure it out. Threw it together. Had everyone around the table, laughing and talking with their mussed up morning hair, waiting for her to bring their breakfast(so much for the 'in bed' part). It made me smile. She's learning the Julie way already.

Things That Go Bip

I was feeling a little rocketish today.

This weekend a friend was telling me about a concept from the book “Leading on Empty” which says there are things in life that take away our serotonin – that natural chemical our bodies produce that makes us feel happy and in turn productive – and there are things in life that refill our serotonin. When we aren’t doing enough “refill” things to supply the demand, the serotonin depletes and our bodies start running on adrenalin, the rocket fuel of our bodies. This is all well and good for a very short time and then we, like every rocket we have ever seen, ultimately crash and burn.

I thought of what he said today when I started feeling a little rocketish – eight baskets of clean laundry that needs folded, grass clippings tramped all through the kitchen, kids’ rooms that look like a episode from Hoarders, school portfolios that need finished, a design deadline looming – you get the picture. My rocket boosters are starting to rumble again just thinking about it. While my initial thought was coffeecoffeecoffeecoffee, I tried to think of the things that fill my serotonin reservoir.

The big things leap to mind right away -- The intoxicating combination of book/chair/beach (without that other less enticing beach combo of: sand in diaper/where’s the middle child/when did you put on sunscreen); A big city, no plans, and me; A dim, cluttery used-bookstore where all you can smell is Book; The moment before you try something unpronounceable at a new restaurant. Sure, I love the big stuff that costs money and takes time … but it is the little bitty things that fall into my bucket of happy, almost unnoticed, that keep it from emptying.

It is times that God whispers my name.

For me, it’s the things that go bip.

The bip bip bip of lily pads scudding against Luke’s paddles when he kayaks. The pink stripe of neck above his swim shirt, and his hair sticking up, and the paddle going like a windmill. I am right behind him in my red arrow of a kayak, the lily pads obligingly bipping for me too.

The bip… bip… bip… bip of Will tapping away at his animation software. While I am not entirely sure of the marketability of an animated short called “Weirdo and FubFub learn Microbiology,” I love to watch that kid’s mind work and I love to watch him giggle.

The BIP BIP BIP of strong coffee dripping into a pot for a friend and me that will be the catalyst of a jumble of half-sentences we spill out to each other, a mélange of: It’s OK to admit this is hard – when does life stop spinning so fast – My word, I love what I do!

The almost scandalous beauty of my dove gray poppies with their hidden charcoal hearts that bloom beside the house and sway drunkenly with their ungainly splendor, bipping into each other.

The bipbipbipbipbipbip of my keyboard when the story inside is bubbling over and wants out. Writing is my mother tongue, I like to say, so much easier than the rambling speech I am prone to, and my keyboard knows that better than anyone.

In this rocketish life with places to go and things (and things and things) to do and people to grow, we all at one time or another echo Bilbo Baggins when he said he felt like butter scraped over too much bread.

How do we fix it – this disconnect between giving and refilling? I suppose we could all get a personal assistant, live-in maid and meal delivery.

And if that proves to be cost-prohibitive, we can keep looking for and enjoying the things that go bip in our lives.

Actually, just the second thing. Cleaning that grass off the floor wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it was going to be.


Bip.

The Accidental Learner

Last year, I wanted an iPad (I really, really wanted an iPad), but in classic Cara fashion, convinced myself that I could 'make-do' with first an iPod touch (too small of a screen for researching out-of-print books) and then the Asis eeePad (no Netflix, not very user-friendly). When the customer service dude at Best Buy, who by now knew my life story, saw me in line the third time he said, “Are you just going to get the iPad this time?”

Now, I am not going to comment on my own obsession with this little gadget right now lest I start sounding very much like Gollum (precious! My precious!), so I will tell you how I love using it as an educational tool. It fits my credo of creating learning opportunities in the midst of life, not just in the classroom. I mean, after all, I sneak good stuff into their food -- spinach in the spaghetti and meatballs,  yogurt in the milkshakes -- so why not find apps that combine learning with fun? And yes, we do have the goofy, silly apps where you can melt Grandma's face, and fight dragons and slice various exotic fruits, but these are my top favs for a little accidental learning: 

With the help of reviewers Ellie and Will, here are our top eight learning apps for the iPad:

Barefoot Atlas. $7.99 . Our rating: **** (or 11. This one goes to 11!)

$7.99 was the most I have ever paid for an app, but well worth it! It is my current favorite kids app. It combines sumptuous oil painting graphics (a twirling ballerina over Russia, a snapping piranha by the Amazon river, a churning riverboat on the Mississippi) with the useability of Google Earth. Tapping a country shows its features, attractions and landmarks and a narrator can read facts aloud if you wish (great for the pre-readers!). Combine this with statistics like current time, temperature, weather, value of currency, and this is an app that is fun to use, gorgeous and makes geography a treasure hunt. Love it, love it.

Anything by Dan Russell-Pinson. This man has somehow figured out how to make history, geography and math cool, interesting, and integral to saving the planet from aliens. Here are his apps:

Rocket Math. $.99 You are building a rocket to go into outer space. To earn the money you need to trick out the rocket, you have to solve addition, subtraction, multiplication or division problems. Once your rocket is ready, you choose a mission – anything from finding pennies to shapes to even and odd numbers. A great lower level elementary school game. Cons: Must be a reader to play independently, my kindergartener wants to play himself and can't read well enough yet.

Stack the States. $.99 Answer questions about state capitols, mottos, bordering states, state shapes and other stuff to earn a state. Stack your earned states on top of each other to reach the finish line. OK, this game is addictive and even my early readers have a blast stacking the states. My kindergartener knows the shapes of all the states and where they fit in the US. For 99 cents? Yes, please!

Stack the Countries. $.99 Just like Stack the States, except now it's the whole world (read: why didn't I learn this stuff! This is hard!). A great way to learn geography – the kindergartener know all the countries of South America and the 4^th grader just told me today that only two countries in the world have the shape of their country in their flag. Do you know what they are? No, I didn't either. Again, 99 cents, big pay-off.

Presidents vs. Aliens. $.99 The White House is being invaded by aliens (clearing throat) and you have to fend them off by answering questions about the presidents (there are levels of difficulty). Pretty easy way to help early elementary school kids put all the presidents in sequential order and understand time periods and events. Plus, you get to use their heads like hockey pucks to fight aliens. Win-win.

For the twins (or as they are known this week, the Gingham Dog and the Calico Cat), I like Monkey Preschool Lunchbox. $.99. Preschoolers help little monkey pack his lunchbox by choosing food in specific, colors, numbers or letter-sounds. Plus, as one reviewer said, “The music and sound effects aren't nearly as annoying as they could be.”

Licking Letters. $.99. Help the frog 'lick the letters' of words like dog, cat, jump, etc. Complete words give the kiddo points which she can use to dress up the frog (honestly, it falls apart a little bit there for me, seeing the frog in a basketball jersey and a rainbow afro, but the kids like it). Good for letter sound recognition.

And while I do not strictly consider this an educational app, it got props from Will for “good brain exercise” so I am including Cut the Rope. $.99. It is a series of crazy puzzle game that involves physics and strategy as you try to feed a piece of candy to Om Nom, the little sweet-tooth whatsit. It is harder than Angry Birds, and not ridiculous (and I can't really figure it out), so I guess that it deserved his rating. <grin>

Note: I am not really sure how many of these are available on non-Apple platform. 

So there you have it! If you have a tablet or smart phone, what is your favorite learning app?