What My Husband Did Behind My Back

January 19, 2014January 19, 2014 / amylynw / 4 Comments

Some days hit you like a blast of cold water being unexpectedly tossed over your head during a hot shower. Usually motherhood is a series of such moments, as startling as a scattering of sharp legos all over a bedroom floor: you know they’re there, but you can never be quite prepared for their sting. Such was Friday. Actually, ever since Tuesday my brain had been thinking it was Friday. When Friday at last arrived for real, I was ready for it to finish its comic series of events. At the time, they were not-so-funny events. DSC_9383-2
During nap time, Betty came wandering downstairs to where I stood in the kitchen. She sidled up next to me, smoothed her hair and said with a coy look on her face, Is it perfect, mama? I looked a bit closer, thinking she had wet her hair in the bathroom. Nope. There was no hair to wet. She had given herself a generous haircut, right in front. Perfect wasn’t the first word that came to mind.

A teeny tiny part of her bangs remain after her perfect haircut.

My day just kept getting better. While making dinner, which involved mixing up a batch of pizza dough, I grabbed the garlic powder to put a shake of it into the batter. Obviously, I flipped open the wrong side of the cap, as a huge pile of garlic powder dumped like an avalanche into the wet dough. I quickly scooped out as much garlic powder as I could, muttering under my breath. The next best thing to do: double the batch and enjoy the garlic.

As the evening wore on, small things started to get to me. There was mud where I didn’t want mud. There wasn’t hair where I wanted hair. There was arguing. There were interruptions. I have a spot where I like to hide in my room. If I sink down low enough, no one knows I’m there. Friday they seemed to instinctively find me. Especially the nap-less one. I felt like the mama elephant in the book Five Minutes Peace. Eventually it became clear: There is no avoiding the masses, I thought. It’s time to jump back in the boat. So I stopped hiding and plugged on through the evening, mustering up as much strength as I could.

Despite my resolve to be happy when Matthew got home, he was met with a more wiped-out-than-usual countenance. With much grace, he just hugged me. I started going over the difficulties of my day. He took my head in his hands and said something which really caught my attention. It was as startling as a blinding light shining in my eyes: Aim, the kids have never complained to me about you. I needed to stop doing what they never do to me. After looking at Betty’s hair, he let her know it’s not okay for her to cut her own hair, then he turned to me and said simply, She’s three! Yes, indeed. This will pass. It will grow. She learned. Move on.

My emotions were stabling, but not quite steady. I had one last complaint to offer my unwavering husband. I was feeling a bit vengeful towards the bathroom scale, and did a little “Woe is me” routine. Yes, I have been exercising about twice a month. Yes, I am no longer in my twenties, so that matters now. Still, I wish that scale showed me a little slack. I was going to go to the downstairs bathroom to make sure the toilet was flushed and there was no pee all over the seat before our company arrived. Surely my day was on the upswing.

Matthew went upstairs to get cleaned up from work and I decided to check our email before checking the cleanliness status of the powder room. I was a little shocked at what I saw. Next I checked facebook, and the top news in my feed was this:
Surprise anniversary gift for my wife: registering her for the Philly love run half marathon!!! She doesn’t know yet!! Wait till she checks FB or email! Let the training begin! Giddy with excitement!

Let’s just say, I had to go into the downstairs bathroom to compose myself. I spotted a lime on the laundry room floor before walking back into the kitchen. I picked it up and thought pretty seriously about beaning Matthew with it when I saw him. I’m glad some of our company had just arrived and was standing in the kitchen with my sneaky husband, when I emerged. Otherwise, that lime would have made swift contact with his head. He grinned and rubbed the goosebumps off his arms. Risky, risky move, buster.

Since Friday, I’ve thought a lot about difficulties and training. Running this morning in 30-degree weather would not have happened if I had not been presented with this challenge. (My husband knows me pretty well.) Plain and simple, we tend to shy away from difficulties. We want to go from point A to point C without passing through point B. This is impossible. We want to learn a piece of music without ever practicing. We want our kitchen to be spotless without lifting a finger. We want to lose weight without the sacrifice of watching our diet and putting in any effort to exercise. I so desperately want to run 13.1 miles without having to go out there every single day and run one mile or two. It just isn’t going to happen, no matter how much my desire is for it to happen that way. The richness of any accomplishment is deeply rooted in the amount of time it required to succeed.

In the same way, our Heavenly Father knows what’s best for us. He sees that finish line, so very distant from our earthly eyes. He tells us things very similar to what Matthew has been telling me: “You’re stronger than you think, Aim.” My grace is sufficient in weakness, Jesus tells us. Like any good trainer, He pushes us outside our comfort zone. That is where we see results. When you walk the same path over and over, never stretching yourself to go a bit further, you may miss the incredible view just up ahead. When we run the same mile and never push our lungs and our legs past that initial burn, we never discover we have the ability to do a bit more. Jesus totally knows how hard it is. He never once said life would be burden-free, but He invites us to lay our burdens on His capable shoulders. He never said He would only give us as much as WE think we can handle. But He said “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” He will give you just a bit more than you think you can handle, so you’re stronger to go the next mile. It’s cold, it’s nasty sometimes, but He always sticks with us.

So I start my thirteen-mile journey… one step at a time.

You’ve Gotta Take Care of Those Kids

December 22, 2013December 22, 2013 / amylynw / 1 Comment

This was the other day in Target:

I was pushing that train of a cart, gently bumping into the corners of aisles as it turned its wide arch. I smiled brightly at the mom with one baby in her cart, sitting quietly on a clean cart-cover. Betty held a receipt, which doubles as a “tag” in a pinch, so she can suck her fingers. Elijah likes to hide under the cart. Sometimes even the extra nearly hundred pounds I’m trying to push doesn’t clue me in on where he’s gone, so I start calling his name and he laughs from his hiding spot. Switching seats, spotting sparkly boots, and constant chatter makes our trip the usual exhausting but profitable excursion.

Last night, armed with four very large containers of popcorn and Christmas jammies, we drove to nearby neighborhood to watch a local light show. The lights were choreographed to a radio station, and it was pretty impressive.

Tonight little miss Betty must have gotten bit by the giggle bug. When the boys got home from grocery shopping with Matthew, it was close to 10 o’clock. The little girls were still giggling up in their beds. Jack looked at Matthew and said very seriously: You’ve gotta go take care of those kids. I’m not joking.

Betty keeps us laughing. The other day she was playing with her little baby. She had been tucked into bed for about five seconds before Betty leaned gently over her ear and made a soft rooster sound. Time to wake up, baby! She would say, after cock-a-doodle-doo-ing into her ear.

Once when Betty was trying to get out of the kitchen, Elsie asked, What’s the magic word? Right away she replied: Betty!

Today, Matthew and I were trying to have a little bit of snuggle time on the couch. We literally had five pairs of eyes glued on our every move. There is a small sensor that goes off when we start talking or kissing. Immediately, all bodies are within touching distance of ours, or there is some urgent sentence that must be uttered. In the middle of our hug, Jack came over, put his arms around us and said, Group hug! Which in turn led Betty to pile on some more love. As Elsie would say: There’s room for more in this hug! Once we started to kiss, however, Betty squealed, Let’s get out of here! They’re kissing!
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The other day, Elsie was discussing age order. Apparently, Elijah was of a “medium” age. She then told Nadine: I remember you sucking your fingers! When, in actuality, she wasn’t even born yet.

This is the face I get when it’s time for bed.

It is also the face I am giving, because I am not one who loves going to bed. I’ve been enjoying the sewing machine and crochet hooks this month. Super secretive things have been in the works. There is much more on my mind to write… but it will have to wait. Right now I’ve gotta take care of this mama, who needs some serious rest.

Where Opossums Sleep and Cars Melt

November 11, 2013November 11, 2013 / amylynw / Leave a comment

I love to write. Today, however, is best left unwritten. This Veteran’s Day, I fought my own battles and waged my own war, along with my small army of five. We came out victorious in the end, but sometimes the process is painful at best. The past weekend was rough. I woke up with a blazing fever on Saturday morning, tried my best to mother from bed, while the kids brought me water, cool cloths, and warm rice bags for my freezing cold feet. Matthew was gone, and it was a sad and strange weekend. Both sets of grandparents were gracious to lend their hands to help with the kids so I could sweat and sleep in quiet. Thank you, guys… words aren’t enough.

Sickness, an opossum in the trashcan, and ornery computers all fall into my “No thank you” category of life.

When I focus on the misspellings, the bickering, the grime, and the general imperfectness of life… I end up just like a little wet rain cloud. It’s not cute. This is why I must write, because when I write, I remember. I remember: I love you, Mom, scrawled across the chalkboard… when it felt like the opposite was true. Someone finally nailing multiplication tables. Five wild munchkins voluntarily starting a game of hide-and-go-seek at the magic hour of hunger, while I finish cooking supper. A surprise cleaning of the bathroom without being asked. An entire day of clean bedrooms. Supper altogether.

In our one-room-school-house, learning doesn’t always involve the books. After the boys presented a reasonable-sounding argument as to why I should allow them to melt a few “useless” cars with the heat gun, I obliged. They showed care and it kept them busy for almost an hour.

While the boys melted cars, the girls enjoyed playing with shapes. I love what a dollar can buy in a thrift store!

My favorite thing last week in school had to be Jack’s letter he wrote to our friend in basic training. I knew in his mind he was thinking: Thank you for defending our country, but he wrote: Thank you for saving our city. I absolutely love it. He even told me today that he loves to write.

Those words made my heart soar, because loving to write isn’t forced, it’s born. Every once in a while, I get to witness the miracle of new discoveries being born in the hearts and minds of our children. It’s worth all the labor and gives me fresh perspective to press on for another day.

Wednesday Painted Blue

November 6, 2013November 6, 2013 / amylynw / 1 Comment

Today is Wednesday. Which is usually my Monday, as far as feelings, attitudes,and energy, goes. The sound of temper tantrums filled our home, too many times to count, making its small-ish size feel extra tight. I never knew sound could fill up space, but apparently it does. That sent me to pulling things out of clothes bins and into white trash bags. A word of warning from this mama: If you have more sweaters than fit into your 13×13 bin, then I will purge them from you. That goes for your pants, shirts, and shoes too. I have never once experienced anyone “wishing” they had something I gave away because I never saw them wear or enjoy it. I have pack-rat tendencies, so when I sense the urge to hoard coming on in me or my kids, I go a little purge-crazy. We have strict laws here as far as holding onto stuff. One small filing cabinet drawer easily fits all the papers we need for 7 people for the past 12 years. I am working very hard at making sure everything has a place, and if that thing doesn’t fit in its place, it goes bye-bye. I digress.

So, after my crazy clothing rampage, school began in earnest. There were tears and tantrums twice during one hour. The bathroom, being the only door that locks around here, is my favorite place to hide when the tears need to flow and I need the sunshine to wash my face. I also make important phone calls to the principal in there, and tell God how I don’t think I can do this anymore. Wednesday blues.

Then we had to do errands, complete with tears. I wonder at the source, and how it never runs dry. Three hours later, we came home. I was not met with the delicious smell I anticipated when walking in the door. My crock-pot dinner, which I worked so hard to be ready so at least ONE thing would go right… was cold. Some little fingers unplugged it for the toaster’s place, just before we left, and I never was the wiser.

Spills, blood, bites, stabs, falls, bangs and bruises have all been painted a different shade of blue across my day. But there was also an incredible sky painted today, which I love how Jack noticed all on his own. Clouds like stretched cotton, with a few three-dimensional puffs thrown in for good measure. There are also rainbows of trees, some burning, some glowing, some merely pronouncing God’s handiwork. They touch the blue and instantly cold and warm colors collide into a torrent of glory.

For the first time in fifteen hours, I only hear the clock ticking, with faint sounds of children playing. I used to have so much quiet in my life. Now my quiet is usually accompanied by sleep. Sitting on the sun-streaked bathroom floor, I was reminded not to constantly seek escape from my life, but rather embrace it. Straight on, hands open, arms wide, head up: embrace the noise, the questions, the messes, the tears. Take breaks, but don’t run away. There is one inch of tea left in this glorious break. My soul, only painted blue, is starting to burn a little bit of warm. I am starting to feel like those trees on fire, and I’m ready to add some color to Mon-nes-day, and call it Wednesday.

A Whole Lot of Simple

October 29, 2013 / amylynw / 1 Comment

This is a guest post I wrote for my friend, Jessica, and was featured on her blog today. Check out her creative ideas and beautiful photography!

Dear New Mama,

I used to think I knew what being a mom was all about. Eleven years ago, we held our firstborn baby: a beautiful girl who weighed a mere 6lbs 3oz, but whose spirit more than made up for her size. Deep within her heart there has always been a spark. It lights up when she sees you, and her heart wraps around life like a hug. More experienced mamas always told me to “enjoy every moment” because they pass so quickly. I believe them now, as I stand eye-to-eye with my curly-haired beauty of a daughter and discuss things like marriage, boys, friendships, and other adult-like topics. I’m reminded of it when I root around in her drawer to borrow one of her shirts, or when she grabs my sneakers as we head out the door. I’m reminded of how fast time flies, but I’ll also never forget those first few months.

She was about a week old when God gave my husband an epiphany. This revelation truly changed how I have viewed motherhood the past eleven years. We were visiting my sister and brother-in-law, and the first night there our little peanut of a daughter just wouldn’t stop crying. She wore little grey footie pajamas with a trapdoor covering its bottom. She was beyond cute. But she wouldn’t stop crying. I nursed her, rocked her, and the tears fell from my exhausted eyes. Eventually, I handed her off to Matthew and told him how I couldn’t do it anymore. This mom stuff just was beyond my ability. I was angry, confused, and tired. That night God spoke to him.

He said, She’s not trying to upset you. Just love her. Here I was, thinking this one-week-old little baby was on a mission: Upset Mom. She had no more of an agenda to make me angry than I had to give birth again. Yet I viewed her wailing as a personal vendetta against me for something I had done. Frustrated, I expected her to know how much I needed to sleep and stop crying.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that my second epiphany came. It was more like a bullet shot straight at me, knocking me over with its force. We were driving home from somewhere and my husband told me flat-out how he didn’t think I liked being a mom. My attitude and actions showed a shoving away, a pushing aside of what I was called to be and do. I couldn’t have verbalized it as succinctly as he did. Most likely I would have labeled my behavior as “exhausted mommy syndrome”. When I let myself in on my own secret, however, I knew he was right. I didn’t like being a mom. I wanted to be just ME again. No strings attached at my hips, my tummy, my breasts, my hands, my shoulders. I was so tired of being needed every minute of every day. I had bought into the lie that children are inconvenient and draining me of my very life.

There are many chapters to be written from that moment to today, but I want you to know how raw and real motherhood is. It’s way more than a baby registry, leggings, and wall decals. It’s more complicated than a birth plan or a nursery theme. Yet it’s as simple as a bedtime story, a back-rub and knowing your child’s favorite color. It’s not about the jogging stroller you use, it’s about the time you spend with your children. It’s not about whether or not your tummy goes back to its original shape and size. It’s more about tickle fights and soothing scary dreams. Motherhood isn’t about you as much as it’s about who needs you. Your worth isn’t found in how you measure up to anyone else, it’s in how much you love. You will be depleted and exhausted to your very core, and then you will be filled up again and again with a love as strong as death. All the tough answers won’t be found in textbooks or parenting seminars, but rather in your child’s heart as you get to know them.

By the time our fifth baby bettered this world by her arrival, I was given yet another epiphany. It was almost too simple of a thing not to have realized yet. It dawned on me that the best possible way to enjoy the fleeting months of babyhood was to actually hold onto my baby. Not put her in something across from me, next to me, or in a different room than me. I held that sweet baby girl more than I ever held anyone. Not to say she never went to her bed or into a highchair, but I wasn’t so quick to use those things when I “got tired” of being needed. Heaven knows I get tired of being needed. But it’s not about me as much as it is about embracing how much they need me.

There is no such thing as a Supermom. There aren’t any secret capes to pin onto your exhausted shoulders. There aren’t any magic pills to swallow or programs to complete. Supermoms have everything together, and I’ve never met one yet. But there are moms whose kids hug them just because they know they won’t be pushed away. There are moms whose quality of life isn’t reflected in how pristine and organized her home is, but rather in how obviously used and loved her home is. There are moms who are secretly awesome. If your biggest fans are the faces who sit at the dinner table with you each day, then you are a super mom. If you love your children unconditionally, then you are a super mom. If who you are isn’t defined by how well you do things, then you are a super mom. If you allow yourself the grace of being imperfect, then you are a super mom. If you know how to say I’m sorry, then you are a super mom.

On the days when it’s hard, remember they are not out to get you. On the days you just want out of this job, hold them a little closer. On the days you’re running on empty, give just a little bit more. Children weren’t made to drain us of our life, but rather to enrich our life. I challenge you to be present more than perfect. I encourage you to love them right where they are today and not to wish away each and every stage of life for the next. It’s time to bury our selfish sleep-loving selves and give it everything we’ve got.

I used to think being a mom meant having a baby. Now I know it means a whole lot of simple, blended with the Divine, making the mundane beautiful. Welcoming your child into your family is what gives you the title, but it’s the everyday inglorious things which really shape you into a mother.

Green Spirals and Merciful Days

October 21, 2013 / amylynw / Leave a comment

Mom, you never get peace, Jack said to me the other day. Wait! You had peace once! And he went on to talk about when they all went to Grandma’s house. I laughed out loud. Or if you’re going to use today’s lingo, I “roffled”. That is what I say in my head when I read ROFL… rolling on the floor laughing. No, I didn’t actually roll, or roffle, but I did achieve a small release of stress when I laughed out loud. Or lolled. (That’s LOL, btw.)

Tonight was no exception. I had great fun spiralizing my zucchini into fake noodles and tossing them with coconut sauce and blackened chicken. The kids watched Daniel Boone so I could spin deliciousness into my pots. But there is always one who doesn’t get the “peace memo”. She rolled on the floor crying. It’s always interesting trying to cook while stepping over a crying toddler. My strategy was to wait until they were so hungry, they would forget that the green zucchini noodles were not actually made from pasta. It worked for two of them, took convincing for two of them, and downright failed for the fifth one. This is when I use every ounce in my body not to take a two-year-old’s opinion of my cooking to heart. In the middle of our green spaghetti supper, a nameless highchair dweller knocked over one of the herb pots on the window sill. The walls start closing in when things like that happen.
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I’ve been waiting for a really really good excuse to scrub my kitchen floor. The successful eaters got chocolate ice-cream for dessert. The last one… did not. An hour later, I graciously gave her a banana, because she at least touched it to her tongue. Elijah said, Mom, you were really merciful tonight! when he saw her eating the banana. Thanks, Buddy.

Then I remembered these verses I just read.

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul that seeks him.
(Lamentations 3:21-25)

Even when I mess up, spill dirt, and wreck what He has planned… He still shows steadfast love, unending mercy, and abundant faithfulness.

So the truth is, despite what is outwardly going on, inside I always have peace. Jesus has wiped my heart of its spills and dirt. He has left the calm assurance of His forgiveness and faithfulness in place of the mess. Tomorrow, His mercies are new.

And tomorrow, maybe my floor will be clean.

Everything New Today, or ENT

October 18, 2013 / amylynw / 1 Comment

As usual, this week has passed about as quickly as the wind that whips my hair through the open windows of the car. This phone dump is a smattering of what has blown through this week:

My life, in our van, is always noisy. I admit, I’m jealous of folks who say their kids get sleepy in the car. Ours tend to go a bit wild. They tell jokes, do anything and everything to annoy their neighbor, cry, sing, tattle, and do whatever it takes to not fall asleep. I experienced an almost-flat tire last Saturday. When I drove into the gas station to check it out, I hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet when a very nice man started to pump up my visibly flat tire. Turns out there was a screw in there, and was easily fixed later.

A city date with friends did my claustrophobic mommy-heart good. There are some days when the walls of home and car seem very tight, and the expanse of the city line eases the life-is-closing-in-feeling. We ate at an Ethiopian restaurant which served stellar samosas, delicious dinner and the most amazing coffee I’ve ever had. It was so good, that I tried my hand at cooking it at home, with great success and happiness.

Another highlight was our 10-10 at 10:10 date to get Elsie’s cast off her arm! With a clean bill of health, she is back to speeding across monkey bars.

This week it was an honor seeing my 4th and 5th grade teacher from when I lived in Africa. When time telescopes like this, I shake my head in wonder at how I have such clear memories of when I was as old as two of my children.

Other highlights include the fact that I need reading glasses.

Yesterday, two of my accessory-loving children got into my closet. It was a much-needed diversion from school.

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Then somehow the outfit helped Jack get through the rest of his work a little easier.

Cooking is on an upswing for me, after a long bout in non-inspiration land.

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Matthew visited the ENT this week and found out he has a yeast infection in his throat, so he’s on medicine for that now. His voice continues to be hoarse and he’s trying to rest it as much as possible. Otherwise, he feels well. In the next couple of weeks he needs to meet up with the plastic surgeon who did the surgery on his eyes a couple of years ago. We will need to set up a long-term game plan for possible future reconstructive surgery of his sinus area. The bridge of his nose is collapsing, and before a situation might become emergent, we need to figure out some possible courses of action. We would love to stop the medical dates, trips to the pharmacy, and be immune to disease. Yet, we know Jesus more through trial than through ease. We grow when the weight is heavy, not light. This temporary home loses much of its charm when it’s full of trouble, and our heavenly home grows more beautiful. Knowing every situation is allowed by God who knows and loves us more deeply than we’ll ever understand, gives comfort and peace beyond explanation. One day ENT will have a new meaning for us: that day when Jesus makes everything new. Everything New Today… might be today!

Veggie Ice-Cream

October 8, 2013 / amylynw / Leave a comment

Some days what is true just doesn’t match up with what I’m feeling. For instance: I am so in love with my children, and think they are the best. However, sometimes circumstances cause something inside me to go “snap!” Like when a voice goes above a certain decibel, or when someone decides to shoot a nerf bullet at someone else’s eye right at bedtime. I don’t feel the love when someone leaves the freezer just slightly open right before we head out the door, and I find out a few hours later. My feelings are pretty much the opposite of warm and fuzzy when puddles of special ice-cream have melted into the peas and corn. My feelings are a simmering pot of hot water when the dairy/veggie mush leads to an entire deep cleaning of the refrigerator and freezer. I am thankful I can go grocery shopping. But sometimes dragging five kids in the rain to my least favorite store makes my blood start a slow and steady boil. I have never had to do this before, but when one of my unnamed children decided to throw their flip-flop as high as they could in the middle of aisle seven, this mama had to climb the shelves like a ladder and pull it out from between the bags of flour on the top shelf. Excuse me if I step on your groceries.

I love being a mom, but there are times I don’t feel it.

The truth is, I am so incredibly thankful for our home. Yet sometimes my emotions start dictating thoughts of discontent over the color of my walls or the state of my sofa. Right now, our laundry room is being refinished. The floor is gorgeous. Soon the rest will be as well.

Until it is finished, I am living out the book, “It Could Always Be Worse”. If I thought my kitchen felt tight or crowded, a good solution is to bring the washer, dryer, linens, and a dresser in to join the chaos. Now I am cooking and canning while maneuvering around a dresser. I plop the kids wherever there is a clean corner of the table, which juts out into the middle of the kitchen. I have to crawl under the table to fetch the parchment paper or griddle. The laundry is quickly piling up, because when there is an average of ten dirty outfits a day (factoring in boys), going on a week without a washer, works out to be about seventy outfits needing to be laundered. It could always be worse.

So since the kitchen is a mess, we celebrated Nadine’s birthday at Hibachi. Their faces say it all:
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I am so thankful truth is not based on feelings. I’m also thankful for rescued flip-flops, clean freezers, and laundry-free days.

Eyes Open To Beautiful

September 29, 2013September 29, 2013 / amylynw / Leave a comment

Things I’ve been loving about our children:

When Jack wraps his arms around me just because. When he tells stories, his voice gets deeper and he sounds like a little man weaving a tale of seriousness. I love that he is brave enough and has the imagination wide enough to wear a cowboy hat for an entire day all throughout the city of Philadelphia.

I love how his trusty sidekick wears a pink cast and also a swell hat. I also love that by the time we got home, he had transformed into “Bill” and talked in a cowboy accent and enjoyed his “cowboy soup” for supper.

I love how they make celebrities out of ordinary people. Like the other day when Jack and Elsie took their mini white erase boards to our next-door neighbor and asked him to please sign his name. They got so excited when he did so, and didn’t erase their boards for the rest of the day.

Betty is so verbal and polite. On Friday we went with some friends on the train to the Franklin Institute. When we got off the train, she said, Thank you for the train, Mommy! After walking through the giant heart, she ran up to me and said, That was amazing! My heart is amazing! Unbelievable.

Jack discovering how polymers work… relieved when the cup of water did NOT dump onto his head! 2013-09-26
Nadine did a great job blowing up a balloon!

At the end of the extremely fun day, things melted down on the train ride home. My friend got this great picture of how things REALLY looked those last few minutes. Tired mommies, tired kiddos.

The next morning Betty’s sweet thankful heart was back again after a good night’s rest and she told me: Thank you for the eggs and bacon, Mommy. I’m going to wash my hands. I’m going to do it myself. And proceeded to do so. She is somewhat of a self-acclaimed vegetarian, but she loves bacon!

A couple of weeks of school have finished and I’m thrilled they are still smiling! We even have ninjas who sometimes attend. Elsie wrote everything on her board all by herself. The last line is my favorite, translated: I love God as well.

My fifth student helped me chop a ton of peppers to freeze for the winter. Sometimes she can be very serious about her work, but she is always a really cute and helpful chef!

There are always things I am learning and loving about our children. I always want my eyes to be wide open to the beautiful, amongst the mess and flurry that is life.

Mangoes, Heartbeats, & IV’s

September 23, 2013 / amylynw / 2 Comments

School is always in session, even when it’s not. Take for instance last night when Elsie looked at me while drinking from a little milk container, straw stuck in her mouth while she talked: Mom? Am I drinking a cow’s pee? I then had to explain the anatomy of a cow. Fun stuff, really.

We almost managed to avoid visiting any doctors for an entire week. My wrist has been acting up (has a lot in the past) and I thought it was finally time to get an x-ray. At the urgent care, I was told it was nothing but a ganglion cyst. Ganglion is one of those words I really don’t like saying. I don’t mind the word “gang”, it’s kind of cool-sounding, really. A lion is so strong and majestic. Put them together, and ganglion is just plain awful. It feels dreadful too. Thankfully I didn’t need an x-ray, but Elsie is bummed we won’t have matching casts. I’m amazed at how she has had zero complaints about her pink cast. She rides her bike, jumps on the trampoline, plays on the playground, and has a personal assault weapon on her at all times.
We had a fun time with Matthew’s family last night. Jack learned how to use chopsticks. He loves China, including its food. Notice the concentration:

This week, Matthew was able to bring Elijah to work with him one day. He had an excellent report from the boss, and was a big help!

Besides being good with the drill, he is also a handy taste-tester. What’s an African girl to do when she has a few mangoes on her hands? Make mango sauce, of course! That, right there, is a small taste of my childhood in a bowl. I’m always happy when I can share a piece of Africa with my kids on this side of the planet.

Nadine’s love tank is always full whenever she can hold a heartbeat with fur on it.

She has also been incredibly helpful watching Betty each day for slots of time so I can write, cook, and do school with the short crowd.

Today marks the second and last Rituxan treatment for Matthew. Since I couldn’t be with him, I bugged him for pictures. I know he wouldn’t post them himself… but… I would, because I love him so very much! His voice is still weak, and sometimes he still is a bit tight, but he “feels” good. We continue to pray for strength and healing! I am so incredibly thankful for a man who never sits around (except if there’s an IV pumping through him!) and is never lazy. He simply follows Jesus in his attitude, actions, and mindset. I’m not married to a perfect man by any means, but he is a real man. There is nothing remotely fantasy-related in his life. He is all real-life and hard-core. Grow old with me, my love!
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