and finally 2 Timothy 1:7

You might (or might not) want to read parts 1, 2, and 3.

Leslie had stopped by an open house that morning and was excited about the house.  While it was a little odd looking on the outside (true), she said it was great inside (also true).  Most importantly, it was in the very community where we most wanted to live--and it was only 5 minutes from Chris and Leslie.  It was For Sale By Owner, so she had met the owners and talked with them at length--about the house and even more about us.  (Leslie sold us to the owners!)  They said they hoped to hear from us and gave their contact information to Leslie, who passed it on to us.

I knew immediately this was the house.  In the car on the way home from Chicago I looked up the listing and called the owners.  They were thrilled to hear from us--and so quickly!  They could tell we were serious right away.  We talked for a bit.  They explained that they would soon be empty nesters.  They had planned to sell the house in a year or two, but had suddenly felt like they should sell it this year.  So they hurried and put it on the market.  It had only been listed for two days--and already they had a lot of serious interest.  I explained that their house was exactly what we were looking for, that I trusted my sister-in-law's opinion (which is so true--she should be a real estate agent), and that we wanted to put together an offer for them right away.  (Crazy, right?  But it felt normal, really.)  I further explained that we were out of town but on our way back--we just needed a little time to get back home and put together an offer.  (We'd never been involved in a For Sale By Owner, so we had a little research to do too.)  They explained that they had other offers coming in that weekend, but they would keep us updated and that they hoped to see one from us.

The short of it is this:  They received two other offers that weekend--cash offers--but they accepted ours!  Wow.  And do you want to know why?  Our late closing date.

Because of the late closing we'd asked for (without really knowing why) on the house in Wisconsin, we had to ask for a late closing date on the house in Ohio.  It turned out the owners didn't want to move out until later in the summer.  Our ridiculously late closing date was like a Godsend.  (It was a Godsend.)

Here a couple of other tidbits:

Because we (Leslie) found the house so soon, we hadn't had a chance to find an agent.  Since this was a FSBO house, not having an agent worked in our favor (along with the late closing date).

Because it was a FSBO deal, we had to put  together the contract by ourselves--which happened in the middle of the night.  (I think we finished at 2 am.)  We were so clueless.  My dad the lawyer gave us some good advice (some of which we followed and some of which we didn't), and there were resources online. But it still wasn't enough.  If only we had a complete Ohio real estate contract to use as a template ...Wait!  We did!  We had a copy of the contract our Dayton-area agent had drawn up for the little house we had tried to make an offer on in Dayton.  Another Godsend.  Seriously.

Also, thank goodness we'd felt that sense of urgency--and that we'd continued to act and press forward.

Even that Montessori school in Dayton worked in our favor.  It got me to Chris and Leslie's house!  They'd moved to Ohio after we had left the first time, so I'd never been there before.  It was a million times easier to take the step of faith to live there (and buy a house I hadn't seen) because I had visited back in March.  I had a picture in my head.  I knew it was a beautiful, wonderful area.  I knew it was a ward where we would be happy.  I knew that Greg's drive to Dayton would be bearable--because I'd done it myself.  Most of all, I knew that I wanted our families to be close.  I really don't think I would have been capable of considering living there if I hadn't visited a month earlier.

I am generally not one to ascribe every little thing that happens as "the hand of the Lord."  I tend to think that life just happens, and, while God is watching over us, He's not a micro-manager.  I also believe that He doesn't always give us specific guidance, even on decisions that seem very big to us (like buying a house).  But I have to acknowledge that in this particular case, my general beliefs do not apply.  I cannot doubt the Lord was working in my life on some very specific things.

A few weeks after all of this--after we had a contract on both houses--Greg and I were asked to speak in church.  We were assigned to talked about Proverbs 3:5 and D&C 6:36, which also happen to go along nicely with one of my favorite scriptures, 2 Timothy 1:7.  As I prepared my remarks, I experienced an impression from the Spirit that, in this case, the hand of the Lord had been very involved, that God had been carefully arranging things for us to end up in the right place and in the right house. I had the specific thought that He had quietly prompted the owners in Ohio to put their house on the market a year early, and in that particular week.  I suddenly realized how many little things (small and simple things) had worked together in our favor--from when we put our house on the market here to our morning spent in the temple instead of choosing a real estate agent.  God had worked a miracle in our lives, and I could not deny it.

So I am taking this opportunity to thank God and acknowledge His hand.  And I am reminding my future self to "doubt not, fear not" and instead "trust in the Lord."  God has given me "a spirit ...  of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."  I know God loves, and, perhaps more importantly, I know God cares.

... and Doctrine & Covenants 6:36

This is the long, boring (but important to me) story of the our house in Wisconsin and the one that will become our home in Ohio.  Part 1 is here. And part 2 is here.  This is part 3, and the last part will come soon.

David and Mary at the Chicago Temple in April.
This is the day we learned what house would become our home.

Since we would not be buying the only house that made any sense, Greg and I expanded our options.  We considered schools we would not have considered before.  We considered houses well outside the ward boundaries we wanted to live in. We looked way above our price range and way below our price range.  We went back to the drawing board and considered renting or even base housing.  But the feeling was always no, no, no.  But still we couldn't shake the sense of urgency. We must have gone through the decision-making steps described in D&C 9:8 a million times, only to experience again and again the big fat stupor of thought described in verse 9. It felt like we were walking in circles.  In the dark.

Finally, one day the obvious dawned on us.  We had enlarged our search so wide that we were considering homes halfway to Cincinnati.  We realized we shouldn't live halfway to Cincinnati--we should live all the way to Cincinnati.  We should live near Greg's brother!  As soon as the thought entered my mind, I felt peace.  The darkness and despair disappeared.  Suddenly, I felt like I was moving forward instead of stuck turning circles.  Greg called his brother, who was in London at the time, to talk to him about it.  And I talked to Leslie.  We all felt this could be a really special time for our families, to live close to each other.  I can't believe how light and happy I felt!  And I felt a confirmation that this would be a blessing for both of our families.

Leslie immediately jumped into action helping me understand the area,  like school and church boundaries, as well as desirable neighborhoods and communities.  She helped us with real estate agent recommendations, and, in the meantime she sent me listings of houses in good locations and offered to go to any open houses.  The only problem was that the market was piping hot in the community we wanted.  It was the kind of situation where houses were selling within hours!!  I felt stressed about being able to buy a house in that kind of environment.  We knew we should plan a house hunting trip to Ohio soon ... perhaps that very weekend.  But we felt even more strongly that we needed to go worship in the temple that weekend.  We had so much going on that it seemed unwise.  Except that the feeling was so strong that it seemed unwise not to go.

So that Saturday (our house had been under contract for only a week--it seemed like the longest, most intense week ever!) we piled everyone in the car and drove to Chicago.  Greg and I took turns at the temple.  I took the kids to the nearby children's museum, and he took them to lunch while I was inside the temple.
When I was inside, I felt such peace that moving to the north-eastern suburbs of Cincinnati was the right decision.  I felt it was important to live as close as possible to Chris and Leslie. I felt peace about being able to buy a house in the right community.  Most of all, I felt God's love for me and my family.  I knew I could trust Him.  He was taking care of us.  I had no reason to fear or doubt.

When I walked out of the temple, I had a text from Leslie:  She had found our house!


P.S.  D&C 6:36

Proverbs 3:5 continued

Sara with Evan and Eliza at their home in Cincinnati, March 2013

Once we had an accepted offer on our house here in Wisconsin, we could get serious about looking for a house in Dayton.  Even though we weren't particularly excited about buying a house--we especially weren't excited about having to sell another house--we had crunched numbers, debated, and discussed, always coming back to the idea that we should buy instead of rent.  Because we had lived there before, we knew the area quite well, and we thought we had an idea of where we wanted to live.  We decided we wanted to return to the same church ward as before.  There were two areas outside the ward that attracted us, but, ultimately, we felt it was important to go back to our old ward, and we were excited to be close to the friends we had left behind.  We felt we could move forward knowing we would buy a house and knowing what neighborhoods we would consider.

Now I need to go back in time for a moment.  Back in February I had decided it was time to get serious about Mary and what the heck she was going to do about school.  (By the way, February is usually way too late to make schooling decisions for the following fall.  Remember that, parents of young children.  My excuse was that I'd had a baby and temporarily checked out of life.)  I'd communicated with some people at the school district I thought we would move to, and, while they were very helpful, caring, and professional, it became clear to me that Mary would be better off at a Montessori school for another year.  (I write that sentence like it was no big deal.  The decision was agony.  I lost a lot of sleep over Mary and school.  Heck, I still lose sleep over Mary and school.  I probably lose even more sleep over David and school. And, yes, I even worry about Sara and school.  I clearly have a problem.)

It was obvious which Montessori school she would attend, so I contacted them to schedule a visit.  They were totally full next fall, with a long wait list.  I remember hanging up the phone, shocked.  I knew very well that February is late in the game.  But I had agonized about the decision!  How could there be no space for her??  I felt panicky in my chest and sick in my stomach.  And, then, those feelings melted away ... and I felt peace.  I knew that things would work out for the best for Mary.  I had to have patience while those things worked out.  But God was aware of her (and me) and it was going to be okay.  (By the way, I still don't know for sure what "okay" will be.)  The school had agreed to look at Mary's application and file it away.  They promised to give her preference the following year.  But, surprise, a few days later, after they had received the application, they called to tell me they really wanted Mary.  They created a space for her! So I scheduled a visit for a couple of weeks later, and they agreed to hold Mary's spot until we had a chance to see the school.

That's when the girls took our road trip to Ohio.  Sara, Mary, and I.  (What was I thinking?!  Sara was congested and in the middle of her fussiest phase.  I was sleep-deprived and utterly exhausted--this was in the middle of getting our house ready to sell.  Mary seriously saved the day with her helpfulness, patience, and positive attitude.)  Mary and I (and Sara) visited the school.  Mary loved the school.  I, on the other hand, had some pretty serious reservations about it.  I shoved my reservations aside because I could see no other alternative.  I knew it was a blessing that there was a space for Mary at that school--a door had been opened for us, so we passed through the door, even though it still felt like we hadn't yet reached the light.  There was no doubt in my mind that public school in any Dayton area district was not going to be a good fit for Mary the following year, so after our tour of the school, I registered her there.

Even though we weren't ready to look seriously at houses in Dayton yet--our own house wasn't even for sale yet--I kept having the feeling I should look at a few houses with our agent while I was there.  So she met up with me for an hour after our school tour and we looked at a few houses--in a neighborhood that met our needs and seemed to make a lot of sense.  Unfortunately, the houses we looked at had some serious issues and were quickly crossed off the list, but we weren't really in the market so it didn't matter ... yet.

As it would turn out, the most important part of our trip was staying with Greg brother's Christ and his family in Cincinnati.  It was a fast trip, but my sister-in-law Leslie convinced me to stay an extra day.  Leslie and I are close, and it was so great to hang out with her.  It was good to see Chris and the way he serves others.  And I loved seeing my niece and nephews.  They are such good, good kids.  Eliza lovingly took Mary under her wing.  And Luke and Evan were just as sweet as could be with Sara.  Best of all was the feeling in their home.  There was a feeling of love and peace and faith and dedication to the Lord.  Incidentally, I also: went to church with them, made the drive to Dayton and back, saw what the area where they live is like.  But, of course, at the time I didn't think much of any of that.

Okay. Now let's fast forward to mid-April.  We accepted an offer on our house, so we were in a position to look seriously at homes in Dayton.  That very weekend we discussed what our plan should be. We wouldn't be moving until the end of July, so we had plenty of time. We would schedule a time to go house hunting later in the spring.  But we felt this great sense of urgency!  And we could not shake the feeling.  We needed to find our house in Ohio ... right away!

Now I am going to try even harder to make a long story short.  (Believe it or not, I've been trying all along.)  Suffice it to say, Greg and I felt we needed to find a house almost immediately but we didn't feel good about anything!  There was nothing in the ward and schools we wanted that we felt comfortable buying.  The obvious thing to do was to wait ... but we still felt that sense of urgency.  We discussed and debated for hours on end.  Finally, one morning we woke up and realized we should buy a house I'd seen back in March that was still on the market.  I had immediately crossed it off the list back then because it was too small-- just over half the size of our current house.  But everything else about it made sense.  And we realized, though we would have to make some sacrifices and change some of the ways we lived, we could make it work.  Greg and I talked about what we would have to do to downsize--we even went through the house and noted much of the furniture and belongings we would have to shed.  Then we called our real estate agent to put together an offer.

We felt confident in our decision.  We knew we had carefully considered many, many factors.  And this house clearly made the most sense.  In fact, it was the only one that made any sense.  We felt good about our offer, but also nervous.  I remember kneeling at my bedside and praying very specifically, "Father in Heaven, we really believe this is the best house.  We have done our best to make the best decision we possibly can.  We feel good about this choice.  So if buying this house is not the right thing, it is in your hands now, and I will trust that you will take care of us."

Our offer was not accepted.  In fact, due to one little accidentally missed email, the sellers didn't have a chance to see our offer before they had accepted another one.  It was disappointing.  But also a relief--I felt this was the Lord looking out for us.  Only I was totally confused.  Because we were back to square one.


To be continued again ... final post coming soon.

Proverbs 3:5

This is the story of two houses, the house we live in now and the house we will soon live in.   It is not a particularly interesting story.  But in all the hub-bub of preparing to move and all the anxiety I feel on the verge of such a big change, I felt like I needed to take a few minutes to write down the story of the two houses.  To remind myself of how the Lord takes care of us and how He blesses us.  

When we bought the house here in Verona, we felt peaceful about it.  This was back in 2010 when the economy was terrible, the markets were practically frozen, and no houses were selling.  It seemed crazy to buy a house when we knew we would have to turn around and sell it in just three years.  It was hard to imagine the real estate market ever being back to "normal."  It was hard to see how we could plan on being able to sell the house at all, let alone avoid losing a ton of money in the deal.  Logically, it didn't seem like the best idea ever.  But we knew renting was not going to work, and we felt strongly that buying a house was the right thing to do.  We would just have to trust the Lord that it would all work out.

We right away knew this was the  house.  It didn't have all the bells and whistles of some others.  It didn't make us swoon.  But it felt like home.  We felt comfortable and peaceful, and right away I could imagine our life here.  I knew we would be happy here.  As we moved forward with the purchase of this house, I felt a confirmation from the Spirit that we would be able to sell it and it would not be a financial hardship.  Sure, over the short years we have been here I have worried about selling the house.  But it was my choice to worry.  God had already told me not to worry.  (Yes, I have an addiction to worry.)

Suddenly, when Sara was a month old, we realized we needed to get serious about selling our house.  We started preparing the house, chose an agent, and came up with a plan.  We decided to list the house at the end of March.  There was some debate about it.  Spring was late this year, and the market would be slow until the temperatures warmed up. It could perhaps be to our advantage to wait and list the house later, when things were hopping ... if they got hopping.  We decided, no, we felt like we should list the house early.  Greg especially felt strongly that it was the right thing to do.  

We had a lot of work to do.  Our house has been well-maintained and we've tackled some projects here and there since we bought it, so there was nothing major to do.  But it was important to us that our house be in tip-top shape and show well.  After months and months of our lives being in disarray (I wasn't super productive during my pregnancy), there was a lot of sorting, repairing, organizing, cleaning, arranging, donating, and disposing to do.  (A LOT!!)  Of course, this all happened when Greg was in the middle of the most intense writing phase of his dissertation.  And we had a baby who wanted to be held all the time! Miraculously (let me say that again, miraculously), we managed to get our house on the market just before spring break.  We got the house as pristine as possible and then took our mess and fled to Texas for 10 days.

Going to Texas was a great idea.  We had a million showings while we were gone!  I was so glad we weren't there.  I couldn't imagine having multiple showings every day while we were trying to live in the house.  (Little did I know...)  I will be honest:  Of course I hoped we would sell the house while we were in Texas.  But, alas, not a single offer the first week. (I knew it was a lot to hope for, but I couldn't help it!)  It was still the dead of winter in Wisconsin, so, while there were a gazillion buyers prowling around Verona (which is a highly sought-after area), no one felt like biting--on anything.  So we returned to Wisconsin and to a house that we would have to keep perfectly clean and organized.  Eek.

Once we returned home, we continued to have multiple showings nearly every day.  Apparently there were a gazillion more buyers looking in Verona.  It was insane.  Our house was not our own.  Our lives were not our own!  My kids couldn't have friends over.  My kids couldn't bring home their schoolwork--it went straight to the recycling bin.  No laundry could be piled up.  No baby paraphernalia left around.  Meals could rarely be eaten at home.  I couldn't make any plans or appointments lest I need to get the house ready for a showing.  I did nothing--NOTHING--except clean my house.  Insane, I tell you.  And not sustainable.  I was going to break.  Our whole family was going to break.  I had no doubt our house would sell that spring.  But I wept at the thought of our lives continuing like that for another month or two. Wept and wept. Would one of these two gazillion people who were tromping around my bedroom and opening my closets just please buy my house?  

It was an odd spring, our agent, who has been selling houses in Verona for 20 years, explained.  She said there were tons of buyers.  But they weren't buying.  They all just kept looking and looking and waiting and waiting.  Since nothing was selling, none of them felt like they had to act.  Even though it would probably end up being a seller's market once the weather broke, for the time being all the buyers felt like they had all the time in the world.  Our agent (and Greg) predicted (correctly) that once the first couple of houses sold, they would all get snapped up.  But in April it was like everything was frozen in place as we all waited to see who would bite first.

Meanwhile, Greg and I both had the impression that we needed to spend the summer here.  Originally, we had thought we'd get out of here as soon as school was out and spend the summer crisscrossing the country, possibly leaving Greg behind to finish up his dissertation.  But the feeling was strong that we should stay here until August.  We didn't know exactly why ... perhaps Greg would need a lot of extra time on his dissertation, or we needed to continue to fulfill responsibilities and foster friendships here, or our kids needed the time and stability.  Whatever the reason, we trusted that God knew best.  So we agreed that we would compromise on price to get a late closing date.  (If we ever got an offer ... )

So our house was only on the market about three weeks.  (I have to remind myself that three weeks is not very long--how fortunate we were.  But it felt more like three months!  Or more like an ETERNITY!  Deep down I felt peace that it would sell, but my surface emotions were all stress, worry, and exhaustion.)  When we received the offer on our house, we considered it carefully.  And we knew what we should do.  Very quickly.  Almost immediately the thought of how we should counter popped into my head.  It was a clear, peaceful, calm, confident feeling deep inside (in contrast to the anxious, tight feeling in my chest that I often feel but I have learned is not the Spirit).  Greg felt good about it too.  Countering as we did required trusting in the Lord, but we have learned (sometimes the hard way and sometimes by seeing great blessings) that the Lord knows best!  Our counter was accepted, and we felt very fortunate.

Besides the waiting game on this end (lots of waiting--we asked for a three month closing!!), we needed to find a place to live on the other end.  With an accepted offer on our house, we could finally get serious about finding a house in Ohio.  More stress and worry and despair were coming.  But so was a great blessing. 

(Now I need to go to bed.)  To be continued ...

P.S.  Proverbs 3:5

Odds and ends

Except for this sentence, I will not type "Sara" in this post.  Believe it or not, there have been other happenings in our family.

1.  David and Mary have been ice skating a couple of times.  The first time was when I was in the hospital, and the next time the kids brought their two grandpas who were in town.  This winter was their first experience ice skating.  But David's school does a roller blading PE unit every year, so ice skating was a breeze for him.  And Mary caught on quite quickly too.

Mary's first time on ice skates

David's first time ice skating

Grandpa Mike on ice skates!  Grandpa Steve was there too.

2.  Speaking of winter sports, one afternoon David and Mary had a blast sledding on the hill that separates our house from the chocolate factory. Actually, it was more like free falling than sledding.

Mary faces down the cliff.

David climbs back up.

 3.  Mary lost her first tooth last night!  Hooray!  (And the Tooth Fairy even remembered to come ...  at 5:00 am this morning.)  That first lost tooth really seems to mark the beginning of being a big kid.  The end of being really little.  I am glad we have another tiny kid in the wings, otherwise I would be feeling pretty sad, I think.


4.  Greg and I are in charge of the science fair at David's school again this year.  Now that we have done it once, it's pretty much a breeze.  But it probably couldn't come at a worse time in our lives.  Oh well.  At least this year we remembered David's science project.  Helping him do his project was literally the last thing on our science fair to-do list last year.  Isn't that sad?  This year David is growing crystals, and we didn't start too late.  I don't like science, but I am very glad David does.


5.  Valentine's Day came and went.  Thanks to Amazon 2-day shipping I did get my act together and get nice little gifts for the kids.  I did not, however, manage to wrap them in pink and red tissue paper or hide them at the end of a trail of paper heart cut-outs or attach Valentine-themed candy.  I presented the Valentines's Day gifts in their cardboard Amazon boxes.  This was a huge let-down for the kids.  I guess presentation is everything.  And I thought I was doing so well!  Oh well.

Mary with her loot.  Greg asked me, "When did Valentine's Day turn into Halloween?"  Good question.

Mary wrote about Valentine's Day at her school.  She drew a picture of her class in a circle passing out valentines.

She wrote:  I love valentines because I get to celebrate at school and I love valentines because we can put up hearts.

David was very sweet this year about Valentine's Day.  He was thoughtful about which kids got which valentine.  Then when it seemed he might be sick and miss the party, he was sad because he explained that the whole point it to watch everyone open their valentines and see how happy they are.  (He wasn't sick, so he didn't miss the party, and he got to see everyone's happy faces as they read their valentines.)


6.  We are getting ready to put our house on the market.  It is a lot of work!  And everything is harder with a baby, even an easy one.  We are super busy!  I guess the busy-ness keeps me from feeling how sad I am to be leaving.  Yesterday I was in the car and a rebroadcast of Garrison Keillor happened to be on the radio and he said this thing about the beauty of new snow and a neighbor snow blowing your sidewalk for you without wanting to be thanked and suddenly out of nowhere I burst into tears.  I felt so sad about leaving Wisconsin.  I always describe myself as a Westerner, having spent most of my life in Idaho, Colorado, Arizona, California, and Utah. My roots are definitely in the West. But I think Madison might actually be my home.  It is difficult to leave.


7.  I am very worried about Mary's school situation for next year.  The Montessori school we like in Dayton is not accepting new students for next year, because of her birthday we cannot register her for first grade, and she will simply die of boredom in kindergarten, especially half-time kindergarten.


8.  Speaking of school and situations, I have been talking a lot with David's teacher the past couple of weeks.  Talking a lot with your child's teacher is generally not a sign that school life is problem-free.


9.  At the beginning of the school year David drew this awesome picture of Schoolhouse Beach on Washington Island in Door County.  It looks just like it!  The water in Lake Michigan was super cold.  But he was brave and swam out to the diving platform.  And then he was even braver and jumped into the water.  (Really, it took a lot of guts to do it.)   I love that he remembered that experience and created this picture in art class.

To me, courage is jumping in cold water.  Here I go!

Grammy used David's picture in a recent workshop she taught on facing challenges in our lives.


10.  Sara--oops, I mentioned her name--has been to visit both Mary's and David's classes.  Last week we visited Mary's class twice.  Anna, Mary's teacher, stopped everything so the sweet little kids could come see Sara.  Mary was so excited she couldn't even stand it!  In fact, she bawled when I left because it was so emotional for her.  And today I took Sara for a special Sara Show and Tell in David's class.  The whole class gathered around while David, beaming with pride, talked about his sister.  Oh, Sara, you are so loved and adored.

Thoughts during the blizzard

Thursday we got 20 inches of snow.  These are some of the things on my mind, as I looked out the window and saw this ...

1.  I have wonderful friends.  Tuesday night my friend Shannon gathered together some of my closest friends from our church congregation to celebrate this little girl.  She knew I was not comfortable with a baby shower.  This is my third!  And my second girl!  But I definitely think this girl is worth celebrating--and I love a chance to get together with dear friends.  So Shannon hosted a Favorites Party.  Everyone brought 4 of one of their favorite things--one for me and three to share with three other attendees.  I was spoiled--I got everything!  The others drew names, so each of them went home with three items.  It was so great!  I loved it!  We sat around the fire, sharing our favorite things--from cleaning supplies to lip balm to chocolate to ingenious little trinkets that keep your kids occupied and so on.  So fun!  It was perfect.  It was low-key and warm and comfortable--and I loved being together and having a chance to catch up with dear friends. This is such a busy time of year, so I am especially touched that people would take time to celebrate friendship and a new baby.  Thank you.  (I'm talking to you, Rachael and Ashley and Stephanie and Jen and Judy and Hillary and Hilary and Shawna and Chelsea and Janis.)  (There were also dear friends who were already out of town for the holidays--you were missed!)  I am grateful for the love and support and service of the amazing women in my life.

2.  I think I am a nice mom for not cutting out the Christmas cookie decorating tradition this year.  It does make a good activity for a snow day.

It is hard to make frosting without tasting a little.  Oops.  It is hard to taste just a little frosting.  Oops.  In sum, sorry, Baby.  Hope you enjoyed your sugar rush.


3.  Why is my Christmas tree filled with princesses?

4.  My kids did not have school on Thursday.  That was during the blizzard.  I expected them to have school on Friday.  They did not.  So their winter break began a couple of days early this year.  I sort of wanted one last day of "all my kids are in school" bliss.  Sigh.  Thankfully, Greg was around Friday and willing to help out--so I could escape the house and spend some time with a friend and her new baby.


5.  There is a lot of excitement in our home.  About Christmas and the baby.  I think we are pretty much ready for both!  Which is a good thing because on Thursday, when I hit 37 weeks, I think I hit that end of pregnancy wall.  Where you're like, oh my gosh, get this baby out because my body cannot possibly do this any longer. I am grateful for Christmas--because it keeps me patient with this baby.  I don't want her coming before Christmas.  I am also grateful that I know the end is in two weeks.  Imagine if I waited and let this baby come on her own and she came two weeks late--that would be five weeks from now.  Five weeks!!  I am nervous about the c-section, but I am grateful for that date on my calendar!  (My gut is telling me she might come early.  But doesn't every pregnant woman's gut tell her she will go early, out of wishful thinking?? Sometimes I think it would be sweet if she came on Greg's birthday, the 28th.  My doctor wants me to go into labor on New Year's Eve because she'll be on call--and then the baby might end up being the first one of the New Year.  She's delivered a gazillion babies, but she hasn't yet delivered the first Madison baby of the year.  Will ours be the one?  We'll see ...)


6.  We are going to have a white Christmas.  Yay!

Saturday

Chaotic reflections, or reflections on chaos

When we reached the middle of January, I didn't think my life could get more disorganized.  I had bottomed out, and I'd been there, as a bottom dweller, for quite some time.  Little did I know...

I don't mean to be one of those people who's all like, "I'm so busy, I'm so busy."  But I certainly feel that way.  Probably because it doesn't take much to send me off the edge of balance, spinning out of control.  Really, I'm not a person who can have too much on her metaphorical plate. What can I say?  I have a small plate.

The last few weeks my problem has been priorities.  I mean, when it's Christmas, you know you drop everything and do Christmas.  Or when you have a blood drive in three days, you drop everything and do the blood drive.  But right now we're flailing around with a number of pretty important but not super important things.  Like

• What to do about our kids.  Our kids can't stay in their chairs at dinner.  What should we do about it?  We have been busy every Monday night for the last forever.  Should we worry that we haven't had a formal FHE in forever?  Are pull-ups or wet sheets preferable?  What do you do when your kids really aren't friends with each other?  How much Phineas and Ferb can one child watch?  Will my son set the record for tons of snot produced by a single human being?  The usual...

• Buying a new car.  I was resistant.  But it was clearly time.  Greg ran some fancy Nate Silver-esque statistical models and predicted that we could expect to put enough money into our beloved Forester in the next few years that it would make more sense to buy a new car.  You can't fight Nate Silver-esque predictions.  (Does anybody else think he's taken the fun out of elections?  No more surprises! Ever!)  After seriously considering quite a few cars (including a number of Toyotas, of course--because Greg's brother is a big shot at Lexus and can get us a sweeeeet deal), we settled on another Forester.  (But I have to put a plug in for the new Subaru Impreza!!  I was so impressed with this car!  Very well-designed.  Feels roomy for its size.  Great price.  Great gas mileage--with the fabulous Subaru AWD.  Worth checking out if you're looking for a new, safe, reliable commuter car.)  It is a new car.  Like, brand new.  This is our first brand new car.  I don't like it.  I'm too nervous about it.  I'm not driving it until Greg puts a dent or scratch in it.

• Selling an old car.  We're selling our Forester.  I'm so sad.  But I know it's time.  We found just the right buyer.  It was meant to be.  But I'm still sad.  (By the way, David loves the Forester.  He knows we know he loves the Forester.  And we're selling it anyway.  Now he's worried we're going to sell his teddy bear.) 

• Room mom.  I'm a room mom!  Did you remember that?  I didn't.  (Oops.)

• New semester.  It always takes a little while to settle into a new semester...even if it's your husband's new semester and not your own.

• Reorganizing the basement.  Need I say more?

• The Science Fair.  Why did I think this would be easy?

• Being a friend.  I love friends. I love being a friend.  I love having friends  And being with friends.  And helping friends  And being helped by friends.  And thanking friends. And loving friends.  But sometimes I kind of stink at it.  I'm sorry...

• Having painters in my house for two weeks.  It didn't help that I kept changing my mind.  (Fortunately, I have an opinionated friend with good taste who is good about answering my SOS texts.  In a moment of desperation she came over and spent three hours with me carefully choosing a paint color.  You all need a Hillary.)  Also, just so you know, having your walls re-textured makes a huge mess.

• Greg's promotion.  Okay, so not very time-consuming. But I did have to get myself and the kids there.  With our hair combed.  Plus, we're having a party next week.  I can't imagine being ready.

• Repainting and reorganizing bedrooms.  I'm 85% finished with the rooms.  Will I ever finish the last 15%?

• Deciding where Mary is going to school next year.  Discussions and meetings and conversations and more discussions. We made our decision Friday.  Exhale.  (For those of you who don't know, February is the month when you decide where your kid is going to school next year.  That means all your research needs to be finished by February.  And your kid might have needed to be on a waiting list for months already.  So, dear readers who are first-time parents with a babe in arms, tuck that little nugget of knowledge away for future reference.)  

Also, weighing on my mind are some heavier matters that I may or may not blog about.  Busy-ness and weighty matters aren't always the best combination.  (But sometimes the busy-ness can be a nice distraction, I suppose.)

Anyway, to temporarily solve our chaos problem, we're fleeing the chaos.  We're escaping together as a family tomorrow--the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago awaits us.  Sometimes when life sends you a killer bunny, there's nothing to do but "Run away!!"

Fairy week

Where was I last week?  Waiting for the appearance of some fairy godmothers.  Some appeared; some did not.



The Laundry Fairy


I was really hoping the laundry fairy would show up last week.  I waited and waited.  But, finally--after David started crying because the laundry was piled six feet high on the sofa so he had no place to sit and read his dinosaur book and after I was forced to wear worn yoga pants and an old T-shirt of Greg's to a lovely Thai lunch with Katie (who always looks hot) because nothing else was remotely clean--I got to work on the laundry myself. And then I did it again.  And again.  And again.  Has anyone else noticed that laundry never ends?  Stupid Laundry Fairy: even if you bothered to show up once, it wouldn't do me much good.






The Deep Cleaning Fairy


I'm still waiting for her.  It's amazing (disgusting) what happens to your house when it's been pretty much neglected for months.  And months.  And months.

If you come over, don't look in the corners.  Like I said, I'm still waiting.



The Paint Fairy


This fairy has been hard at work!  The Paint Fairy's real name is Greg.

I woke up one day and decided we needed to paint Mary's pink room . . . pink.  When we moved in, it was a frightening bubble gum pink that all little girls adore.  And now it is a perfectly pretty pink that even I can like.  (It's Benjamin Moore Powder Blush. It's beautiful, and stays safely away from all that usually goes wrong with pinks. I confidently recommend it--and this is coming from someone who is generally not a fan of pink.  Credit goes to this blogger for pointing me in the right direction.)

Then I woke up and decided David's room needed to be painted as well.  It was a perfectly fine greenish taupe.  But a little too serious for such a fun boy.  I wanted four bright white walls.  David wanted black.  The Paint Fairy found a compromise.  Three white walls and one dark gray.  It looks good.

Then I woke up and decided it would be awesome if the grungy white walls in our house could be painted before Greg's big promotion party in February.  The Paint Fairy and I agreed that this particular project, with its vaulted ceilings and deep gouges, might require some stronger magic--especially since the Paint Fairy is back in class again.  Hooray for professionals. It's not done yet--but the color is picked (fingers crossed it looks good) and the work is scheduled.  (Also, hooray for professionals who can magically make the hole your husband had to cut into the ceiling to reach a water leak disappear.  Sheetrock and tape and mud and texture and paint and a few nifty machines in the hands of a pro is a miraculous thing!)

While the Paint Fairy does his magic, I have been occupied with rearranging furniture and wall decorations.  (I even attempted a craft project for the kids' rooms and did NOT staple cork board to my kitchen table this this time!)



The Winter Fairy


A couple of weeks ago when I picked up Mary at school, she and her friends were running around the playground coatless throwing imaginary snowballs and building imaginary snowmen.  What the heck?  Is this Florida?!!  I live in Wisconsin, yet my children are forced to play with invisible, imaginary snow in January?!

I know some people were liking the mild weather, but it was FREAKING ME OUT.  If it's going to be winter, I want it to be winter!  If I'm going to wear a coat, I want to need to wear the coat, you know.  Also, I was all ready to send my kids to ice-fishing camp, but the lake wasn't frozen. Bummer.  (Yes, my obsession with ice-fishing continues. Not like I've ever been.  Or ever will.  But I almost dragged Greg to a musical about ice-fishing.  Lucky for him, it was in town during finals week, so I couldn't in good conscience force him to take me.)

Well, the Winter Fairy finally did make her appearance.  And this year I was prepared.  Oh yeah.  Bring it on, Winter Fairy.  (But not too much.  So, once it finally snowed and the kids looked outside with glee, the temperature dropped to 3 degrees.  Too cold for recess, sledding, and snowman building.  Bummer.)




The Put-My-Life-Back-Together Fairy


Still waiting.



The Blogging Fairy


Actually, this I prefer to do myself.  No fairy necessary.  I'm back!

Black is the new slate/navy/royal-blue/red/white

A couple of weeks ago we* painted the shutters.  A very simple project that took about five thousand trips to the five thousand stores.  (How does that happen?)

They are plastic shutters (classy, I know) so we chose to stick with that special spray paint made just for plastic.  So much for choosing just the right color. . . since there were about three colors to choose from.

We would not be painting them their original color of slate.  Which is okay because I had grand plans of a nice navy blue.  Except that the navy blue was really royal blue.  And it looked terrible with the house.  So we tried red.  It was simply frightening!  FRIGHTENING. (Darn. I love red.)

By then I was panicking.  PANICKING.  The sun would be setting soon, and we an odd assortment of red, electric blue, and faded slate shutters.

So we did what I think anyone would do.  We painted them black, rehung them in the dark, and waited until morning to see if they looked okay.

They did!  Hooray!

What's funny is that just the day before I had been driving around the neighborhood, thinking to myself, "Why do people paint their shutters black?"  Well, now I have an answer.

Because it looks nice.

And now our front door is black too (and not red or white or purple or pink or camouflage--which were other possibilities) but that is another story.

But we did  hold off on the black for the garage door.  That got a fresh coat or two of the original color.  (What a difference a fresh coat of paint can make!)

The kids had a good time helping their dad yesterday with the project.  (I remember "helping" my dad paint the blue house on Rifle Street when I was their age.  Memories...)

Now that winter is creeping up on us, no more outdoor projects until spring.  I'm not sure if that's good or bad . . .

Happy November!

*When I say "we" when it comes to the actual labor of house projects, what I really mean is "Greg."  I do plenty of bossing and stressing.  But he gets credit for the work. Thank you, Greg!

The morning after

I'm dragging a little bit today. I slept on the couch in the basement. I wasn't sure I could carry David up the stairs without waking him.  (He's SIX now! That's BIG!)  So I left my babies sleeping soundly (finally) in the guest bed and stretched out on the couch downstairs.  The windows in the basement are small, but they face directly east.  So we all woke up at the crack of dawn.

Last year, when I lived in my mom's house, I registered both my children in preschool. It seemed normal to send your four-year-old to preschool.  Especially since he was an old hand at preschool by then.  But your 18-month-old?  Not so much. Who puts their babies in preschool??  Plenty of people, I kept telling myself. Including this here mom who was losing her mind with her husband living overseas.  But, on that first day of school, it felt crazy CRAZY to be sending my babies out into the world. I knew it was the right thing for my kids and me (and it was), but I was a little (a lot) panicked that first morning.  Suddenly, the world seemed so big and scary, and the wonderful little preschool down the street felt like it was a million miles away.

I decided that morning that I would never send my children out into the world without praying with them first.  So we knelt as a little family of three (four minus one) and shared our first morning family prayer.  Since then, I have sent my children to school plenty of times without praying together first.  But most of the time we manage to gather together for a moment of prayer. Generally, this involves ten minutes of bossing, yelling, and cajoling for two minutes (or two seconds) of prayer.  (I am trusting that the equation looks different in the mathematics of heaven.)

But this morning was different.  I knelt down and pulled my children to me.  I told them we had something important to tell God.  I asked them to remember what we had prayed for the night before. They remembered. Safety and protection. They understood that we had some thanking to do.  As we thanked our Father in Heaven for keeping us safe, I remembered the words of my prayer and the feelings in my heart the night before. I will not share them here. But I know that this house, my home, is a sacred place.

On the way to school this morning, we surveyed the damage in the neighborhood.  Besides the big, beautiful tree our next door neighbor lost, there was nothing more serious than broken branches and crooked rain gutters.  We were glad no serious harm came to anyone.  And Mary, in her cute little voice, reminded us that Jesus protects our house. David wondered if that meant nothing bad could ever happen.  I told them I know our house will protect us.  I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen to our house, but I felt in my heart that I could promise them that our house will protect us.  How grateful I am for the blessing of shelter from the storms of life.  (I mean that literally and metaphorically.)


P.S.  I mentioned before that David was hysterical last night. (As in shaking and shrieking that he didn't want to live with Heavenly Father yet! He wanted to live here in our house!! Not in heaven!!!)  My family can laugh. He inherited it from me. I absolutely panicked any time the air raid sirens sounded when my family lived in St. Louis.  It usually happened during Oprah (to this day I still associate Oprah with tornadoes) and, in my memory, it always happened when I was home alone with little brothers.  My family knows how hysterical I was about tornadoes--and now I'm getting my due with David.  I did keep a methodical cool last night. My family would be proud.

P.P.S.  I am off the decorate a birthday cake for the best kid in the whole world!!  Who is one, two, three, four, five, SIX!

P.P.P.S. Lest my family giggle too much about David's hysterics, I should point out that word on the street (and Facebook and local weather sites) is that a small tornado did indeed touch down a few miles from here.  I feel that hysterics were perfectly in order.

P.P.P.P.S.  Six!!!

If I didn't blog it...

did it really happen?

Here are some things that possibly didn't happen since I didn't blog about them.  Though, now that I finally am blogging about them, their existence is no longer questionable.  (Hmmm.  So if I blog about how I ran the Madison Marathon barefoot on Sunday, does that mean I really did?  Even if I didn't?  Oh!  And if I never, ever blog about yelling at my kids or feeding them marshmallows for lunch--wow, what a wonderful mother that would make me.)

Anyway, here are a few happenings (really real ones) from the last few weeks.

FLOWERS!

Finally, finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, we got blooms in our yard. 

This is our first spring in this house, so it was a surprise to see what would appear.  Each day after school we would climb out of the car, inspect the tight tulip buds, and speculate on their color.

This is what appeared one day.  We shouted for joy!  It was a long winter.

Mary took the above picture for me.

Then, she was so excited about the flowers (weren't we all?), that she wanted to pose with them.

Oh, how the tulips brightened our hearts!  We thought we might actually see spring after all.

Speaking of bright hearts, this little girl is my sunshine.

CAMP OUT!

Greg took David on a camp out with our church.  Even though it was called a "father-sons" camp out, Greg and I both thought Mary should get to go too.  Except that would have required upgrading from our small 2-person backpacking tent.  And I was feeling cheap.  And I was not looking forward to driving the two and half hours to the campsite at 11 pm to pick up Mary should she change her mind about the whole camping thing.  And it was raining.  (Mary is not a fan of uncomfortable weather.)  So Greg and David went camping.  There is not much to tell.  They slept, it rained, they came home.  Mary and I stayed home and painted our toenails.


MONTESSORI MARY!

We got to visit Mary's school again one evening.  She showed us a few of her favorite lessons.

Her absolute fave these days is carrot cutting.  Look at her go!

Peeling.

Chopping.

Eating.

Washing.

Then everything is put back in its place.

  

Beautiful!


Among other lessons, she also demonstrated paper punching.  Here she works on South America by first tracing it and then punching tiny holes along the outline. Finally--not pictured--she gently tears out the continent and glues it on another paper.  Great fine motor skill practice!

Mary loves to count, and here she works with the number rods.  This is a good old Montessori original.  The idea is that children learn numbers have different sizes.  (Nowadays in edu-speak I think this is called "number sense.")  The rod with ten sections in a whole lot bigger than the rod with one section.

Mary planned for days which lessons she would show us.  She beams with pride in her classroom.  We loved sharing a special night in her classroom.  We are so proud of Mary!  (David was a good sport about playing in the other room so we could focus on Mary--we're proud of David too.)


So.  Flower, camping, and cutting carrots.  I blogged it; therefore, it happened.

I have a few more May happenings to share yet.  Let the blogging continue...

Housekeepers

Yesterday evening our home was filled with the buzzing and flittering of three busy princesses as they cleaned the house.

They were so absorbed in their work that they could not be bothered to pose for a picture.

(Has anyone else noticed how the princess dress has become the uniform of play for little girls? It's like they are physically and mentally unable to play until they are wrapped in a sufficient amount of tulle.)

P.S. If you take the above photo as some kind of proof that my home is a place that strictly reinforces gender stereotypes, I would like to point out the following picture, which was also taken in my home:

P.P.S. We are very grateful for all of the sweet little friends who come to play at our house!

Bookshelves

If you look at my blog regularly--or even occasionally--you have might have noticed what a complete random disaster our bookcases were. You can see this mess in the background in some pictures here and here and a million other places too, I'm sure.

There are three reasons why the mess on the bookshelves didn't bother me for so many months.

1. The books were no longer in boxes. So the bookcases were a big improvement. Okay, so maybe the Bible was crammed behind Captain Underpants and the art books were stacked sideways with a 15-year-old road atlas of Britain and I couldn't find anything if my intellectual or spiritual health depended on it. (Wait. Or my physical health! David asked me the other week how you get out of quicksand and it took me half an hour to find the Survival Handbook. Thank goodness we weren't really sinking in quicksand.) BUT AT LEAST THE BOOKS WERE NO LONGER IN BOXES. (Which is where they sat for a long time.)
2. Glass doors. I strongly recommend glass doors for your bookcases. You can shove all kinds of random reading material onto them every which way--and then you close the glass doors. And abracadabra! Suddenly your shelves are artfully disheveled--and look as though they could belong in Gary and Elaine's house. In case you were wondering, our bookshelves are from IKEA. They have held up quite well through two moves (always a concern for military families). This past move one of the knobs broke off, so we had to replace all of them. I'm not sure how many more moves they will survive--but that IKEA particle board is so much more affordable than the alternatives.
3. I'll get to #3 later.

Last weekend I was struck with the overwhelming desire to rearrange furniture. (No matter how hard you try, you can never get it right the first time. Every time we move, I figure that if I am super thoughtful and take careful measurements, I CAN, I WILL get it right the first time. But it's impossible.) So Greg, wonderful Greg, got to remove all of the books before he moved and re-anchored the shelves. I figured the least I could do is return them to the shelves in a somewhat ordered fashion...

Ta-da!

People often comment to me on what you can learn about people from their books.

Hmmm, I wondered, what do people learn about us when they look at our bookcases?

First, there's the Norton anthologies. Ding! Ding! Ding! Dead giveaway: Undergraduate English major in the house!

That indicates that the books on the shelf are the English major's and will reveal more about her than her engineer husband. True, some of the books are Greg's (e.g. pretty much any fantasy minus Harry Potter sure isn't mine). But any books that reveal what Greg does with his mind are in his office, which is too bad because I think a hardbound copy of Disaster Response and Recovery would look quite lovely next to my Romantic poets anthology.

You might also notice the adult fiction to (non-reference) nonfiction ratio.

Looks like somebody values fiction way over nonfiction.

It's kind of unfortunate that the bookcase has so few nonfiction books because, these days, I rarely read fiction. And I guess a lot of the nonfiction I have read lately has been borrowed from friends, family, or the good old-fashioned library. So the bookcase does not reflect my current reading habits. It's a more accurate picture of what I was reading five to ten to fifteen years ago.

This here in the middle is what remains of my middle school class library.

Even though I only taught middle school for one year, I still thought of myself as a middle school teacher while I was teaching high school (for two and a half years)--and I obsessively collected books for my phantom middle school class. I had multiple copies of popular books, books that were trendy in the moment, and books that will always be classics. At its peak, my collection probably would have filled almost two of those bookcases. But over the years, I have gradually, steadily weeded it down. It was more than a little painful, but I deemed it necessary. It was hard to justify the amount of space the books took--many of them mediocre or so trendy that they were losing their relevance. I even gave away many of the very good ones--better to be in someone else's hands than trapped behind those glass doors. What I have left is a rather random assortment. Oh well. I have accepted that I am not going to have a middle school language arts classroom ever again: those measly three shelves of books are the proof of that acceptance. (I've gotten rid of the clothes and the library--if only I could bring myself to go through the boxes of lesson plans and teaching files in my basement.)

I have not, however, let go of the possibility of teaching writing again. Hence, the unusually large assortment of writing handbooks, grammar books, and convention reference manuals:

Okay, so our bookshelves tell you that you're in the home of a former English teacher. What else?

Oh, yes, we're Mormon. Can't escape that:

You never have too many Bibles, hymnals, or copies of the Book of Mormon.

Also, you might notice our travel books. Yes, we like to travel, be it to the flat water of Eastern Maryland or the islands of Greece--and we have been very lucky to have had opportunities to visit various places in our country and abroad.

I used to think hanging onto our travel books was kind of tacky. Guide books become outdated almost immediately--so even if we were to return somewhere, we wouldn't take our old guide book with us. So what was the point of keeping them?

The memories, duh!

I love our travel books. Sure, if we were ever to return to Egypt or Cyprus (which is probably going to happen NEVER), we would get our hands on the most recent guide books. But, for now, we love having them to pull off the shelf and remember where we've been. I'm terrible about labeling pictures, so they're a quick reference when we're in search of the name of that restaurant or state park or castle. And they have become kind of a travel history of our family. (I think the only major trip that's not represented on that shelf is our visit to Spain and Portugal. And that's because we simply showed up at the Dover Air Force Base passenger terminal with a big, fat Lonely Planet guide to all of Europe and told ourselves we would get on the first plane no matter where it was going. Well, the first plane was going to Spain. So we ripped out pages to Spain and Portugal and tossed the rest of the book--we were traveling light. And the Spain and Portugal pages eventually got tossed too, after our return. I wish I could see a nice squat Spain book on our shelf! Guess we'll have to go back.)

So that's a tour of my bookcase.

And now I'll get the number 3 of why I didn't mind the bookshelves being a horrendous mess for so long:

Because I didn't want to think about my books.

You see, the books are a more accurate representation of who I WAS than who I AM. It's kind of painful to remember to how much I loved studying literature, how much I used to love reading fiction, how much I loved my one little seventh grade class at Springville Middleschool, how much I loved challenging my mind in graduate school, how much I loved teaching that community college writing course, how much I loved traveling to "exotic" places.

But it wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be. In fact, as I thoughtfully, even lovingly, placed each book on the shelf, I began to feel my soul fill with a quiet warmth. I liked remembering how I was. Even more, I liked remembering who I am. And who I was is a part of who I am.

The bookshelves may not tell the whole story. But they tell part of the story. A part of the story that I don't want to forget.