Even a Tooth

When I look back over my life, I can't help but wonder at all the times I've received just the right thing at just the right time. Like the time Clint and I were looking at our stove and thinking it had to be at least twenty years old (or older...it came with the house when we bought it thirteen years ago), thinking we should start setting aside money to replace it, and then Dad texted and asked us whether we needed a practically-new (free) stove because his friend just wanted to get rid of it. And it's beautiful and works so well. Blessings like this, both big and small, fall into our days time and again. And let's not forget the blessings we don't even know about, right? Like the time we leave the house later than expected and thus avoid hitting the deer that crossed the road two minutes ago. Stuff like that.
And of course, we have done nothing to earn or deserve these blessings. We just live, thanking God and praising Him for the way He works in our lives. (And that's grace, isn't it?)
Well, we saw grace in action a few days ago. It started like this:
We were spending some time with the extended family the day after Lauren's wedding, just hanging out in and out of the pool, sitting around and swapping stories, eating leftovers from the wedding. You know. Family time. Good time. Important time.
And as we were driving home, Jared mentioned that he thought he had chipped a tooth while "wrestling" with his older cousin. I told him that he probably didn't chip it. It was probably just a sharp spot. No, he said, he had spit out a piece of tooth in his hand.
How hard did he hit you, I asked.
I can't remember getting hit at all, he said. And we weren't even really wrestling. Just, you know.
We figured it wasn't a big deal. It was probably a baby tooth that would come out soon anyway.
When we got home, he pointed out the tooth. I couldn't see anything. We checked online to see whether he would indeed lose his third molar back, soon learning that this one was an adult tooth. A little niggling worry set in, but nothing much. I still figured it couldn't be that bad.
And we began to pack for a week's vacation in northern Michigan. As we packed, I resolved to call the dentist from the road first thing Monday morning, just to feel safe.
When I called, the dentist asked about sensitivity or pain; Jared reported none. They said it should be fine, then.
But that night, when we looked more closely in his mouth with a flashlight and zoomed-in phone camera, we could see a pretty sizable hole in his molar. Clint talked about caps and crowns and root canals. That niggling worry grew.
I called the dentist back the next day and asked for their earliest appointment for the following week. She had an opening early Monday morning.
Still, Jared had no pain, no sensitivity. He promised to keep his tooth extra clean (he's conscientious like that) and didn't seem worried at all.
The vacation was a blessing, a time of rest and family time and great adventure. He never complained about his tooth, and I stopped worrying.
When we got home, I reminded him of his dentist appointment and had to pry him out of bed hours before he usually gets up in the summer. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, we walked into the dentist's office, where we were the first patients of the day.
They called him back and I sat alone for several minutes. Then, his dentist came back to see me, a smile on her face. She said there had been the beginning of a cavity in that tooth--in that spot--that they'd been keeping an eye on, and that part of his tooth had a weak spot, and he must have been "hit" (if he even was...maybe he was just clenching his teeth) at just the right spot, and it just cracked. But it wasn't a deep hole, and it could be fixed with a simple filling.
Oh, I said, what good news. Can I set up an appointment for the filling today?
No need, she said, my next patient hasn't shown up yet. I can do it right now. It won't take long.
And it didn't. Within half an hour, Jared was back in the waiting room with me, tooth fixed.
The dentist said he had done a remarkable job keeping it clean in the eight days since it cracked; that had kept infection from setting in, which made her repair a very simple one.
God is good, people. Even in small things, His care is evident. I am thankful for this reminder to praise Him in all things.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6-7)

Birthday Weekend

June is a very busy month in our family. Clint and I celebrate our birthdays at the beginning of the month, and then Jared and Lauren celebrate theirs back to back at the end. So, Jared (somehow) has skipped right along to his eighth birthday. 

One of his cuddliest presents was this stuffed doggie (more about him later).

After presents but before we headed out to the lake for the day, Daddy decided the kids needed to recreate a picture we took of them when we brought Jared home from the hospital. Surprisingly, it was a little more difficult this time around.

And Lauren turned 19 this year (seriously? how is THAT possible?). Jared was so helpful with her present opening. Just always giving, that kid.

Lauren's favorite present was SuperBoyfriend, which Dad picked up at a garage sale a few weeks ago. Who knew something like this would become So Important? (And the bonus: SB is fully poseable.)

But what really surprised us all was the revelation last night that the birthday celebration wasn't over yet. Jared's new doggie was celebrating his birthday TODAY. So, Jared and I spent a few hours last night planning Shorkie's birthday party. Shorkie invited all of his friends. And, happily, they were all able to attend. Even though Grandpa Perry (the platypus) and Grandma Lumberjack (the beaver) are moving to Texas TODAY.

Shorkie loves his new collar, made and designed by Jared.

He's also very thankful for the thoughtful card his grandparents made for him. (That's Grandpa Perry and Grandma Lumberjack, of course.) (Oh yeah, and his full name is Shwarcansquater, but that's a bit of a mouthful for some of us.)

His grandparents also gave him a real dollar bill.

And he got a new home, which smells a little like cinnamon and apples, for some reason. And also a tennis ball.

Jared was hoping I'd make Shorkie his own birthday cake, but I told him two cakes in two days is enough. Shorkie can have some of his or Lauren's leftover cake. Apparently Shorkie is allergic to chocolate, though, so he'll have to settle for Lauren's cake.

Pioneer Living

It's tradition at their elementary school that the 2/3 graders visit the local historical museum to learn about daily life for pioneers. Jared was really excited about the trip because they'd finally get to see Inside the Log Cabin. I didn't go along, but I heard the following report from a Very Reliable Source.

When they entered the pioneer log cabin, the tour lady invited the children to look around carefully and observe ways this cabin was different from their houses. One child raised his hand and pointed out the ladder to the sleeping loft.
"Yes, good job!" the lady said. "We don't have ladders in our houses anymore to get into the upstairs. We have stairs."
Jared raised his hand. "Actually, I have a ladder in my house."
The lady smiled at him. "But you don't use the ladder to get into the upstairs, do you?"
Jared nodded. "Actually, we do. That's how we get into my bedroom."
Nonplussed, the lady looked around at the adults. My Source nodded. "He's telling the truth. He does basically have a ladder up into his bedroom."
The lady continued. "Pioneer children slept in lofts like this one," she said, pointing up. "Don't you think it would be unusual to sleep in a loft like this?"
Jared raised his hand. "I sleep in my attic."
The lady stared at him for awhile, maybe uncertain whether or not to believe him. Then, she continued. "Well, children, do you see any other things that are different from what you have in your houses?"
A child pointed to the wood burning stove. "That's right," the lady said. "In pioneer days, people used these to heat their homes."
Jared raised his hand. "We have one of those."
The lady raised her eyebrows. "Okay, but you probably don't use it to cook your food like pioneers did."
"Actually, we do. Sometimes. My mom makes soup on it in the winter and my dad likes to cook on it too."
The lady eyed my Source. He shrugged. "They probably do," he said.
The lady continued, talking about chores and how hard pioneer children had to work to bring in enough firewood to keep the house warm in cold months. Jared raised his hand. "I help bring in firewood at my house."
At this point, the lady just led the group outside, where she showed them trees
with sap-collecting buckets.
The children listened attentively as she explained how syrup is made from sap. Jared's teacher leaned in close to the lady before they moved on. "Jared's dad collects sap too. Just thought you should know."
I do not know how she responded to this little tidbit.

So there you have it. Apparently, we live like pioneers. Who knew?

Lesson Learned

I've been nagging Jonah all week (yeah, I know it's Spring Break) (yeah, I know I'm mean) to study for his upcoming AP World History test. But I have to add this note: he stresses out about these tests, and his teacher Kindly Gave them extra time by setting the test after break. So WHY shouldn't he take a few hours here and there to study and prepare for the essay questions?

Today, after I nagged him once again to stop procrastinating (this morning, it was building darts out of thorns and printer paper), he asked if he could invite a few friends over to study. Why not? I thought. Why not indeed.

This is what I pictured: while I finished up a project upstairs, Jonah and his well-mannered friends would sit around with binders and highlighters, politely asking: "What do you think are the impacts of globalization and industrialization in 19th century China and Japan?" or "How should we best discuss the geological and cultural impacts of silver mining in Central and South America?" You know, stuff like that.

Clearly, I don't know my son or his friends very well. Here's a small sampling of what I overheard:

"Wow, Jonah. You already most of the (15 page) packet done? Wow. We haven't even started yet...." (Jonah sighed. He was hoping they'd be able to help HIM with a few answers.)

"Jonah, your binder is really cool. You're so organized." 

And that, folks, is about all they said about AP World. Here's what came next:

1. Jonah showed them all the neat birthday presents and gadgets he has acquired since they visited last, complete with full explanations and demonstrations of how each works.

2. Jared popped in and out of the conversation, just enough to be annoying.

3. They had a lengthy Nerf Gun battle.

4. I'm pretty sure I heard someone say: "Jared, just stand still. Right there. We promise this won't hurt" at least once.

5. I heard a lot of that snickering sound teenage boys make when they have just done something a) painful, b) embarrassing, c) disgusting, or d) all of the above.

6. They ogled an Army Surplus catalog.

7. They tied fishing line to one of Lauren's old baby dolls to make a marionette named Cody (who is currently watching Star Wars VI with Jared while Jonah's at a movie with Clint).

So...next time Jonah asks to invite a few friends over to STUDY, I think I'll make sure those teenage boys spend at least twenty minutes doing what they're supposed to be doing before the inevitable mayhem begins.

Hmm...yeah. Maybe I'm a little too optimistic.

How Not to Cut an Avocado

As I held my (very sharp) chef's knife over the pit of a halved avocado, the silky green flesh winking up at me, I had a thought: You know, one of these days I'm probably going to cut myself as I whack a knife into the pit to remove it.
I can't remember whether I physically shrugged that little pearl of wisdom off, but I know I did a mental shrug and a wink to boot. Nah, I'm not going to cut myself. How silly is that.
Then, with a wickedly sharp swish, I dropped the knife and a jolt of pain spun through my body.
Here are three things you should know right now:
1. Clint is very keen on keeping our knives sharpened.
2. I was holding the avocado in the stupidest possible fashion--cupping it as I should have been--but with my thumb sticking up at least an inch above the edge of the avocado.
3. I have awful aim.
I must have cried out. I'm pretty sure I tossed the knife across the counter (thankfully injuring nothing else). And I looked down at the rush of blood--far too red, far too bright--welling from the cut in my thumb.
I dashed to the sink, turning on the water, squeezing my thumb and watching my blood drip down the drain. That's when Clint and the kids rushed into the kitchen. Now, if you don't know Clint well, you need to know this: he is a man who knows about bodily injury. He once got a fish hook stuck in his back while cleaning the shed--and he tried to make me remove it  by pushing it the rest of the way through. He almost chainsawed his leg off and then walked up to the house holding his leg together to calmly ask for a ride to the hospital. His hands have had many intimate encounters with power tools, and once, as the doctor was stitching him up, he said, "Huh, I've never seen anyone with skin this tough on his hands. The needle (tug tug) doesn't even want (tug tug) to go through it at all." And Clint just sat there. I am not saying my husband is clumsy or foolhardy! No, when a guy works with dangerous tools as often as my husband does, the likelihood of injurious encounters grows exponentially.
So, back to me: as I wailed at the blood flowing into the sink, he took charge of the situation. He stood beside me and bent over the wound. "Let me see how deep it is," he said. He pulled the edges of the cut apart gently, and that is when I remembered that I had felt something Very Wrong when the knife hit my thumb. As in, I thought that maybe the blade hit my bone. Suddenly, I could feel my heart battering against my ribs and tingles shot up and down my skin.
"I think I'm going to pass out," I breathed.
"What?" he asked, still staring down at the skin he was pulling apart. "You only lost a tiny bit of blood."
"No," I said. "I feel sick. I think I'm going to..." And then the tingling got worse and my scalp started to buzz. I was going down.
So, like any veteran fainter, I did the smart thing. I crouched down beside the sink, getting as close to a prone position as I could, while Clint continued to fiddle around with my thumb. I'm pretty sure he just sighed at me at this point.
That's when Jonah showed up with the bandaging stuff. Clint wrapped my thumb in several layers of intricate bandages and then released me.
I sat on the floor, holding my injured hand to my heart. I could feel it throbbing in a separate rhythm of agony, but I didn't dare to look at it for a long time. When I finally did, I saw that my bright blood had already stained the bandage. "Don't you think I need stitches?" I asked, my voice charmingly tremulous.
"You're fine," he said. "It's not really that bad."
Not that bad! It was awful! I almost fainted. He has no sympathy.
I had to lie down on the couch while Clint and the kids finished making dinner, and afterward, they pressed me back toward the couch to lie down while they cleaned up. I felt faint for the rest of the evening, suffering from heart palpitations and flashbacks of that awful knife descending toward my innocent thumb. (Oh, and I also hosted the first meeting of the Boozy Girls' Craft Night, which was going to be a blog post but I'm not even really sure what happened once everyone showed up. That's what ibuprofen + wine can do.)
The next evening, Jared wandered into the kitchen as I was chopping carrots for dinner. "You should be careful with that knife, Mom," he said. "You might cut yourself again."
Yeah. Thanks, smartie. Momma already thought about that.

Snow Day Project

When I got the call yesterday afternoon that we had another snow day, I rejoiced. Another day to spend at home--another day to sleep in--another day to snuggle with my kiddos--another day to make stuff. Sigh. Life is most definitely good around here, even if it is blasted cold. 

So, Jared and I decided a snow day was a great day to make some snowflakes to decorate my branch. I cut a plethora of small squares of printer paper (4 inches square) and we began cutting.

Jared is very serious about his business. He stuck with me for a good long time, making maybe ten snowflakes. Lauren and Jonah popped in for a bit and contributed a few snowflakes apiece, but Bubs was in for the long haul. And of course, I took the best scissors for the task, so he even had to deal with the frustration of cutting thickly folded paper with those scissors they make for preschoolers. (I didn't tell him his scissors were awful, though, so he probably didn't even realize what he was missing out on...)



Soon, we had a snowstorm on the counter top...



And then, after we had made them all, I had a moment of near-panic, for I realized I had lent out my spool of baker's twine to a friend so she could truss up her roast beast for Christmas dinner--and I didn't have it back yet. But, never fear: plain old thread worked just fine. And soon, I had a little snow storm hanging over my favorite reading chair.
The birds don't seem to mind the cold up there either...

A Glimpse into the Process: Handmade Cards--The Watercolor Collection

For several years now, I have sent handmade birthday cards to our family members--and our list has grown significantly in those years. (I'm up to 70 cards per year) I usually carve out several days (like Christmas break) to work on a large batch at a time.
First, I start by thinking. I think about the past year, and what pops into my head when I consider my family members. For some, it's easy. Some of them do ridiculous things--or have outlandish hobbies that just beg to be immortalized in a birthday card. For others, I am more kind and heartwarming and create a card that might (if I'm lucky) bring a tear of liquefied love into their eyes. For others, it's a toss up. They might laugh or they might have to smother irritation with me when they open the card.
But I figure if I enjoy making it, hopefully they will enjoy opening it and receiving it. Nobody has complained so far.
I haven't always sketched the cards out ahead of time, but I started doing it last year, and it's nice to have a catalogue of what I've done. I am not very diligent about keeping records of cards I've made, so this is a way I can look back and congratulate myself on my creative genius. (So, these are sketches for the fall 2013 birthdays.)

After I've completed the preliminary sketches, I start making the individual cards. Last fall, I had a moment of what I now recognize to be stunning brilliance in which I tried reversing my process. It has saved me precious hours (which I have employed doing my other favorite thing: reading) and wasted watercolor paper. I had always started by sketching on the watercolor paper in pencil, then painting, and then outlining in pen. Last fall, I (get ready: here it is) REVERSED the last two steps. Yes, that's right. I outlined first and then I painted. I know what you're thinking because I've already thought it myself So Many Times: this girl is a revolutionary artistic genius.
Yeah, so anyway, after I ink them all in, I start painting.

Those of you who have gratefully received my cards in the past, don't be put off by these next pictures. Although what you see may look like a Henry Ford induced assembly line, it is not. Nope, not at all. I am simply cutting a few (very unnecessary) corners in the boring part so that I can devote MORE quality time to reading making your cards more amazing. Plus, it saves me the hassle of mixing the colors so precisely for skin tones. Urg. That part's a little annoying, I'll admit.

Of course, after filling in all the fleshy parts, I get to do the fun stuff: details of hair and clothing and shoes and backgrounds. This is what makes the painting part so fun. This year, I splurged and bought myself a really nice detail brush, and it made painting the really tiny parts a work of great joy.

I'm not sure whether I like the final stage best or whether it's tied with sketching and drawing and painting, but I do like crafting the lines for the bottom. I really love tiny things: babies, robins' eggs, espressos, truffles, stuff like that. When I think about it, I realize that's why I like this last step so much: each card tells a really tiny story. Some of them are hands down hilarious (ask my dad to see his Father's Day card from last year--or Micah's birthday card--those two still make me laugh till my belly hurts) and some of them are so heartwarming you can shed your sweater (you know, 'cause your heart's hot). But all of them capture (I hope) a tiny piece of the recipient's life as I see it.

My family gets involved in the last stage because I make them sit down in a row next to me and we all sign the cards. Then, I carefully slide them into envelopes, address each one, and seal them with fun tape ('cause I hate licking envelopes). I organize them by the date they need to be mailed and put them in a basket. Today, I finished up the first 20 for this year. I'm set through April. Only 50 more cards to make! 

You know, my family is a blessed family--blessed with the gift of giving. Birth. (Remember when you said that, Dad? In Bible study at church when we were studying I Corinthians 12?) And I'm blessed to be a part of such a wonderful collection of people.

Christmas Wrapping

I'm a girl who likes surprises. Even if I have suspicions about some of my presents, I ignore them because I love the unexpected. 

When it comes time for Christmas, I like to impose my desire for surprise on my children and husband too. If their presents are just lying under the tree nearly labeled days in advance, they spoil my surprises with surreptitious squeezing and shaking. 

So, a few years ago, I came up with yet another cunning and ingenious plan: each present is tagged with a clue--a clue about both the contents and the recipient. 

This way, they can squeeze and rustle to their devious little hearts' content...but at least I know they DON'T know whose presents they are guessing about. 

Plus, it forces us all to slow down and enjoy the morning as we try to figure out who each present is intended for. And, to make matters even more exciting, I usually forget what most of my clues mean by Christmas morning. So, it has been interesting sometimes--like when Jonah unwraps a cute little nightgown or when Jared unwraps a beastly long hunting knife. 

But it all gets sorted out in the end, and we have a lovely time laughing together on Christmas morning. I just hope the game brings as much joy to my family as it does to me. 

Of course, I must acknowledge that it is a serious possibility it may also have the unintended side effect off making my children doubt Mother's mental acuity, but what's Christmas without at least one nutty person? Not fun, that's what. 

Birding

For Father's Day this year, Clint said he wanted to visit the local bird sanctuary. He built me a window feeder for Mother's Day, and we've all enjoyed watching birds and noting their greatly varied personalities. It was a muggy day, but the skies were clear, and we headed out after church and lunch.

Jared came prepared. I don't think he knew exactly what a bird sanctuary was because when we got out of the car, he asked, "Where are all the other people with THEIR birds?" Good question.

We did find several spots like this, where turtles (maybe snapping turtles?) had either hatched or...er...become someone's lunch.

Jonah's eagle eyes spotted this placid leopard frog.

The trails were well maintained, but infested with mosquitoes. In fact, we saw (or felt) many, many more of these winged folk than we did birds. However, we took a scenic route out to visit my parents and saw lots of birds along the way, which the boys cheerfully pointed out from the comfort of the air-conditioned, mosquito-free back seat.

A Graduation Tea Party

Lauren has always loved simple things, beautiful things, and when she mentioned wanting a tea party for her graduation open house, I jumped at the idea. We set out to design a comfortable, low-key open house that would allow us time to mingle with our guests and not feel like we had to constantly rush around refilling bowls and platters. We wanted simple food and simple decorations. These are some pictures from the day. The weather was perfect--sunny and not too warm--and we had a lovely time.

We set up the food in stations. So, there was a savory table with finger sandwiches, a selection of cheeses, and pickles and olives.

Lauren and her grandma, and of course, Jared had to jump in...

We hung balloons from the tree in front of the house and set out blankets on the lawn for seating. I thought about renting tables and chairs, but I decided to do this instead. Jared placed card games and photo albums on each blanket.

We wanted to use fresh, whole fruit instead of cutting it all up into a fruit salad. There wasn't much left! This table was a big hit.

We had three drinks: iced black tea with berries, water with slices of lemons and limes, and Clint's homemade sweetened mint tea from mint grown on our property. His tea is so refreshing and yummy! We ran out of that!

This is the sweets table before anyone arrived. The long, thin wafer cookies were a huge hit. Everything else was homemade: pizelles, molasses cookies, shortbread cookies flavored with lime, miniature chocolate chip cookies, and pecan balls.

On the invitations, we invited guests to dress up, and several of them did! It was fun to see who took the extra effort...and it made for lovely pictures.

About two hours after the last guests left, we had cleaned up and the guys found a comfy spot for a nap. It was a lovely day for a very lovely girl.

Kids' Day 2012

It must have been ten years ago or more that we were gearing up for the late spring/early summer dash of Mother's Day-my birthday-Clint's birthday-Father's Day when Lauren asked, "Mom, when is Kids' Day?" When is Kids' Day indeed? A good question. We considered the calendar and decided upon July 20, as July is a pretty sparse month in our family as far as birthdays and other celebrations go. Since that inaugural year, we have celebrated Kids' Day every July 20.
Just like Mother's Day or Father's Day (in our house, at least), Kids' Day means the kids each get a gift and they don't have to do any jobs. We usually do something special for dinner too.
This morning, thanks to a very late movie, Lauren and Jonah slept in (and Jared too--but he didn't have that excuse!), so I had plenty of time to drink some coffee, read my book, go for a run, make monkey bread, and take a shower before they woke up.

Looks yummy, doesn't it? Thanks, Mom, for the pan!



Jonah digs in

Just the thought of Kids' Day makes Jared giddy with excitement!



Ok...or maybe it's just the presents...

Before the opening...

And they open...discovering what's inside

Jared made me a thank you gift as soon as he woke up

 

And the playing commences

 Yup, this is Kids' Day. Since this morning (well...actually...they didn't wake up to eat their breakfast till almost noon), we've gone on a fun trip to Target to return Jonah's Legos (would you believe I got him a set he already has? That's a sure sign of Too Many Legos), then home to finish construction. Now they're playing and I'm scheming up a special dinner. And blogging, of course.