DIY.

Garage shelving. Home repairs. Car maintenance. Pre-school. Piano lessons. Bread. Rental property management. Carpet-cleaning. There aren't a whole lot of things we don't do ourselves around here. It's downright exhausting.

Please can we leave something to the experts? How about parenting? Yes, that would be nice. Where in the devil are the yellow pages?

And while we're on the subject, look what Eve and I drummed up in my food processor this morning. That's months worth of homemade laundry soap, folks. I knew I'd find a use for that dumb cheese ball container somehow.

Party house.

We spent a lovely President's Day weekend with my side of the family. Courtesy of my parents, we stayed in an awesome party house complete with all the amenities one could ask for. I didn't even set foot off the property from the moment we arrived until the time we left. Amid squeals from her sisters after learning about everything the house had at our disposal, Lily said, "I can't believe I get to swim, during the winter, for as long as I want, and I don't even have to do what my swim coach tells me!"

Best of all, we got to visit with loved ones. It was a weekend to remember. Thanks Grandma and Grandpa.

Nevermind that it's winter.

This is how my three-year-old runs around the house these days.

Home improvement.

Check. Another empty wall filled. No before pictures, but it doesn't take much imagination to picture a blank wall. Snag six 12-inch tiles leftover from when our house was built, slap on some paint, a homemade stencil, some more paint, hang on the wall. Sounds simple (and it was, mostly) but in between everything else I've got going on, it took me over two months. Here's the finished product:

Two masters.

It's time to get philosophical, folks.

Over the Christmas holiday I took a solo trip to San Diego because my grandma passed away and many members of my extended family were gathering for a graveside service to honor her. The family activities encompassed less than 24 hours. My trip was four days. What does a mom who is surrounded by kids for most of the day do with four days pretty much to herself? Sure, I slept, ate far too much, shopped, and visited with family and friends. But what I will remember most about this trip is the quiet. Uninterrupted stillness. It just doesn't happen much around here. I suppose once upon a time the idea of stillness didn't do much for me. But now? I love it. I like to think, to feel, to read, to philosophize, to reach all sorts of bizarre conclusions about life.

So here's what I came up with on this particular trip. It was spawned by two events.

1. I went shopping at some outlets with Tim's mom and grandmother. We passed a store that sells handbags. The store was jam-packed, piquing our interest, but in an effort to avoid the crowds, and because handbags were not on our shopping lists, we opted for other stores. Later, as we returned to our car, again passing the same store, it seemed to have cleared out, generally speaking, so we went in to see what the commotion had been all about.

Turns out they were handing out 50% off everything in the store coupons. I picked up the closest handbag. It retailed for $500. The "outlet" price was $300. With my coupon, I could have bought this particular bag for only $150. People were grabbing them by the armful. Maybe it's just me, but there's something seriously disturbing about the inherent materialism in such a display. It kind of made me sick, actually. I mean, we're talking about an object that is designed to carry your stuff. Who needs to pay $150 for that? I don't mean to pass judgment on those who carry stylish handbags - in fact, I'm ignorant enough that I probably wouldn't even recognize a fashionable one if it spelled it out right on the bag. But the experience left an indelible impression on me, for some reason.

2. I was studying the scriptures one morning and happened to find the scripture about how no man can serve two masters. The last phrase in that particular verse is "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon". Mammon means riches. Which basically means that God and riches are two opposing forces - you are either serving one or serving the other. Which one do I want to serve?
Now, it's important not to oversimplify this. Sometimes an emphasis on riches cannot be easily detected. Other times it's blatantly obvious. CEO compensation is over 200 times that of the average worker in his/her company. Other sources put it higher. I'm not advocating a system other than capitalism - only illustrating where greed can take us.

The scriptures are replete with examples of prosperity breeding pride, pride breeding wickedness, ultimately leading to the destruction of a people. But it contains warnings not just for the rich. Wo unto you poor men, whose hearts are not broken, whose spirits are not contrite, and whose bellies are not satisfied, and whose hands are not stayed from laying hold upon other men's goods, whose eyes are full of greediness, and who will not labor with your own hands. I'm not saying that all people who are poor are like this, only that the poor and the rich are equally capable of placing their trust in the things of this world.

My life is one of abundance. It's safe to say that I'm surrounded by others who enjoy similar abundance, which truly makes it difficult to distinguish between wants and needs. If I were to compare my life with so many around the globe, it would seem indulgent. That doesn't mean that I feel that I am supposed to live like they do. But it might. At the bare minimum, I can't forget them and their plight. I know someday I am going to have to account for the kind of steward I have been. I feel the weight of that heavily. One day, I hope to answer with a pure heart that I sought for the kingdom of God above riches.

Week in review.

Last week Joy School was at our house. Among other things, we made crystal gardens. One of ours started taking over the house. Until I killed it so that we could host some friends for a Chinese New Year dinner. Ammonia/salt crystals and steamed buns just don't go so well together.



I taught art in third grade earlier this week. We studied Monet and did the following watercolor painting. The kids did a lovely job.



Lily's been dressing up Eve to put on fashion shows.



The scouts had an auction at the church last night. I slaved for several hours Saturday over these before auctioning off three boxes, saving a few for myself, er, I mean, Tim.



And now I'm looking forward to a week with fewer demands. At least one can hope...

While we're on the subject...

Let's stick with the theme of children I love dearly. This one had a birthday a few days ago. (Pardon the choice of pictures, sometimes I get an itch to get close up. Really close up.)

She's gotten her fair share of bad press over the years. My labor and first ten months with her were a dream. But at ten months old, she let me know that all that was too good to be true when she had an allergic reaction to amoxocillin that turned her into the loud, demanding child she is today. But we can take all that because she is so, so much more than that. Here are my two favorite Lily qualities:

1. Her imagination. This kid is never, ever bored. I try not to bemoan the fact that her "adventures" usually mean getting out every single toy and clothing item we own, sometimes involve dead (or living, but disgusting) creatures, and almost always result in wearing holes in her jeans (anybody want to play horsey?). She is a brilliant, creative child with potential to do great things in life. While wearing jeans with cute patches in the knees.

2. A positive attitude. Lily can always find the silver lining. Perhaps her most uttered phrase is, "but it's okay, because..." This trait makes it difficult to discipline her because she can always find something good about missing out on dessert for Family Home Evening, or being consigned to her room, or missing out on an allowance. But what a gift - to always see the glass as half full.

Here's how her birthday played out. Peanut butter cookies for her class, at her request. Really, she was considering Jack, a classmate whose recent blood test indicated he no longer has a peanut allergy. So party on!

Swimming lessons after school, where she discovered that they have a birthday box of goodies - bonus.

We all met Dad at Outback for dinner. She ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, of course, and ate so much she couldn't stomach more than one or two bites of the dessert they brought to the table. Unprecedented, I tell you.



The cake was lost on her that night. But we still sang, blew out candles, and opened presents. They were all a hit. She thanked us profusely. I love this child.



For her chosen birthday outing, we went ice skating as a family.

Lily you are absolutely wonderful. Happy seventh birthday!

Like having a newborn again. Except maybe worse.

I can count on one hand the number of full nights of sleep I've had in the past three weeks. Those with infants can start the eye-rolling right about now. Blame the five-year-old with the overactive imagination and, therefore, frightening dream sequence every night. It's not that we've never been through this before - Anna went through a phase when she was about this age, landing herself (and the scaredy-cat sisters that have followed) a designated spot on the floor beside my bed after a middle-of-the-night waking. I even keep a pillow there to greet them.

I can handle having my sleep disturbed in the wee hours of the morning. What, between potty trips during pregnancy and nursing babies for 7 years straight, you'd think I'd have this down. I must be getting too old for this. Because when Rachel comes in and has to relay every detail of her dream, begging to climb into bed and then whimpering when I resign her to the spot on the floor I so carefully planned out for her (why, oh why didn't I let Tim talk me into a king-sized bed 10 years ago?), I find my end of the conversation escalating and then culminating with a "if you don't shut your mouth, I'm gonna..." Fill in the blank - I'm full of empty threats. Before you know it, mom has become the nightmare and Rachel gets my spot in the bed. I pop an Excedrin for my migraine, find some business to take care of (tonight's flavor - blogging) and 2-3 hours later I'm asleep again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Rachel, it's a good thing you're a dream when you're awake, because you're killing me.

And just to remind me how loveable you are, an adorable picture of you: