a day’s wage

Every Tuesday at our house is grocery day. I’m ever thankful that God gave me three boys that can help me carry all the groceries up the stairs from the garage each week. It has become standard procedure for everyone, including the toddler, to carry something. Then we all go up the stairs and work on putting things away. The end result of all this help is usually a kitchen scattered from end to end with empty grocery bags.

Yesterday my oldest decided, on his own, that he would help further by cleaning up all the bags. So I said to him, “Thank you so much for cleaning up all those bags without being asked.” He replied, “maybe I could do it every week and you could pay me for it.” I chuckled internally for a bit, and then said, “Maybe you could do it every week, but not for money. Maybe you could just do it as part of your share of the responsibilities. After all, I don’t get paid for doing your laundry or fixing your dinner.”

He looked a bit dejected and then he disappeared up the stairs. The surprise came when he reappeared with 65 cents. I said, “What is this for?” And he said, “for being the greatest mom in the world.”

I love that kid.

bugs!

What goes hand in hand with a wetter than average, steamy summer in Georgia? Bugs. Bugs. And more bugs. The bug stories have been accumulating, so I thought maybe it was time to share.

Bug Story #1 – The Cruelty of Nature

So, my two oldest boys are sitting on the front porch waiting for their ride to Vacation Bible School. The little one is in the high chair and I’m cleaning up breakfast when I get that little notion that maybe I should go check on the kids. If you’re a mom, particularly a mom of boys, you know  the notion I’m talking about… the one that, if ignored, will be followed shortly by a trip to the emergency room. So anyway, I peek out of the side window and see them armed with sticks and rocks and looking determined. I opened the door to discover them attempting to free a giant wasp from the clutches of a black widow spider. Personally, I vote, like my husband and several Facebook friends, KILL THEM BOTH! But, the compassionate souls that they are just couldn’t stand to see any life come to an end. I encouraged them to put the sticks down and explained (again) that this is nature, the way God designed it. God provided that wasp for the spider to eat…. and hopefully would soon provide something to eat the spider. So we sat and watched for a while, and it was actually pretty fascinating. The little black widow skillfully tackled the wasp that was easily 3 times her size and expeditiously wrapped up only the stinging end of the wasp and then retreated to a corner to watch the wasp wriggle itself to death. When I returned to check on the situation hours later, both wasp and spider were gone. In my opinion, the only thing worse than a black widow spider is a missing black widow spider.

Bug Story #2 – Housemates

Ever since the weather started to warm, we’ve been encountering carpenter ants in and around our house. One here, two or three there. We assumed that they were attracted to the expansive deck we had added to the back of the house the previous summer and I thought they were coming into the kitchen through the back door. Then a few weeks ago, on Mother’s day actually, I discovered a few ants coming and going through the air conditioning vent in my kitchen floor. Aha! The source!  So we sprayed inside the vent with that spray that is supposed to be safe for children and pets but lethal to ants. I don’t see how a chemical can possibly be both… but the spraying ensued nonetheless. The spraying resulted in a trail of ants parading into the kitchen at an alarming rate, looking wet and sticky, but otherwise none the worse for wear. So, there I sat by the vent armed with a paper towel, squashing the bugs as they emerged from the hole in the floor. I thought maybe that would be the end of the ants. Nope. The two or three  around the house each day continued until this last weekend when my brother was in the garage beneath the kitchen helping my husband  replace a pipe that had burst over the winter. When he pulled the insulation back from the rafters, he uncovered a nest of hundreds of carpenter ants and thousands of eggs. They sprayed them with something not safe for pets or children and I hear the ants were falling from the ceiling like raindrops. Thankfully I had decided to make a trip to the store and missed the whole event. They had it all cleaned up by the time I got home, with the exception of the queen they had saved for my viewing pleasure. It is a good thing I wasn’t there to see them… I wouldn’t have slept for months.

Bug Story #3 – A Late Night Visitor

So, it is late at night and my husband is in New Jersey for a couple days. I have done the usual locking and relocking of all the doors and am heading to bed trying to keep my mind off the quiet, creepy loneliness of my house after dark. I head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, brush my teeth, wash my face, and take out my contacts. I walk to the toilet, the last stop before I climb into bed, lift the lid and see something brown on the seat. Without my contacts I can’t possibly decipher what it might be. It is a brown smear. I conclude that either the boys have been using my bathroom again, or it is a bug. I thought better of the idea to bend down for a closer look. I wouldn’t want to get my face closer to either scenario. So I locate my glasses and head back to the toilet to see a cockroach sitting comfortably in my spot. Now this was the palmetto bug variety of roach. In Louisiana where I first encountered them, they were all lumped into one disgusting heap with all the other cockroaches. But here, I am told, there is a distinct difference between a Palmetto bug and a cockroach. Whatever. They are gross and I don’t want them on my toilet seat. Why is my husband always conveniently out of town when these things come up? So I head to the kitchen and scramble for something to spray it with… Endust…. Lysol… Scrubbing Bubbles… Windex…… AHA! BLEACH!! So I grab the bleach spray and run to the toilet only to find the critter has vanished. Apparently among the other amazing traits of the cockroach, like surviving nuclear holocaust, is the ability to read minds. I very cautiously lifted the seat to find him hiding on the underside. Spray, spray, spray! Blast! The nozzle is switched to off. ON! Okay, spray, spray, spray!!! Hey, at least my toilet is getting cleaned in this process. Spray! He runs down the toilet and across the bathroom floor, clearly not phased by the mist of bleach. He paused in the middle of the floor, as if to ponder his next move. So I do what any insane, lonely housewife would do. I set the bottle of bleach on top of him, so that I might ponder my next move. I could hear him rattling around under the bottle, so I knew that he wasn’t squished, only trapped momentarily. I searched around the room, knowing that I couldn’t sleep knowing he was there and I couldn’t possibly squash him with a tissue. No way. Not possible. Then I saw the fly swatter that I had neglectfully left on the bathroom floor for a week. Thank you LORD for procrastination. I picked up the bottle and he hopped up, just like the little roach in Wall-E. I swatted and swatted until I was certain he was dead, reasurring myself that he’s only visiting us from the woods, and that we won’t find a colony of them living in our insulation next year.

three flowers

As we were walking from our car to church on Sunday, we passed a patch of dandelions. My 6 year old immediately plucked one and brought it to me with a big smile. I knew the big hug he got in return would start a parade of flower picking for mom. As expected, the oldest and youngest soon followed suit and picked flowers of their own. But much to my dismay, their flowers weren’t for me. The little one kept his for himself and the oldest, well… he gave his to a little girl in his class. It was quite the picture of the stages of childhood and a reminder of how precious and few those years really are.

a fish out of water

AKA… a homeschool mom in a liquor store. You’ll get it in a minute.

So, a few weeks ago I decided to try my hand at selling cakes. It has been going remarkably well so far. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but every time I feel overwhelmed, I just say a little prayer and put it all in God’s hands. I’ve been saying that prayer a lot.

I have three cakes this weekend and one of them is going to have lettering that is painted gold. Edible gold paint can apparently made by mixing gold luster dust, readily available at craft stores, with vodka, which is not so readily available at craft stores.

That brings me to today. I was out running some errands and I decided to stop by the corner package store to pick up the vodka. How hard could it be, right? I decided to leave the kids in the car while I ran in, because the only thing more inappropriate than a homeschool mom in a liquor store is a homeschool mom in a liquor store with her three small children. On the way in I noticed on the window a large poster of… well, lets just say it was a close up of part of a woman’s body being used to advertise a can of beer. All I could think was “I hope the kids can’t tell that is a person.”

I walked through the door, already a little rattled by the poster, and told the man behind the counter that I wanted the smallest, cheapest bottle of vodka that he had. He produced a little bottle that rang up for $1.68, I paid as quickly as I could, while trying really hard not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

I headed back out the door, no more than 2 minutes after I walked in, and realized that somewhere along the way I had lost my keys. The doors were locked and the kids were inside, and I assumed that I had just left them on the seat or in the console. I motioned to my oldest to open the door from the inside and then I opened the door…

…which triggered the alarm.

I searched around the truck and found nothing. I dug frantically through my purse, trying desperately to pretend that I couldn’t hear the horn blaring, much like I pretend I can’t hear the toddler’s tantrums in the middle of  Wal-Mart. It wasn’t working. Then it occurred to me that I must have set my keys on the counter in the store when I was hurrying to check out. I walked back in and the man behind the counter was dangling them from his finger, like he had been in there chuckling the whole time, just waiting for me to realize what an idiot I was.

I walked out of the store a second time, this time past a toothless guy in the parking lot who quickly apologized to me for laughing. Then I drove away, thankful that no one I know spends much time at the corner package store.

i do and i’d do it again

No, I’m not talking about getting married, although that is absolutely true. I’m talking about the much anticipated, stressed over, gray hair manifesting, zit-inflicting, family-neglecting baking of my first ever wedding cake. After months of planning, practicing and preparing, the big day arrived, ready or not, last Saturday. Here’s how it all went down:

Two weeks ago I flew to Utah, along with all my children, my mother, two Kitchen Aid mixers and half my kitchen, leaving behind my husband and my sanity.

the twinkie experiment

Sunday afternoon I was sitting with my 6 year old watching Wall-E for the 100th time when he made a comment about the cockroach’s home. He said it looked like he was living in a caramel. It was very plain to me that the home he was referring to was actually a Twinkie. Could it be possible that my son had never seen a Twinkie?

We did the only thing you can do when faced with a situation such as this – we rushed right out to buy a box of Twinkies. It was a first for all of my children, and the first time in 20 years for me and my husband. I don’t buy much in the way of junk food. We eat fruit for snacks, and occasionally granola bars. The big splurge for the kids is those chewy fruity things, in our home simply referred to as “gummies”. Other than that we eat home made cookies, bars, etc…

It took us a while to locate them at the store. First I tried the cookies/crackers aisle, I mean, that is where the majority of the junk food is located, so I thought it was logical. Then it started to come back to me… no, not the junk food aisle – the bread/peanut butter aisle – a ridiculous location in my opinion, but nonetheless, we found them there. We stood in line with our box of Twinkies, and I have to admit I was embarrassed, probably more so than I would be standing in line with feminine products.

When we got home we tore open the box and distributed Twinkies to all. I was actually excited about it. My memories of Twinkies were quite fond. But after the first bite, my husband and I glanced at each other with the same thought. They aren’t as good as we remembered. My oldest son took one bite, made a face and then ran away. The littlest one ate until he reached the “cream” filling, then he handed it to me and said “you eat it.” The only one of my family who appeared to like the Twinkie at all was the 6 year old, for whom this whole adventure was started in the first place.

It was a proud, proud day at our house.

home

So being home has been a bit of an adjustment – and not just because I have to make my own coffee every morning. I thought, when we were in Italy, that I would be glad to be back in the world where I can read all the signs and I can understand what people around me are saying. Some of the first English signs we encountered were at the airport – Welcome to the United States. Yet we found the words on the sign and the words in the hearts of our people are just not the same. At the airport I had a glimpse of what people get to see when they visit our country for the first time, and I was appalled and embarrassed. We were treated like cattle. The non-U.S. citizens were treated even worse, talked to like they were stupid because they can’t speak English. And the conversations that I could hear around me really weren’t worth hearing. Arguing. Bickering. Rudeness.

one last day

Day 12 – Saying Goodbye

We hadn’t planned anything for our last day in Rome. I knew that throughout our time there we would discover things that we had missed, or sites that deserved a second visit. I was glad we planned it that way. We decided to use part of the day to do a couple walking tours that we found in our Rome guide book. The first was a tour of the Aventine and the second went through Trastevere and the Janiculum – all places we had not had a chance to visit yet.

fountains and aqueducts, and getting lost

Days 10 and 11 – Getting out of the city

Our plan on Saturday was to escape the noise, crowds and traffic of Rome and take a bus ride to Tivoli. It was a sunny day, but still very windy and cold, so we decided to keep our itinerary light and visit only one of the enormous villas there, Villa d’Este. Getting on the bus was relatively uneventful and uncomplicated, a tremendous blessing considering some of the transportation difficulties we had experienced so far. We got off the bus and stood on a corner long enough to overhear an old Italian lady explaing to a young Italian couple how to get to Villa d’Este from the bus stop. We watched her hand gestures and then decided to just follow the other couple from a distance

ancient ruins, painted ceilings, and truffles

Days 8 and 9 – Time to see the sights

The forecast on our first full day in Rome called for rain in the afternoon, so we headed out early in hopes of covering some ground before the weather deteriorated. We began our day in ancient Rome with a tour of the Forum, Palatine Hill and the interior of the Colosseum. It was a lot to see, but we got through it all without pulling out our ponchos. It was really amazing to walk around and imagine what life might have been like 2000 years ago. The Colosseum was built not long after Jesus was roaming the earth. What a thought! Those kinds of realizations struck us again and again during the trip. We visited places where Paul was imprisoned, safehouses where the apostles hid from persecution… it was really incredible. I can only imagine what it would be like to visit Israel.