I've Moved!

Please visit my blog at: http://embracinggirlfriday.wordpress.com/

thanks!

There's a Troll in the Dungeon!

A huge, massive LAUNDRY troll in the dungeon, er, laundry room. I wish it was a laundry EATING troll, but alas, it was not.

Laundry trolls love just one thing...laundry. The thicker the layer of laundry, the happier the troll becomes. These trolls smear chocolate ice cream onto clean kids' clothes, eat just one sock of each pair, make the washer overflow, and practice the ancient art of t-shirt cloning all to make a happy home for themselves.

Laundry trolls also feed off of negative emotions towards laundry, and I must admit that I hate doing laundry. I think it goes back to my childhood. In the first house I can remember, the laundry room was an unfinished room full of wolf spiders and bad memories. Like the time Granny spanked me for playing hide-and-seek in the dryer. So uncalled for! The next house was 1908 charmer with a basement laundry room that resembled the Bastille. The crawl space openings on the far wall looked like dark creepy eyes, and the open stairs that descended into the gloom just begged for a goblin to reach out to grab my feet as I made a mad dash for clean undies. And, on top of that cheeriness were the bugs. Big bugs. Big bugs with a bazillion legs. Big bugs with a bazillion legs that just would not die easily like a good bug should. And, on the floor....troll fodder and lots of it.


So, no wonder I have laundry issues. It's genetic. However, this week, we conquered the troll! With teamwork, homemade laundry soap, and a washer and dryer that ran constantly every waking hour, the laundry troll was dismembered limb by limb. Much of the remains were carefully packed into to huge lawn&leaf bags to be taken to a charity drop-off. (But don't worry, the remains were cleaned, neutered, and rendered incapable of creating baby laundry trolls of their own.)
 
Here is The Boy standing triumphant on the battlefield:
 

Musing on Homemaking: Loving my husband

I am coming up on my 9th anniversary of homewifery. After almost a decade of managing my home as my primary occupation, what do I have to show for it? At the top of a short list, I am proud to announce that my husband has not had to Febreeze his clothing in a few years.

Apparently, I...don't...get...home management. The growing pile of self-help books, dishes, and laundry is proof of that. I am searching for a magic pill. For home management from an easy-spray applicator. For the perfect template from a successful homemaker that I can make my own with next to no effort on my part.

When I wanted to search the Web or type in my credit card number for yet another book, I was gently directed to the Word instead and to Titus 2--that wonderful chapter on setting our lives and homes in order. Older women are encouraged to be teachers of good things. This includes teaching the younger wives "to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, homemakers, good, obedient to their own husbands" (v. 3-5). All of this starts with love.

What is love then? 1 Corinthians 13 explains in detail. Starting with verse 4: "Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails."

To see a picture of love in action, I only have to look to my own husband. He never forgets to thank me for things he should be able to take for granted--clean underwear, a home-cooked meal, a task completed, happy kids. He thanks me for all I do even when there is no dinner prepared, the laundry is piled high, he is tired and still has to hunt for his own meal after a long day at work. He is unfailingly kind to me. He is the antithesis of the nagging, cruel, guilt-driven voice in my head who reminds me constantly that I am nothing and deserve nothing. Sadly, I listen to that voice more than the sweet voice of my husband. I can't believe that someone can love me despite these serious flaws and that just makes me sink deeper into despair and chaos. Rather than using his love and kindness as a lifeline, I have made it a noose. It is time to let go and just...love.

Titus 2--love my husband. I can't be filled with love when I am filled with self-loathing. I am redeemed by Christ, from whom all good things come. Jason and his unfailing love are good things. I am redeemed by grace, made perfect in Christ, loved by my Maker and my husband. My cup runneth over.

Housewife Know Thyself

Mission: Towels has brought a new level of understanding into my life. Five towels on five hooks, rotated once a week. Sublimely simplistic. A second set of towels waits in the wings to be rotated...stop right there. Here's were reality sets in again. Waiting to be rotated turns into waiting to be washed which turns into using up valuable storage space which leads to the Post Office creating a new zip code for my laundry room. Why have 10 towels when 5 will do? With just 5, I am forced to wash them. Into the wash they go, then right back on the hooks. Same with sheets. If I remove my one set of sheets in the morning, I have to have them back on the bed before night. (An extra set of replacement sheets and towels can go into long-term storage.) I know myself well enough that I will not sleep on a bed without sheets. Just won't do it--even if that means waiting up half the night for the sheets to dry if I forget! So, for linens, this system should work for me. This is part of knowing my weaknesses and building workable solutions. I hate doing laundry, but I love having clean clothes, sheets, and towels. This lead me to rethink all of our clothing as well. Beanie has outgrown all of her summer clothes. This is great for Lemony, but not great for the budget. What if I got her 7 basic shirts, 5 shorts, and 2 skirts for the warmer months? I can keep track of that much--it is just the mountain of shirts that only go with one pair of pants, etc, etc, that culminate in the new zip code. Not to mention that even with all the clothes my kids have, they never have anything to wear--its all on the floor in the laundry room. The Boy has just a few favorites that he wears anyway--why waste the storage on clothing he doesn't wear? This is going to take some more thought... In my mind, I envision 3 neatly dressed children each with matching polo shirts and crisp, clean jean shorts. Red for Monday, blue for Tuesday, green for Wednesday... In reality, they would revolt. But, it is a pleasant, freshly scented dream.

Lessons from Wayne's World

I've been feeling drained over the last few weeks. Random episodes of fatigue just roll over me. I wasn't sure if I was sick, depressed or what. Yesterday, I had had enough. I got up and started doing again. It was...difficult. Today, it is a bit easier. I am hoping tomorrow will show that I am on the mend again. Perhaps Wayne Campbell holds the answer to this mysterious illness: "I once thought I had mono for an entire year. It turned out I was just really bored." Actually, my problem is an impending move. Sorting and packing up 5 years worth of stuff and memories is much more difficult than I ever imagined. For the first time in our almost 17 years of married life, I feel like J and I have made a real home. Our babies have grown up in this house. They've learned to roller skate and ride bikes, made forts and friends, and asked the Lord to be their Savior here. There are the pencil marks on the wall showing how much the kids have grown. Each dent in the floor and smear on the door tells a story. I know every inch of this house--mostly thanks to the numerous paint changes each room has endured. We've laughed, cried, and rearranged (furniture and lives) here. Now I am entering the unknown. Big changes are in store, and I am rebelling by dragging my feet and sitting in my comfy chair. But I do feel like I am on the cusp of something amazing. A year of grace and promise. But where? In a strange city with my beloved or home without him? Only God knows. For now that has to be enough. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

'The Path of Life"

I sent the kids outside to revel in this heatwave--42 degrees! Wahoo! They are out there loving every minute of the warmth. Yes, I am serious. This is WARM, comparitively speaking. I heard The Boy tell his sister that he needed to go inside for supplies before they started on the "Path of Life" game. I was curious (and a bit fearful) as to the supplies needed for this game and about the game itself. Turns out the supplies were just cups of water for thirsty kids (whew!). The game was aptly named the "Path of Life." He had set up two paths--a broad path and a narrow path for the kids' scooters. (I think you know where this is going. I did...and I loved it!) The broad path would cause the scooters to crash, but the narrow path led to victory. I thank God for this little boy!

Thursday Thoughts

We had a rough day home schooling today. The Boy is usually a whiz at math, but double digit division has just baked his nugget. He is so freaked out that he is getting the simple components (like 14-8=6) wrong. This tested my limited patience today. This is where grace comes in, both from my son who didn't hold my frustration against me, and the Lord who gave me an idea to help him. Turns out, that all of the numbers in straggly rows and columns confused him. I printed up the same equations in Excel in a graph pattern so that each digit had its own box. Much better results!

My Dr. Bronners soap and coconut oil arrived today. I did a test patch with the coconut oil on my hand--wow! Major improvement over regular lotion!