Our friends and family know we don't watch TV. We don't own one, the kids only get shows when someone is sick, and we really keep technology away from our kids in general. To us this is normal, but sometimes we forget how extremely abnormal it truly is. Our kids know nothing different, and as parents we've adjusted and really forget at times what the norm is. It isn't until someone new hears we don't allow screen time, that brings us back to reality and how weird we really are. So what do we do in the morning? How do we get ready? What do the kids do? Don't they wake up whining? The answer: We basically enjoy time together as a family Mornings start with Danny waking up first, doing chores, making a fire, and getting ready and getting some work done before everyone wakes up, if he's working from home. He kindly brings me a cappuccino and wakes me up at the time he would typically head in to work. Baby usually gets up with me and we head down and snuggle up on the couch by the fire. The other boys come down, hopefully a little later. More often than not, they're already up, e waiting for the approval to come down, and they snuggle up by the fire too. Everyone just spends time watching the sunrise, chatting and snuggling up under the wool blankets and enjoying the wood stove. I'll admit, I'm the one who struggles the most at waking up. I wish it wasn't such a struggle for me not to be a grumpy tired bear in the morning, but I definitely have to remind myself I DON'T want my boys remembering mom greeting them with a grumpy face each morning. Unfortunately, I have to get the daily mental pep talk from myself, but the wake up time with coffee on the couch helps me ease into the day myself. Since, I'm not the most motivated person in the morning, the boys know I will agree to a pre-breakfast of bananas and peanut butter or apples and dates. They'll then run and get their plates and dish up their first snacks of the day. I don't care to eat breakfast until nine or ten so their first breakfast gets them going until I basically make brunch. This all may sound fake, but its normal life for us. The boys all like their morning snuggles. They've never known anything different. Come summer the fireplace is replaced by sitting out on the patio, usually with their own cappuccinos. I don't play music and never was one that can handle morning shows. Our days start as slow, quiet and snuggly as I can make them. And let's face it, I'll happily give up some "Me time" if it means there's no annoying kid shows running in the background.
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These days little Danny is full of questions. We skipped the "WHY" stage and he went straight to wanting to know about anything and everything. "Where's it come from?" "What's that (fill in toddler description) thing?" "Where's it?" "Where's our house go?" "What's that noise? My hear something." "What my mell?" (What do I smell?) We're answering hundreds of questions a day and car rides now don't have much room for conversation time between mom and dad. Danny wants to know about everything, and you better not give him a one word answer, or you're getting the same exact question thrown right back at you. I've learned the trick to not getting the same question, is giving him a long enough answer that just begins to hit the boring, too-much-information zone. Thank goodness he's learning to at least describe things now, and were past him expecting us to know exactly what he spotted while we were driving 70 mph on the highway. He's learning to describe by color, size and shape, which helps us out. If its a sound, he's getting pretty good at mimicing just about anything. Sometimes he doesn't like our answer and corrects us. Why he has to ask about something he already knows, I still haven't fiured out. Sometimes we just throw the question back at him, if we know he already knows the answer. And boy is this kid observant! I honestly can believe what he notices, connects, and even remember from months past. He notices everytime I'm hurting and hold on to the handle to get out of the car saying, "You got out like Nana." (Exactly what everyone wants to hear, that they're moving as well as their 80 year old grandma.) He notices sounds I completely tune out. Last night he asked, "Whats that noise?" When I incorrectly said it was the birds out the window, he said, "no" and made a low humming noise. Only then did I realize the dehumidifire hum running up the vents from the basement. "What my mell" is one of his top questions, especially in the car. From rain in the air to manure at the barn, he notices and asks about it all. For the first time I've noticed the sweet, faint smell of honeysuckle coming in the windows on the drive home along the river. How many times have I done that drive and never even noticed it. I am truly thankful what he is opening my eyes (and ears and nose) to. Every parent will tell you playing non-stop 20 questions makes you about ready to go to insane. Its the constant, "Where's my house go," and "Mommy point to my house," when we're nowhere close, that is exasperating. It is like he thinks if I point to where it is, it will magically appear and we will be home. When that starts we try to find anything out the window for redirecting for everyone's sake. Not liking my answer, or those times I have no idea what he's talking about, can be really frustrating for both of us. He's not the type to be fooled about me not knowing what he is asking, and I don't want to lie and just make up something to shut him up. I try to explain that I don't always know but it is a good question. Sometimes I suggest someone else he can ask, or we just talk about how God made things the way they are. The thing is, I love seeing how his mind works, how he wants to learn, and how observant he is, but it is a daily test on my patience. I'm trying to remind myself when he's asked me the same thing for the 100th time to be patient, talk kindly, apprecitiate his learning, and try to find the humor in it all. The thing is, the kid is freaking smart! I'm not saying he's any genius or even smarter than any other kid, but compared to me he's miles ahead. Kids have a fresh, energetic, inquisitive mind that we as adults tend to lose. They want to learn, to explore, to question. Everything is new and fascinating. They will make connections to things we never thought of and notice the tinest of details if we just keep out mouths closed and let them explore. They don't have the negative look on things. Life isn't boring. They don't know everything and are completely ok admitting it. He's teaching me again to notice the little world around me. I don't need to go anywhere to have an adventure or be entertained, I just need to reengage my mind again. For as exasperating at times it can be, I don't want to squelch his inquisitive mind. I don't want to teach him to live life with a brain on autopilot. I want him to share his interests, questions, ideas, and observations with me. I want him to know I really do care about what he thinks. But none of that will stay if I respond with a tone, or a quick answer. He'll eventually not share his mind with me, and maybe even worse, completely quit thinking. I don't want to have a teenager someday, who doesn't want to talk to me, because, as a toddler, I taught him I was too impatient and uninterested to care to listen.
Unfortunately I don't feel I do well at it. When I have responded wrongly, I apologize. I tell him it wasn't ok for me to be cross or short. I tell him I need to speak kindly and ask God to help me when I feel impatient. I also tell him how much I really love that he wants to learn and I want him to ask questions. I tell him how I love his stories and knowing what he is thinking. These days it is my prayer that I will be able to listen, engage, be patient, and value those questions in the moment because I really do love how his mind works. Benjamin Hoagland Kelley arrived one day late, but came much quicker and easier than his brother did and we are so excited to welcome another boy into the family. This time I had a new doctor and new hospital and everything was so much better in every way. Even the epidural worked better, something I didn't know wasn't working last time as it should have. My doctor took the time to come in specially for my delivery, which helped keep my anixiety to a minimum, and thinks she may have been able to correct some of my issues left over from Danny's delievery. So many wonderful answers to prayer! Baby Benji was a whole pound less than his brother at 7 pounds 9 ounces. We were told at the last ultrasound he had thick long hair and boy were they right. He's quite the fluffy little thing. I was convinced this time I was having a girl, but I will admit I really wanted another boy. I'd love a girl someday, but I really wanted another boy at some point, and am glad Danny gets a brother close in age. At the hospital, my sister-in-law was able to be our postpartum nurse for both nights, making me really feel at ease putting Benji in the nursery. I was set to be induced if he didn't arrive by Monday, and she had a crib all ready and decorated for his arrival. It was so cute and thoughtful. Danny was so sweet when he came to visit and not at all against the name Benji. I think the real baby was so different than what he was expecting that the Skippy thing wasn't an issue all. We've all definitely slipped up and have called poor Benji Baby Skippy a one point. Danny brought Benji a big brother bear as a gift and Benji had a gift for Danny. After that, Danny was pretty content to play with his new puzzles and toys. He poked Benji's foot but he was too nervous to do anything else for a few days. Now he happily hugs and kisses him and pets his head. He wants to hold him and help change diapers and loves teaching Benji about life. Thankfully he seems to be enjoying the Big brother thing and genuinely wants Benji around, running in to say good morning and sing to him when he wakes up. Benji is named after my grandpa, who 30 years ago worked in the very same hospital where little Benji was born. I'm sure my grandpa would have never thought his very own great-grandson would be one of those little babies delivered there, but it made it even more special to have little Benji there. The last year has been rough but God has had his hand in all of it. We lost baby two a year ago on the very anniversary of my grandpa's death, but it was that miscarriage that finally got the ball rolling for me to switch doctors. Now almost exactly a year later, we end up having baby Benji in the same hospital my grandpa worked in years ago, with a doctor who is a perfect fit for me and getting me the help I need.
I'm not one to rush in to the next stage, enjoying where we are and letting things change in time. Sometimes as parents we have to decide it's time, then other times our kids just begin to move on. We planned on keeping Danny in his crib until at least summer, but plans changed when the whole sleeping issues started up. He was still doing great with naps but he's scared at night and it made more sense to get him a bed where we could sit with him easier. I had been looking at bunk beds for a while and knew Ikea's Mydal was the best fit for us, so we finally threw him in the car and made the trip. We had been telling him for a while that he was going to get a big boy bed with a ladder, which was the selling feature for him. With our small house we were going to end up with bunkbeds at some point, so we decided to go right there, skipping the extra purchase of a toddler bed or regular twin bed. I still haven't figured out the best mattress option that we can afford, but my parents had an extra one in the basement that Danny had been using as a trampoline, so we borrowed it for the time being. He was excited to bring his jumping mattress home and said his bed was made of logs for Daddy to build, pointing to the directions and ordering Daddy around while he worked. We plan on painting the bed when we move it to his big boy room, but starting with a "log" bed seemed to be fun for him. After it was set up, we talked it up big all the next day. He got glow in the dark star stickers for the underside to put on with Daddy, and got to pick out a new tractor after he slept in it the first night. He picked out a little John Deere tractor with a poop flinger wagon (that's exactly what he calls it) and has now slept with it every night. He loves telling everyone about his big boy bed and now thinks he's big enough to sit at the table as well. We've agreed as long as he stays seated and asks to be excused, so he thinks he is just Mr. Cool right now. Since the other room still isn't ready yet, his room is kind of a cluttered mess of crib, bunks, changing table, and rocker all squished in, but he likes his bed. He's still waking up in the middle of the night, for whatever reason, but hopefully we can now work on that. At about 4 am he's angrily running down the hall calling Daddy to come back and sleep in the big boy bed, offended that he was left in the first place, but we're happy he's at least wanting to sleep in there. He's decided Baby Skippy can sleep on the top bunk and hasn't been too concerned with climbing the ladder. Not having a mattress on top helps discourage climbing for now and he's happily moved all his animals into his bed with him. He's much cozier now with flannel sheets and a down duvet, plus a nice wool throw, so hopefully the cold won't be a factor anymore waking him up. I was worried about him getting out of bed all the time, but he's still scared enough at night that we haven't tried having him fall asleep on his own yet. We also made the call a few weeks ago to take away his Foxie and Moosie wubbies. I was dreading the day and honestly dragging my feet at making him give them up. I remember the tramatic night I had to give up my pacifier, and he was so attached to them that we expected quite a few miserable days. When I heard husband Danny had a long weekend and I didn't need to worry about his sleep, we decided there wasn't a better time. I tried the cut-the-hole method, hoping little Danny would be content just keeping the animal. He's very particular about things and I was hoping that would work to our advantage. When he wasn't looking, I snipped the ends and then threw them back on the ground with his lamby, letting him discover it on his own. He noticed the hole before even putting it in his mouth and brought it to me saying "Uh-Oh." I acknowledged it was broken, but told him he could still try to use it if he wanted, and suggested maybe just hugging it would be better. He gave it one little nibble and he was done. That was it. Problem solved in about 30 seconds. (Yay for Pinterest parenting hacks!!!!) No fits, whining, or even concern about the animal at all, just content to keep Mimi (his lovey lamb) with him. I can't believe how well it worked and thank God for the easy transition. The wubbies are still around if he wants to play with them, but he hasn't given them a second thought. Not having to make it seem like he was being forced to give it up or some decision we made honestly made a huge difference. He's big on deciding things on his own and being able to make him think he decided to give it up really was a blessing. Since he has his lamb for comfort, he's not any needier without the pacifiers.
I honestly miss seeing that little moose hanging out of his mouth. He seemed so much younger with it, and I do think it did help him fall asleep faster, but at some point he had to give it up, and we didn't want to have to try to do it once the baby was here with it's own wubby. The only problem now is we've been spoiled with such an easy process that the next kid will seem super rough. (There's no way we're lucking out that much again.) I love writing and something about poetry has always interested me. The lack of rules and the way it can share a story with such few words intrigues me. Sometimes when I can't sleep that's where my mind goes. I love reading A.A. Milne and Robert Lois Stevenson to baby because they both had the ability to capture the heart and mind of a child. I like to think that maybe they both wrote really for the benefit of the parents, helping dust the cobwebs off those childhood memories, softening out our calloused adult hearts to remember the joy and life of childhood. Secretly getting us to put ourselves in our child's shoes and look again through childish eyes to see the world as it was intended to be seen. Danny typically has been a good sleeper but just as we got back into a good rhythm, he's back in our bed thanks to the snow plows. I remember my childhood well, seemingly better than most people. I remember the terror of sleeping in my room alone. I remember honestly thinking that my friends parents who NEVER let them in their bed, must not love them as much. Thankfully I never told my friends that, but I remember feeling so sorry for them. I remember the fears and terror of being alone, and the immense comfort it brought getting to snuggle in my parents bed after a storm or nightmare. As a parent I understand wanting him in his own room, and with another baby coming in April, I don't want to build a habit. Then the memories of what it was like being so scared as a child toss me back to letting him in our room. That's currently where we are. Wading through the murky waters of the best solution, trying to balance empathy with firmness and discipline. Trying to discern when to fight him and when to be understanding. For some it is so easy to say "just throw him in his bed." "He's safe. He's fine. He'll get over it." Yes, that's all true, but for me it will never be easy. I don't disagree that it may be the course of action we need to take, but I also don't believe it being hard to do shows weakness. I sometimes wonder if some parents don't struggle with it because they've forgotten those fearful nights many years ago, where I have not. So while yes, to the adult, the snowplow is nothing to fear. We know it cannot come through the windows and eat our toes, but that is the understanding of a logical, seasoned, experienced adult. To a child everything has more life, more potential, more joy, yet, also at times, more fear. As I rocked baby last night as he clung to my neck crying, my mind was thinking of the irony of it all; a love by day and a fear by night. The poetic words began swirling around, reminding me what life it like in the mind of a child. I decide to share it as a reminder of childhood. Maybe another parent can read this and find that extra bit of patience they need, as they too, frustratingly wade the murky waters of firm discipline and gentle understanding.
Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday. I love the reminder the month brings of being thankful and really find it at the front of my mind. Thanksgiving in my family was always about spending time with family and friends, not football or shopping. My mom always, and still does, welcome anyone who doesn't have a place to go into our home. Our Thanksgiving always means having new people to meet and the possibility of having anywhere from a few to many many people. It's the holiday for true hospitality, being happy to share what God has blessed us with to whomever wants to join. I've grown up seeing that excluding others is really missing the point of the First Thanksgiving, and really isn't showing true thankfulness for what God has blessed us with. So in our home you typically won't hear, "Our family only" or "This is just close friends." For as much as my mom doesn't enjoy having to try to figure out if she's having over 8 people or 15 the night before she cooks everything, there always is an open door at the Harper house. This is how I want my kids to see Thanksgiving. I want them to see the month of November as a month of reflection. A month to give God the glory, to be thankful, generous, and selfless. I want to challenge them, just as my mom did us, to be thankful for more than just home, family, and friends. While we should be thankful for all of these, they are easy things to be thankful for. They are those things you don't have to put much thinking into or to really search your heart and see all those tiny overlooked blessings God has given you throughout the year. Family, pets, friends, food, home all make a kindergartener's thankful turkey. My mom always wanted to push up to mature in our thankfulness and not just stay on the more superficial basics. To actually see what makes your heart ache with gratitude, you have to spend some time in thought, something I unfortunately only do in November and would benefit from doing it more. Last week I posted the below post on Instagram. The superficial level of thankfulness (although not any less important) is the blessing of this baby. I prayed to be pregnant again by November, not thinking I could face the month my last baby was due without another on the way, and God graciously answered. However, the deeper level of thankfulness, the one that makes my heart ache, bringing me to my knees before God, is the peace he's given me through this pregnancy. God has not promised me this pregnancy will go any differently than the last. There is no promise I won't lose this baby. There is no promise that it will be healthy, or that there will be no complications. No matter how much faith I have that these things won't happen, doesn't guarantee they won't, but God promises he will never leave me. He will be with me through the good times and the bad, just as he already has. After a miscarriage I expected extreme amounts of anxiety. I didn't know how I could go through pregnancy again "normally." The emotions this time are much harder, there is definitely a helpless uncertainty, realizing there is no promise things will go how I want, yet in it all I have peace. There is no crippling anxiety, but I'm ok with letting things fall in God's hands. I still can't go to an appointment alone. I have nightmares the week leading up. Thoughts of my last delivery put me into a panic attack and I truly cannot handle thinking about it, yet at the same time I have peace with God. A peace that I cannot explain. A peace that isn't blind, but clearly seeing the facts, knowing there is no promise of getting it all my way, yet accepting to believe God is good. A peace that almost scares me to admit exists, in fear I'll destroy it somehow. A peace that isn't of me or anything I have done on my own. It's an answer to prayer. A proof of the existence of God in my life. A peace somehow being able to exist while I still have those fears, those desires for it all to be ok. A peace that exists with normal fears, but frees me of the control of anxiety. I am not controlled by anxiety as I expected, obsessing over doing everything in my power to make it all ok. I know I can do nothing. I have no promises of the outcome, but I have the promise that God has it in control. God sees it all. God loves me and my family. God knows what is best for me and my family. He is love. He is The Creator, all-knowing, all-powerful, compassionate, forgiving, the perfect judge, my defender, my comforter, and will never leave me. The reality is, even with the pregnancy all going well, I could and should still be a disaster. I couldn't enjoy the blessing of the new baby without the even greater blessing of God's peace. Without Him I couldn't make it though this pregnancy. My last one I was doing EVERYTHING right. I was eating healthy, on my vitamins, no stress, no anxiety, working out, getting sleep, none of which was true with my pregnancy with Danny. With everything I was doing I should've been golden with the last one, and I lost the baby at 9 weeks. Why? I don't know. And I won't know. But what I had to understand and accept is it is all out of my control. I am not growing the baby, God is. I can obsess and try to control it, doing everything in my power to be as healthy as possible, but it promises nothing, and empty promises are never good to stand on. After extreme anxiety with my first pregnancy, still constantly battling pain from the complications, then losing my second pregnancy, somehow I have the more peace now with my third one than I did with any of the others. That doesn't and shouldn't make sense. It is only from God and I praise him for it.
Halloween was always one of those things I was excited for as a kid. I loved dressing up in costumes, getting glow sticks, and carving pumpkins. We had a lot of friends growing up who didn't participate in it and everyone was always surprised my family did. My parents were known to be more conservative on a lot of issues, but we were the Christian family that did participate in Halloween. My parents felt there was a way we could have fun without welcoming all the death and creepiness in our home, and when do you ever have so many neighbors knocking on your door and out and about socializing. As kids we had conversations with friends about why we couldn't be certain things, giving us the opportunity to share our faith. We've taken the same approach with baby and he's following the same rules about how to celebrate. 1. No gross, death, or evil promoting costumes. It's pretty much open game on costumes as long as it doesn't fall in the above categories. This means no witches, demons, goblins, etc. in our home. My child is extra sensitive to the the creepy stuff, and I was the same way, so I definitely feel for him. Personally, I wish others would take into account the children that are more sensitive to scary things and save those outfits for times other than trick-or-treat. 2. You have to actually dress up for it to count. A soccer jersey over jeans doesn't make the cut. My mom always encouraged us to have fun and not allow insecurity to make our lives boring and I'm so thankful she did. You've got to know how to have fun in life and not be a drip about everything. There are plenty of ways to make cheap costumes that are still creative and fun. Most of the time, kids don't do anything because they're lazy and/or want to be cool. Let's face it, my kids are going to be homeschooled, so they better give up on being cool now and just learn to have fun. So as you can imagine, when baby refused to dress up this year I was bummed. Originally he said he wanted to be a moo moo cow like last year, but once he saw the udders it was all over. I was no way letting him get away with the OSU jersey over pants, no matter how easy it was so if he was participating this year he had to be something. Danny didn't quite get it, but I said if we start that now what is he going to do when he's 10. My brother was always particular about dressing up and every year managed to find something he liked, so I was willing to work with baby on his costume. I suggested a chicken, chipmunk, skunk, trash man, fisherman, horse, and several other things. After getting all rejections, finally in frustration I said, "Well what do you want to be?!," not expecting any suggestions. Well, Mr. Independent looked right at me and quickly responded, "Hay, fluffy hay." I didn't believe he'd do it but Danny said why not give it a try. He got a pampers box, painted it yellow, and used a rope and baling wire to hold some loose hay around the box, and attached his suspenders to it, costing a whole $4. Much to my surprise, that little stinker wore it proudly, especially when he discovered he got treats. At first he wasn't getting the concept because we kept saying candy, but once we called them treats he was all on board. (Amazing what a word swap and do!) He did trunk or treat until he got scared of the other costumes and wanted to go home. On Halloween he rode in the wagon while my dad pulled him right up to the door. He'd then hop out, put on his costume, say "Treats Please," and climb back in, telling my dad to "back up.". We made it to five houses and then turned around, but he got some Snickers and a tub of blue Playdoh so he was happy. Passing out candy at home made for some great sharing practice anyway. He still seemed to enjoy helping my dad make cappuccinos for everyone over getting candy, but I'm fine with that. Despite not getting another year of him as a cute animal, I love that he came up with his costume idea all on his own. And he was definitely the cutest hay bale I've ever seen.
With baby boy's language skills rapidly developing, I am beginning to gear up for starting scripture memorization. Kids tend to have this amazing ability to memorize things easily and I don't want to waste those years. While we want to wait to school, we believe you can never start teaching them God's truth too soon. Right now we read Proverbs 8, Psalm 23, and Danny's verse we picked for him (Eph 3:16-21) when we are at the table. Bible time in the morning has become just what we do, something his Daddy did a great job doing over the summer. Baby gets his breakfast and then says "pray" and "Bi" (Bible) always giggling with excitement, waiting to be asked what books he wants to read. He always requests "Ro" and "John" (Romans and John), which is what we've been doing in BSF, and if we still have time we read an additional Psalm and Proverb. He is getting the reference down to his verse, although we're the only ones that understand him, and he loves hearing us read and says "gen," (again) every time we get to the end. I'm learning that even in a church setting, the mention of wanting to do scripture memorization, family scripture reading, morning devotions, or anything like it is found pretty annoying. Even more so out of the older moms about to be empty nesters, I hear 'it just isn't practical,' or 'who really does that,' or 'don't even try you'll just fail.' But here's the thing, in elementary school I had to memorize one verse a week as part of our Bible grade. It was just the norm to have weekly verses along with our spelling words to learn. We did it and the verses could get quite lengthy. Do I remember all of them? No, but I do remember a lot. Now let just think about what this meant at school for scripture memorization. If there's 36 weeks in a school year, after 5 years we would have memorized 180 different verses and that is only doing one verse a week, no passages! That's a lot of verses! I've realized if I continue down the homeschool path for my kids, the responsibility of scripture memorization falls completely on me. There is no school to rely on, and yeah it's extra work for me, but that's not an excuse to not do it. The lesson to learn from the older Debbie Downers, is truly living this out is hard, and I believe it. I'm not the most organized and diligent person, so this will require some serious training for me, but I've got to at least try. I really love the book of Deuteronomy (I know its weird). It spoke so much to me as a new parent and really showed me that I was not to take teaching my children about God and his word lightly. Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. Deut 6:4-9 If we really take this verse to heart, we should be using every possible moment and opportunity to teach our children about God. It is my job as a parent to teach them, not just throw them in church and let them worry about it. Finding time to teach my kids about God comes down to my priorities. Letters, shapes, numbers really all need to take a back seat, but it is so easy to get lost in the wordly battle for grades and neglect spending the time learning God's word. And then there's the laziness; sometimes I just don't want to do it. Love the Lord your God and keep his requirements, his decrees, his laws and his commands always. Remember today that your children were not the ones who saw and experienced the discipline of the Lord your God: his majesty, his mighty hand, his outstretched arm; the signs he performed and the things he did in the heart of Egypt, both to Pharaoh king of Egypt and to his whole country; what he did to the Egyptian army, to its horses and chariots, how he overwhelmed them with the waters of the Red Sea as they were pursuing you, and how the Lord brought lasting ruin on them. It was not your children who saw what he did for you in the wilderness until you arrived at this place, and what he did to Dathan and Abiram, sons of Eliab the Reubenite, when the earth opened its mouth right in the middle of all Israel and swallowed them up with their households, their tents and every living thing that belonged to them. But it was your own eyes that saw all these great things the Lord has done. Deut 11:1-7 The passage above hit me so hard. Here the people were being commanded to remember what God had done, his blessings, his power. How often am I having these conversations with my kids about what God has done for me? Not only do they need to hear it, but it's also a sure fast way at snapping me out of any ungratefulness. The thing is, when you study the Bible, you learn the people of Israel failed. They didn't do this stuff and their kids didn't know and obey God like they should. It's been hard for parents from the beginning, but God didn't seem to say that was an excuse. I cringe now feeling the overload of judgement coming my way over this. I can just hear the, "I'm just waiting for her to crash and burn." The thing is, I know I'll fail. I'll fail over and over and over again, but that doesn't mean I don't keep trying every time God gets me back on track. Ever since we were married, I began slowly writing down verses I wanted to memorize or have my kids memorize. After 5 years of slowly picking away at it, I have a spreadsheet of verses for my kids. Unfortunately, I haven't been consistent with it so it isn't even near covering the entire Bible, but it is a great starting point and I keep adding to it as I find more. I'm sure there are plenty of books out there on where to start with kids, what verses to learn and when, but I wanted to do what I felt God was putting on my heart. Right now I have over 145 passages listed and it keeps growing. Will my kids learn all of them? Probably not. I'd love them to, but if I'm being realistic, no they won't. I plan to use this as a guide line for selecting verses, going by age and topic to help me sort which is right for each child. I want my kids memorizing what they need, not that they don't need it all, but sometimes you need to hear a specific truth. The verses are more grouped by age but are no way in order. I don't really feel like there is a right order, just picking and choosing what is best for each kid along the way. I'm bad a memorizing scripture, always wanting to, but never getting around to it, so this list helps me a lot. As I begin teaching my kids it will force me to memorize them too, at least while they can't read. I figured I've already got the list so why not share it. If I can help make this so unachievable task a little easier for someone else, why not do it?! I will continue to add to it as I find more and more through my own study. So here it is. Just click the link and you can view it in google. I organized the verses by the earliest age I wanted to start kids learning the verse, PK (pre-k) being the youngest and MS (middle school) the oldest. I recorded the verse topic or paraphrased what it is, because I'm horrible a references. I also listed any method/materials that exist for each verse to help aid memorization or give further insight on the verse. There are also columns to list a child's name and record which ones they have learned, that way I can print it and keep track, hopefully helping them keep them fresh in their mind.
Right now we're doing the verses I listed in the beginning of this post. Our newest addition is Psalm 56:3-4, which I've added to the songs we sing at bedtime. There's no schedule. He may not say it until he is three, but we're just trying to learn and make it a fun special time. He's hearing God's word daily and that's what is important. Yes, that's exactly what I mean, we've got two new kids around here. Meet Moxie and Mosley. When we got married, I made Danny promise we'd get back to Maine. That day could still happen, but definitely not for our 5th anniversary like we originally planned, so he got me two goats instead. I've always wanted a goat ever since I was a toddler and I finally have one! The thing is, goats are herd animals, so since we didn't have a buddy for one, we had to get two. We picked the names after things that had to do with our honeymoon to Maine. Moxie - Maine's soda that they think is amazing. We didn't agree but the name was cute. Mosley - After the Mosley Inn which is one of the places we stayed. Moxie is a doe and Mosley is a whether (that's a girl and fixed boy for all you city folk) and they got to come home as a early anniversary gift on Danny's birthday. Just what he wanted, two goats. We loaded a sleepy baby in the car with a cup of oatmeal for him and a cage in the back for goats and headed to Bellefontaine to get our little twins. Once I told baby the goats were trying to tell him stories he wasn't scared at all and was having his own little conversation with them on the way home. They're living in the cat shed (now goat shed), which is really more goat size and the cats seem to prefer living under the chicken coop anyways. I'm sure in the winter we may find the goats and kitties all snuggling together, but Peggy Sue, our chicken, ripped some of Pickles fur out the other day for no reason, so it doesn't look like the cats will be sleeping with the chickens. We absolutely love our litte goats and little Danny loved trying to show them around their new home. He doesn't understand that they don't really obey like a dog and he is always patting his legs trying to get them to come play or showing them how to stomp their feet. He loves it when they jump and is always trying to teach them how. He also loves to get them to sit on the bench. They really do like the bench. It's fun to see them yelling through their window in the morning and they are definitely attached to husband Danny, crying when he leaves and following him everywhere. They like following baby too, which he gets the biggest kick out of and they even chase the four wheeler with the dogs, although I think it's more out of separation anxiety than fun. Mosley is the baby, crying whenever Moxie is picked up or out of sight. To get him to come you just grab Moxie and he will be following behind screaming. He's also the escape artist, usually being the first out of the pen and then is upset Moxie is on the other side. I warned Danny goats always escape, but he said he'd take on the challenge. Right now I think the goats are winning. We let them run free when we're home, which means they're usually sleeping on the back step hoping to sneak inside (it's already happened a few times,) in the garage cleaning cut grass off the mower, or asleep on the bench. They think they're out once they're out of their pen so they don't care to escape through the actual fence. Harvey and Elmer are finally learning to play nicely. At first, both of the dogs thought we brought them toys to chase and needed some training, but everyone seems to be getting along well now. We've all been pleasantly surprised how much fun the goats are and we're all getting plenty of entertainment from them. This is it for animals here. We still are city folk enough to not like sharing our yard with too many critters. 2 Dogs, 3 cats, 18 chickens, and 2 goats; I think we're good.
All the kittens have moved on to new homes except one, little Porky. Since baby so loved his kittens we decided to keep one for him to play with. Of the four kittens we had three identical males that were almost all grey, except for two while spots, and then one calico girl that looked like our Petunia. Danny loved hugging them and finally got his courage up again to hold them after accidentally dropping one weeks ago and having it cling to his shirt. The kittens began exploring and decided to live under the coop. In fear they'd become feral and we'd never get rid of them, I set traps and trapped them all. In the process of the loose kitties, the dogs and baby loved running around the coop trying to find them. After the sheepdog running off with the trap and catching a chicken, we finally caught all three. The girl was the spunkiest and thankfully moved on first. I was worried she was going to go out on the road. She's living the life as a adored house cat. The other two boys went to my inlaws which I'm sure will be fun for Danny to be able to go and visit. He was enjoying feeding them when they moved to their new place. So now we have little Porky running around here. Danny and the dogs love searching for the kitten, which is usually hiding somewhere under or around the coop. I crack up every time I turn around to see them all butts up looking under the coop together. Danny cups his hands under his chin when he's trying to look or intently listen for something. It is the sweetest little face, but he of course won't ever replicate it on demand but I at least captured some glimpses of it. Once Harvey is in little Porky will venture out, playing with Polly or the bushes close by.
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