I spent the early afternoon catching up with friends on the phone, and jumping because the children like to sneak up on me and put their cold hands on me. (Fall weather has finally arrived here)

"HEY!! THAT'S COLD!!" I screech, just like I had been surprised by the sudden appearance of a cold-fingered child.

[child giggles and runs away]

Two minutes later, the next member of the tag team sneaks in to 'surprise' me with, you guessed it, their cold fingers :->!

It reminds me of the time when everyone was five and under, and they used to sleep in shifts, so that one of them was *always* awake and needing my attention... Ahhh, the old days of sleep deprivation. I am proof that whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, lol!

It seems like yesterday that I was dealing with diapers, strollers, slings, sore body parts that you cannot mention in public, The Big Comfy Couch, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (all the incarnations up to 2000), Barney (shudder), Power Puff Girls (so glad they got Buttercup to take that bath... ewww!), and the Donut Man (I was beginning to feel like I had a hole in the middle of my *head*!!) and yep, sleep deprivation. Now, my contemporaries are discussing marriage plans for their children.

It is not my turn yet for that, I have maybe a year or two before that begins, but it seems like yesterday that I was seventeen, waiting for my life to start, and now it is [deleted] years later, and I'm middle aged... time is moving too fast!! I'm still trying to get ready for Y2K, for crying out loud!!

Ah, well. Getting older is better than the alternative :-).

I was inside the other day (I need to get out more), and the children all tumbled in, talking over one another excitedly. Before I can get out a 'what in the world?', they drag me outside because "you **MUST** see this"!!

I'll admit, I thought that it was going to be bad news, like the fence was broken, etc.. But I was wrong... it was this:


This picture is not Photoshopped. And in person, it was a real showstopper. I was speechless (and, if you know me, that's not an easy thing to do)!



After I gathered my wits, we took the photo, and I told the crew, that they were right... this absolutely was a must see!

We watched the sun go down, and took some more pics:














The lights in this photo are my nearest neighbors' (about 2 acres away) power pole lights... it was about 7:30pm.

Sometimes, I am privy to discussions that my children have when they are talking with one another. Their clearsightedness floors me sometimes ... for example:

16yog: Boy, when I think about how much I liked X, I realize that I was out of my mind! What was I thinking?!?

10yog: YoYou were chasing a piece of tail (Mom: !!?!!), without looking at what it was attached to.

16yog: A dog?

10yog: Precisely! (Both start laughing)

At this point, I just about have to scrape myself off of the floor, between being in shock at the correctness of the 10yo's diagnosis, as well as the way she phrased her statement... that one's an old soul... and trying not to wet my pants laughing (they drummed me out of the Mothers' Union *ages* ago because I laugh out loud when the children do something funny)!!

I am *so* glad that I am privileged to see how their minds work. They actually talk to me without coercion (at least, that's what I hear other parents complain about ... I've not had that problem, myself); and I know that they look out for one another, even though they don't always agree. I believe that if this keeps up, they will be fine when I am gone... they will look out for one another. Which, I think, is the truest definition of 'family'.

I did.

This past Saturday, while doing some yard work, I walked out of my fenced-in yard, and as I slipped through, Joey, my black Lab,

and Jadzia, my chow

shot out past me into the front yard. Before I could blink, they were gone. My two eldest daughters went looking for them, only to find out from my neighbor that they had had a short scuffle with one of *their* dogs, and headed for the highway behind their house.

We got into the van, and looked for them, but did not see them.

Later that afternoon, we got a call from my neighbor. It turns out that her daschund, who was in the scuffle with my dogs, had been found under the house, with a bad bite. In fact, her intestines could be seen through the wound.

Oh. No. ....

So, we got the numbers to the nearest animal hospitals with weekend services (good luck with that on a Saturday), and the neighbors were off. Daisy Mae (the daschund) was cleaned up, and bandaged up, but needed surgery. That was done on day before yesterday (Wednesday), and if all goes well, Daisy Mae was none the worse for wear (whew!) I paid the vets bills/expenses, and my neighbors were gracious and understanding about the whole thing.

SO, all's well that ends well, you say?

No. This was the *second* time that one of them had gotten out; that time Joey had eaten three of their chickens before I discovered what was going on. It seems that I have (unknowingly) been harboring menaces. And both my neighbors and I have small children.

So, the only logical course was: the dogs had to go.

Animal Control came and got them yesterday. It was one of the most difficult things that I had to do.

But, what was even worse, is the reaction of others. It seems that it is better to have dogs that attack other animals (and potentially people), than it is to get rid of them. I don't understand this. Why is it more important to keep the dogs, rather than keep people safe?

Don't misunderstand me: I loved my dogs. But I know that after chaining them up, then building a fence (around almost one and half acres) to keep them in (lots of $$$ there), and still having them get out and cause mayhem, for the sake of my conscience (what if their baby was walking around and got caught in the dogfight?), and peace with the neighbors (we *do* live here, after all), it made sense to get new dogs (puppies, that hopefully will not have the overtly savage traits of their predecessors).

I have discovered, in the past few days, that Chows, in particular, can 'turn', and cause the problems that I have had. And, no, these dogs were raised with my children from puppies, and they were not abused, etc.

So, it's to the Internet (gotta love it) for research on family-friendly, gentle dogs that will be content with a large, fenced-in yard, and not keep trying to escape.

I miss my dogs.

Today was my eldest childs' 17th birthday. It seems like yesterday, I was a new mother, holding my newborn baby daughter in my (tired) arms.

She was (and still is) 'the first'...
...one I learned about teething with
...one I learned about breastfeeding with
...I learned that all children are individuals on
...the one that goes through my ignorance on every new stage of her life.

In many ways, her place in the family is, "I deal with Mom, so you don't have to".

Over the years, we have agreed and disagreed, and talked (boy, have we ever!) about everything under the sun. I have done my best to be a good mother to her and her siblings. I have tried to explain to them how the world really works, not just how the world says that it works.

I have tried to give them the benefit of my experiences (and my mistakes), and to live my life as best that I can in a way that I can look them straight in the eye when they ask me a hard question about why I did or didn't do something.

It seems to be paying off, although only time will tell in the end.

I was at church last Sunday, and a parent spoke about how teenagers don't talk to their parents. How frustrating it was, to have a child who won't talk to you. I found myself struggling to keep my face straight. From shock.

My children talk to me, sometimes about stuff I'd much rather not know about. About their friends, their feelings, their worries, and when they believe that I'm not living according to the guidelines that I've set for myself.

All in all, I think that I have a pretty good bunch of children. I drew a good hand in the child lottery.

Don't get it wrong, they get into trouble, they make mistakes, and they fight... two years ago, two of my younger children had a feud over one stealing the other ones' DIRT, for crying out loud!! Honestly! We live in the country... if there is nothing else here (no DSL, no T1 lines, no sewer, no town trash pickup), there is dirt... honestly, I tried not to laugh, but I'm sorry to say that I failed miserably. I was greeted with indignant looks at my ignorance about the difference in *this* dirt, versus the dirt over *there*. I did pull myself together long enough to apologize for laughing at them, and explained that we live in the country, and maybe, just maybe, we could find some satisfactory dirt for the both of them. "There's enough dirt in these two acres for the both of youse!"

Some days, I feel that I should have taken diplomacy classes, in addition to the law classes... those skills has been the most useful in dealing with children. They are amazingly, frighteningly logical... I don't know where they get it from, must be their dad, lol!!

I love you, children! You're going to be fantastic people... keep it up!!

©2007 LaVeda H. Mason All Rights Reserved.

Been here, and done this!! LaVeda

I'm reprinting the auction here before Ebay takes it down.

I'm selling a bunch of Pokemon cards. Why? Because my kids sneaked
them into my shopping cart while at the grocery store and I ended up
buying them because I didn't notice they were there until we got home.
How could I have possibly not noticed they were in my cart, you ask?
Let me explain.

You haven't lived until you've gone grocery shopping with six kids in
tow. I would rather swim, covered in bait, through the English
Channel, be a contestant on Fear Factor when they're having pig brains
for lunch, or do fourth grade math than to take my six kids to the
grocery store. Because I absolutely detest grocery shopping, I tend to
put it off as long as possible. There comes a time, however, when
you're peering into your fridge and thinking, 'Hmmm, what can I make
with ketchup, Italian dressing, and half an onion,' that you decide
you cannot avoid going to the grocery store any longer. Before
beginning this most treacherous mission, I gather all the kids
together and give them "The Lecture".

"The Lecture" goes like this…
MOM: "We have to go to the grocery store."
KIDS: "Whine whine whine whine whine."
MOM: "Hey, I don't want to go either, but it's either that or we're
eating cream of onion-ketchup soup and drinking Italian dressing for
dinner tonight."
KIDS: "Whine whine whine whine whine."
MOM: "Now here are the rules: do not ask me for anything, do not poke
the packages of meat in the butcher section, do not test the laws of
physics and try to take out the bottom can in the pyramid shaped
display, do not play baseball with oranges in the produce section, and
most importantly, do not try to leave your brother at the store.
Again."

OK, the kids have been briefed. Time to go.

Once at the store, we grab not one, but two shopping carts. I wear the
baby in a sling and the two little children sit in the carts while I
push one cart and my oldest son pushes the other one. My oldest
daughter is not allowed to push a cart. Ever. Why? Because the last
time I let her push the cart, she smashed into my ankles so many
times, my feet had to be amputated by the end of our shopping trip.
This is not a good thing. You try running after a toddler with no feet
sometime.

At this point, a woman looks at our two carts and asks me, "Are they
all yours?" I answer good naturedly, "Yep!

"Oh my, you have your hands full."

"Yes, I do, but it's fun!" I say smiling. I've heard all this before.
In fact, I hear it every time I go anywhere with my brood.

We begin in the produce section where all these wonderfully,
artistically arranged pyramids of fruit stand. There is something so
irresistibly appealing about the apple on the bottom of the pile, that
a child cannot help but try to touch it. Much like a bug to a zapper,
the child is drawn to this piece of fruit. I turn around to the sounds
of apples cascading down the display and onto the floor. Like Indiana
Jones, there stands my son holding the all-consuming treasure that he
just HAD to get and gazing at me with this dumbfounded look as if to
say, "Did you see that??? Wow! I never thought that would happen!"

I give the offending child an exasperated sigh and say, "Didn't I tell
you, before we left, that I didn't want you taking stuff from the
bottom of the pile???"

"No. You said that you didn't want us to take a can from the bottom of
the pile. You didn't say anything about apples."

With superhuman effort, I resist the urge to send my child to the moon
and instead focus on the positive - my child actually listened to me
and remembered what I said!!! I make a mental note to be a little more
specific the next time I give the kids The Grocery Store Lecture.

A little old man looks at all of us and says, "Are all of those your kids?"

Thinking about the apple incident, I reply, "Nope. They just started
following me. I've never seen them before in my life."

OK, now onto the bakery section where everything smells so good, I'm
tempted to fill my cart with cookies and call it a day. Being on a
perpetual diet, I try to hurry past the assortment of pies, cakes,
breads, and pastries that have my children drooling. At this point the
chorus of "Can we gets" begins.

"Can we get donuts?"
"No."
"Can we get cupcakes?"
"No."
"Can we get muffins?"
"No."
"Can we get pie?"
"No."

You'd think they'd catch on by this point, but no, they're just getting started.

In the bakery, they're giving away free samples of coffee cake and of
course, my kids all take one. The toddler decides he doesn't like it
and proceeds to spit it out in my hand. (That's what moms do. We put
our hands in front of our children's mouths so they can spit stuff
into them. We'd rather carry around a handful of chewed up coffee
cake, than to have the child spit it out onto the floor. I'm not sure
why this is, but ask any mom and she'll tell you the same.) Of course,
there's no garbage can around, so I continue shopping one-handed while
searching for someplace to dispose of the regurgitated mess in my
hand.

In the meat department, a mother with one small baby asks me, "Wow!
Are all six yours?"
I answer her, "Yes, but I'm thinking of selling a couple of them."

(Still searching for a garbage can at this point.)

Ok, after the meat department, my kids' attention spans are spent.
They're done shopping at this point, but we aren't even halfway
through the store. This is about the time they like to start having
shopping cart races. And who may I thank for teaching them this fun
pastime? My seventh "child", also known as my husband. While I'm
picking out loaves of bread, the kids are running down the aisle
behind the carts in an effort to get us kicked out of the store. I put
to stop to that just as my son is about to crash head on into a giant
cardboard cut-out of a Keebler elf stacked with packages of cookies.

Ah! Yes! I find a small trash can by the coffee machine in the cereal
aisle and finally dump out the squishy contents of my hand. After
standing in the cereal aisle for an hour and a half while the kids
perused the various cereals, comparing the marshmallow and cheap,
plastic toy content of each box, I broke down and let them each pick
out a box. At any given time, we have twenty open boxes of cereal in
my house.

As this is going on, my toddler is playing Houdini and maneuvering his
little body out of the seat belt in an attempt to stand up in the
cart. I'm amazed the kid made it to his second birthday without
suffering a brain damaging head injury. In between trying to flip
himself out of the cart, he sucks on the metal bars of the shopping
cart. Mmmm, can you say "influenza"?

The shopping trip continues much like this. I break up fights between
the kids now and then and stoop down to pick up items that the toddler
has flung out of the cart. I desperately try to get everything on my
list without adding too many other goodies to the carts.

Somehow I manage to complete my shopping in under four hours and head
for the check-outs where my kids start in on a chorus of, "Can we have
candy?" What evil minded person decided it would be a good idea to put
a display of candy in the check-out lanes, right at a child's eye
level? Obviously someone who has never been shopping with children.

As I unload the carts, I notice many extra items that my kids have
sneaked in the carts unbeknownst to me. I remove a box of Twinkies, a
package of cupcakes, a bag of candy, and a can of cat food (we don't
even have a cat!). I somehow missed the box of Pokemon cards however
and ended up purchasing them unbeknownst to me. As I pay for my
purchases, the clerk looks at me, indicates my kids, and asks, "Are
they all yours?"

Frustrated, exhausted from my trip, sick to my stomach from writing
out a check for $289.53, dreading unloading all the groceries and
putting them away and tired of hearing that question, I look at the
clerk and answer her in my most sarcastic voice, "No. They're not
mine. I just go around the neighborhood gathering up kids to take to
the grocery store because it's so much more fun that way."

So, up for auction is an opened (they ripped open the box on the way
home from the store) package of Pokemon cards. There are 44 cards
total. They're in perfect condition, as I took them away from the
kiddos as soon as we got home from the store. Many of them say
"Energy". I tried carrying them around with me, but they didn't work.
I definitely didn't have any more energy than usual. One of them is
shiny. There are a few creature-like things on many of them. One is
called Pupitar. Hee hee hee Pupitar! (Oh no! My kids' sense of humor
is rubbing off on me!) Anyway, I don't think there's anything special
about any of these cards, but I'm very much not an authority on
Pokemon cards. I just know that I'm not letting my kids keep these as
a reward for their sneakiness.

Shipping is FREE on this item. Insurance is optional, but once I drop
the package at the post office, it is no longer my responsibility. For
example, if my son decides to pour a bottle of glue into the envelope,
or my daughter spills a glass of juice on the package, that's my
responsibility and I will fully refund your money. If, however, I take
the envelope to the post office and a disgruntled mail carrier sets
fire to it, a pack of wild dogs rip into it, or a mail sorting machine
shreds it, it's out of my hands, so you may want to add insurance. I
will leave feedback for you as soon as I've received your payment. I
will be happy to combine shipping on multiple items won within three
days. This comes from a smoke-free, pet-free, child-filled home.
Please ask me any questions before placing your bid. Happy bidding! :)

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"Two things I do value a lot, intimacy and the capacity for joy, didn’t seem to be on anyone else’s list. I felt like the stranger in a strange land, and decided I’d better not marry the natives."
Richard Bach, Spoken by Leslie Parrish, The Bridge Across Forever


Many homeschoolers we know are looking for churches which make a place for them, their lifestyle, the goals they have for their families, children’s attitudes and actions, the husband/wife relationship and more. They feel a need for homeschool children for their children to interact with. And for homeschool parents for them to associate with, also. Families of like minds.

A pastor friend of ours made a very insightful statement in the course of our conversation. "Since most denominations have similar core doctrines and theology, this is not what separates one church from another," he shared. He had my attention. "What sets one church apart from another is what they value."

Whoa. The things they value sets them apart? This kicked in my analytical nature, and I began to peruse this statement from all sides.

Church A, in the middle of Everywhere, USA, might apparently not value homeschooling. They do not want to support a group of like-minded homeschooling parents who want to assemble to encourage and share with each other, with other members of their church.

Church B not only supports homeschoolers, they welcome them, and join together in prayer to ask the Lord to bring more homeschooling families into their congregation.

Church A seemingly appears to have no real use for moms at home – unless it is to serve the needs of the church while the employed moms are working for their paycheck. Their vision isn’t for moms to pour into their little ones’ lives, but to accommodate all lifestyles, and help the working moms by providing a safe place to keep their children while the moms are at work.

At Church B the pastor’s wife teaches a Bible Study on Titus 2:3-5 – older women teaching the younger women how to be keepers at home. Encouraging moms to love their children, to have a vision for raising their children "in the fear and admonition of the Lord."

Large families aren’t understood at Church A, and they just can’t comprehend why some large, homeschooling families don’t like being separated into age-groups so often, but enjoy a family Sunday School class made up of all ages.

In Church B there are families with more children per family than the norm – and even more children than that! Many couples are starting their families and have several little ones in tow. And God is adding to His church daily.

And at Church A they don’t seem to understand honoring husbands by submissive wives. When exposed to this new thought, they challenge, they mock, they watch those living it, and dismiss it. In this area, God’s word and His way are just not understood nor valued.

Church B’s pastor has a vivacious love for his wife – a strong woman in her own right – who chooses to honor her husband, asking for his input in her decisions.

The church we attend affects, not only our lives, but the lives of our children, our grandchildren, and future generations. If we attend a place where we prefer our children "not to marry the natives." Not to join themselves with those with so many differences – not in doctrine, but in values. We don’t join together with them because we just don’t value the same things. If this is how we feel, then is this really the church for us?

Is our great big God, who knows our every desire, able to bring us to a church, which – if we had the faith to put together a "shopping list" of things we would want in a church – has all the things we deem most important?

A place where we can join ourselves to the natives. Jumping in with both feet. Planning things for the teens – and their families. Opening our homes to girls to learn together the lost arts of keeping a home.

The denomination isn’t the most important difference. What separates one church from another is what they value.

From one mother to another,

Kym Wright
Sign up for the newsletter: http://kymwright.com/
Copyright 2006 - Kym Wright and alWright! Publishing

It's raining again today. It is wonderful, we need the rain for the fall gardens. It has been very, very hot the past week or so; temperatures have been up in the high 90s/low 100s. So for it to be only 85 is pretty cool! 

The children are going to have their hands full with the grass; it's growing fast and high :-).

Well, maybe my childbearing days are *not* over {smile}!

==========================

A British housewife became the world's oldest natural mother after giving birth at the age of 59, it was claimed yesterday.

Dawn Brooke had a healthy boy without any fertility treatment only 12 months before she became eligible for her old age pension, her family said.

Her husband, former company director Raymond Brooke, said the couple had kept the 1997 birth private for a decade to let their son grow up in peace.

Mr Brooke married his Londonborn wife a few weeks before their son was born by caesarean section at a Guernsey hospital on August 20, 1997.

The world record for the oldest non-IVF birth was held by Ruth Kistler, who had a daughter in Los Angeles in 1956, aged 57.

The British record for oldest birth without fertility treatment was set by Kathleen Campbell from Kimberley, Nottinghamshire, who had son Joby at 55 in 1987.

Doctors say it is extremely rare for women to have children past their mid-fifties. The average age for the menopause is 51, and it is unusual for a woman over 54 to be ovulating.

The Guinness World Records book lists the world's oldest mother as Adriana Iliescu who gave birth to a daughter in 2005 aged 66 years and 230 days.

The birth to the Romanian academic who had received fertility treatment for nine years beforehand sparked an ethical, medical and religious debate about the suitability of fertility treatment for older women.

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