Oh, Aidan. Further chronicles involving artichokes, a trash can and karate.

The other night I went to check on Aidan while he was taking a bath. He's usually pretending to scuba dive whenever I pop my head in on bath night, and, sure enough, he was submerged and swimming as much as a kid can submerge and swim in a bathtub. The only difference this time was that he had added goggles to his ensemble. Or maybe I should say goggle. I think that's what they're called when there's only one gog. His head surfaced and he squinted through that gog with a bewildered and disoriented look on his face. He must have really been taking his dive seriously.

Indeed, Aidan has a unique outlook on a number of things. I give you the next installment of Aidan's quips and queries.

*The other evening, Aidan asked what we were having for dinner. When I told him we were having Chicken in a Hurry, he was less than thrilled: "So it's a dead chicken and artichoke hearts? I don't like any of those things."

*A recent conversation with dad included the following remark: "I don't think I'd take karate because I don't like getting hit in the face and I like to protect all of my parts."

*The guys were watching a college football game. The marching band at halftime really made an impression on Aidan: "Boy, those guys all sure know their shapes."

*Aidan was feeling a bit under the weather. He asked if I would take his temperature, "'Cause I don't feel awesome, like I usually am." I took his temperature and tucked the sniffly boy in bed. After checking to see that he had a box of Kleenex and a trash can nearby, I prepared to leave the room. He wasn't satisfied. "I feel like I don't have enough supplies." I wasn't sure what more I could offer. He suggested that medicine might help. "I like Tylenol . . . ."

*I found my bedroom trash can in a rather warped state of being after the above mentioned sniffles had run their course. Naturally, I went to Aidan to do some questioning. He confessed, "I wanted to see if it was the kind of metal that was hard or the kind that squishes. It's the kind that squishes."

Stay tuned. I can almost guarantee that there will be more where that came from.

My Faith Rests

My faith rests not upon what I am, or shall be, or feel,
or know, but in what Christ is, in what He has done,
and in what He is now doing for me.
~C.H. Spurgeon~

Winslow Homer's 1873 "Girl in a Hammock"

A Very Important Purchase

I finally broke down and bought a new oven mitt and pot holder.



I figured it was about time.



Isn't it funny how we hold on to things? I'm pretty sure I got these at my bridal shower over fourteen years ago. The colors were perfect -- they matched my dishes, my wallpaper border, my youthful, blushing cheeks. I don't recall having another set. I just used them and used them and used them.

Over the years they were slopped on and burned. Finally, they became so threadbare that they weren't functioning as they should. The oven mitt developed a hole right between the thumb and mitten part. I could no longer shove my hand all the way into the mitt and grab the cookie sheet. I had to partially put my hand in and gingerly scoot the tray out of the oven.

I wore a hole clean through the middle of the pot holder. You would think that I would have considered getting a new one. But no. I folded it into a wad, avoided the gaping hole, and used it anyway. I even thought of repairing it. But getting a new one? The thought didn't even enter my mind.

One day, it occurred to me that I might just make a new pot holder. That would be so frugal and earthy of me. I thought about it for many days. Many, many days. Then I forgot all about it. And I kept on using those pathetic rags.

Well, I'm not sure when it finally hit me. Maybe it had to do with the kids starting to use the oven. What kind of mother hands her child a holey rag and says, "Grab that hot pan, please"? Not I.

Now, did I run out and grab the first set I found? Of course not. I started the search. I'm a bit like my mother in this respect. A purchase takes time. We must consider all the options, you see. I didn't find anything that really grabbed me, so I kept on using the rags.

The other day I was at Wal-Mart. On a whim I suggested to Bethie that we go look at the pot holders. I didn't expect to find the perfect set, but figured maybe I could find something to tide me over and save my poor children from being burned.

I stood in that aisle for a really, really long time. You would have thought I was making the most important decision of my life. Suddenly, the hilarity of it all struck me. They were three dollars each. Three dollars, people. It wasn't like I was about to sign my life away. No one was going to force me to use these -- and only these -- for the next fourteen years. If I found something I liked better in a month or a year, I could get them!

Into my cart went the olive pattern. They matched my kitchen and felt kind of Italian. Not a bad combo. But most importantly, they were well padded and completely whole!

I brought them home and placed them on the counter. They looked very stiff and clean. I was afraid to use them. But I cast one last glance at my trusty old pair and realized that it was time to move on. So I did. And guess what? I love my new pot holders.

Brown Paper Packages

My curriculum is steadily trickling in. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise that everything has taken so long to get here. We've been able to ease into the school year, slowly adding subjects here and there. I think if I would have gotten all of my materials at once, I would have attempted meeting all subjects head on. On the first day. My poor children. To think!


One of my favorite spots in the school room

But God knew what we needed, and I'm thankful for that. He always does. I'm still waiting for a few boxes. It's rather exciting, really. Every day when we hear the UPS truck enter our neighborhood, four little heads pop up expectantly from their school work. (Make that five -- I'm just as eager.) Maybe it's Drew's spelling book! Maybe it's Aidan's nature reader! Maybe it's Bethie's art paper! Maybe it's . . . all of Avery's curriculum!


Shhhh . . . . Drew is very focused on his art project.

The first time a box arrived I was kind of mean. We were definitely in school mode. The Man in Brown rang the doorbell. We jumped out of our seats. "It's from Rainbow Resource!" Drew announced. Curriculum. My heart raced. And then I became mean mom. "How exciting! Yes, we'll open it . . . as soon as we've finished our work."


I'm not sure why Aidan has a dart on his forehead. And he's usually fully clothed during class.


Bethie looks rather dejected here. Don't worry. This is just her "In the moment" look.

Now, I was just as eager as they were to tear into that box. But I knew that there's nothing like a little incentive to get kids to stay on task. Boy, did those kids stay on task. They finished their school work in record time. I stretched that enthusiasm as far as possible. Once they'd scrubbed the toilets and squeegeed the windows, I gave them the okay. (Not really. I just made them tidy the living room. And the family room. And the school room.) They tore into that box like nobody's business. It was fun.


Avery's haircut. Not that you can tell from this shot, but it's been cut.

As the boxes continued to arrive, I milked my little system. It occurred to me that I could steadily order curriculum for the next fifteen years and thereby guarantee a spotless house.


Books! Books! Books!

Today the doorbell rang again. It was another big box. My babes were up to their necks in grammar and math. Drew lugged in the treasure and confirmed, "Rainbow Resource!" Yelping ensued. All eyes looked to mama. I paused and glanced around the room. Taking in the mess, my first instinct was to devise a plan. But then I relaxed. Plans aren't always necessary. And I heard myself shout, "Let's open it!"

We did. It was fun.

Oh, Aidan.

Aidan finds a new use for my tea cozy.

I have dozens of notebooks lying around. A few of them are dedicated solely to my children's quirky phrases and "isms." Lately, Aidan has been on a roll. I wish I could follow him all day with a video camera. He's a funny kid. His comments start out heading in one direction. Then he takes a seemingly sudden detour and finishes his thought with a totally unexpected line. His deadpan remarks kill us. I thought I'd let him kill you today, too.

* One afternoon, Aidan came down wearing my heels. My eyebrows shot up and he explained, "I wanted to see what it will be like when I'm nine." He figured that's about how much taller he'd be in two years. As he wobbled off he assured me, "I'll be more balanced, though."

* Again he approached me one day, out of the blue. He got really close to my face and asked, "How are my freckles comin' along?" (He's really hoping to be blessed with sprinkles like his sister, Bethie, and cousin, Ethan.)

* A little while ago we were pulling out of the parking lot at Ross. I saw a very distressed man wringing his hands and wandering aimlessly. I wanted to help, but felt somewhat uncomfortable since I was alone with the children. When I noticed that he was talking on a cell phone and also interacting with a person parked nearby, I figured he could at least summon help if need be. My help probably wasn't necessary. I explained all of this to the children, wanting them to understand the importance of exercising both compassion and safety. I continued by saying that I might have felt more comfortable helping a woman. I was proud of my gallant Aidan who said he would help a woman, too. His reason, however, left me speechless. "I would only help a woman because a man is smarter than a woman and would know what to do."

Just you wait, 'Enry 'Iggins. Just you wait.