It is pouring out. I am sitting here in my chair, thinking about things. I finished five valances for the kitchen windows and door today, I made that phone call about getting the oil changed on the truck, I did some laundry and made multiplication tables with the kids. I swept and washed the top of the stove, and the tiles behind it.
We never went on our adventure. I got into sewing, and Suze took them out to ride their bikes in the road...they are not allowed in the road at all unless someone big watches for cars, shouts to warn them, and they pull to the side. It's a country road, but the cars go speeding fast when they do go by. Anyway.
The kids were perfectly content to just play here in the yard.
Sometimes I just get tired of running here and there and everywhere.
So tomorrow, after our dentist appointments, we will go to the store. The list is getting longer, too...
Anyway. Sometimes when I am tempted to complain about the relentlessness of the messes around here, I think that at least I can move and walk and actually physically do what I need to do. I imagine myself twenty or thirty years down the road, perhaps in a wheelchair, looking back with fondness at days like today, when I could actually DO things.
Yeah, I do have an imagination.
But it's true! I don't want to complain my life away! Each and every day is a gift!
Okay, I have some teenage girls. (I have five teenagers at the moment - Samuel 19, Margaret 17, Kathryn 16, Evelyn 15, Suzanne 13, and Sonja K. is 12 and a half...)One of the girls has an attitude sometimes, and can be difficult at church things. I talked to her this evening, and imagine how I was jumping up and down inside when she simply told me, "I want to be good." Isn't that all we really want? For them to WANT to be good?
I try not to micromanage my kids. They can choose their own styles, and yeah, I do make them change if their skirt is too short, ect. But modesty aside, I let them wear what they want. I let them choose music, and they watch scary movies, and television shows on Netflix. Ultimately, they have to choose their own paths in life. My job is to encourage, strengthen, and help them find their path. Of course my deepest hope is that that path is one that leads them to live a God fearing life, but I love them no matter what they choose, and pray for them continuously.
And when they decide to be good, to be faithful, I just jump up and down inside!
Anyway. I hope to get more sleep tonight than I did last night. I am tired, but staying up in the quiet with the rain pounding down is just lovely.
Dinner tonight: I cooked two pounds of bacon, steamed some broccoli, made some fried eggs, some scrambled eggs, and had frozen raspberries for dessert. Broccoli and eggs go well together, made me forget about toast.
I miss Paul. He calls me every afternoon, from France. We have been married for 30 years, and I still get that funny feeling inside, that spring time I'm In Love feeling. I can't explain it, but it is an actual physical sensation in my chest when I think about him. Sorry to any of my kids who read this, but I simply cannot wait 'til he gets home. I am extremely thankful for him. He said there was an empty seat on the trans-Atlantic flight, which never happens. I said that maybe his wife was supposed to be there.
Ah well. Tomorrow, the dentist. All three of the younger ones have to have fillings, Cam just one small one, and the other two at least two each. They brush their teeth nicely, with lots of nagging and reminders from yours truly, but Jon's teeth are just not great. I wonder if it's because he was born less than 11 months after I had Robert, and didn't get enough nutrients in his teeth. I don't know, but of course that Mom Guilt comes on when they get cavities. I am not proud to admit that I did tell them, "This is why I keep reminding you!!!", about brushing their teeth three times a day and after anything sweet.
Cam has never had a filling, and oh my goodness, I would rather have one myself that have that child in the dentist's chair. She is my sensitive one, she doesn't even like her hair brushed because it hurts, she says. Jon and Char are all brave, but I see their legs shake a little while they open wide, and I hate it. They like me in the room with them, and I stand there and listen to the drill, and want to faint. blah. The joys of motherhood.
Perhaps after this, they will be more scrupulous with the brushing and flossing, and there will never be any more cavities.
And...I think perhaps I am tired enough for bed now....