On Writing

I was surfing blogs and websites of some of my favorite authors recently. Sometimes they list their favorite authors.

Today I clicked on the name of an author I've heard of, but never read. He wrote something on his blog that was so perfect for me. I'll share that in a minute.

But first, this. Bruce tells me often that I should go back to newspaper publication when I return to the work force (whenever that may be. I'm still waiting for God's okay on that one.). My mother-in-law is a big encourager when it comes to my writing. Several of my friends who read this crazy litany of life I post here have said sweet words, too.

I'm praying about what I'll do when I go back to work, but I can't say that I'm sold on writing for pay anymore. I've tried to explain to Bruce that when I worked at newspapers previously, I was not a mom.

And that has changed nearly everything about who I am.

I'm not sure I have the gumption to handle simultaneously both the stress of writing publicly and the stress of motherhood. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to writing (not to be misinterpreted as being a perfect writer!); that trait in motherhood flew out the window within weeks of my first child's birth.

I beat myself up when I make mistakes in either endeavor, though. I'm not confident that I can handle a beating of that magnitude if I attempt to do both mothering and writing for publication at the same time. This just may be an either/or situation.

I do love to write. But I'm keeping the kids as long as the Lord allows.

The connection between writing and money is inconsequential to me. And it becomes less important with every passing day of motherhood.

Now, on to what I found on Alton Gansky's blog. He wrote a post about amateur writers and said the following:

"We do not become writers because we get paid for it. We are writers because we put words on a page. Every 'successful' writer was once an amateur. Dean Koontz taught school, as did Stephen King; Jack Cavanaugh was a pastor; Grisham practiced law. On my shelf are books written by airline pilots, ER doctors, insurance brokers (Tom Clancy), housewives, nurses, engineers, and just about every other profession.

Publication has always been my goal, but it's not the only goal. Writing has its own rewards and those rewards are unique to every wordsmith. Fiction writers know what it's like to live in a world of their own creation; nonfiction writers know what it means to communicate information that might otherwise languish in the backwaters of ignorance.

Amateur or professional a writer is one who writes. Period."

Yep, I love that.

Making money... I can do that as a cashier at Target. And get an employee discount, to boot!

But writing... that I do for me. Not necessarily for money.

Unless the Lord convinces me otherwise.

PT

I know what follows will sound like one giant bit of overreaction on my part. But that's okay. They're my kids. I'm allowed to overreact.

My plan has always been to give my children the Lord's truth every time they pick up and toy around with the world's version.

Clay got off the school bus the other day and asked me a question, which I did not hear very well. I asked him to repeat himself and he said, "It doesn't matter. Just say 'yes'."

Okay.

I said "Yes."

And he just laughed.

Then he moved on to another topic, and I let the original question slide.

Later, when Bruce got home from work, Clay pulled the same thing on him. Only this time, I understood the whole thing.

"Dad, are you PT?"

Bruce said he didn't know what that meant. Again, Clay told him it didn't matter and that Dad should simply answer in the affirmative. Bruce complied. And, again, Clay doubled over in laughter. And then he elaborated.

"You're a Pregnant Teenager? Dad, you just said you're a pregnant teenager!"

Somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain, I recall laughing at that very same thing when I was a young girl. Older than Clay is now, but still young.

In light of recent news of teenage pacts to get pregnant, I wasn't laughing now.

I decided to dig a little bit.

"Hey, Clay. Why are you laughing? Do you think it would be fun to be a teenager who is pregnant?"

"Well, yeah!" he replied.

I was crushed.

Clay has been my questioning child since he was very young. We've read books recommended by Focus on the Family about sex and God's design for marriage first, babies later.

I didn't lecture him. That would have been more overboard than even I go. He was just being childish, after all. Because he is still a child.

But I asked him several pointed questions.

Things like, "How many married teenagers do you know?"

None.

"Doesn't God want us to wait until after we're married for that S-E-X stuff?"

That's what he calls it. And he spells it so his siblings won't know what we're discussing. Because I've told him that it's Mom and Dad's job to inform them about that sensitive topic, and not his. And since they haven't asked anything, they don't know anything.

Yeah.

"How much money do you think it takes to feed a baby?"

Lots.

"How many teenagers work full-time jobs that you know of?"

None.

"Do you think a pregnant teenager can afford a new baby?"

No.

"Who do you think watches the baby while the teenager goes to school?"

Her parents.

"So if it were your sister who had a baby as a teenager, that would be me and dad watching the baby while your sister tried to finish her education, right?"

Yeah.

"Do you think that's fair to me and dad?"

Uh. No?

"What if God had plans for you to become a missionary when you grow up and tell everyone about Jesus. And then you have a baby when you are a teenager. So you can't do that because you needed to take care of the baby. Wouldn't that be sad that you couldn't do the big thing God had planned for you? Or that you at least had to wait a very long time to do it? Until that baby was grown."

Yeah.

We talked a little more about how scared a young person would be to have to take care of a baby, maybe alone. And how some young mothers give their babies up for adoption because they just don't think they can do it. And how others are so scared they have abortions. (Yes, we went there. No details though.)

Overboard? Maybe.

But we were talking about something important. And even if it didn't all sink in, the next time he hears that silliness, he'll at least pause to reflect on a young pregnant teenager. And her fears. And her future.

And God's perfect plan.

To wait for that S-E-X stuff.

Empty Nest

I dropped all three of my kids off this morning at school. For the first time. Ever.

I'm still not feeling weepy.

I'm not a bad mother. I'll be counting down the time until the school bus drops them off. I'll miss them every minute of the day that we are apart.

I'll miss the spontaneous hugs and kisses. And the mundane conversations during the day about Dark Vader and his life saver (translated: Darth Vader and his light saber). I'll long for leisurely lunches with my children.

I don't like the idea of someone else consoling them when they are upset about something trivial, no matter how great their teachers are.

I fear for the day that some other child hurts their feelings at the playground by excluding them. I worry that they'll hear words that they don't hear at home. It bothers me to consider security issues while they are away from my protection. Bad weather will concern me more, because I'll wonder if they are worried.

But this is a rite of passage for them. It's time for them to learn greater independence.

I heard years ago that motherhood is a job that, if done correctly, works you right out of a job.

Eight years ago, I gave up my career for my children. I've pondered and prayed about returning to the work force now, but I feel no sense of release from my Lord to go forth and multiply our household income. I have a degree that is not utilized to, what some might say, its fullest potential.

But that education, and God's grace, gave me the confidence and freedom to choose to be a stay-at-home mom. I've given to my children far more important things than money from an added income could buy.

I've given up:

-my share of dessert. But who really needs the extra calories?

-bits and pieces of my sanity on a daily basis (Some of that rests on Bruce's shoulders, though. Just to be fair!).

-the fantasy that my house will be clean any time someone "just drops by". But "clean" is a subjective term anyway.

-far too many hours of restful sleep, due to illnesses, worry or prayer on their behalf. Yet, I wouldn't wish for even one hour of it back just for sleep.

-quiet time with my husband. But amid the interruptions, there is always unexpected laughter over something silly.

-a self-centered existence and the burden of thinking solely of my own wants (because theirs are made clear to me fairly frequently).

None of this is unique to me.

It's just being a parent.

The toughest job you'll ever love.

And that's as pensive as I'm going to get about this first experience with empty nest syndrome.

I've got to get to Wal-mart to do my twice-a-month, clear-out-the-checking-account shopping. It's the first time in nearly a decade that I've gone solo... during daylight hours.

Maybe it's time for mommy to have greater independence, too.

What a Girl Wants

Bruce has plans this weekend to do some Man Time with Clay and Spencer, while Allison and I get a Mommy date.

I'm not sure of the details of my plans with Allison, but we'll probably have a meal at some place girly. A place where Bruce and the boys would groan if they had to go. I have a couple of neat spots in mind.

Then I'm thinking we're going to hit a local candy store called YaYa's. Because Allison and I both have a sweet tooth bigger than the day is long. And any place that houses sugar and is called YaYa's has to be good, right?

We'll also probably rent some kind of chick flick. An age appropriate chick flick. Barbie will likely be the star. (Allison likes Barbie's clothes. I like that Barbie never kisses her Prince Charming. Only hugs. That does a mom's heart good. The music's not bad either.)

The one thing I knew for certain was that I would be painting Allison's fingernails.

However, I don't paint my fingernails. Toes either. It's just not me.

So there's a real scarcity of nail polish around our home. Oh, I have the requisite clear nail polish. For stopping runs on pantyhose. But how exciting do you think clear polish would be to a five-year-old?

No thrill to be had there.

In the back of my mind, I was certain I had purchased fingernail polish in a cute pink color months ago. But I have scoured the house and it is not to be found.

And I can't even find the red color I painted Allison's nails once years ago. (I know it's sad how infrequently the poor child gets her nails done. One day she'll probably spend way too much money on manicures and her husband will blame me.)

I figured I'd buy some polish when I go to Wal-mart tomorrow while all the kids are in school.

But I didn't have to wait after all.

Today, Clay rode the school bus home with his buddy Nathan. They had plans to play at Nathan's house for a few hours. Those plans made Clay immensely happy, considering he wouldn't have to share Nathan with Spencer, which is what happens when Nathan comes here to play.

Clay and Nathan are not in class together this year. But all through summer we moms have kept those boys in touch. Between both their birthday parties and a few play dates, Clay and Nathan have developed a nice friendship. And we moms have as well. A surprise blessing.

I drove over to pick up Clay shortly before dinner tonight. When I told Valerie the plans for Girl Time in our house this weekend, she said, "Oh, I can give you some nail polish."

And she did. In a color picked out by Nathan's sister, Jordan. A cute pink color. (Jordan starts kindergarten tomorrow as well, but isn't in class with either Allison or Spencer.)

This evening after I stuffed all the backpacks with school supplies, Allison and I decided, "Why wait?"

And now...

...now Allison is really ready for school.




I told you it was a cute pink!

We Finally Know

We just got our phone call concerning which teachers Spencer and Allison have.

Spencer has the teacher I have been praying for him to have for three years now. I'm not joking. I've been praying about this woman for three solid years.

She is known for being very structured, and if ever there's a kid who needs structure, it's Spencer. He's busy, smart and mischievous. If there isn't a plan in place, he's probably working his way into trouble. At that point, all you can hope for is that you'll stop the Trouble Train before it gets to warp speed. On the plus side, he's the most affectionate kid I have, so his teacher is sure to get some hugs.

Allison has the one kindergarten teacher who I know nothing about. I've heard they are all great teachers though.

Of our three, Allison is the one who I think will be the best student. (I'm not saying she's any brighter than the boys. She's just more compliant. For others. Not necessarily for me.) She's smart, too, but much more likely than the boys to sit still and do her work without instigating interruptions. But the likelihood of some girl drama coming our way soon is great.

So now this school business begins in earnest for my babies.

Kindergartners in county schools go staggered half days for the next two weeks. The idea is for them to be in class those initial days with only a handful of other students, not the whole class, which might intimidate some kids. And the teachers have fewer kids at the beginning to help carry lunch trays, etc. (My neighbor explained all this to me yesterday. I've been clueless as to why the system is doing this.)

Spencer and Allison both go on Friday and next Wednesday. And then not again until the following Monday, when all kindergartners will be in class together for the first time, for a half day again.

It seems confusing, but isn't once it's marked on the calendar. Still, I'm not sure I'm loving it.

Then again, our kids have had two years of preschool, three years of Bible Study Fellowship and a lifetime of Sunday school. Large group settings don't bother them. And since we held them back, they're pretty self sufficient for kindergartners. They're just ready!

I have to share this, though.

Allison picked out of the crowd one of the kindergarten teachers when we were there for their testing on Monday. This particular teacher is young, blond and very pretty.

And right then and there, Allison decided she must have her as her own. (Just a little obsession here... not quite to full blown Lord of the Rings "my precious" status.)

Monday night as Bruce took his turn to kiss Allison, she told him she wanted Mrs. S to be her teacher. Bruce had no idea who we had met that morning at school, and he asked Allison why she wanted her for a teacher.

"Because she's pretty."

Doesn't that settle everything in the mind of any little girl?

But she reiterated her desires to me yesterday. She was clearly hoping that Mrs. S would be her teacher, strictly based on her beauty.

Just now, when I told them who their teachers were, I saw her little face fall just a bit. Ohhh, the disappointment when we can't have the beauty for which we've longed!

It was time for a distraction, the best tool in a mom's arsenal.

"Hey, you get to eat in the cafeteria on Friday. Let's go see what's on the menu!"

Running in the house ensued. I didn't complain about it.

Three cheers for chicken fillet on a bun.

Evidently it trumps a loss of beauty.

First Day of School

Big things are happening this week.

Today was the first day of school. Technically.

In actuality, it's really just Clay's first day back. Spencer and Allison took the Brigance screening test this morning, and then we three came back home. (Now we wait to get a phone call on Wednesday to find out who their teachers are. I made the request today to have them in separate classrooms.)

Clay stays a half day today. I'm thrilled with the teacher he has this year, but I've loved all his teachers.

His first grade teacher was very soft spoken and patient, which is just what he needed after being homeschooled for kindergarten and starting in public school as a first grader. His second grade teacher was super loving, a big encourager and lots of fun, which was just what he needed at that point as well.

This year I expect (from what I've heard) that his teacher is a bit more strict. Again, in my opinion... just what he needs. Clay is smart, but right now he'll do best in a setting where he is even more challenged. And not just mentally, but also in what is expected of him socially and emotionally.

Clay woke up this morning on his own. He made his own breakfast, ate, brushed his teeth and got dressed... all before Bruce and I even finished getting ourselves ready for the day. He has been very excited all week and disappointed that his first day back is only a half day.

Spencer was fraught with anxiety last night as we tucked him in. He said, "But mommy. You haven't taught me to read yet!" I assured him that his teacher would work with him this year on that and that he really was absolutely ready and smart enough for kindergarten.

Allison, who I expect to be the most clingy on the actual day I drop them off for the first time, had no qualms last night.

Still, around 3 a.m. she came into our bedroom after having a nightmare. I crawled in her bed with her and we fell back asleep. Around 5 a.m. I went back to my bed.

At 5:05 a.m. Spencer came into our bedroom. Nightmare. He crawled into bed with us and we fell back asleep.

Despite the rough night, both of them got up on their own and got themselves ready as well. I have no idea what any of them ate for breakfast, but they assured me they were full.

I'm sure this excitement won't last forever. Maybe not even through next week. But it sure does make Back-To-School easier when they smile as they leave your nest.

I snapped this picture as we left the house.



I know Clay isn't very dressed up, but I let him pick what shirt to wear and he felt best about his Disney Rockin' Roller Coaster shirt. It's an effort these days to get him to wear anything but a t-shirt. I make him wear Polos to church, but it's just not worth the fuss before school.

Polos on Sundays are his cross to bear. It's good for him to suffer a bit for Jesus. (I'm being tongue-in-cheek here. He understands that Jesus loves him in his grubbiest clothes and that he has no need to impress the Lord with his clothing choice.)

Saturday Singing - In Christ Alone

Today I'm at a Living Proof Live simulcast, hearing a fresh word from Beth Moore. She's speaking live in Louisville, KY, but there are 715 simulcasts running as well. Her ministry for Jesus will reach 70,000 women today.

While I am being treated to a little Travis Cottrell during worship time there, I'll share here one of my favorites from Mr. Cottrell.



If you don't have goosebumps right now after hearing that, then check your pulse.

Nothing can pluck me from God's hand. Until He returns or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I'll stand.

Amen!!

For more Then Sings My Soul Saturday, go visit Amy at Signs, Miracles, and Wonders.

Don't Come Knockin'...

...if our house is rockin'.

I just want to warn you that you might not want to make any unscheduled visits to our home any time soon.

Here's how it all began.



I picked up my pre-ordered Third Day Revelation CD earlier this week.

It's good. We like it. Lots!

Late yesterday afternoon, Spencer asked if he could put the CD into the player in the kitchen and listen. I said yes. And when I walked in to start supper a bit later, here's what I found.



And this.



Yes, he was still wearing pj bottoms from the night before at dinner time. School starts on Monday. Don't judge me.

And, yes, Spencer was strumming his storage basket-rubber band guitar with a foam disk shooter. It works for him.

And, yes, I cut the top of his head off in the picture on purpose, because to show more would have been a confession of sorts... my counter top is way cluttered. It's not for public consumption.

We had the best discussion at the dinner table.

Spencer: Mom, do you want to be in my rock band?

I thought he'd never ask.

Me: Oh, you know I do, honey.

Spencer: You can be my lead singer.

Does it get any better?

Me: I'd love that. I've always wanted to be a lead singer in a rock band.

I didn't mention anything about my days as a groupie wannabe for Def Leppard and my huge crush on lead singer Joe Elliott. Test me. I can tell you every word to "Photograph," "Foolin'," "Animal," and "Pour Some Sugar On Me". I even have a video of theirs somewhere, gathering dust. I really need to get rid of that before the kids find it.

Allison: I want to be in your band.

Spencer: You can be the keyboard player.

Allison: I want to sing with mommy.

Me: Keyboardists are back-up singers all the time, Allison.

She smiled brightly.

Allison: What about Clay?

He had already finished his supper and had been excused.

Spencer: He can play drums.

That can't possibly work out well for my ears. But I guess it would be a moot point to have a rock band without drums. Would it be wrong for the lead singer to wear ear plugs?

Me: What about daddy?

Bruce has just a few more classes left before he completes his master's. He was at class and missed this whole planning session.

Allison: He can be the shaker.

Me: The shaker?

Allison stood up to do a hip shaking, arm waving demonstration of someone playing the tambourines. Uh-huh. Somehow I think Bruce will feel like he has been given a raw deal.

We cleaned up the kitchen and turned the CD back on.

I paused in loading the dishwasher to throw in a few head bangin' and air guitar moves. I'm pretty sure I impressed my youngest boy. (Who am I kidding? I impressed myself. I'm not lying prone as an after effect. Hey, if Joe Elliott can still rock at his age, I can, too!)

I bet I can be lead singer and back-up guitarist if I work hard enough.

The boys are drafting out our practice schedule.

Rock on!!