Got a first look at baby #8 yesterday.  The ultrasound was only being performed to try to estimate my due date.

Upon first glimpse at my chart, the prego test they made me take, my weight, etc… the nurse informed me that I probably wasn’t very far along, maybe 4 weeks or so.

I was like, um, not really, but okay.

After I told her that I was guessing I was between 16 and 18 weeks, that I had a baby belly, and I was already feeling the baby move she looked surprised, then skeptical, then said that they’d have to do a quick scan to find out for sure.

note: this might will be TMI for all you guys reading so you might just want to skip this part – but for anybody who doesn’t ‘get it’, I don’t have a regular cycle for the doc to go off of because my babies nurse exclusively for at least a year.  I like to think of it as a perk.

Anyway, The ultrasound showed me at about 17 weeks – due on Valentines day (how sweet is that?).  Everything’s good. Strong heartbeat, healthy baby, healthy mama. 

And for those of you getting ready to ask -

No peep show for any of us.
The little bugger was stretched out long and had his (or her?) legs crossed the entire time. 

Bummer, I know.

The lights went out last night. In less than 0.3 seconds my entire family was in my room with me.

There is something funny about that to me. The lack of electricity brought us all together so quickly.  It makes me wonder if more dads shouldn’t purposely, though secretly, flip the breaker switch every so often- especially in families who could use a little more together time.

I do know why all my family rushed to where I was, instead of me rushing to them. I had my phone on me.

And a sweet-awesome, very bright flashlight app.

This whole episode reminded me that people desire light. When our house went dark my kids naturally searched for the source of the light they saw.  The darkness was uncomfortable and lonely – even for those who were together at the time of the failure.

We crave the comfort of the light.

I read an article once, which I looked for today to no avail, that explained how everything taught in 12 years of public school could be taught to a homeschooled child in just 2 years.

2 years!

The key, according to the article, was to wait to start formal education until the child hits the age of 9 or 10.  Until this time the child should be learning Biblical wisdom, obedience, work ethic, thankfulness, cleanliness, grace, etc…  He should be read to, talked to, involved in discussions, have questions answered, be reminded of manners, taken on errands, taught social skills, responsibility, healthy habits and how to sit quietly when told.

He should be allowed to play, laugh, color outside the lines, be curious, and ask questions.

Although we’ve never completely homeschooled this way, we have been known to take this approach quite a bit – which I did even before reading about it. And even though our schooling has morphed drastically during the last decade, I’ve noticed that my 3 oldest all had light bulb years right around the same time the article said was the best time to begin formal schooling – between the ages of 9 and 11.  I call it a light bulb year because it was like somebody flipped on a light switch in their brains. And it hasn’t been just about how quickly they pick things up. 

I’ve discovered that there are so many reasons this works the way it does.  But the one that sticks out in my mind is character. 

It’s when the child begins to develop a Christian character that I’ve noticed the change in their attitude towards learning.  It isn’t an obedience issue, it’s like education takes on an entirely different meaning for them.  They’re still young, still in need of guidance, but different all the same.

It’s such a simple idea, yet such a profound thought in our society.

Another interesting point -
The Bible has just about nothing to say about formal education.  However, there is an entire book devoted to the pursuit of Wisdom; which, when used as a teaching tool, will provide a strong foundation for character building.  Kelly Crawford pointed out yesterday that the things we naturally want for our child, the things we typically use to describe success, are only the results of success.  She goes on to say this:

If we believed that the pursuit of wisdom was as important as the Bible says it is, and that became our aim for our children, how would our parenting look? How would their education look? How would their activities look? 

Her post was terrific and you might want to read it in it’s entirety here.

Since viewing my children as a part of the body of Christ, instead of a body-part-hopeful, my perspective on things has changed.  I want to put first things first.  I want to believe the pursuit of wisdom is as important as the Bible says it is.  I want my childrens’ current and future successes to be a result of the Christian character they are building.

I have to remind myself that I can never measure my childrens’ true success with a yard stick of worldy standards.

I’m sure I made my bed this morning just after I got out of it.  I specifically remember putting the throw pillows back on, too.
I remember specifics, like tossing my phone on the bed after it was made, while I got dressed.  I also remember asking Sam to go get my phone back off my bed a few minutes later.  He did.

Yet, when I walked back into the room a half hour later my bed was totally unmade again, throw pillows back in the corner of the room where we put them every night.

Am I going senile?

Or maybe my children just think they’re really funny.

They’re everywhere.  In the kitchen, the laundry room, the bathroom, the closet, the baby’s room.

We noticed these little almost cute sugar ants about a week after moved in.  They were headed toward the kitchen trash.  The trash can had just been cleaned so all I could think to do was move it.  Then I noticed them in the bathroom.  Then yesterday in the baby’s room.

It’s not like there are long lines of them trailing off so we can see where they’re coming from.  With the exception of the garbage can we’ve only seen them in packs of 3 or 4.

Until yesterday. 

I had given Jesse some juice in spill proof cup.  He asked for water about an hour later so I went and got his cup out of his room, and opened it to find 30 or 40 of the tiny little buggers all over the inside of the lid.

That’s just gross and I’m really not quite sure what to do about the little invaders.

Maybe they have mistaken my kindness to the Katydid as an invitation for them, as well?  All I can figure to do is bug spray all around the outside and inside perimeter of our house and hope they take the hint.

Daughter took the good camera - pics lately have been less than marginal, I know.

During a normal homeschooling day around here you’ll see things like this.

I can’t tell you how much learning goes on in small moments like these. But I can tell you it’s not just about the reading.

It’s the quality time. The giggles. The habits being built.

The bonding.

It’s I Love You Stinky Face.

Our kitchen sink sprung a leak just now.  A good one.  Gabe was doing dishes and didn’t notice it right away so there was a little bit of a mess by the time he said something.

At least the house gave us a nice break since the last episode.  We were getting too comfortable I guess.

Ryan is pretty handy but he seems a little torqued about this new development.  I’m wondering if he even wants to just fix it himself.  Personally, I just want to call the landlord.

Okay. I’ll admit they look a little silly.  And, yes, a few kids have laughed while pointing to my “frog feet”.  Yes, they get a lot of stares.

But, my daughter’s orthodontist actually looked them up on his iPhone right then and there in the middle of her braces appointment to bookmark the site so he could buy a pair later. I’d already paid him in full so I doubt he was just being agreealbe.  He’s a professional doctor person and he loved them.  That’s got to mean something.

So just hear me out.  K?

I’ve had trouble with my right foot for about a year and half now.  I injured it jogging, then stepping into the garage, then again doing who knows what.

Doing research on proper walking, and building muscle in your feet to combat foot and ankle issues, I ran across an article on the benefits of going barefoot, even running barefoot.  That sparked my curiosity and looking further into it led me to these Vibram FiveFinger athletic shoes.

Anybody who knows me might already have guessed that I’d want these shoes simply because they are unusual.  And you guessed right!

My oh-so-awesome husband surprised me with them and, although I haven’t worn them running, I’ve worn them regularly for about 5 months now and definitely think they’re helping.  I have high arches and regular shoes force me to walk in a way that is unhealthy for my particular foot shape.  I’ve also found that wearing arch supports do more harm that good in the long run by failing to help my feet build the muscle needed to promote their health.  The vibrams act more like socks so my feet are forced to take on a more natural walking motion. I’m rebuilding muscle I forgot I had and strengthening my feet more with every step.

This post is in no way an advertisment.  I just found something that worked for me and thought I’d pass the info along.

Excuse me if I become unclear while typing this.  I have a lot of questions bouncing around in my head right now, and they all seem to be wound loosely together – which is just making everything more tangled.

Parenting is such a curious topic for me.  How we view our children comes out in what we expect from them, how we educate them, and how we treat them.  The typical Christian parent wants to raise their children to be Christian adults, that’s not the question.  The question is, what are we actually raising our children as right now?

Are we raising them as Christians?  To be Christians? To hopefully someday be Christians?
Is our child’s Christianity an assumption, an expectation, or just a hope?

Are we raising our children as if Christianity is an option, just praying they’ll stay on the right side of the fence?

After an eye opening conversation with some good friends of our ours a few weeks ago I really got to thinking.  How are my husband and I raising our children here in this house?

The answer was easy after a little thought.  We’re raising our children as though Christian is who they are.  Not what they will be, or what we hope they will be.

I’ve never even thought of saying, “Mommy and Daddy are Christians and someday you will be too!” 
What we might say would sound more like, “Yes, we’re a Christian family.  And that means we….”

But this new line of thinking has brought to the forefront the question of Baptism.

What is Baptism?  Why Baptise?  When to Baptise?

When God came to Abraham he told him to not only circumcise himself, but all boys 8 days or older, and everybody in his household.  It was a covenant between God and His people. Genesis 17:10-14

Unless the 8 day old babies in Abraham’s house were much further advanced than our 8 days old babies are now, which is a ridiculous thought, this meant that babies, through no choice of their own, were to be circumcised in this bloody ritual as a sign of membership in the covenant community.

Now that Baptism is the sign of membership in the covenant community (also a bloody ritual of sorts, I might add), I’m curious to what changed the ‘when’ of it all.

And if we’re raising our children as today Christians, as though they have been elected already, not maybe-someday Christians, as though they might someday be elected, how does that fit in with our current credo-baptism practices?

And if I’m wrong does that mean a person isn’t elected until they choose to be elected?  And if that’s case, how can they really be elected?  Isn’t the idea of choosing to be elected a contradiction?

Sometimes somebody says something to you.  It could be just a couple of sentences, but it totally changes the way you’ve been thinking. 
This whole Baptism thing has created new questions for me, but has actually cleared up a number of other questions I’ve had about election and God’s sovereignty.

It’s given me something new to ponder.  And that’s always good.

Literally.

The kids call him Spike and he’s a Katydid who found his way into our home sometime on Sunday.

We first saw him on the ceiling.  I was gonna tell Joe to get him and take him outside but our ceilings are high and it was late in the evening.  He’s not scary looking or anything so I just let him be.

The next day we saw him again around breakfast time.  The boys were fascinated with him, all hovering around him to get a good look.  I figured I’d let them look for a while and then have him banished to the out of doors.

That didn’t happen either.

He ended up on my plant.  My indoor plant.

I noticed that he was missing one of his long back legs and started to feel sorry for him.  I couldn’t very well banish him to the harsh outside where all sorts of predators are waiting for a crippled bug such as him.  So we’ve let him stay.
Then, last night I couldn’t find him and I actually started to worry about him a little.

What’s with me?

This morning Joe found him and stuck him back on my plant. I don’t know how long Spike will be with us, but he has added a small amount of interest to our week.