Piles No More! Project Box It!

Dec 14, 2012 by Donna

I hit the ground running this morning…and nearly killed myself falling over piles stacked around various parts of my house. Some were actually neatly stacked and organized—waiting for attention, completion or simply relocation. After my near death experience which involved a fast moving shih tsu and a Christmas tree (don’t ask), I decided the time had come to  re-utilize one of my favorite decluttering/organizing tools – THE PROJECT BOX (or boxes and boxes, if you prefer).

It’s a simple concept. We moms (and men…and kids) all have projects in various stages of completion. Whether it is a sewing project, a scrapbooking thing, jewelry making, magazine clipping, paper sorting, coupons, whatever—they require horizontal space. The problem comes in when that horizontal space is the floor…or mom’s desk…or the kitchen counter…or…say…every horizontal space in the house?

Project boxes are simply containerization for projects. For example…I have a number of photo albums in process right now. Two daughters married in the last four years and moved out of state. Three grandchildren born. Launched another to college. Surgery. Aging parents needing help….NO TIME.

Breathe. Weddings require so much stuff (and paperwork!). I bought 2 fairly large (18”x 16” x 10”), yet very pretty boxes at Joanne’s (at 50% off) and put ALL the paraphernalia (extra programs, sheet music, guest book, momentos) in the box. One for each wedding. If and when I have time, I will eventually make an album…maybe…but in the meantime, all the “stuff” is contained, looks lovely on the shelf and—this is key—is ACCESSIBLE. So when my dear friend called to find out who did Linzy’s makeup and hair for her wedding day and how much it cost—it’s in the box. When looking for a missing address—and knowing this person attended the wedding—the guest list is in the box. When someone hands me pictures – or a disk with pictures that they took at my daughter’s wedding—it goes in the BOX. If I actually get around to printing out pictures from the wedding—they go IN THE BOX! You get the drift.

Two weddings containerized Boxes reflect the colors each daughter used!

When my girls were young, I taught them the concept of “the project box” and it has come in handy for a variety of things. Shannon’s (working) mermaid tail project which required multiple materials and attempts at creating a water-resistant surface needed a larger box—IKEA to the rescue—pretty, brightly colored or neutral and various sizes—and most importantly…CHEAP.

Here are some of the project boxes I currently have going:

In the small “shoebox” sized boxes that look attractive on shelves:

Various pictures and momentos divided by trip/event/time period and one for “I’ll figure it out eventually”. These are great—I can take a box off the shelf while watching TV and work on it…at bedtime it all goes back in the box and onto the shelf.

Photo album projects in progress

In another pretty box on the shelf is all my photo album supplies—acid safe pen for writing who, what and when on the back of the picture, clear photo pages, red eye pen, scissors, post it pads. The empty three ring binders that will hold those eventually-filled photo pages sit on the shelf above them—barely discernable from those already completed.

Boxes hold photo and scrapbook projects, baskets hold flash cards, etc. for homeschooling

Other boxes include:

A variety of computer media (disks, hard drives, USB’s, jump drives) that need to be checked for anything important and eventually discarded.

Project boxes on shelf above my desk-these came from Costco and are really attractive

A Christmas ornament project

Christmas crafts to do with the girls

Supplies for making homemade vanilla and all the labeling supplies

A beading project for Star’s window treatment

Some projects can be especially portable and attractive.

Stationary and list of Thank you notes to write (this one can backfire on you—be careful—not cool to find your handwritten thank you notes to everyone who helped make your daughter’s wedding happen—written 3 years ago.

Memorabilia that needs to be sorted and eventually put in albums or “memory boxes” (I keep this box on the floor under my desk so I can throw things in there easily as they come across my desk—a playbill, tickets from a concert (accompanying pics trapped in my camera and will eventually make their way to uploading—or the box of miscellaneous computer media to check before discarding!)

On the floor of my office – BIG projects

Tape recordings of my grandmother, now living with Jesus, waiting for this coming summer when I can transfer them to the computer and burn to DVD’s so my mom, her sister and my girls can all have copies and hear her wisdom. It was very important to me to keep these safe—a well labeled project box is GREAT for these kinds of things.

Close up with label

Disks and smart cards of pictures that have yet to be uploaded or printed (so I don’t mix them up with those that have been—again)

Favorite family recipes I want to handwrite onto index cards for my daughters.

These boxes can be used in any room of the house. If you get attractive boxes (available at many stores—IKEA in particular—you can stack them in a corner and they are an attractive addition to the room rather than a distraction. As a project is completed, change the label and repurpose for the next project. It also helps me keep a visual “to do” list and helps me limit starting something new until something “old” is completed. Because they are so easily accessible (and easy to put away), it makes it much more realistic to work on a project in those rare “spare” moments or when watching a movie—or recovering from surgery/illness.

Another use for  attractive boxes – or baskets – keep one in the corner of your closet or bedroom—line it with a trash bag—when getting dressed and finding that shirt that just doesn’t fit right anymore or taking off those shoes that killed your feet all afternoon—toss directly in the box/basket for donation. It’s good to keep one of these in the laundry room if you can. If there is a standard place to put the “don’t want it anymore’s” it makes it WAAAAAY easier to keep the piles down and the clutter at bay. Once a month, (or three or 12) gather up all the “donation” bags from the boxes/baskets and away they go! If you’re donating to a Thrift Shop you can toss anything from stuffed animals to books in there and they will sort after receiving it. Everyone wins!

Project boxes can be small and especially portable–I use a number of “boxes” that are a little larger than a sheet of paper–some are even 3 ring inside. These are especially good for “grab and go” when you know you’ll be cooling your heels in a doctor’s waiting room or sitting in an airport. I even have one called “portable office” that I can take in my car or when traveling that has everything from paper clips to a mini stapler and various colored highlighters and post-it notes. Have project box, will travel! The real beauty of these things is that you won’t lose little bits of paper and sticky notes when you are moving it around, putting it in or taking it out of a carry bag, etc. – because it’s a BOX! These are handy for kids working on things like a research paper where there are index cards, etc. involved. Paper dolls travel nicely too Keep one in the car (they fit under the seat–unless you have a seatwarmer–then, just don’t Put a coloring book and crayons for little ones should you get stuck in traffic, for example.

Project boxes can be portable–this is like an “enclosed” 3 ring binder–grab and go

Project Box “notebook”

These are all “Project Boxes” that sit on a shelf–VERY handy–can take a project to work on in waiting rooms, airports, etc.

Bottom line – containerize, containerize, containerize. But this is CRITICAL for those of us who are HIGHLY visual—LABEL EACH AND EVERY BOX—I guarantee– if you don’t do THIS (and a post it note will suffice if needed) you WILL forget what’s inside and spend months searching frantically for something that is only inches away from you…don’t ask me how I know this 

Happy projects!

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“So you’re just a housewife?”

Nov 29, 2012 by Donna

“So you’re just a housewife?” the young doctor’s assistant asked. I hesitated. She looked up from the computer where she was busily typing out my life’s story should the doc need to know such things as “Are you under any stress?” Hah. (But that’s another blog post for another day.)

I wish I could tell you that I had a witty comeback. That I put that young woman’s mind straight. That when I left that office, she was motivated to be “just a housewife” herself. That I actually changed her grasp of the role and she would forever ask future patients, “so you’re a domestic engineer then?” or better yet, “you’re a domestic diva? I want to be one someday!” But I didn’t. Maybe it was because I wasn’t feeling well (the reason for the doc visit). Maybe it was simply weariness at having to yet again defend my “career choice.” Maybe it was that deep down I’ve questioned my abilities and success in my role—especially lately. So, despite 26+ years as a full time homemaker, I just looked at her blankly and answered, “Yes…and I do some writing and speaking.” Immediately, I regretted my answer, but it was too late and I was too beaten down already even before entering that room.

When did the role of wife and mother become “just a”? Being a child of the 60’s and coming of age in the late 70’s, I was exposed on a major scale to the women’s liberation movement. My own mother worked full-time, which was still unusual then. My GRANDMOTHER was a full time employee—more than that—she was a mortgage banker and voted businesswoman of the year back in the late 50’s—CERTAINLY an oddity of the day. But you know what? She didn’t want to be. When I interviewed my grandmother about her life (at this point she was in her late 80’s) and tape recorded all her answers, she spoke of that time with some regret. She worked because my granddaddy, who was 10 years her senior, wanted her to. Not for the money, so much, as they were incredibly frugal and even more generous, but for the security and because he felt she was so smart and capable. And she was. But she wanted to be home raising her two daughters. That was all. The stress nearly killed her at one point. Despite her success, she wanted desperately to be “just a housewife.”

I had started down the career path. Newly married to an Air Force pilot, it seemed only natural that my days should be filled with something “worthwhile.” It was just assumed that of course I would work—after all—hadn’t I just about killed myself finishing a college degree just three weeks before my wedding –completing 21 hours of core courses to do so?? I took a job as a billing clerk, but as the company grew at a rapid pace and people moved around, within 2 years found myself head of the Finance Department. This was during the dawn of the computer—the very first IBM XT delivered to my office was a tad imposing at first. My math-challenged mind was already stretched by the tasks, but every morning I drove my brand new Honda Accord (they were the new status symbol of the day) to my carpeted corner office, greeted my staff (both men) and set to work. In the evening I drove to the classrooms where my concentrated MBA program was being taught—4 nights a week and Saturday’s to complete an entire semester course each month. Funny how I don’t remember much about those couple of years…

Standing on the deck of our newly purchased single family home, I stared out at the trees. “God,” I spoke to the grey sky, “I’ve got it all, pretty much. New house, new car, money, career, husband…but I’m empty. Show me what you want me to do—I don’t care what it costs me, just show me and I’ll do it—“ There was no thunder at that moment. No bolt of lightening. No cloud descended on me. I got in my Honda Accord and went to work as usual.

Then the phone call. “Mrs. Spann, you never called in for your blood test results,” the nurse chided me. “I’m sorry, work has been really busy.” My standard excuse for not following through. Truth was, I’d forgotten. Tired of being poked and prodded while they tried to figure out what was wrong. A bit sad that the prognosis was that it would be very difficult for me to ever conceive and have a child (HAH). Bloodwork was yet one more test in a series, so a phone call for results had fallen off the bottom of my ever growing “to do” list. “Well, you might want to know, you’re pregnant.” Silence. “Excuse me?” surely I’d heard wrong—the doc had clearly said that not only was I NOT pregnant, but it would be difficult for that to ever happen. “Let me repeat myself; you’re pregnant, we need to have you make an appointment for your first prenatal exam.” Dazed, I hung up the phone—couldn’t tell you today if that appointment got made or if I just plain hung up on her. I clearly remember staring at the phone for several seconds, then turning on my black stileto heel and walking straight into my supervisor’s office and standing in front of her desk. She looked up, startled at my entrance. “I just wanted to give you sufficient notice,” I stammered, “I will be leaving in 8 months and not returning.” Somehow, I knew God had given me the answer I had so desperately asked for that morning.

So began my journey as “just a housewife.” My jobs include: doctor of all ills, both real and imagined, creative chef who can feed a family of 8 with a chicken breast and a handful of veggies, procurement officer, washer and mender of clothing, teacher of books and life, counselor, wellness coach, mopper of floors, washer of dishes, reader of books, driver of cars, shopper of groceries, clothing and all things household, decorator of homes and cakes, translator of toddlers and changer of babies (and grandbabies), keeper of the checkbook, planner of the future, greeter of the guests and shepherd of the flocks…well, in this case, the sheep have two legs… The hours are from 12 am to 12 pm and 12 pm to 12 am, Sunday through Saturday, 52 weeks a year, 365 days a year with no time off for good behavior save the occasional trip to the hospital to have a baby (and 3 times I just stayed home for that—it was easier). The pay is zero dollars and often robbing Peter to pay Paul to make the household budget work. Mastering yard sales, Craigslist and ebay have also become part of the job description over the last few years—and balancing all the electronic demands that have become part of our world—whether it be social media or simply keeping up with ever changing software and email. Some women spend their lives doing all these things only to be told how far they fall short, how they are “ruining” their children, what a poor example they are and how they are wasting their lives. Lies from the pit of hell.

A moment of perspective. It hit me one day as I drove past my former workplace. Looking at the tall building from the street level, it was easy to pick out my old office. I felt we were doing such important work then. A company birthed out of the breakup of the AT&T monopoly, my job, along with my staff, was to oversee the identification of who owned what part of each of the thousands upon thousands of miles of telephone cable that stretched across the country and under the oceans. Millions of dollars broken into tiny dollars and fractions of cents. It was an impossibility since the monopoly had not kept records with the kind of detail needed. Late nights, weekends, trips across the country to meet with my boss at headquarters…and now…it was all gone. Everything. Including the company…long absorbed into another, I assume, along with…what? My carefully organized files…the training manual written for my replacement which had taken weeks to write…my staff…only 15 years had gone by and there was no trace of the two years of my life that I’d sacrificed…nothing to show for it. Literally–nothing.

Six daughters. In that 15 years, six daughters had been born. “Homeschooling” was a term not part of my vocabulary back in my business suits and briefcase days. Now it was my daily work. Frozen meals and take out had been the fare of the day. Now milling fresh flour for homemade bread and scratch cooking were normal. Spending money was easy then, now it requires thought, planning and even simply foregoing a want. My house was a place to sleep between meetings and business trips, now it is a home.

I’ve spent 25 years learning the art and science of homekeeping. It is a degree without paper certification—but much more useful than my unfinished Master’s degree.

The work I did as a career woman had a shelf life and it was short. My family has eternal significance. It took only a few years to erase my work that came with a title and a paycheck. A hundred years from now, my work as a mom will still matter—will still have impact…Lord willing, a positive one, despite my many failings. Those souls will go on to impact other souls; and I pray, make the world better for that impact. What other pay scale suffices for eternity?

A phone call with a friend back in the early 1990’s came back to me recently—actually, it was the friend who reminded me of it. It seems we were talking about our high school days and the years that followed when I made an observation: “You know how we were told we could HAVE IT ALL – we could have the career, the family, the kids—and we could do it all and do it well?” “Yeah?” she replied. “They lied.” Silence. “They lied to us—we CAN’T have it all—something has to give, something has to suffer. We got duped.”

And because so many of us bought the lie, we have created a world where the economy has adjusted to nearly REQUIRE two incomes and those who choose to live on one have a much lower standard of living than 50 years ago—even 30 years ago. Many women who want to stay home and be “just a housewife” no longer have that choice and our entire society is poorer for it.

I hope the next time some young thing asks me if I’m “just a housewife” I can have a better answer. Perhaps, “builder of women,” or “sculptor of future society,” or…how about I just look her in the eye and say with a smile, “No, I’m a homekeeper.”

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When the Power Goes Out…And Life Goes On

Sep 10, 2012 by Donna

So…I’m sitting here typing this with about an hour of battery life left on my computer. Have no idea when I’ll be able to charge it, but wanted to get this down while it’s fresh. Like…really fresh. Life when the power goes out is challenging on a number of levels—and this power outage brought some fresh thoughts and ideas…

In all the years we’ve lived in this house, the number of times we’ve lost power for more than a few seconds wouldn’t take up the fingers on one hand. Now we are on our second major power outage in as many months. Last time was a three day long outage during one of the hottest weeks in Virginia history. This time, it’s doesn’t seem so bad—and the storms that are ripping through our area—with little warning this time–have served to drop the temperature at least 20 degrees into the comfortable 70’s.

We don’t have much time to prepare on this one. The neighbor girl runs over, “There’s a tornado on it’s way here!” she wants to warn us. Okay. To the computer, open browser, type in weather.com and our zip. Yep. Tornado warning. Not one, but TWO tornados are working their way around Northern VA and one appears to be choosing whether it wants to visit Woodbridge to the south…or us. Skies quickly darken and the wind picks up dramatically. The trees behind us dance and sway to the direction of an invisible choreographer. Power cuts off. On. Off. Computer back up batteries screech and beep. Power back on for a few seconds…then off again. This time it stays off.

Battlestations. Only the two younger girls are home this time. They swing into action, gathering favorite stuffed animals–including their 18 year old sister’s lifelong companion, a large stuffed dog with the questionable name “Jello.” Also to the basement “safe” room travel guitars (they also have names), Star’s American Girl doll and a variety of blankets and pillows. Being a bit more pragmatic than sentimental, I gather laptops, cell phones, chargers, lanterns and the keys to all the vehicles and sequester them in the basement room while directing Star to replace the batteries in the radio. Shannon collects Sam the Shih Tsu as I toss her one of his leashes to make sure he keeps his adventures to a minimum. About the time we get everything downstairs, we get the “all clear.” Of course.

So…what is so important that I’m moved to use what little battery life I have?

Ironically, on my agenda today is working on my part of an “Emergency Preparedness” seminar to be presented this coming Tuesday. Another nod to the ironic—that seminar will be held on September 11. Tomorrow morning (Sunday) I’m part of a 10 minute 2 person skit commemorating that infamous day, now 11 years past, during the worship service at my church. I can’t help but shake my head.

So, what lessons jump out as we face another evening of living as in pre-electricity days without the pre-electricity mindset and training?

1. Preparedness needs to happen long before you need it. When the event comes—whether an earthquake, a storm or an attack from an enemy, known or unknown, there is often little to no warning. It’s not like a hurricane that builds for days or weeks and the warning goes out, there’s time to board up the windows and stock the shelves. Most events that leave us without power or ability to access our fridge/freezer come without warning. The time to plan is yesterday. Don’t dawdle.

2. Preparedness is about more than just supplies. It can also be about what you DO have that you DON’T need. The first thing that struck me when I went to prepare the “safe room” for my family should that tornado decide to visit our densely treed neighborhood was that I had to make ROOM for my children—the safe room was far from it. Due to work going on in the basement, all manner of furniture and other items have temporary residence in that room—making it nearly impassable, and much less attractive for waiting out severe weather that could reduce our poorly constructed home to matchsticks with no more than a nearby F2. Decluttering has long been my “thing”—and certainly my desire. Small 3 bedroom home meets family of 8 is the story of my life, but when walking through a room in the dark becomes a threat to life and limb, then the quantity and quality of the items that are privileged to share our home must be addressed. I realized during the event that I was quickly moving (and trying to find places for) a variety of items that didn’t need a home as much as an exit.

3. Preparedness is a lot about attitude. I kept my voice light and casual. “Girls, looks like we MAY have some severe weather headed our way, let’s go ahead and move a few important items to the basement.” From upstairs, my 14 year old called down in a wry tone, “In other words, there IS severe weather on it’s way here, right? Tornado?” Never one to lie to my kids, I wasn’t going to start this time. “Very possibly, just come on down.” It was very encouraging to see them take care of business without panic, but with speed, efficiency –and cracking jokes as they cornered the dog and whisked a reluctant shih tsu to basement safety (“Take him out the side door to pee first—and this one time it’s okay if he uses my ferns closest to the stair!”)

4. Preparedness takes practice. You don’t realize how dependent you are on all things electric until you are without. Definitely, this takes some practice and thought. Suggest strongly that if mother nature doesn’t provide ample “dry runs” for you, plan a weekend (or for the truly dedicated, a week) of living sans electric. Keep a running list of what you need that you don’t already have because you likely will not remember a day after the lights come on.

5. Preparedness needs to include fun. It took about 15 minutes for the novelty to wear off and the kids to get bored. Granted, there are only 2 of 6 at home—a definite drop in the number of built in playmates that also provide lots of entertainment and witty repartee, but without electronic companions, many kids (and grown ups) find themselves at loose ends. If immediate danger or imminent starvation is not a problem, what is there to do? So far we’ve done some reading aloud by lantern and perused the stock of board games (also known as “bored” games) for planning the evening’s activities. Neighbor kids arrived shortly after the worst of the storm passed. How nice that they can play without computer screens. Sam the shih tsu is sitting by the open sliding door (which is providing our warming house with some natural air conditioning) with his legs crossed hoping and hoping the rain will stop so he can get his daily constitutional.

I expect the lights will come back on soon…and if not, it will just mean an early bedtime. Our coleman stove provided an easy—if somewhat odd—dinner of a combination of ingredients easily accessible. We are not in immenent danger of…well…danger—just mild inconvenience. There is gas in the cars (we made a decision to never allow any of our vehicles to get less than half full after the power outage that left most of the East Coast powerless–and gas-less–due to electric fuel pumps) so we can travel to areas with power if it really becomes an issue…which is apparently about 2 miles down the road.

This time it’s really NBD (No Big Deal). But next time it could be. The time to think it through and make plans—however minor—is yesterday. Just start—one item, one plan per week is better than waiting until you have “time to prepare.” Pick up some extra canned goods when you grocery shop—just one more of what you already buy (on sale, of course), crackers and dry cereal, granola, coffee, extra TP (this is CRITICAL—especially in a house full of girls!). Some bottled water and a bottle of plain old bleach (no added conditioners, etc.). Batteries, flashlights, a radio that works on batteries or winds up. Get rid of the excess stuff in your house that might cause you to fall. Keep your cell phones and laptops charged and your gas tanks above half as a matter of habit. These are just a few simple ideas. I’ll be posting more as time permits, but in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the deep quiet that ONLY exists in the busy metropolitan DC area…when the power goes out.

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Great Expectations…um…Get Real…My battle with “Perfect”

Aug 24, 2012 by Donna

I go through this every year. Determined that my house will be “READY” for the new homeschool year. Cleaning out closets, rearranging everything from rooms to furniture to the pantry to medicine cabinets. Files get cleaned out, portfolios updated, books ordered—“THIS YEAR I will be READY” is my battle cry! And every year, the school year begins and it’s just…not…quite…there. And I feel like a failure. Again.

This year looks to be worse than usual. How can that be? There are THREE less children living here now! Of the three at home, I’m schooling only TWO—and one of those has most of her classes with our local homeschool group. How can I, the week before school begins, be so completely NOT READY this year?

What really…is…the definition of…“ready”?

Oh well, ready means the house is perfect, the curriculum is perfect, the children are perfect, I…am…perfect?

Granted, there are complications that get in the way of my “perfect” plans. In previous years we had: launching children to colleges in distant states, graduations of children, weddings of children, births of grandchildren, broken bones of children, surgeries for children, elderly parent needs and illnesses, elderly grandparent needs and illnesses requiring travel, job loss and gain, unemployment, self-employment, ANY employment, speaking and writing opportunities, water damage to the house (twice), remodeling our small space…and the list goes on. These never seemed to fit into my “perfect” schedule…my “perfect” plan.

This year it’s me. My surgery is scheduled during the third week of the new school year. This was NOT my “perfect” plan. My daughter is due to deliver my third granddaughter Sept 30. I’ve always been there for the births of my grandgirls and stayed a couple of weeks to help. This time I can’t. My heart hurts over that. My “perfect” plan was to have the surgery October 30—giving plenty of time for new baby to come, get loved on by Nonna, help out with the grandgirls and new (again) mommy & daddy and get back, put my own house back together (to reach “perfect”), get everyone caught up and THEN be down for a few weeks of recovery. Perfect, right?

But my plans are not necessarily God’s plans and He has reminded me of that once again. Neck surgery was definitely not part of my “perfect” plan, but less-than-perfect genetics and injury are a part of our fallen world and time caught up with me. And I put it off far too long and now the price is being paid and it can’t wait.

Particularly frustrating is that the neck issues cause chronic nerve pain and diminished use of my arm. My RIGHT arm. And yes, I am right-handed. This has made everything from ironing a shirt to using a touch pad on my computer a new experience in pain. And even my “perfect” handwriting—a skill which has earned me compliments and even income since the age of 15, is affected by my neck and nerve injury. During the day, I don’t know how much “working” time I will have before it’s necessary to spend some quality time with a heating pad or sitting where a sunbeam can hit just the right spot on my shoulder—the one thing that provides relief. Trying to get my house “PERFECT” for the new school year is no more than a frustrating pipedream that crashes and burns daily. So why don’t I just give it up?

Because all of these things are simply…LIFE. When we took on homeschooling, we did not receive a “get out of life’s jail” free card. Life still happens. Illnesses, injuries, interruptions—the STUFF that IS LIFE doesn’t go on hold while we educate our children—IT NEEDS TO BE PART OF THEIR EDUCATION.

Oh, what a hard reality that has been for me—even after 25 years of this. Why? Partly because I’m a recovering perfectionist (note the word is “recoverING” not “recoverED”). Partly because I set up impossible expectations that no woman (or child) could live up to. Partly because of…my pride.

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the idea that if my house were just clean and organized enough, if my paperwork was all in order, if my children were all perfectly mannered and groomed, if…if…if…THEN and ONLY THEN I would be a good wife and mom. What a lie of the enemy. And how the enemy likes to use those around us to enforce that lie. A pox on any magazine, book or speaker that tries to tell you—through words or pictures or simple insinuation– that this homeschooling journey is “EASY” is “PERFECT”!

Think about it—what LIES am I (are you) believing?

IF my house is clean, then I am worthy of love? That’s a message that has been communicated to me for years and for years I bought it and lived feeling as though I deserved to be unloved.

IF my children sit down at the table and do school from 8 to 3 everyday, THEN I am a good homeschooling mom and my children will be successful! Another lie I bought into and nearly destroyed the joy of homeschooling for them AND walked around for many years with condemnation and fear that I’d destroyed my children’s hopes for the future because we didn’t school like that.

IF I feed my children raw fresh organic food, make my own ketchup and never darken the doorstep of a fast food restaurant, THEN I am a good mother. And then, when life hit and fast food on the way between locations when crisis demanded (or exhaustion overtook me), the neon sign “failure” flashed over my head each time I glanced into the rearview mirror.

Only God Himself can achieve “PERFECT”—why do I need to keep learning this same lesson over and over? God’s standard is perfection and no matter how hard we try, we can’t achieve that—and therein lies the cross and the resurrection…the…hope. Christ did what we could not. If you remember only one thing from this entire post, remember this: The distance between our best efforts and God’s standard of perfection is called “GRACE”—and He offers it freely.

Perfection is a bondage…Grace is freedom. So we will begin the school year with what we have and do our best with the circumstances we are struggling in. We will read aloud, play games and crash on the couch at night to watch something innocuous if we need to decompress. We will get up and face each day knowing that God’s mercies are new every morning and we will do our schoolwork with diligence, but not in a prideful, dogmatic pressurized environment as has happened in the past. We will use online and computer based programs when needed and be grateful for the laptop and a king sized bed while I’m recovering. We will work towards getting the house back together as the bedroom switch-arounds and painting continue, but if it’s not done by the first day of school…oh well…it’s OK. If we have to call in pizza a few times, it’s not the end of the world…it’s just part of…well…grace.

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Parenting A Parent – caring for a daughter on bedrest while caring for elderly parents—new meaning to “sandwich generation”

Jun 17, 2012 by Donna

Sitting in the recliner with a fresh cup of coffee, I’m trying to collect myself before round two begins. The grandgirls have just gone down for a nap and are not happy about it—they are vocalizing their disappointment at this recent turn of events. I hope they are not disturbing their mother, my daughter’s, rest.

Just three years ago, I slept at the hosptial bedside of my 94 year old grandmother in the last days of her life. My own mother, her daughter, was unable to come due to my father’s need for care from a recent heart attack and surgery. My aunt, Grandmother’s other daughter, was having surgery for cancer–it could not be delayed. My brother, Dean, and I gladly made care arrangements for our own families and made the trip from Northern Virginia to Columbia, SC to spend this time with the Grandmother who had so impacted our lives and the lives of our children. I was by her side caring for her most delicate needs for nearly a week and with her at her last breath. It is a time I will never regret and a story that will be shared in a future blogpost.

My eldest daughter, Helen, and her husband, Tyler, had come to visit Grandmother shortly before her final illness and tell her that they were expecting their first child, who would be given Grandmother’s name, Renva, to honor her and to thank her for her tremendous impact on their lives.

As I sit in the recliner now, three years later almost to the day, there is new meaning to “sandwich generation” floating in my head. That same daughter, three years later, is expecting her third child—and due to a placenta that has not fully attached, has been on bedrest for 3 weeks, and, we have just discovered, will have to continue at least another 4, if not more.

Days run together—three in VA caring for my husband and the 3 daughters still at home, four in DE caring for my eldest daughter and her young family. Days in VA include helping my own parents living in a retirement community—my dad still recovering from an accident exactly one year ago which left him totally paralyzed—it has been a slow road back, but now he gets around with a walker and wheelchair and has recovered most—though not all—use of his hands. He is limited; in body only, certainly not in spirit. My mother is tired but will never give up. It’s not in her to quit even though she has begun to suffer from rosacea in her eyes—a painful condition that is attempting to put limitations on her quality of life that she simply rejects. Go mom! From the time of the accident—again for a future blogpost—his care has been a family affair. This man who always cared for us now needs care, and that is not easy for him—or the caregivers.

At 50, I am part of a group of people who find themselves caring for elderly parents—even grandparents—while also helping grown and not-grown children—and their children. Up to 5 generations may need us at one time. And multiple members of each of those generations. For myself, it is now down to 4 generations. Generation 1 includes my parents and my mother-in-law (who absolutely refuses to consider a retirement plan—or to downsize from her two full size homes—including one on a bay in another state. She is still struggling to recover from knee replacement surgery that nearly killed her this past summer due to MRSA contracted during the surgery and requires frequent, often immediate, help.

Generation 2 includes my husband who suffers from debilitating migraines, and 3 of my six daughters who are still under roof in VA. Sheila, looking at colleges and with a serious suitor, is my right arm. A mysterious series of neurological symptoms that now seem to include migraines, have me playing medical detective once again though Sheila rarely complains and somehow pushes through. The only other driver at home during the day, she fills in wherever needed—but she is still finishing high school and working to publish her first novel, doing illustrations for a publishing company and just trying to enjoy life as a teen before those days are gone—I hate putting more and more responsibility on her, but she carries it well and sometimes I just have to. Shannon, 14 and Star, 10 have been invaluable help—all three girls take turns traveling with me to DE (and at least once, due to a crisis, Sheila and Shannon traveling without me) to help care for their eldest sister.

Generation 3 includes my eldest Helen, who is on bedrest, and her husband Tyler. He is amazing. For such a young man, he has great maturity and has dealt with what could be a horrendously difficult situation with grace. Linzy, newly graduated from college and married this past summer now lives in Chicago with her seminary student husband, Dan. Another blessing from God, he loves my daughter as Christ loves the Church—sacrificially and completely. While I miss her desperately, I know that she is where she belongs and God is blessing them and her musical gifting with opportunities in her new home far from the CA she loved for the last 4 years. Cassidy, 19, is in Ireland for six months on an extended mission trip. A semester off from college has provided for an enormous time of growth—and parenting an adult daughter across an ocean is probably fodder for yet another post!

Generation 4 is made up of my grandgirls and as yet unborn grandbaby that has led to this new place of caregiver – parenting my daughter who is a parent and grandparenting my daughter’s children on a day to day basis. This is a new place in life. One I didn’t see coming.

Mommy 101 Mid-Term Exam: Leaving a Generation to their Own Devices for 3 weeks…

As often happens, I write in spits and spurts, with life simply taking over all available windows of time. It’s a new day…for now. I continue this post sitting in Newark Int’l Airport, awaiting a connecting flight to take me to Belfast to visit my daughter who has been there since February and spend nearly 3 weeks traveling with her. This has opened another area of parenting—preparing my family and home to function without the mom for an extended period. The days leading up to this trip were filled with, “I’m going to miss you so much!’s” and “What are we going to do without you?’s” Honestly, I’m a little worried.

Do I want them to stumble around and find each day difficult—missing their mother desperately and counting the days until my return? Or do I want them to have a wonderful time, manage the household with ease and prove they can manage just fine…without…me? Either way I win—or do I? Really, this is kind of like a final exam for me in some ways—will they eat healthy meals they have cooked (granted I cheated just a tad by doing a lot of “freezer cooking” ahead and stocking the pantry), keep the house relatively clean? When I get home will I find they created mountains of laundry, and there are hoardes of roaming dust bunnies threatening anyone who dares to enter a room with hard floors? Will the dog be skinny? Will I open the fridge and have to fight off alien leftovers that have evolved into science experiments? Will my shoes stick to the kitchen floor? Will my neighbors greet me with an angry frown or a smiling wave? What if there’s a “condemned” sign on the front door? Scary thoughts for a career wife and mom.

As a full-time homeschooling mom for well over 20 years, I have always thought a major portion of my job was to work myself OUT of a job…so how am I doing? Guess these next 3 weeks will begin to tell the tale. It will be my choice how to react to whatever deficiencies and training failures arise–whether to pout and get angry at them—really, at myself—or approach it as we should approach all tests—to see what we’ve learned and see what areas we need to go back and review or simply learn for the first time. Will I look at them as MY deficiencies—MY fault—MY lack of training them properly? How many times did I do something myself because it was faster and more efficient and I wanted it “just so” – and therefore did not ever actually train them? Did they “catch” anything from watching? Judging by the tower of wet towels on their bathroom floor this morning…I’m nervous.

Something hit me on the way to the airport. When all is said and done, my girls love me—the ones at home want me to stay—the ones living away want me to come. It’s mind-blowing–they want to spend time with their mom—even as teenagers! We read together, play together, work together, watch Dr. Who together (that’s new)—we enjoy hanging out together. While it’s important that they know how to cook a meal at some point—I’ll take the relationship over the clean floors anyday. Now if I can just remember that if I walk in the door in 3 weeks and find new forms of life growing in the carpet…

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Be Careful Little Eyes…

Mar 17, 2012 by Donna

“Any amount of theology can now be smuggled into people’s minds under the cover of fiction without their knowing it.”
― C.S. Lewis
And I would add “Whether that fiction be in print or on a screen of any kind; still or moving, flat or 3D, every person is responsible for what they allow into their hearts and minds and parents responsible for what they allow into their children’s hearts and minds through the windows to the soul known as the eyes.”

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Water ya gonna do about it? Yeah…it really matters…

Feb 16, 2012 by Donna

Do you drink water? I know that sounds silly, but it’s an honest question. Most Americans are walking around tired and hungry when they really just need some good ole’ H2O. Even if you “drink” all day long, you may be suffering from dehydration—honestly–sugary drinks, energy drinks, coffee, tea, etc.—those don’t really count and often, in fact, cause more harm than good. Now I am NOT saying give up your coffee and tea—the key is moderation and/or making sure you get the water you need in addition to your fav. Don’t make me talk about “diet” drinks containing artificial sweeteners—well, OK, we’ll talk about them, but not today–that’s another post unto itself ☺

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