Cleaning with Kids

I am almost constantly amazed at how quickly a completely clean home can go to filth. I'm not talking about messiness, I'm talking about filth. We have a rule in our home that every morning we all spend 20 minutes cleaning during the week. All five of us (not six because Dad is off doing his keeping-our-nation-safe-Army stuff) get up, turn on some music (I almost always let the kiddos pick), and get to work.

Each day the workload is bit different. Some times it's sweeping, dusting, mopping, picking up, tidying up, organizing, scrubbing, etc etc. Some days it's bathrooms, other days it's the coloring box (we have a box where all of the kids' colored creations go and we occasionally have to go through and purge what isn't very important, and then set aside what is important to go in the end of year coloring book). 

Today on the menu was an actual cleaning of my house. I kid you not that the house has been cleaned for an hour and already there is dog hair collecting in the corner. I'm beginning to believe that my Chocolate lab sees a clean floor, goes over to the corner, sheds what looks like enough hair to make a woolen sweater, and then walks off. Is this the dog version of marking their presence? You know, like how single individuals will leave an item of theirs in their significant others' home/vehicle/stuff. He's not allowed to pee in the house so maybe this is second best!?

Our other dog quickly got to work tearing apart his dog toy so that the stuffing would be all over the floor. Maybe he's trying to create the appearance of snow. The only problem with that theory is that he's 8 weeks old. He has no idea what snow looks like. :-/

My home looks funny to me right now. With the new pup in the house, all of the rugs have been removed from the floor. Don't judge me, do you want to clean up puppy accidents from a shag rug? I didn't think so. Now, to be fair, he has had almost no accidents in the house. He is an excited pee-er so occasionally a droplet will come out when he's SO happy to see you in the morning. But even that is pretty uncommon. He is quite genuinely the world's greatest puppy. But, until I am 100% certain that he is solidly beyond those days (and me and Hubs are solid on his cues, body languages, and signs) the rugs will stay rolled up in the corner of my living room, looking funny.

Well, I'm off to sweep the floor for the second time today! Hope you're having a wonderful Halloween and that you have an awesome "Holy Night" tonight (Halloween = Hallow's Eve = Holy Night).

Cloth it up

I have recently been working on cutting costs for my family. If we all seriously evaluate the items we purchase and whether or not they are actually necessary, or possible to reduce in waste, we could very positively effect our planet.

One of the ways that I've recently done this is by making cloth napkins. In a family with four young children, you can only imagine the number of napkins and paper towels that we go through on a daily basis. The kids are constantly wiping their hands, spilling a drink, and needing to wipe things up. 

After evaluating the cost of paper napkins, and how much waste they are producing, I decided to make some cloth napkins.

I started with 2 yards of a cotton fabric. I cut each of them to 21" X 21". Then I folded the edges down and ironed them. Cloth napkins do not need to be double lined because you fold them over anyway when you eat (think about a paper napkin, are they double lined? Nope!). 

Here is a picture of what my completed napkins look like:

Hope you get the opportunity to make some cloth napkins for your home and to save a few dollars! They really are quite delightful! And they absorb immensely more than a paper napkin! :)

Chevron: that's good stuff

I drive a minivan. It was an emotional experience the day I had to trade in my "cutesy" girl car and get the dreaded mom-van. It was almost like a death in the family. I had to resign myself to years and years of this plus-sized vehicle and it was tragic.

I settled on a Ford Freestar. As much as I loathed having to get a van, this was a most awesome one to get. It isn't really fancy, but it drives nicely, brakes nicely, gets great gas mileage (about 435 to a tank) and has served me quite well in the nearly six years that I've had it.

Many large families (and small one's too for that matter) have been trying to pinch pennies where ever they could, and we were no exception to that rule. The rising cost of gas has hit many of us hard in our wallets. As a result of this, I started buying our military gas (it's usually a couple of cents cheaper).

A few months ago I noticed my gas mileage severely dropping. I thought it might have been related to my van's need for a tune up. Took her in, had her tuned up, checked the air in the tires, yada yada yada, and STILL the gas mileage was dropping. It wasn't a minor drop either, it was down to about 310 miles to a tank of gas (that's 125 miles less than normal!).

I was talking to my Dad about the gas situation and he asked what gas I purchased for my car. I said "The generic stuff. Isn't all gas the same?" Well, according to Pops, not so much. Apparently different gas companies do different things to their gas.

A little bit of research later and I decided that I was going to give my car what I have named "The Chevron Challenge." I challenged my car to two tanks of gas (I didn't think one would be completely fair), and if I didn't see a mileage improvement, I would stick with the cheaper stuff.

My very first tank of Chevron gas instantly upped my mileage to 417 miles a tank (I have a 23 gallon tank). The second, 443. The third, 472. I am on my fourth and at my current trend, I am prepped to reach nearly 500 miles to a tank.

Chevron gas costs more to purchase initially. However, with the increased gas mileage, I am saving money by buying Chevron gas. My husband's vehicle has now been switched to Chevron and his mileage has doubled.

I wanted to share this with all of you because the changes were so significant. So I will leave you with this: Are you willing to take the Chevron challenge?

Note: I am not being paid by Chevron to advocate for their gas. I am simply stating my opinions on a way to save money.

Raw nakedness

There are some experiences that are difficult to define. They're filled with such sheer emotionality that it's almost impossible to put them to words. So we pick soundtracks. We pick songs and colors and paintings to sort of explain away the intensity.

I'll never forget the moment that you first saw me naked. Barriers down, masks and charades completely removed. Me, exposed. Raw. Ferocious. Devastated.

I was curled up in a ball ready to die. Truth be told, I was ninety percent dead at that point. I was unlovable. I was unattainable. I was completely disconnected from anyone, anywhere who could possibly understand or perceive me.

You were a thousand miles away, connected through this phone line.

And I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was simply that I couldn't not do it. Maybe it was luck, or safety, or desperation. Maybe it was this one freaking moment where my brain wasn't constantly calculating, analyzing, evaluating, and you had my chaos dumped on you. You had my nakedness exposed.

You touched my rawness. You climbed in to it and you loved it. In that singular moment, I learned a life lesson: what love looks like. And you said My sweet, what on earth has been done to you that you don't know what love looks like?

You screamed louder than the voices in my head. You loved harder than the terrors could beat me. Your breath heated up my frozen spirit. You were the miracle I begged God for. You were the proof that I wasn't completely worthless.

I still think about that massive canvas that was covered in shining gold on our first date. We went to look at art. And somewhere amongst the canvases, your fingers interlocked with mine for the first time. In that experience, I felt home. For those seconds, I wasn't waiting for the nightmare to come.

You're still the only person who has ever seen me like that.

Chief

I don't know how he did it, but somehow he made the girl who was never going to be dependent on anyone, completely codependent on him.

It's been a couple of thousand nights apart. It's been deployments, field times, gunnery's, schools, trainings, 24 hour duties... It's been millions of seconds where I didn't get to kiss you goodnight. It's been a multitude of exhausting days where I didn't get your support, or your jokes to make me feel better.

I don't see the silver lining. I hate all of them. I loathe them with a passion. This is the only way I know how to love: all encompassing.

You are the love of my life. And to say that sentence is both completely grandiose but also immensely an understatement. There is no human being walking around on this planet that I have needed, like I need you. There is no person who has mattered to me what you do. My life would suck without you. You are a rockstar and I am your fanatic. You are medicine to my broken heart, strength to my weakened muscles, and the reason why I get out of bed, most days. No pressure, right?

The thing that is both insane and amazing is that I know it is exactly the same way for you. I know you love me just the same way as I love you, if not more. In this intense way that can't be described. There are no words, musical notes, songs, colors, or things that can define it. It's indescribable.

It's divine. Magical. Powerful. You're the only person that could get me to enjoy sleeping next to them. You're the only person who showed me what safety felt like. And you did it in such an intense way that the safety lingers, even when all that's left is the ghost of your presence here.

You love me with a supernatural ability that only God could have given. And you've loved me beautifully, immaculately, astoundingly... You love me with a Holy love.

There is no "me" without you. There's no story of me, or funny in me, or joy in me, without you. You are my backbone. You hold me all together and make everything flow right. And it's not because you have to do it. It's not because I made you do it. I didn't beg it of you, or plead for it. You just do it.

I can't stand being apart. I can't stand the silence. I can't stand the ghost of your memory on our sheets or the smell of you fading away. I can't stand not seeing you, or feeling you, or being lost in you. I can't not hearing the sound of your heartbeat, or feeling the rising and falling of your chest while I fall asleep. I can't stand the cold of our room without you there to warm it up.

You are the only you that there is. I love you.

Wrestling with God

There are moments in every mother's life where you are walking out of a giant thunderstorm, the kind that are capable of destroying your home and entire family. The clouds roll away and the sun starts shining again. You can still see the storm on the horizon as it fades away, but the sun's rays are powerful. They're healing.

Miracles do happen. Whether you or I want to accept, believe, or trust in that, they do. It's not something that can be denied. Just as oxygen is undeniable, so are miracles.

It's strange to be in that place. It's strange to be gut struck from the sheer powerfulness of the storm. I almost feel stunned in place. I almost feel frozen. I was blindsided. Not by the circumstance, but rather my emotional reaction to it. I had never felt so broken, so battered, so utterly pissed off at God in my entire life. And I think that's saying quite a lot, given what I have lived through. I was enraged. I was so angry that I couldn't communicate. I was so devastated that I didn't want to talk; to God, to Chief, to myself...

I was done. I had reached the limit of what I was capable of enduring.

I stopped believing in the possibility of hope. I stopped believing her even to be capable of being all right. I stopped praying, because I was too afraid to. I lost my faith. I lost my hope. I lost myself.

The week before we were to receive the "ultimate" news, I had this strange moment within myself. I was talking to my friend and he told me (paraphrased) to be afraid, but to not lose hope. That hope was the opposite of fear and to not ignore either. I had a reason to be afraid. But I always have a reason to have hope.

I argued with him. It's very much so the nature of our relationship: we speak truths, argue, but most of the time end up coming to very similar conclusions. It just might take one of us a while to get there.

That Sunday in church, I knew that the Holy Spirit was talking to me. It was almost surreal, how well I knew it was Him. It was so clear: Let. it. go. There was no promise that everything would be all right in the end. There was no assurance, or comfort (in the context of what every mother wants in these scenarios), just a command: let. it. go. In other words, let her go. I remember saying in my mind I can't. Don't ask me to do that. I can't. The response was quick, because it's one I have often said to my children: If it's more important to you than I am, it's an idol that you've built up in your heart, and you shouldn't have it. BINGO. Nail on the head. Flashing sign, blinking lights, arrows pointing. My child's health had become my idol.

I cried through the whole service. I wrestled and fought and I ultimately let go. I put my child on that altar and I said "Okay. She's yours. Come what may."

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely different. I felt resigned. I felt ready. I felt strengthened. I also felt like the idea of my child having cancer was finally, not the essence of the end of my life. I finally felt ready to be there for her.

That night I finally had the courage to ask for what I wanted. "God? Please don't let my daughter be dying. Please don't let her have cancer. PLEASE don't take her away from me."

It was several days later that we went in for the results. It was several days of peace and living in the moment. It was several days where we felt almost "normal". And I promise you that when we walked in to that office, hand in hand, we believed he was going to say that she had leukemia. So when he said "I can say with 100% certainty that your daughter does not have cancer." Chief and I froze. It had to sink in. We had to almost do a double take. We were ALL so surprised.

I learned a lot from the scenario. Probably more than I can adequately communicate. I learned to trust God more. As strange as that may seem to read, it's the truth. Trusting God is probably the most difficult thing for me to do. I can't even seem to bring myself to trust the people I am surrounded by, let alone a physically invisible God, who can often times seem like a complete jerk. But I specifically asked Him for my child's health and He gave it. I asked Him for it, without genuinely believing that He would give it to me, and He still did. And maybe that's what having the heart of a child is really all about. Desperation. I have a need and You are the only one who is capable of giving it to me, so PPPLLLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE!?!?!?!

What I can clearly say is laughing, playing, and living right here in front of me. I have no idea what the future holds for her, or for me, or for anyone for that matter, but I asked God and He gave. For that, I am eternally grateful.