MommyCoddle

simple schooling : part 1

I'm sure we can all vouch for the fact that sometimes it is the simplest of things that are the most successful, the most enjoyed, or the ones that make the biggest impression on our children. The box that the toy came in is more fun than the toy. The pots and pans get more attention than the expensive entertainment gadgets. A handful of homemade play dough provides longer-lasting fun than the television.

For the past few weeks, I've found that to be true with our homeschooling days. So I thought I'd take a few posts to share some simple little things we've added to our day that have made big impressions. 

One of my "parenting frustrations" lately is a very common one -- getting my children to follow directions. 

I send them upstairs to brush their teeth and put on pajamas, only to find them dancing in front of the mirror with the hairbrush. I send them outside to feed and let out chickens, only to find that they let out the chickens but forgot the feeding part. 

There are lots of different reasons for not following directions--distraction, forgetfulness, sometimes even stubbornness.  

So we've added a simple "following directions" game to our homeschooling day. 

I sit a jar of colored cubes on the kitchen table and the girls start the game by waiting in the school room. We begin the game with very simple directions:

Walk into the kitchen and bring back 1 yellow cube. 

I do not repeat the direction. And I am picky -- if they don't walk, they didn't follow directions. Slowly, the directions get more complicated.

Take 1 green and 1 red cube into the kitchen and bring back 3 green and 1 white cube.

Again, I don't repeat the directions, and I see them putting memory cues to work -- one whispers the directions to herself. One mimes the directions with her hands while she walks into the kitchen. 

Then I begin to add some physical activity to the game :

Skip into the kitchen and bring back 2 green cubes and 1 brown cube.

Do 5 push-ups and then .... etc. etc. 

Eventually I get really tough on them. I give them a task to do while holding in their minds what cubes they'll be responsible for. Yesterday, we played right before lunch...This was their final direction to follow. We had worked our way up to one this difficult and I did repeat it one extra time:

Touch your toes ten times. Walk upstairs and wash your hands. Come back to the school table and take 3 green cubes and 1 black cube to the kitchen. Bring back to me 3 yellow cubes. 

This game adds so many great things to our day. For starters, they love it. (And the mommy with pregnancy brain has to write down the directions on a post-it note in order to remember them.) It gets them moving. And we refer to it often during our day, when I do give them multi-step directions. "It's just like the follow directions game." 

It's nothing earth-shattering. It's simple. It's making a big impression. And lots of good changes.

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Have you seen the new "branch" of the Simple Living Media family? Simple:Homeschool

Happy Friday and happy weekend friends. I'll be back with a few more simple school ideas next week, barring any major changes in the size of our household. :) 

a bun in the oven

Yes, there is still a bun in my oven. My disappearance is due to "nesting" vs. a new little babe in our home. 

And equally exciting, okay not equally, but still exciting, is that there is now a working oven back in the mommycoddle kitchen! It has been so long that when I sat down this morning to plan meals for the week, I couldn't think of anything that didn't require only the use of the stovetop. I'm definitely out of practice.

I am very close to being able to utter those three little words : "I Am Ready". But there is still a short list of things that I'd like to accomplish before the baby arrives. 

In a last minute burst of enthusiasm and inspiration, Dan and I are talking about painting the old baby crib versus using one that was given to us. Thumbing through old issues of Martha Stewart baby can be a very dangerous thing when you are nesting. 

I truly mourn the loss of MS Baby and Kids. They were full of so much inspiration. These are a few clipped pages from and old MS Baby. And two are the nursery style that has always been in the back of my mind as I decorate and prepare my baby's rooms. Timeless. Simple. Peaceful.

Hope your Monday is full of inspiration and sun, as it is here. Spring must be around the corner -- my yard is littered with bicycles, skateboards and chalk. And the chickens are doing a good job of scratching through my dormant flower beds.

Happy Monday, friends.

motherhood

With all the baby talk around here, it seemed somewhat appropriate that this mama would drop her calf yesterday morning, just inside the fence on the edge of our property. She belongs to our neighbor, but my girls "adopt" these calves as if they were our own. 

There was much concern over this calf. Lots of checking in. Lots of reports coming in to me in the house. And a handful of stern warnings from me about nervous mama cows who need to protect their new calves. And the flimsy piece of barbed wire standing between you and that mama.

The patient nudging of this mama cow reminded me of where I was last week in my feelings about motherhood. I found myself in another season of feeling at the end of my rope. Feeling like nothing I was saying or doing was making a difference. Feeling like I somehow was failing at guiding my children in the right direction. Feeling like none of my children were inherently wanting to make the right and good decisions. Feeling like I had a house full of attitudes, that unfortunately and embarrassingly, probably matched my own. 

I shot an email to my husband at work -- what do I do? How do I handle this? What should I say to them? 

He gave me a few ideas. But a few minutes later he wrote me another email. Just remember, he said, it takes a long time to train a child. It’s like doing the dinner dishes. I get upset at the girl’s lack of attention but they are slowly (very slowly) getting better. It will take time for them to get in the habit of doing the job with the right amount of focus. Then it will take a while for them to learn how to do it right. Then it will take a while for them to anticipate what comes next so I won’t have to tell them. But this all takes time.

I keep reminding myself of that first and last line. It takes a long time to guide and train my children. This all takes time. 

Telling them once, doesn't equal a change in heart or an automatic change in the way they do things. They need to be reminded. Reminded again. Taught. Shown. Guided. Encouraged. And reminded again. 

Change comes. But it often comes slowly. Much more slowly than I'm willing to allow. But it does come, and is coming, if I look closely. 

If I give up, get frustrated, get angry, then no one is learning anything except the wrong way to handle a situation that requires resilience and endurance. And I wonder why I'm not seeing any change.

But the changes are there.

They're not leaving the sofa cushions on the floor when they're done.

The boots are (generally) making it back into the boot box.

She's trying to walk away from the situation instead of reacting in anger.

They're drying the dishes without complaining and reminding.

She's talking it out with her sister, before raising her voice. Sometimes.

This all takes times. 

It is the mantra that breathes an extra portion of patience into my mothering. 

cracking the whip

I like to think that I get more organized with the birth of each child. In reality, I think it almost becomes necessity. And that must be why my grandmother, with 15 children, seemed to have an efficient method or system for just about everything. I learned so much from her.

I've been feeling the urge "to crack the whip" (as my mother would say) around here the past few weeks. I'm at the point where my body isn't able to do all that my mind knows needs to be accomplished. I can't get it all done by myself. And my children are definitely eager to help when I present it well. 

They love a system. A routine. (And anything in chart-form that hangs on the refrigerator.) 

One of our usual "nagging sessions" comes in the morning and the evening as I dole out the daily chores. Who's going to feed the chickens? Who did it yesterday? Who feels like they always have to let out the chickens? 

I'm finding that this simple visual system is saving me boatloads of nagging and the jobs are getting done much more smoothly.

The chart I'm using is from Joan Goldner at BusyBody Books. She makes great planners, but this blank 7 column grid pad is by far my favorite. It's 3 hole punched and magnetic. Ours hangs on the fridge. (I also got an email in my inbox from BBBooks last week. They are moving warehouses and having great sales right now...)

I'd love to hear what chores your children help out with around the house. Do you have a system? A chart? A list? How do you crack the whip? :)

oh, monday morning

My children will tell you, I love Monday mornings. The promise of a new week laid out before me, sinking back into our weekly routine, the pleasure of being able to ease back into it all with a slow start to our morning. 

But alas, this morning could use a do over. A rewind. And that's okay. A breath. A little space. A little quiet. A little room to get that breath, and I think we'll all be just fine. I hear laughter in the other room.

Meanwhile, as we all start fresh, here are a few links I've been stashing away that never made it "to print" last week. 

Enjoy. 

And happy Monday morning. 

Target + liberty of london = beautiful temptation.

Martha Stewart's Every Day Food iphone app looks very good.

cinnamon bun pancakes : (need no words)

If you read nothing else this morning, take a few moments to read this: Simple Mom:  Fighting The Tyranny of the Urgent at Home

New Orla Kiely bags. A girl needs a new diaper bag with each baby, no?

Martha's Uniform Natural HOME line

These peeks around a baby room at L'E Dans L'a

This week's tumblr finds

mouse is a good cat

I'm popping in here this morning for two reasons..one to remind you that in case I don't show up tomorrow to announce the Moleskine giveaway--you crazy journal addicts, you!--you can assume we've lost our power. We are in the throes of our second blizzard in the past week. We were lucky with the last storm, but this time I'm prepping for it to go out. 

The second is to share these two pictures that I've been loving lately. A little before and after of Mouse, Mary's cat. I have been meaning to get a good picture of him, all grown up, all grown into all that fluff and fuzz. He is a patient sweetheart. 

Mouse, circa June 2009

During all of Mary's "doctor stress" in the past few weeks, she had to go in one afternoon for blood work. It was horrible. Her fear-reaction to any shot or blood test is so strong, that the pediatrician was even offering a sedative. Needless to say, trying to get her out the door and in to the car that afternoon was difficult. 

When we finally got her outside, she was still so upset and afraid. Dan sat her down in the car and then bent down to scoop up Mouse and put him in her arms. "Take him with you to the doctor." he said. After initial shock to what her Daddy had just said, all her energy and attention that was focused on the impending shots was focused on her cat curled up in her arms. And she settled right down.

Meanwhile, Mouse has never been in the car, except for maybe falling asleep in the back while it has been parked in the driveway. I had visions of driving to the doctor's office, Mary screaming in the back seat about shots and needles, Mouse clinging, claws out-stretched to the back of my neck.

But, he surprised me. He fell asleep in her arms while we drove to the doctor. A few times he opened his eyes to look out the window at the passing cars and then settled back down. He could care less, really. 

When we got to the doctor, we set him down in the seat while we went inside. He curled up again and fell asleep, waiting there quietly when we got back. 

He was the perfect antidote to the panic and the fear. 

Mouse is a good cat to have around.

thank you

Even though I turned off the comments on my last post, the outpouring of emails, phone calls, messages on twitter, has been overwhelming. I turned off the comments because I didn't want anyone to feel pressure to say anything. I turned off the comments because sometimes it's just good to say what you need to say and be done with it, expecting nothing in return. But that isn't to say that the messages from all of you that have still reached me, haven't touched me deeply, because they have. 

If you ever question the goodness and care of people, the relationships that have been forged through blogging, I can attest to the fact that both of these things run strong and true. 

The trip to Hopkins with Mary was eye-opening and reassuring. I left feeling nothing but impressed with the care and concern of the doctors, with the way they communicate with each other and respect what each one brings to the table. You know that you are in good hands. 

Again, sparing the details, and after much back and forth with the doctors we are going to take a cautious, but relaxed approach to what has been going on with her. All those difficult words and procedures are going to be put on the back burner, hopefully never to be brought up again, if the course of action we are taking right now takes care of the problems at hand.

They were optimistic. Cautious, concerned, but optimistic that we didn't need to jump in the deep waters of diseases and treatments.

Again, I cannot say it enough, thank you. I hope that I haven't worried you all too much, but frankly, I was worried. All those possibilities and probabilities were a bit daunting to think about. But I feel good about where we are now. 

Sitting in the crowded waiting room of the Hopkins Children's Clinic, one can't help but be overwhelmed. I found myself catching eyes with other mothers, filling out forms, juggling babies on laps, pulling entertainment out of our bags of snacks, crayons and coloring books. They were looks of curiosity -- why are you here? of understanding -- we're going through something too. I sat in my seat and watched a mother testing blood sugar on one child and dolling out snacks, and filling a syringe and giving a shot in the arm of another child sitting in the stroller beside her. I went to the bathroom where a mother had every stall filled. Her son with no arm below the elbow, a toddler waiting patiently on the changing table, another in the other stall. And she was juggling it all with grace and patience, and even had the energy left to joke with me about taking up all the room. 

As we were leaving, Dan said to me, "It is amazing how well we can adapt." How suddenly when faced with something difficult that we think we could never or would never handle, we do. You look across the room at another mother and say, "I could never do what she does." And yet, if you needed to, you would and you could. 

I was thankful to walk out of that clinic with answers. With a good outlook for the future. With an end in sight. But I was also impressed, strengthened and inspired by the families that surrounded me in that waiting room. 

weathering the storm

Stuck to my fridge are two sheets of paper ripped out of a spiral notebook. They are scribbled with notes and words, addresses, appointment times. Some scary words that I don't want to think about. Some possible procedures and roads that I hope we don't have to travel down. 

Without getting in to a lot of the details, every day last week found us in another doctor's office or lab. We are trying to piece together some of Mary's medical history and make sense of what might be the root of some of her troubles. The migraines. Some issues with her feet. The Lyme's Disease.

It's funny, but I find that I'm not overly worried yet. At least I don't think so. But I'm anxious for answers. Tomorrow we head to John's Hopkins to see a few specialists. I'm grateful to have such great medical care at our back door. 

But I would be lying to say that all of this isn't weighing me down. The back and forth to doctor's offices. Mary's deep fear of each new person we see, each blood test we have to take. It's agonizing. Even things like when do you fit in the grocery shopping? suddenly become extremely complicated issues.  

On Friday, I felt myself snap. All these worries, and exhaustion and back and forth suddenly came spilling out as I found myself lashing out at my children. It was totally uncalled for. It really had nothing to do with the problem at hand but had everything to do with my need to relieve some of the pressure bubbling up inside me. 

After sitting at the kitchen table alone for awhile, letting some of it go, I finally got up, took a breath, found them and apologized. On the outside, I was better, I was okay, but this aching funk still lingered on the inside.

It seems my first reaction in these kinds of moments, days, weeks is to walk away from this blog. It feels like the last thing I could muster up are words. I'm good at learning lessons and reflecting after the days have passed, but when I'm in the thick of it, I don't want to talk about it or think about it. But these days have got me thinking about what exactly it is that pulls me out of these funks. How do I shake the cloud hanging over my head?

I still don't know the full answer. 

But one thing I do know, is that there is healing and relief in writing it down. There is value in telling your story. There is comfort in putting words and sentences together, even if it is only a few. 

There is something about writing it down that sheds light on the situation -- whether it is a lesson learned, a new perspective or a releasing of some of that pressure. 

And still, still, in the midst of all of this, there is still so much to be grateful for. As I sit here at my desk and the sunset is hitting the cornfields and the little stone church across the road, after a day of grey and clouds, the light is already changing. 

on my mind

Good Morning. A few things this morning that are fresh on my mind...

*My oven is broken. And all my meals for the week fall in the category of crockpot or stovetop cooking. It makes for an interesting menu. I may even try my hand at some crockpot dessert if I get really adventurous.

*Mary has a tooth that is practically hanging out of her mouth. And love her as much as I do, she's a total wimp about this kind of thing. At this point, I could probably blow on the tooth and knock it out. Or maybe if she just had a good sneeze? Much drama is taking place because of this tooth. It is requiring several extra doses of parental patience.

*I am seriously in love with Andrea's idea of a year of (weekly) lists. It has me thinking....

*This site has sucked me in to page after page after page. I would like to whitewash my whole house.

*I got an email this weekend that said, "70 days until your due date!" It made my heart skip a beat. This pregnancy is moving along at lightning speed.

*I really, really want to knit a super chunky blanket, something like this one in Martha's photostream. But sometimes I think I'm kidding myself. I've barely knit five inches on the baby sweater I started at the beginning of winter. A blanket? Seriously, molly.  

*Elizabeth was out in her socks this morning. I told her to put some shoes on. That was not what I had in mind.

Another really, really good giveaway coming up this week.

And we have blue sky and sun. 

Happy Monday, friends.

2009 : in photos + words : february

: 25 February 2009 :

| Changing Our Pace  |

And I realized there's still tomorrow, except for a few things:

Tomorrow, my children will be a little bit older.

And tomorrow, they'll be carrying around memories of today.

And I can stand behind them and rush, rush, rush them through to tomorrow.

Or I can stay with them, and alongside them, and savor them. Today. ....

: 15 February 2009 :

| Cause For Celebration |

I feel like a proud mother. Or maybe a proud mother hen. We've been waiting for this day since September. And lately, with all the spring-like weather, and rooster hanky-panky, I had a feeling it would be happening soon ....

 : 17 February 2009 :

| Not Enough Protein At Lunch |

I began to literally walk from cupboard to cupboard, looking inside and trying to determine what I could possibly cover in chocolate ....

dreams

Last night I had a dream. Actually, it was early this morning--in that time after Elizabeth woke up, coughing and congested and got into bed with me--the two of us falling sound asleep again. I dreamt that I had written a book. Except that it was still in the beginning stages, unpublished. I gave the pages to my mother, sister and brother-in-law to edit and correct. But I couldn't be there with them while they edited, because I had to be with my brother--we were out on the lake, on his speedboat, that was somehow kept afloat by balloons on long strings of red and white baker's twine. All the boats on the lake had these baker's twine balloons. 

When I returned home, they gave me a copy of my edited writing. They took the liberty of rewriting my work, with their changes, and discarding the original. It was written on wide-ruled lined school paper, in cursive, by my 8 year-old niece. There were pages of kid illustrations stapled to the back, and rainbows and squiggly lines down the sides of the pages. Words were missing from sentences, written in the margins with arrows pointing to where they belonged in the page.

My mother sat across the kitchen table from me as I read, eager to hear how much I loved their changes, what a good job they'd done with it, how it was such an improvement. I couldn't understand where my professional-looking original manuscript had gone. I didn't understand why my niece had re-written this serious work, and how they thought it was remotely "okay" to submit it to my editor. "Well, your sister's typewriter was broken, so we had Abby write it for you. She did such a lovely job, didn't she?" 

I read through their changes, their "improvements". They had changed almost everything. My heart-wrenching details were replaced with babyish sayings, and goofy cliches. I felt stunned. Angry. Betrayed. Heartbroken. Perplexed. Bewildered. Defeated by all the work that was ahead of me, again.

And then, because dreams never resolve themselves, never tie themselves up in a tidy bow before moving on, I woke up. 

And there you have it, a peek inside the mind of a tossing and turning, fitfully-sleeping pregnant woman. I really had no intention of this being the post I wrote this morning, but it was so vivid in my head, I had to put it down somewhere. I had to remind myself not to be mad at my mother and sister when we talked on the phone today. That it was just a dream.

I'll be back tomorrow. I'm bringing back a "simple question". I need some suggestions, and I know you all are just the people to ask.....

when it rains it pours

And while that statement could be true about our weather, as of late--it is also true of my life. 

First of all, thank you for all of your well wishes for Mary during her recovery from Lyme's. It is a slow and steady recovery, but thankfully, as of yesterday, I think I can say she's pretty much back to normal. No more croquet mallet crutches, no more "Tiny Tim". 

And just when you think life might settle down again, and things return to normal......you drive your oldest daughter to the barn to go riding and decide to hang around because it will only be a short ride. And you stand there in the ring and watch her pony spook, buck and bolt. And you watch her fall hard onto the dirt ring. And she stands up, bleeding from her mouth, nostrils caked with dirt, cheek scraped--scared, but still tough. She tells you her arm hurts, but she can move it, so you relax a little.

And then, brave little girl, gets back up on that pony one more time. Tears still stealing out from the corners of her eyes.

And here we are a few days later. Emma fractured her radius, but thankfully it is only a thin crack. No cast, just a soft splint. The first night was downright brutal. Tears, pain, exhaustion and things being said like, "I'm scared I'll never be able to fall asleep and I'm so tired." or "I don't feel like myself. I just want to be normal again." Moments where you wonder who is hurting more--the little girl, or the mother.

My friends keep checking on me--asking how I'm doing--one child recovering from Lyme's, the other with a cracked wrist. But really, I'm doing fine. Aside from a topsy-turvy school schedule, and floors that billow with dog hair, dust and bits of wood from the woodstove--we're all doing fine. Hot cups of tea in the afternoons, a table littered with craft supplies, too many episodes of Little House on The Prairie, and visitors bringing sugary sweet cookies and quarts of chocolatey ice cream, all help speed up the healing process, I believe. 

I'll be back here next week with a little more regularity. I have a few things I've been meaning to share once I'm off full-time nurse duty.

Happy Weekend. And thanks for caring about our little family.

**the bucking pony picture is actually not from this incident. same pony, old bucking episode. she stayed on for that one:) **

tiny tim

Hello, friends. Wow, it's seems like ages since I've been in this place. I feel like I'm still catching up from our holiday weekend away.

My sister and I basically house-swapped for the holiday. She came here for Thanksgiving and managed to take care of our chickens, dogs and cats. While we went her direction, where my mother also lives--and took care of the animals on her farm. (Though she left us more animals to take care of, she had a more "annoying" situation--as our older Lab wandered the valley the whole time we were away...) Things are never problem-free when you go away, are they? 

To top things off on Sunday morning, little Mary woke up unable to move her right leg. She was in excruciating pain--couldn't move, couldn't touch her skin and it took us two hours to finally get her moving and out of bed. But by mid-day she seemed back to normal.

Monday morning she woke up again with the exact same problem--this time it took me almost three hours to get her up and able to move--and we hobbled straight to the doctor's office.

She'd had a very bad, sore and swollen tick bite at the base of her hairline the week before and in my mind I had the strong suspicion that she had Lyme's Disease. But there was no "bulls eye" rash, and it was very early for symptoms to start to appear.

After a very frustrating experience at the doctor's office--where I felt like he wasn't recognizing the fact that Mary was faking health and lack of pain in order to not be embarrassed in front of him, he did blood work to determine what was bothering her--(yes, I was the mother of the hysterically screaming child in exam room two)--but basically the doctor thought we were looking at "morning stiffness". ??

She continued to go down hill that afternoon and by dinner, I broke down and called him back--convinced that she at least needed to begin a round of antibiotics--something I'm never quick to put my children on--while we waited out the four days for her test results to come back. It's horrible seeing your children in pain, especially when you don't know exactly what is wrong with them or what to do to help.

But the doctor stood fast, and didn't want to start any meds until we knew what was exactly wrong. I hung up the phone frustrated.

Thankfully, the next night, her test results came back earlier than expected and my suspicions were correct--she has Lyme's Disease. And while I hate to see Mary have it, I'm glad we know what's going on and how to help her have some relief.

So now, she's walking around the house like an 80 year-old woman with bad hips. One morning she requested two croquet mallets to help her get around--which has led us to refer to her as Tiny Tim.

The antibiotics haven't kicked in yet, but I can tell she's relieved to be getting something to help her feel better. She also loves the fact that I'm offering her unlimited amounts of yogurt--to help restore some of those good bacteria the antibiotics wipe out. 

As my aunt said the other day, "It's always something, isn't it?" But we're hanging in there. Relief is around the corner. The sun is out today. Emma is horseback riding. The girls have a "baking date" in the afternoon. And I have some crafty plans up my sleeve.

Each day holds both it's own trials and it's own treasures.

lessons from the landscape

Sometimes I wish I had it all figured out. That I'd learned all of life's lessons so that I didn't need to be taught anymore. I wish my well of patience was overflowing and that when faced with annoyances, stresses, messes, unwelcome news, I could handle it with more grace and calm.

Yesterday my car broke down.

My laptop keyboard broke, leaving me to type this post at an excruciatingly slow speed.

I missed an ultrasound appointment.

My vacuum cleaner broke.

I felt the heavy strain of the same thing that always wears on me lately.

My two year old is waking way too early, napping way too briefly, and taking way too long to fall asleep.

And my house feels dirty and disorganized.

I can hear my mother's voice in my head, "this too shall pass." And I've said to my husband many times that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, yet for some reason we're on a treadmill.

Yesterday afternoon when Elizabeth woke up from her nap, crying, I went in to hold her, hoping to lull her back to sleep. I wrapped her in quilts and we sat in the chair, in her dark quiet room. Within seconds I felt the heaviness of her little body against mine and I heard her breathing switch to the raspy rhythms of sleep.

As I sat there in the chair, I tried to talk myself out of my mood. I tried to regain perspective. I prayed. But man, I just couldn't. I so wish I could have gotten that fresh breath, that new perspective, but it just wasn't coming. And I knew that I was being faced with one of those days where every reserve of patience is required. But I was either finding my reserve empty, or I was just unwilling to dip into it.

I have to say, I'm learning as I type this post. That sometimes on the hard days it feels easier to just rage against all that's wrong in your life. It feels easier to be in a bad mood. To snap at your children. To curse the mess. To allow yourself to believe that everyone else has it all together, has everything in their house working, has every load of laundry folded and put away. But if that is the path you choose it leaves you feeling worn out, exhausted, disappointed and does absolutely nothing to change the situation.

I've been thinking lately how the view out my window has changed. In what feels like the blink of an eye, the trees have shed their leaves, the zinnias flower heads have turned brown and gone to seed. But now, with the landscape stripped bare, it is amazing what hidden beauty comes into view. The trees are littered with nests. Tiny works of woven art. If I stand in the girls bedroom and look out the window, I can see the shimmer of the sun hitting the stream that runs at the back of our property.

When stripped bare, the landscape is revealing its inner beauty. When taken back to bare bones and twigs there is still something to behold.

In a small sense, yesterday stripped me bare. Some of my leaves were blown from the tree. And unfortunately, afterward, there wasn't much beauty to behold.

But I'm still learning. I'm still a young tree. I'm growing. And maybe next time when things seem to be falling down around me, there will be a little more beauty to behold on the inside.

when all else fails, go to the stream

Each day, as part of our morning routine, I have the girls write a few things in their Gratitude Journals. I've found that it helps them reflect on their day and remember that they have many blessings and much to be thankful for.

Lately, I have to confess, I've been wallowing in some worry. Letting it get to me when my worry can do nothing to help or change the situation.

And it struck me on Monday, that I needed to be keeping a gratitude journal of my own. So I traded in my teacher hat, and became a learner, just like my children, spending a few quiet moments attempting to refocus my worry into what gifts and goodness I already had in my life.

Armed with my new attitude, and inspired by a much-needed day of sunshine, we blew off much of our typical school work and headed outside to the stream.

I packed my camera, my FLIP and we headed out to a newly-discovered spot in the stream--accessible now that the cooler temperatures have dried and pressed down the once long and overgrown grasses and vines. A turn in the stream that has been catching logs and debris for quite some time. It makes for a magical spot. Slightly nerve-wracking for the mother on the shore, but still quite a place to explore.

A little musical montage for you to enjoy....and lest you think that all is magical and perfect here on Thomas Run--allow me to let you in on the behind the scenes:

The movie is set to music because Mary was crying desperately  in the background since I wouldn't let her cross over the stream on the tree trunks without my help (in her very slippery, new cowgirl boots).

The movie is spliced together in order to edit out one child who wasn't completely clothed after needing to "use the facilities" once we got down to the stream, which subsequently led to each child needing to "use the facilities" Funny how that always happens.

And the littlest and probably the most fearless in my brood explores the edges of the water without any care or knowledge of the consequences if she were to fall into the water. (You'll notice the camera lurch when she slips on the shore, and I prepare to dive in and save her.)

Enjoy.

Happy Wednesday, friends. What are you thankful for today?