Finding fun wherever we are

Once a month, the daddy goes out of town on business for two days.  That leaves me home with the four rascals, a wood-fired furnace, and chores to keep up with. I don't mind, and am very thankful that he gets to work from home so much.


Yet juggling breakfast, dirty diapers, a cold house, and furnace needing to be lit on those days can be tricky.  My solution last time was to bring them all down into the dirty old basement with me. Well, everyone except for the baby--that's what exersaucers are for, right?


In the basement we found all sorts of fun.

Towers to be made out of kindling:

Dirt to sample:

More kindling towers:

And at last, a glowing, warming, hearty golden fire.

This post is to encourage all my fellow partners on this journey of motherhood.  We have all the tools needed to care for and teach these smart, active little people. Sometimes it take a little more creativity and deep breathing than others. Sometimes, when everything seems crazy, and the children come into the smelly basment, suddenly, everything slows down, tears are dried, and the toy box gains some extra blocks.

Making a mess to clean the house

Since the daddy started working from home a few months ago, we have been striving and (sometimes) struggling to find our daily rythmn as a mommy and kids.  I try to avoid letting them run screaming through the house making forts out of books, couches, and blankets (not that it doesn't still happen, I just try to avoid it).  This means that I spend more direct time with them.  


Spending more time directly engaged with the girls and boisterous boy means that I have less time to devote to laundry, toilets, and the huge list of other things important to keeping our home running. I have been thinking up creative strategies for getting things done WHILE spending time with them. Sounds impossible, right? Add finger paint, paper, a bitter cold winter day, and three antsy children and it sounds even more like a disaster.


But it is not. 


I would like to personally introduce you to my bathroom. With a beat up, knotty, bug eaten wooden floor, ancient lead-paned window, a stained porcelain tub, and funky old vanity, it is hardly a showpiece.  A perfect space for creativity to go wild, don't you think? Add a modern front loading washer to the equation and warm wood heat so children can paint shirtless and suddenly magic can happen without mommy worrying.



We gave our children an easel for New Years. I quite willingly allow playdough to liberally be sprinkled underneath the dining room table, and allow my kitchen floor to be coated with flour, yet, ironically I am not ready to have paint smeared all over the walls. 


My solution?  The bathroom of course! 


While the baby slept,  I set the older children up with no shirts, lots of paper, finger paint galore, and q-tips for smearing it around. They had a blast while I clean the toilet, washed my diapers, and even vacuumed the bathroom cobwebs. 

When they were done, I had a eureka moment. I put them all in the dry tub, gave them each a sponge and a liberal pile of baking soda.  I set them to work scrubbing the tub, which quickly became coated with a green paste (baking soda+green paint).  I think they enjoyed the scrubbing as much as the painting.  I cleaned up all the brushes in the sink while they scrubbed, then washed the sink while they played in the clean tub water.

The prior to cleaning sink

Over an hour later and I had three happy children, a clean bathroom, and lots of paint sodden paper. Success!

On (not) Cooking with Children

 Without fail, if my children discover me in the kitchen, three wooden chairs are dragged into the room. Three beaming faces show up at my elbow, and six little hands start picking, prying, and poking at what I am doing.

Sound familiar? How does one balance fostering a love of learning and helping in the kiddos, but also retaining one's sanity?

I no longer allow three additional cooks in the kitchen with me and breakfast time.  Cooking oatmeal or scrambling eggs are both very simple, quick preparations. "Helpers" usually make the process take twice as long and make it three times messier. My two year old is a very energetic egg beater--but also an expert egg spiller. The girls are wonderful stirrers, but somehow the butter disappears whenever they are at the cooking counter. So when I need to cook quickly, the kitchen gate goes up.

Eager much?

Yet I do love to share our love of cooking with the kids. They seriously enjoy being in the kitchen, and are learning wonderful things, such as counting, following directions, and more advanced coordination to name a few.  

So when I am making something that I can break down into simpler tasks for them, and when I am not pressed for time, I like to let them in the kitchen.  Snack foods such as muffins, trail mix, or food processor foods like dips for veggies are all fun. They get the immediate gratification of tasting what they make, and they are not time intensive for 

me.

Pretty much what it feels like with them in the kitchen.

Today, we made muffins, and what a glorious mess we had. I gave each child a separate job--beating (spilling) eggs, chopping (dropping) nuts, and stirring (flinging) flour.  Of course I got slightly frustrated when things started to slightly unravel, but they all loved the process, and were gleeful about their participation in preparing the day's snack.

                                 

Motley Crew

December Views

A "morning moon" is what we call a full moon still visible when we wake up.

Sometimes 20 degrees and snow can look downright cozy.

Because snow is always more fun in leggings.

Parenthood

My life is not orderly. We do not wake in the morning to an outline with sequential bullet points. Usually, we are awoken by the 6:30 child announcing that a potty visit is necessary. I roll out of bed, groggy, trying to stave off the baby's hunger until his siblings allow 5 minutes of sitting down.

This home involves a good deal of books randomly pulled off of shelves by an invisible imp; its floors are crumb and leaf magnets, and somehow there are always, always, apples stashed under the couch.

 The people are often crying--tears of hurt, anger, frustration. Yet for every moments of sadness there are twice as many moments of happiness.  There are days of instruction and discipline. Then there are days where the only remedy is a long walk in the rain, a strong cup of coffee and prayer. And some days are amazing revelations of fun and industry where the dishes actually get done.

Yet these little people--the rambunctious, mischievous, disobedient, joyful, exuberant souls that they are, wake up every morning with a new vigor to discover, explore, and learn.  Their parents are their teachers, their role models, their first loves.

The weeks may blur, current events may be neglected, but as each day folds to a close, I am reminded that there is no better place to be in the world and no better job or ministry to pursue.  My mission field is my home.

These Moments

I have given up on the idea of taking life slowly, or even taking time to smell the roses. Both of those ideals require having time to take.  Not that there is never a spare moment in my day, but the rush in my life is not one created by me. Rather, it is super imposed on my by a giddy, needy, messy, joyful batch of children and a spinning, topsy turvy existence. 


 Instead, I try to learn to recognize a slow and delicious moment when I find one.
Like baby toes sleeping soundly in a perfectly quiet house.  Or hanging laundry on a breezy day while a wee new babe sleeps soundly on me.  And those evening walks to pick piles of wildflowers. 


Those are the moments when I take a deep breath and feel an overwhelming wave of thankfulness for the frantic muddy, deliciously crazy life we have.