Beyond Bringing Up Boys

If you’ve been to the gym to work out, you know that someone very fit in clothes very conforming to their body, will give you a free analysis. They may measure you, weigh you, tell you what percentage of weight that is fat and then tell you how much YOU should lose, then proceed to kill you by “teaching” you how to use the machines and/or free weights. When Joyce told me that according to her measurements and my height I should weigh 95 pounds, I just about croaked. I was only 98 pounds when I got married at age 22 and I have since had three kids. I wanted to grab that little clip board from her and see if there were hidden deductions…kind of like taxes where you "get" more when you have more kids. That was several years ago, while we were still in KY, and despite that fact that I worked out faithfully, my weight seemed pretty stable at 108. But over the last couple of years, I have watched the scales changing. First 110, 112, and before we left for the summer vacation, I wei...

I still have construction dust on my knees, palms and under my fingernails. Several weeks ago, our pastor began announcing that everyone should bring his or her favorite scripture verse written down on a slip of paper for this evening’s service. He intentionally gave no indication why we should do this. Our family was ready. I think Samuel’s first pick was from Exodus but David talked him into something, let’s just say, a bit more practical. Toward the close of the service, our pastor gave the instruction that as a congregation we should leave the gymnasium where we are currently worshipping and move into the new auditorium—just across the parking lot. There we would find permanent markers and that we should write our favorite verses on the concrete floor of our new sanctuary. We moved as a group of 200+ into the new building. Group by group we knelt, young and old, singles and married, and wrote our verses onto the floor. I was moved to such scriptures: 1 Corinthians 15:55 O dea...

Homeschool on Thursday was just as I dreamed homeschooling would be! Well, not exactly . I would have envisioned my house being immaculate, the laundry and ironing caught up, the dishwasher purring with dishes used from the warm and nutritious lunch I had just prepared... But none of these was true. I kept looking longingly at the clock. It was a spectacular day; the skies were steel blue and a light breeze blew through our open windows. We still had history and reading to do...and it was only just about lunch time. I knew the boys were antsy too. I could sense it. There was an audible sigh of relief when I declared that we were breaking for lunch. I cooked some of those really nutritious pizza rolls--you know the kind with no preservatives--and for good measure, I threw some carrots sticks on the plate too, so I would still be eligible for the Mother-of-the-Year award. While they ate, I gathered our afternoon assignments and some blankets. As soon as they were finished, I broke th...

Seth has a highly distinctive sense of smell but seems to be only sensitive when it comes to the odors--or perceived odors--of others. Just today, he came to me, laughing so hard he couldn't walk straight because his feet stunk from wearing his leather shoes without socks! I digress even further to preface this story. David has wonderful oral hygiene. He flosses and brushes his teeth at least twice a day. He gets his bi-annual cleanings...you get the picture. So when Seth was getting antsy in church and David asked him to look at his face, David assumed he was being disobedient when Seth turning his face away replied," Please talk into my ear, daddy." David insisted and Seth complied but only after using his New Testament as a shield between his nose and David's mouth. It only made sense the next day when David lifted Seth into his car seat, fastened him, and kissed him on the cheek and Seth said, "Daddy, I don't like your mouth so much, but that...

Thanks for all your prayers. I had the CT scan and the kidney stone was "hiding." I'm convinced that it is not gone because I did not feel as though I had given birth anytime recently...and from I experienced the last time around... So we will wait. No other choice. And you who know me, you know I LOVE to wait! Or maybe not. I'm serious about your prayers, emails, phone calls and comments. They are encouraging and I appreciate all of them SO much! *No, the title is not a typo...I love hymns and one of my favorites is Hiding in Thee but since I found out this stone is hiding in me...I know, I really need to get more! :-)

When I began seeking the advice of "veteran" home schooling moms, two words kept being repeated. "Be flexible." Sounds so easy. But naturally, flexibility and I do not go hand-in-hand. I love schedules. I like to make schedules. I like to cross out things that have been accomplished---you get the idea. So, my Friday "schedule" goes something like this. Get up by 5:30 and make and eat breakfast with David. Shower, get dressed, put on make-up (thank goodness for that, it hides a multitude of imperfections). If the boys are not up by 7Am, wake them, they make their beds, shower, and then they have breakfast. Then we do piano before I take Zachary to His Masters Voice (HMV), a 70 voice concert choir that consists of other home-schooled children grades 6-12. While Zach is at HMV I run to Kroger to pick up any sale items. Then I come home fix lunch and do the rest of my grocery shopping at Wal-Mart after lunch. Are you tired yet? Maybe bored, I don...

It was 6:50 this morning when I heard the distinctive footsteps of my middle son ambling down the hallway. Distinctive steps—kind of like a duck without the quacking—thank goodness-- because he is flat-footed; A trait, he says he likes because his “feet stick to the floor!” I was seated at my desk/dining room table reviewing the day's lessons. “Mom,” his eyes lit up, “Can we start school now? I could be done by noon.” Not wanting to quench a desire to learn—no matter the motive—I agreed. He quickly clutched his pencil box in one hand and grabbed his journal in the other and sat down to begin his “Do Now.” I sat beside him still looking over lessons—Math to be exact—when a sound escaped that I thought best to ignore but I looked to him, hoping to at least hear an “excuse me, please.” Instead he smiled sheepishly, and said with his lisp, “Oopths, that alwayths happenths thith time of the morning.” “Good to know,” I replied, again looking at the Math lesson. It was quiet a fe...