half-lit tree...half-lit me

The picture on the left is our Christmas Tree. A few days ago, the lower sets of lights stopped working. I have to say I'm glad it is the lower half--that way the tree still looks nice from the outside, through the window. You can't even see that the bottom half is dark.

Christmas Tree lights are different than I remember them when I was growing up. As a child, I remember that when my dad would get the box of Christmas lights out, my mom would bustle us kids away for a few hours while he sorted them out. The sorting our process involved laying each string out (and we had TONS!) and plugging them in. If a string didn't light, dad had to crawl along the string and check each bulb individually. This was a tedious and frustrating process involving much language my mom didn't think our tender ears needed to hear!

Today's lights are somewhat more forgiving. We have strings of lights that have a few bulbs that don't light, but they don't seem to keep the string from lighting. I guess they are only slightly loose or something. This seems like progress until you get the lights strung on the tree and then one bulb comes out or is loose enough to take out the whole string. Here's the trouble: it's much easier to check each bulb on a string that is laid out on the floor than it is to try to follow a winding string of lights through a tree!

So, our tree stays half-lit. It only shows if you come into our house while it's switched on. If you keep your distance, you can't even tell. So, not too many people know. But I know. I thought about otherwise occupying my children (because of their tender ears!) for a while so I could go through the process of tracing the string through the tree and find the source of the darkness. It seems like it would be the only way to fix this problem. But, I decided against it. Partly because Christmas is over and the tree would come down soon anyway, but there's another reason.

See, this half-lit tree reminds me a little of myself. At this time of year when I'm prone to looking back over my year and assessing things, I have not been seeing things too brightly. To be honest, as I wrestled for most of the year with the health issues thrust upon us with our youngest, I realize that I am pretty worn out. I think I may even have a few "bad bulbs." Most people don't realize this because they can only see the part of me that shows--like the top half of our tree that shows through our picture window. If they keep their distance, they don't even know I'm only half-lit. But I know. In fact, I realize that rather than taking time to find the "bad bulb" on our Christmas Tree, my time would be better spent in looking for the places inside me that have come loose and need replacing or tightening. I think it will be a painstaking and tedious process, but well worth it.

I'd like to go into the New Year fully lit....

rhythmic healing

A few days ago, the kids and I were invited to visit a friend's dairy farm. It was quite an experience to view the process of feeding, milking and shifting the cows from one area to another.






A big highlight for the evening was feeding the calves. This dairy had a busy month with 16 calves born! The kids were thrilled to be able to feed the babies that were only 3-4 days old. One had just been born that morning!



My friend showed us some of the developments they were making and their arrangements to move the calves' quarters to higher ground because of the propensity for flooding in our area. It's all a huge amount of work.






The whole visit was wonderfully educational and I was pleased that the kids were able to learn some things first hand about this field.


I was able to learn some things first hand, too. See, my friend and her husband recently marked the second anniversary of the death of one of their sons in a hunting accident. Because it happened on their own property, the reminders have been frequent.















I wondered how they could have managed to keep up with all the work while going through the grieving process. My friend shared that, actually, the work was their saving grace. The rhythm of all they had to do every day was what kept them going....the constant, predictable, rote, neccessary work, provided just the outlet they needed to process the pain. Besides that, cows don't feel uncomfortable if you cry when you're filling their water trough!



Sometimes I find it hard to get past difficult issues in my life. I try this and I try that and it seems like I still have trouble processing my pain. Perhaps what I need is some pattern or routine in my life to bring the rhythmic healing I need. I don't think I'm quite up to the challenge of dairy farming, but there must be some other way I can add this into my life. Generally, adding something new to my life seems daunting. I feel busy and frantic enough. This feels different, though. This type of adding will, I think, result in less panic and more peace.

wax or clay?

Over the weekend, we listened to a CD that could currently make it on the radio station's, "Classic from the Attic" segment. As much as I hate to admit it, most of my favorite music falls into this category, but that's beside the point....

One set of lyrics really stood out to me:

"the same sun that melts the wax can harden clay,
the same rain that drowns the rat will grow the hay,
and the same wind that knocks us down--if we lean into it
will drive our fears away..."

Usually when I get a song lyric stuck in my head, it's some idiotic phrase that just about drives me insane, but this one was different. It just played over and over and made me consider its deeper meanings for me.

This year has been full of sun, rain and wind for my family. As we have worked through our youngest daughter's serious health issues, it has sometimes felt overwhelming.

This lyric is a poignant reminder of my "choice in the matter" of the trials I'm facing. I don't get to choose my trials or how they present themselves. I do, however, get to choose the way I'm going to face them. It's my choice to be wax or clay. I'm in charge of whether a difficult circumstance leaves me soft and pliable--moving in the way God directs. Or, I can allow myself to become hard, dried out, cracked and ugly--an immovable visual of despair.

Today, I'm choosing wax. I want to remain moldable in God's hands. And like candle wax, I want to provide the fuel for the Light to keep shining.

For my MOPS readers...

The Name Game

Cleopatra….Eleanor Roosevelt…Marie Antoinette….Julie Andrews….. I have been labeled with all these identities—that is in a game our family likes to play. We call it the name game. Each person gets a name taped to their back and then asks questions until they guess who it is correctly.

I do not enjoy this game nearly as much as the rest of my family. For me, it's too much like real life. Every time I turn around, I feel as if I have yet another identity taped to my back—and I have to ask all the right questions to figure it out. Some are easier than others. Diaper changer. I get that one…if it smells or leaks—change it! Some are harder. Bill payer. I don’t get how that one works out most of the time (although, by God’s grace, it somehow does!).

The thing about the identities stuck to me is that they all require me to do something. I am weary of doing. When do I just get to be? That’s one of the greatest things about coming to MOPS. I get to be a friend. I get to be a part of a discussion that is stimulating (with actual adults who never once pick their noses while they speak to me!). I get to be someone separate from my kids for a little while.

Maybe after I have those breaks at MOPS, I’ll be better able to figure out all my other identities. Maybe I’ll even look forward to trying out a new identity. Or maybe I will just stick with Cleopatra….imagine what I could do with that kind of power!

if there's a problem...

Yesterday, while leaving the mall, we decided it would be a good idea for everyone to make a bathroom stop. While drying my hands, I noticed a sign on the wall that read, "If you see a problem with our restroom, please notify one of our friendly sales associates." (italics mine) Okay...but how do I know which ones are the friendly ones? It's not as if they wear a special badge making them stand out from the other sales associates. So, I'm left to guessing which are which. (I'm also now wondering if a friendly associate who gets delegated to "bathroom duty" too many times ends up demoted to a surly associate!?)

I guess this is one reason God wants us believers in Jesus to let our lights shine--so if there's a problem in our area, others will naturally know who to go to. It's like wearing a "friendly associate" badge. Trouble is, too many times, people who need help can't recognize us as the ones who have what will help them. They are left wandering around, hoping someone will care about their problem. Meanwhile, we Christians wonder why we never seem to have the opportunity to share the hope we have within us with hurting people.

It seems I need to rethink some of the ways I reflect (or don't) Christ in my daily life. Not only do I want to please God by the way I live my life, but I want to be easy to spot as a source of help. I want those in need to be able to find me....if there's a problem...

Save it for the Shoeboxes

Today we are filling shoeboxes. Our family has been a big fan of the Operation Christmas Child shoebox ministry since 2005 when Rosalind caught a vision to organize a donation effort and filled 123 shoeboxes to send to needy kids around the world.

One of the reasons I love this service opportunity is how "hands on" and easy it is to do with kids--even very young ones. All of my kids love to pitch in and sort out the items for the boxes into categories before grabbing an empty box and selecting just the right things to put into it.

Their participation begins much earlier than Autumn. In fact, another of my favorite things about this ministry is how it has begun to teach my kids to simplify a little. All throughout the year as they receive party treat bags, free t-shirts, etc., they often opt not to keep it for themselves, but instead to tuck it away into the growing pile in our garage we keep for the filling of shoeboxes. The real joy comes in for them when as we sort the items and fill the boxes, they recognize their own donations to the cause. It's gratifying to hear them comment, "I know another kid without a lot will really enjoy this even more than I would," as they happily tuck it into a box.

I guess this is really what the Operation Christmas Child shoebox ministry does for my family--it helps us to live less selfishly. Making the choice to live selflessly has been a life-long (and never-ending) process for me. Giving my kids opportunities to practice this skill at young ages is priceless to me. Despite the fact that, just like any kids, my kids sometimes insist that they "need" this item or toy--I believe they really do see that, in comparison to so many others, they have so much. And when I see them cheerfully delay their own gratification and find real joy in giving away what could have been theirs to another child who needs so much, the gift they are giving seems as if it could hardly be contained inside a shoebox....

God's not fair

I imagine the title of this blog is an eye-catcher. It comes from a sermon I heard this week on God's justice. It is one of those sermons that seeps in to your heart and mind and continues to come back--like a cow chewing it's cud. For most of this week, I kept pushing it back down, but this morning, I took time to examine it and myself along side of it. It wasn't a favorable comparison.

The point of the sermon was that we humans want desperately for God to be fair and we somehow assume because the Bible says, "God is just, " we should be able to see evidence of that all over the place. In reality, we wrestle with the fact that things in the world--and in our worlds--seem terribly unfair and it appears that somehow, God isn't just.

Now we "good Christians" feel it is wrong to even think that there may be some inconsistency with what God's Word says about Him, and how we see things working out in daily life. But, the thoughts are there--haunting the back of our minds. Some take the approach that if God isn't the way He says He is, then His Word must not be true and so we doubt other attributes or promises of God. For me, it took a different course.

This morning as I turned over the concept of God's fairness vs. God's justice in my mind and heart, I saw that the pastor was right. God is just--as He says He is. But I am the one that wants Him to be fair. Fairness demands and immediate response. Fairness says, "look at this injustice happening--God, You need to do something about this--NOW!" Justice makes room for the grace and mercy of God to be recognized and embraced. As the pastor pointed out--were God fair instead of just, the apostle Paul would never have found Christ.

But within me, I still struggle. And as much as I hate to admit it--I struggle more with the perceived lack of fairness in my own life than in the greater injustices that happen in the world. The way I am treated is very important to me. When I am overlooked, hurt, inconvenienced, annoyed or put out--I feel keenly how unfairly I've been treated. Since I have an unwavering belief in God's Sovereign Control over all of life (no maverick molecules), I begin to inwardly rail against Him that He's not playing fair. After all, He could change the circumstances of my life, or make that person behave better toward me, right? Before I know it, I'm becoming more and more angry with God for not "taking care" of people and situations that have caused pain in my life.

This morning, the realization of my selfish focus hit me hard. And the truth of God's justice became crystal clear. Who am I to order God about? Who am I to expect the details of my life to be arranged to my exact liking--so I can sail through life without a care in the world? Who am I to secretly wonder if God really is just?

The proof of God's justice is in this--I am still around. In all my railing about how "unfair" things are toward me, I have generally missed seeing the amount of grace He has extended towards me. God's justice has given me time to embrace His grace and mercy in my own life. Were He fair, I wouldn't have survived the selfish actions, angry words, sinful thoughts, or disobedience for which I'm responsible.

Wow. It's a leveling moment when we come up against eternal truth like this. I asked God this morning to show me every area of my life that needs repentance. I begged His forgiveness for being so full of pride, I couldn't see the truth for what it was. I thanked Him for His justice in giving me time to come to repentance. And in it all, I praised Him that He is not fair.

stranded on an island

The kids and I went to Pizza Hut today to celebrate their completion of at least 500 minutes of reading in the kcls summer reading program. They got their own personal pan pizzas and since reading 500 (or 5,000 for that matter) minutes is a no-brainer for my crowd, we thought, "Hey, free lunch!"

While waiting for the pizza, the kids busily colored their place mats. Rosalind noticed there were questions for discussion. She was intrigued by one question and posed it to the rest of us. "What one thing would you bring with you if you were stranded on an island?

I remember hashing out these types of questions myself while in school. Knowing the types of answers people generally give to this question, I was interested as to what their answers would be. Assuming they would begin to list "survival items", I was surprised by the way they read the question literally. Since the question didn't specify being on a desert island, they figured any island would do, so they picked England. At that point, they figured any of the following would be acceptable: a plane ticket home, a big bag of money, or a loaded debit card (both of the latter affording for the opportunity to enjoy their time in England and allow them to purchase a ticket home!).

Impressed with their creative interpretation of the question, I posed the desert island angle. They immediately agreed among themselves that they'd bring--a plane!

The whole conversation reminded me of a anecdote I read once about a famous individual (perhaps Mark Twain) who when presented with nearly the same question as on the place mat promptly replied he'd bring along a well-known book on shipbuilding!

It's moments like these that bring me joy in having a major role in educating my kids. They are the moments that boost my confidence and whisper encouragement to my heart. These are the moments that keep me going.

on the job training

One of the occupational hazzards of being a Christian public speaker is that God often gives me opportunities to "practice what I preach." When I'm scheduled to speak on Menu Planning, we have a crazy week that makes me throw out my planned menu and feel a failure in that area. When I'm planning to talk about chores training, I have a week where my kids would perish in the flames before cleaning their rooms! Last week, was (another) chance to practice choosing joy as a mom. Jennifer was hospitalized for another kidney infection from August 31 to September 3rd. This time, she was on antibiotics that should have stopped this infection, but didn't. We are now facing more testing, uncertainty and a referral to a clinical psychologist who specializes in kids who have trouble with toileting issues.

I'd like to say I'm thrilled I have this opportunity--but I'm still working on that. I speak on this topic on 9/23, so that gives me about two weeks to get my act together!

So, I forge ahead....making myself choose joy. I choose to have a better perspective on my situation. The weather is lovely and cheering....our bills are paid and we have a great home and neighborhood to live in....we have a wonderful church with a supportive network and many people praying for us....Jennifer's health issues truly could be worse--they could be life-threatening...I have the distinct pleasure of staying home with my children and the privilege of schooling them at home...we live within driving distance of one of the world's best hospitals for children--with not only competent staff, but an atmosphere of care for the whole family....I have faithful friends to support and uphold me and a loving husband to walk this path along with me...I have a God who has promised to never leave me or forsake me...(I could keep going...)

This gets easier as I "count my blessings". I guess that is a huge key to choosing joy...keeping the blessings in my life at the forefront when the difficulties loom.

I think I need to look at my "on the job training" from a different perspective, too. Instead of seeing the hardships as if I am forced to grit my teeth and be happy--I need to look at them as an opportunity to practice being grateful for all the ways God has blessed my life. That's a lesson I don't mind learning...and training that will make my job so much easier.

sand dollars and sea shells

Just over a week ago, my dear, sweet friend, Kay (or as my kids call her "Gramma Kay"), entertained the kids and me for a couple of days at her lovely beach house on Hood Canal . It was a delightful time (as it is every year) and the weather cooperated beautifully for playing on the beach. One highlight was the looooong walk we took one morning to see the sand dollar beds.







Now, I'm assuming I'm not the only one who didn't know that sand dollars live in these HUGE beds together and when they are alive--they are black. When the water becomes extremely shallow in the beds, they lay down and somehow burrow a bit under the sand. When the water is a bit higher, the stand up on their sides (see next pic). There must have been hundreds of thousands of these sand dollars in beds scattered all over that area of the beach.









Another amazing part of that walk was the discussion we had about sea shells. The kids observed that many sea shells that are plain on the outside are beautiful on the inside and vice versa. Kay and I shared how we had often observed the same pattern in people. Just because someone looks great on the outside, doesn't mean they are beautiful on the inside. And, some of the people we've known who weren't much to look at on the outside had some of the most beautiful hearts. We also observed that just in the same way a shell's beautiful, pearly inside is usually made by the animal inside experiencing some sort of irritation, so it's the same with people. Usually, the "beautiful people" I know have experienced some sort of tragedy, pain or hardship that, while difficult to endure while it's going on, helps produce the loveliness left behind.


I love the Deuteronomy 6 principle of parenting--teaching your children God's wisdom, "...when you sit in your in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up...."--and I'll add, "When you're on the beach!"

Life is full of teachable moments. There are so many lessons all around us just waiting to be used to help our children understand the ways of the Lord. I love how He encases nuggets of wisdom in the most surprising places....like sand dollars and sea shells!

waving goodbye to summer

So, I'm finally sitting down to blog...it's been a fun, busy, challenging summer and I haven't been as disciplined in blogging as I want to be. I sometimes have a hard time balancing what's important.

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As I type this, I'm watching my 4 year old pour out water onto our sports court and watch facinatedly as it spreads out before her. Such are the images of summer that stay with me...the time when the press of schedules was less and the chance to pursue activities that we would call "a waste of time" during the rest of the year. After all, there are "places to go, things to do".

Right now I am reminded of how important it is (as fall approaches) to create my routines in such a way as to make sure we have time to enjoy simple moments that don't appear to have much value on the surface...

I guess this is one of the things that reminds me of one reason homeschooling appeals to me. Yes, I know that routine is important, but being able to lay on your stomach on the carpet all afternoon with a good book isn't a waste of time, IT'S SCHOOL!

I remember when I first started "officially" schooling at home and (not being a "school at home" type--but having been schooled as a child) often questioning myself as to whether particular activities could be "counted" as school. I mean, who would have thought sorting socks is math for a young child? And don't get me started on the possibilities that exist with sidewalk chalk!

So, I'm off to do some planning for this year. I'll make sure to fit in all the important subjects like math, science, history....and pouring water onto the sports court!

Random thoughts

I confess, I've kind of been waiting for inspiration to hit--but when it does, it's usually not the most convenient time and then I forget what it was (yes, the pleasures of middle-age approaching!)

Recently, I was paging through a Target ad and noticed they had large totes on sale. Why do they list the sizes for large plastic containers we use in our garages in LIQUID measurements? It's true. The ad will list "30 gallon tote". Do you know anyone that stores liquid in these things? I don't. Why don't they just make it easy and say something like,"20 winter sweaters size" or how about, "1 Christmas Tree worth of ornaments size" or even, "15 sets of Lego size". That way, I'd at least have an idea of what I could store in them!

Well, it's that sleepy time of afternoon on a warm day that makes even typing too much exercise, so I'll sign off after just a few words....

Washing soap!

Today I survived my 9-year-old son's birthday party! 9 little boys, ranging in age from 6-11 (two of them mine)....whew! Overall, it went well. We only had to confiscate 3 weapons (fake, of course) and keep them moving, moving, moving--which is right within their nature. I admire my friends who have only sons and seem to thrive in that environment. I love my boys, don't get me wrong, but boys in general wear me out! The are constantly in motion and emit the strangest sounds and odors. And, I've also found that you know you have boys when you have to wash a bar of soap! Mind you, boys are also very sweet and even a smelly, sticky, sweaty hug fills my hear with joy.

I've never bought into the modern rhetoric of "boys and girls are basically the same." It truly has me wondering if the proponents of it were at some time struck on the head with a blunt object!? I have friends with only girls who confidently tell me that they have at least one who is "just like having a boy." As much as I love you women, I must tell you....you are wrong! Here's an idea. One of you can volunteer to take my boys for a day and make sure you take them grocery shopping (because the male anti-shopping gene WILL kick in on aisle one). Then I recommend you put them in the same room and expect them to sit quietly, play quietly together or color. Finally, when you have them change for bed (you are keeping them for 24 hours, aren't you?), make sure you gather their clothing (which I promise will be scattered into the farthest corners) and a take a whiff for good measure. These are just a few suggested activities, you may want to just do the same things you do with your girls and see if they behave exactly the same way. Let me know how it goes. In the meantime, I have some bars of soap to wash.

Tummy Bears and Kidney Infections

My four-year-old has a bear in her tummy. At least that's what she tells me. Sometimes he plays on a playground in there (located in her bladder) and sometimes he visits his grandma (who, apparently, lives near her left kidney). She has quite a story to tell of his escapades. While I find it cute and am amazed at the detail she puts into her stories about him, I confess to some discomfort in it all, too. You see, she had 3 kidney infections in one month this last spring. She was twice hospitalized for treatment at Seattle's Children's Hospital. The doctors have yet to tell us how she came by these infections--so far the tests have been negative. Presently, we are still in limbo with it all and I hate living here. If she gets a fever for any reason, she must have testing to make sure her kidneys aren't infected. So we make sure she takes her meds and we wait. We wait for follow-up appointments, wait for test results, wait for calls back from doctors, wait... to see where this will take us. In the meantime, she continues along in her happy preschool world. She doesn't seem concerned at all about any of this and her tummy bear must be a friendly bear because he doesn't seem to frighten her. I guess I'm glad she is coping so well with it all. I wish I could visit with that bear in her tummy. Maybe he could tell us what's up. After all, he is on the scene.

Rock Collecting

I've been carrying a big bag of rocks slung over my back. They are heavy and cumbersome, but I continue to schlep them about. They are a collection of grievances I have. Each time I feel hurt or offended, I pick a rock up, wishing I could throw it. But, nice girls don't throw rocks, so instead, I write what hurt me on the rock and put it in my bag. They add to my burden, though, and make me tired. Sometimes, they poke through the bag and scrape me. Other times, I can't do the things I want to do because my bag is too heavy or awkward. It especially makes being in relationship difficult--especially with my husband who is responsible for most of the rocks. Those closest to us are often in the position to hurt us most frequently. Two days ago, while reading my Bible and praying, I sensed Jesus drawing my attention to my bag. I don't know how He saw it, I try to put it out of sight when we're together. Sure enough, He wanted to talk about it. He made me open it up and we looked inside. I began to show Him all the things that have hurt me and shared the way I'd been good about not throwing rocks at others. I figured He'd be proud of me for being so good at not retaliating. He just looked sadly at me and said it grieved Him that I felt I needed to hold on to these things and burden myself by carrying them around. That got me to thinking. Why was I holding on to all these hurts and offenses. I guess it was partly because I wanted to remind myself about how righteous I was not to take revenge...which smacks of pride. Another reason was because a part of me feels like choosing to let go of them, through forgiveness, would let the offender off the hook too easily...as if it's really my business how God deals with them anyway. Jesus was so patient and gentle with me as I processed all these thoughts. Mostly, He just pointed out that by holding on to my "rocks of offense", I was only hurting myself and limiting my own progress. He offered to take the whole bag from me. I slowly handed it over (old habits die hard). And guess what? My heart really did feel lighter.

Confessions of a technological ignoramus

I admit, I am technologically something of an ignoramus. There are so many technological features in my life that I have barely a rudimentary understanding of how to operate. We finally got our new computer up and running. Our geek-for-hire politely referred to our old system as [ahem] "geriatric"! True, it was something of a dinosaur, but I will miss having time between downloading pages to make the bed or brush my teeth! It probably sounds like we were still on dial-up, but no, it was a DHL connection. Our old computer was just that--OLD! I feel kind of sorry for it (is that the appropriate pronoun? ships are called her, but computers just seem so gender neutral). Truth be told, I can actually relate to it. I feel like I lack enough virtual memory to process the situations I am faced with daily as well! Technology doesn't help with this problem. I think we just have too many options in life to process. Take my blender for example. With the push of a button, I can: grate, blend, shred, grind, mash, liquefy, frappe, stir, beat, puree, chop, whip or mix. Under any given circumstance, I have no idea which of those items I truly need, so I just hit the highest setting and hope for the best. My digital camera offers any number of settings as well and I just stick with point and shoot! And don't get me started on computers--the options are nearly limitless, especially when online! I'm always mystified by the language in the pop ups. They always seem to be asking me questions I can't answer. Just for one day, I wish my computer would ask me useful questions, for example, "Would you like a load of laundry washed, dried, folded and put away?" YES! Or how about this one, "My sensors indicate a diaper needs changing somewhere in the vicinity, would you like that taken care of?" YES! But no. The questions I get always leave me peeking through my fingers while I click on what I think might be the right answer and hoping I don't do something stupid and irreversible. Maybe some day soon, some engineer who's still wet behind the ears will come up with a brilliant idea to create a piece of technology operated by a simple on/off switch--it will be a retro-revolution! Let me know when it happens. Until then, I'll be busy reading the manual to the blender.

The Big Pink Spot

I dropped my older two at camp today--after 3 years with the oldest one, I thought it would be easier, but I still felt a little choked up while driving away! Of course, that could be due to the fact that I was leaving my two best workers behind. This means a lot more chores for me......which brings me to the title of this blog.

Housework, to me, has always seemed a lot like the big pink spot in the Dr. Seuss book, The Cat in the Hat Comes Back. It never really goes away--it just moves from room to room to room! First, the spot (mess) is in the kitchen and then it gets transferred to the bathroom, then the family room and so on...and before you know it, it's all one huge blob and somehow, no series of little cats ever show up at my house to blast the whole thing away!

So, this week, it's up to me, my 6 year old, my almost 4 year old and my exhausted husband to fend off the pink spot...wish us luck!

Sprinklers and Otter Pops

Today I am learning something about the wide world of computers from my delightful friend, Michelle, who knows so much more about all of this than I do and has agreed to hold my hand through this process.

Today is a beautiful, sunny, run-thru-the-sprinkler kind of day....not too common for even June in Western Washington. The kids (all six--with my four and her two) are having a wonderful time together and eating Otter pops to their hearts' content!

First Blog

Yay, today is the day.