The Essence

Early this morning, I had a friend come over to do physical therapy on me... today, in my home.  I think she sent me into a deep coma, and when I emerged, 3 loads of laundry were done and Rosie was napping.

Throughout the day, I slid from the couch, to the floor, to the deck, to the couch.

I iced my arm.  And I napped.

In spite of the pain and strain of this stubborn shoulder, I've not experienced such "RELAXATION" in a long, long time.  Would I know it if I saw it?
Today was the epitome, in my best estimation, and boy, it felt good. 

I have an inkling I know what I'm looking for...
And I'd like some more.

Is that not the essence of summer?

Friday Five

Today was a typically busy and eventful day.

Maddie competed with a solo for the first time in a talent show and placed third, singing "God Help the Outcasts" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Kieran competed in the same talent show and sang "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Flower Drum Song.  She got first place in the Junior Division.

We accidentally ate four pizzas today... two for lunch, two for dinner.  No complaints from Andy or Finan.

Ally packed her bags for a week-long mission trip in Jackson, Mississippi.

Camden spent 6 hours in a lifeguard re-certification class.

Brennan drove mom to the doctor 25 miles south in Bloomington.  And then Brennan turned around and drove Rosie 15 miles east to the doctor in Fairbury.  Kel supervised 8 kids in the interim.

Merryn celebrated her 9th birthday today.  She got a brand new bike with 18 speeds.

I don't know what I would have done differently today, but it just seemed like I should have done a lot differently.  Fuss over Kieran or Maddie's hair for the show?  Pack and repack Ally's suitcase?  Wrap Merryn's gift in festive paper?  Plan and provide more nutritious meals?  Or perhaps meals that minimally were not redundant? 

Even if I could pick and choose what I could have done better,  I feel like many of my efforts would still come up short changed.  Inadequate.

It was a day full of numbers... and sometimes, in the hustle and bustle of the day, we lose track and we get a sense that things just don't add up.  We grade ourselves on what we did wrong, what we missed out, what was imperfect.

But, in spite of me...
3+1+4+2+2+7+6+25+15+8+9+18= 100.
Perfect score.

I know my best effort will always be inadequate.  I'm human.  But I also know that if my head and heart are in the right place, God can fill in the gaps and broken parts, and make it all Good.
Or, at least, Good Enough.

Human Touch

Very early this morning, as I awaited the anesthesiologist to come in and poke needles in my neck, I started feeling a little "alone".

For a mother in my position, that's a RARE feeling to experience. 

I was preparing to have a manipulation done on my frozen shoulder, because I still have such limited range of motion following the bigger surgery last March.  Comparatively, this is a dinky little procedure.  I might have achieved similar results had I drank some tequila and catapulted myself off a large jungle gym (as a dear friend had suggested).  I opted for Doctor's assistance and pain medication.

Because Kel stayed home to hold down the fort, Brennan generously agreed to take me.  The nurse encouraged him to stay in the waiting room, and she would call him back to post-op for discharge orders.

And I heard a toddler crying as he was coming out of surgery sleep, and a young boy wailing over having a casted arm, and an elderly woman slipping in and out of consciousness as her husband tried to engage her in conversation.

But in the minute of realizing I was alone, my nurse came in, adjusted my blood pressure cuff, checked my IV drip, smiled at me, and touched my leg.  At that moment I was reminded of the love and sacrifices of my family, and the prayers and assistance of my friends.  At that moment, I felt comforted.

Having SO many children in the house, I take it for granted that I might not one day have grimy fingers offer me a hug and a bouquet of dandelions.  Or that a teen with a set of car keys might not stop a split second for a "goodbye-I'll be home by curfew" hug.  Or a spouse whose hugs don't need anything to accompany them.

Today I could appreciate the implication of how we are all so deeply connected,  especially when a human touch can bring comfort when even family and friends are not present.

I want to be more generous with the way I touch, because we're a lot less alone than we think.

Summer Sounds

Our first official School's-Out night escalated into a bona fide summer kick-off.  Everywhere we went, we seemed to gather up a few more friends, until I realized that we were hosting an additional 3 pre-teens for a sleepover (I hate sleepovers), and taking 8 to see "Letters to Juliet"... a 9:15 pm showing.  Now, THAT's "care-free". 

That's also noisy.  Add to it my 3 daycare additions, and I was flipping pancakes mid-morning amongst quite the hoop-la.

But the loudest and most persistent clamor came from a few new squatters on our property.

About 4 years ago, Kel purchased a couple bird house kits designed for calm and care-free parents to assemble and paint with their children.  Aside from the fact that it's a nice IDEA, I have no clue why he bought these things.  We don't have time to make bird houses, let alone maintain the one WE live in. 

But, it was Christmas time, and we all tend to go a little nutty at Christmas time.

Well, last year Merryn and Andy found the unopened boxes in the basement.  Immediately, they worked with a guilted dad and hammered and glued these simple pieces of wood and created quite the cute little condos.  They hung them in the river birch trees in our front yard, with Merryn commenting that our house colors complemented the bird houses quite nicely.  (She gets that from her dad).

I thought they were decorative, but this year we have residents!  With babies!  And I can hear them over the din of my own children.

It's also fascinating to watch... the momma fluttering out, the babies fussing until she returns with munchies.  My children think it's fascinating too, and have wanted to help. 

At least that's what we THINK they were doing, taking turns with their cousins, standing atop the Little Tykes portable slide, attempting to peer in that little bitty bird house hole, and unsuccessfully feeding the babies by tossing raw eggs inside.

I might have heard the fridge open... if only my kids were a little noisier.

Summer Days

Today is June the first. 

My kids officially have moved beyond kindergarten, third and sixth and eighth grades, and sophomore and senior years.  I'm still recovering from the graduation blow-out that brought family and friends from far and wide, whose presence made the celebration truly wonderful.

However, I found myself this morning knee-deep in kids, some of whom could regularly sleep through lunch.  Can I say how much this cramps my style?

The potential is great:  I could quickly lose perspective, and even my sense of humor (which, admittedly, is not great).  After all, it only took until dinner time for Kel to point out this very fact to me.

So, per his suggestion, I am going to find something to blog about, e-v-e-r-y day...  "something funny, something joyful, something not crabby."

Because we live a big life here, and I don't want to forget that.

Pay Dirt

There are some responsibilities (oh, okay, I'll say it.... chores) that go with being a Stay-at-home-Mom. The one I dislike the most is dusting.  It's not uncommon to hear me inhale deeply and then blow off a layer on top of the piano, or use a dirty sock to swipe the top of a picture frame, conveniently located just above the laundry basket.  Luckily Kel laughs about it, or maybe it has taken him 24 years to laugh about it.  The kids really could care less, except to draw hearts and flowers and their names in it.

But laundry, I don't mind so much.  And I'm not sure why.  After all, it's just as endless as the dusting.

 I don't care that the washer and dryer are located in the   basement, aka "The Dungeon".  At least it doesn't have dirt floors.  Kel has done his best to perk up the place for me with super bright yellow walls, sleek black industrial storage shelving, and smartly placed incandescent lighting.  The best part?  It's quiet down there, and people rarely follow me.

We used to own the front loader Maytag Neptune, the cadillac of washer appliances.  I loved that machine, despite the frequent mechanical mishaps (ALL of which Maytag corrected for us, at no charge).  When we used up that machine, we bought  a Kenmore Elite Oasis Canyon Capacity washer.  It can wash 20 bath towels with little water and half a teaspoon of detergent.  Since we added a $400 ejector pump right next to the machine, it now finishes entire cycles and no longer eats dishrags.  I know the Sears servicemen on a first name basis.

It's not the technology, though, that makes me appreciate laundering, although I truly am amazed when the clothes emerge barely damp from the washer thanks to the impressive spin speed of 1000 rpm.

For some reason I get some type of satisfaction sorting the soiled clothing into big piles, and whittling them away one by one throughout the day. I like the challenge of occasionally being able to empty the lint screen in one whole piece.  Surprisingly, I don't mind hauling loads up and down stairs (15 steps on 3 different levels). 

There's an intimacy, though, in laundering, and it's not just handling everyone's underwears.    It's pulling out from the dryer a big batch of warm clothing, and feeling that warmth on my arms and chest.  It's the joy of folding championship sweatshirts the kids have earned from leadership and sporting events.  It's the extra special effort of hanging bedsheets outside on the line, because you know your husband loves that fresh scent.  It's matching socks and smoothing out shirts, and it's connecting prayer for each family member as I do so.

While my family was replacing rotting deckwood this weekend, I was reaping much reward from my laundry chores.  This week it included squeaky clean $1.16.
Yeah, I regularly hit Pay Dirt...

Big Bites

Last week Finan helped himself to a spoon while I prepared his breakfast cereal.  I laughed out loud at his choice of a serving utensil as big as his head.  (I remember our first son doing the exact same thing at that age.  In fact, all the boys have done this!)

It wasn't even a week later when the three year old picked out the "bigbigBig" bowl for breakfast, the same bowl I serve rice in for a family of 11. 

I don't know why I grabbed the camera for these silly little moments, these little "Life Snapshots".  Why did they even make me stop?

It's good to stop and notice the silly little things.

There regularly is a lot of activity around here, and now that we have officially found May, the calendar dates get lost for all the scribbling and notations. It's easy to be overwhelmed, and lose sight of why we might end up spinning our wheels every day.

That's why I'm not going to write about Confirmations and Track and Field Days and May Processions and Award Banquets and Spiritual Retreats and First Communions and Music Competitions and College Admission Days and softball and t-ball practices too. (Yes, that describes May 1-15. Really.)

I'll just make a little note about how we in the Krenz Family tend to bite off more than we can chew, and we start doing that at a very young age.