neighbor update

Thank you for praying for our neighbor, Jay, and his family. I'm saddened to update this blog with news of his passing. My heart is heavy this morning for his wife and two children. Pray for them.

please pray

I don't often post prayer requests on my blog, but this one is very close to home.

My neighbor was in a terrible car accident the day before Thanksgiving. Would you please keep him and his family in your prayers?

www.prayforjay.org

Thanksgiving humor

At the dinner table last night…
Llama Papa: “Boys, our house is really clean right now. We need to work together to keep it clean for Thanksgiving in two days.”
Twin A.: “We need to keep it clean for TWO WHOLE DAYS?”
Twin B.: “I think we should just leave.”

Recurring conversation with the preschooler…
The Preschooler: “Are we going to eat turkey on Thanksgiving?”
Me: “Yes.”
The Preschooler: “Is it already dead?”
Me: “Yes.”
The Preschooler: “So we’re going to eat a dead turkey?”
Me: “Well, we’ll cook it. But, yeah.”
The Preschooler: “Who killed him?”
Me: “Um. The turkey farmer I think. They call it butchering.”
The Preschooler: “Did it hurt his feelings?”

Yes, I fully expect that he’ll eat nothing but green beans and mashed potatoes tomorrow.

And my personal favorite, yesterday before naptime…
The Preschooler: “I made a card.”
Me: “Nice! What does it say?”
The Preschooler: “Dear God, thank you for making me.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I’m beyond thankful for my house full of noisy boys. (Well, most of the time anyway!)

canned carrots

What possessed me to buy these? I must have had some recipe in mind, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was. That’s how long these have been sitting on my shelves. Going through the pantry today, I scooted them over to the side—after all, they’ve been there forever. I’m used to seeing them every time I put away groceries. But today I stop and think: why am I keeping these?

I collect things in my heart, too. Grudges, ways of coping, reactions to people. Some of these served a purpose for a time—it’s the way I got by. But now, today, they’re useless. I don’t need them anymore. So why keep them?

It’s time to throw out the carrots.

painting tips

Preschoolers love paint. Moms don't. It's messy and, well, it's messy.

I'm afraid I can't offer you much advice for making it less messy, but I DID repurpose an item destined for the garbage can into a cool paint holder.

Introducing, the camping egg carrier.


I bought this eons ago when it was just me and my husband darting off for a weekend of camping in California. Six eggs was plenty. Pancakes one morning, scrambled eggs the next...no problem. Enter three hungry boys. Now, six eggs don't get us through one morning. Last time I packed for a camping trip, I laughed at my tiny egg holder as I was putting an 18-count package of eggs into the cooler.

It's amazing how life changes.

Anyway, since our last camping trip, the egg holder has been floating around. The preschooler likes to carry things in it, so I let him play with it for awhile. I was just thinking it was time to toss it when the preschooler asked, "Can I paint today?"

Aha!

Introducing: our new paint tray. Perfect for a morning of messy painting!

time

There’s never enough of it. Like most of you reading this blog, I’m busy. Juggling three kids, a part-time job, a work-from-home editing gig, and finishing a novel has proven to be a bit much. And before you get too impressed, keep in mind that by “finishing a novel” I mean “spending a few hours editing and writing at some point every week.”

Since there’s never enough of it, I’m learning to make time for what’s really important to me. I try to carve out time each day for each of my kids. Sometimes it’s just ten minutes of one-on-one conversation at the end of the day, or a game of yahtzee or chess (I’m learning! And believe it or not, the kids are teaching me).

Last week, I was story mom in Twin B’s class, and I decided to surprise him and take him out for lunch before my volunteer shift. I dropped the preschooler off to play at a neighbor’s house and caught B. as he was waiting in line to go into the cafeteria. I hope I never forget the look on his face when I called his name and invited him out to lunch. His entire face lit up, and he just grinned as he followed me out to the van. We chatted over burgers at Wendy’s and he kept saying, “I just can’t stop saying thank you!”

It wasn’t just the burger he was thanking me for. It was the time. He knows I’m busy and have a million things I could be doing with an hour of free time. The fact that I was choosing to spend time with him—not because I have to, but because I want to—made a huge statement to him. You’re special. I enjoy you. You’re worth my time.

We all get 24 hours a day. How will you spend yours?

Where are my chickens?

Every day is an adventure with a preschooler in the house. Honestly, I’d forgotten how cute a three-year old can be. He loves going to school like his brothers (two mornings a week), and helping me with jobs around the house. Amazingly, his favorite “job” right now is cleaning the toilets. And everywhere we go, he checks the bathroom and often announces, “That potty looks dirty. They should clean it.”

Hilarious.

But by far my favorite part of this age is watching his imagination explode. Some days, he’s a cat, crawling around and meowing and telling me “the kitty likes to be petted.” Other days, he’s a “good guy,” keeping all the bad guys away with his assortment of pretend guns. (Don’t lecture me. I lost the battle against non-violent toys long ago.)

Even as I type, the preschooler is managing a small farm of chickens in a laundry basket. Invisible chickens, of course, which makes it tricky to play along. He just yelled out, “Mom! My chicken got away!” I tried to grab the invisible chicken, but when I gave it to him, alas, that was not it. He was looking for the OTHER chicken.

So he grabbed two plastic sandwich bags and put them over his hands for “glubs” and is off to recapture the escaped chicken.

All this fun and it’s only 6:08 in the morning.

The farmer has just invited me into the chicken fort and assured me that he’ll keep me safe. Because, according to the farmer, "the chickens really like you."

Which is why I love having a preschooler.