banana phones...

and magic potions. 

storytelling and silly notions,

paper airplanes and lego cities,

baby dolls,  so itty bitty…

learning our letters and penmanship, 

little hands I love to hold in my grip! 

Someday I'll wish I'd recorded it all, 

for the memories by the wayside will fall. 

So now I'll pen an epic ode,

and reminisce this lovely road...

Fascination in Williamsburg at colonial times, 

learning age old nursery rhymes! 

Bending the Hotchpotch to make ABC's, 

wielding muskets for our right to be free! 

Jamestown, Yorktown, battles sites, 

learning the history of our rights!

Great Wolf Lodge with the best of friends, 

wishing the time would never end.

Waterslides and Magi-quest, 

hardly any time for rest! 

Alas, bewitching time soon drew near, 

our favorite costumes brought such cheer! 

Costume contests were entered and won, 

Haunted Hayrides made much fun!

Trick or Treat with favorite friends, 

Loads of candy had we in the end!

Nutcracker Ballet alit our Christmastime, 

every dance in perfect rhyme. 

Mercy twirling amidst the snow, 

Eva fluttering to and fro. 

Party dancing with tiny babes, 

leaping, lilting, graceful waves.  

Christmas season filled with joy, 

all to honor a tiny boy. 

Who came to earth to save us all, 

to raise us from our sinful fall. 

To celebrate and honor him, 

our voices raise in many a hymn.  

Mommy's soprano joined in choir, 

soulful singing lit a fire. 

To praise the Lord in verse and song, 

is what she's missed so very long.  

Her blessings listening so rapt,

reveals a joy that is untapped.  

Christmas day brought gifts so dear, 

memories will be made all year!

Bicycles and ballet barres, 

scooters, dolls and crazy cars!

Not 1, but 2, griddles to make,

our favorite pumpkin pancakes! 

with Harry Potter capes they play, 

make believe and magic all day!

New Year's eve brought sista' time, 

cousins, friends and fun sublime.  

Crazy card games, museum madness, 

family fun so filled with gladness. 

Another year blows in with change, 

our household soon we'll rearrange.  

Off to Parris Island to dwell, 

of new adventures, I'll soon tell!

Many memories crowd my mind, 

more I soon hope to find.  

Love to all and hugs to many, 

a thought I'll trade you for a penny!

Love, 

Clan Mac Mama

 

 

 

 

 

Blink

of an eye…
years flutter by.
littles are grown…
seeds you have sown.
waste not a second…
for then you'll regret it.
little words spoken…
sweet spirits, so open.
eyes filled with wonder…
love roars like thunder.
the love of a child…




Sammy…
"Mommy, please won't you biz up my pants?"
"Is it real, Mommy? Or just pretend?"
"Mommy, is there a ladder tall enough to touch the sky?"

"MOM!  MOM! MOM!!!!  There's a shadow back there!  It's a scary ghost shadow!  Don't BACK UP OR YOU'LL RUN IT OVER!"

"Mommy, I just need 3 more kisses to go to sleep."

Max…
"Mommy, say good-night to Blue Dog!  He wants a kiss!"


Mercy…
"Mommy, when I'm grown up, I want to be a Mommy  and teach little girls to dance!"

Sammy…
"Let me do it, Mommy! I can do it myself!"

"MOM.  MOM! MOMMY!!! I have something special to show you!  Come here, Mommy!"

Farewell Facebook...

WHAT?!?!?!?!  I can hear your collective gasps as we speak.  These gasps are peppered with anxious inquiries...
YOU DEACTIVATED YOUR FACEBOOK ACCOUNT?
WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?
IS IT FOREVER?
HOW WILL YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?

Well, let me tell you why & quiet the fears that I have lost my mind/will drop off the planet.

For much of the past few years, I have struggled with the direction my life has taken.  I've fought God's plan tooth & nail in my spirit.  I've allowed myself to become overwhelmed & frustrated.  I've succumbed to the endless comparison that is inevitable when you watch the lives of everyone YOU'VE EVER KNOWN unfold on a minute by minute basis.  I've wasted copious amounts of time "surfing" Facebook, reading things that really don't matter in the grand scheme of life.  I've allowed precious time that I could have spent with my sweet children and my wonderful husband to disintegrate as I emotionally check out while reading about how everyone else is spending their existence.  I've stopped recording the precious moments and memories that I so treasure.
Facebook didn't "take" that from me.  I did.
I allowed Facebook to be more important than time with God, time with my husband, time with my kids.  I've watched it disintegrate the time I spend with my childhood family when we're all together…I've sat in the living room on the rare occasions we are all together and felt like I didn't even know how to have a conversation because I can't compete with the inevitable draw of the SMARTPHONE.  I've stayed up too late & not read good books, been cranky with my kids, disconnected from my husband.
For what?
Don't get me wrong, I've been blessed in many ways by the relationships I was able to maintain through FB.  I've read life changing articles, laughed my a** off, cried tears of joy/sorrow/love, celebrated beautiful moments and been incensed by thoughts/opinions/situations.
BUT.
Not one of those things can hold a candle to the love I have for my husband, my children & my family. So today, I bid FB a fond farewell, thank it for our good times, bad times and in between times.  In return, I'll promise to consider one day coming back.
For now, though, I'll be busy adoring the moments I'm living RIGHT NOW.

stay tuned!
love,
tiff

Yup, I went to Wilmington ALL DAY with all 5...

and we survived.
No one peed their pants.
Only one was minus their shoes.
I only forgot one thing and no kids.
I didn't respond with a snarky comment to ANY of the many who "blessed my heart," and questioned whether they were all mine.
I didn't rip the face off the City Mac guy who took THIRTY minutes to check my computer in for a simple RAM upgrade that took 10 minutes.
We made it home in time for Vacation Bible School AND I got to watch Jeopardy.
My kids rock.

Sleep, precious sleep...

Who knew I'd ever again spend as much time coveting a night's sleep as I once did with 3 babies?  Seriously? I've done this… FIVE TIMES.  And I don't mean I've not slept for 5 nights.  I mean 5 babies…with the twins actually counting as 10 babies.  There is nothing quite like the sleep deprivation that comes from nursing 2 babies…
EXCEPT, the sleep deprivation that comes from my food allergies.
"Can't you just have a little?"
"Oh, it's just one bite!"
Nope.
I wish, with every fiber of my being, that I could have that one bite.  That I could snarf down that Krispy Kreme, inhale that Cinnabon, chow down on that deep dish pizza and tear up some fried mushrooms from Outback.
But. I. Can't.
I wasn't super diligent when I went on a trip last month.  I didn't want to be a pain and ask a million questions.  I didn't want to deal with the possibility of embarrassing someone I was with.  I didn't want to feel like I had a spotlight on my head while I investigated the origins of every. single. thing. I put in my mouth.
So, I just didn't ask.
And the cascade of symptoms didn't ask permission either.
I got home exhausted from lack of sleep.
Brain fogged.
Cranky.
Achey.
Intestinally distressed.
And then the lack of sleep just continued…and continued…and continued…
ARG!!!!
For a mom of many, for anyone actually, this is SHEER torture.  If you add being bipolar to that list, it's downright dangerous.
So, in my quest to turn it around and reset my body, cleaning out the offending proteins, I decided to eat a whole lot of quinoa.  Quinoa is great for you & healthy, right??
Guess what?  Quinoa can mimic gluten in your body if you are especially sensitive.  Apparently, I am especially sensitive.
SERIOUSLY?

Finally…almost a month after all this started, last night...
I SLEPT ALL NIGHT!!!
I could win the stinking lottery and not be as grateful as I am right now.

All the Krispy Kremes in the world can't beat my night of sleep.
love,
tiff

Victory in round 1...

Moratorium passed!  The people of Swansboro spoke & the Board of Commissioners (minus 1) listened.  I'm so excited we spoke out for a happy hamlet, and I encourage all of you to continue to let your voices be heard!  And now, I hate to be a wet blanket….
HOWEVER…
We are still in limbo regarding the court case that is pending in Jacksonville that pits the developer, Swansboro Investors, LLC against the Town of Swansboro in regards to the legality of the enacted moratorium.  The fact that it is taking this long for a decision to be rendered concerns me.  It is extremely difficult to fight investors backed by a goliath like Walmart and the single stone we have fired from our David-like little slingshot has yet to fully meet it's mark.  Unfortunately, this fight could be a long one.  I have no doubt that Walmart's investors will push us to the limit if given the opportunity.  The veiled threats from both the attorney for Walmart and the investors themselves have alluded to the financial burden that could result from us refusing to roll over and play dead.  Here is where we have a choice to make and it's important to understand the ramifications of making the right one.
One of the residents that spoke on favor of the proposed large scale retail store has touted the economic benefit of such a business repeatedly.  He has stated that jobs are needed here and this will help fill that need.  He has also stated that the tax benefit is one we cannot afford to pass up.
Baloney.
I'll just jettison the tax issue first.  The supposed tax benefit does not go directly into our town coffers.  It has to go through  complex process/formula through the state that determines what benefit we may receive.  The max is around $100K per year.  Sounds like a lot, doesn't it?  It's a pittance when viewed in light of the additional services the town will have to provide to offset the effects of a business of this type and size.  Just one extra police officer would cost the town over 1/3 of that amount.  And I'd venture to say that one extra cop just won't cut it in that situation.
Our town doesn't need 250 minimum wage jobs.  What is does need is a business or businesses that will provide a variety of jobs to both skilled and unskilled labor.  This means a balanced mix of reasonably sized retailers and businesses that will meet the needs of many of our residents. An ideal example would be an assisted living facility or Veteran's home.  While that type of facility would need to be approved for conditional zoning, I believe it would stand a stronger chance due to the type of commerce and support it could bring to our town.  It would not only provide a service for our aging population, but would also energize our economy with employment in many areas, to include: medical professionals, marketing professionals, community organizers, administrative professionals, insurance agents, food service workers, and dietitians.  THAT is the type of growth we need in our area!
So, let's not get complacent because we have this small victory.  We STILL have to let our Commissioners, planning board and town manager know what we want for our community.  Speak out, Swansboro!
Still fighting for my town!!
Tiff

Fighting for my Friendly City by the Sea...

23 years I have been on this roller coaster.  23 years I have searched for a PLACE I can call home…  A place I can raise my kids, feel safe at night, know the locals by name, walk the streets at night, send my kids to the park, PLACE.
Swansboro is my place.
Well, enter the bully.
Just about 2 months ago, I found out a large scale retailer was on the hunt to invade my home.  On the sly, under the radar, surreptitiously…they bought land under another corporation, applied for building permits and proceeded to try to slide in and change MY TOWN.
Yup, I call it MY TOWN.  Why?  I bought a house here, I pay taxes here, I vote here and doggonit, I am raising my FIVE precious blessings here.  So, you bet your bottom dollar it's my town.  I've chosen to support the local economy wherever & whenever I can and I am highly invested in making sure that the economy and the character of the town that supports it remain intact.
I have attended every town hall meeting I can, and spoken out in support of maintaining this quaint, fantastic little town that I am blessed to call home.  I wanted to walk away from tonight's meeting feeling confident, feeling certain that the democracy we have founded our country on will play out in favor of our town.
But.  I. just. don't.
Why?
Well, I'll tell you why.  Big box retailers have BIG, DEEP pockets.  They make serious sport out of scaring small towns like Swansboro into turning tail and running in the face of expensive opposition.  They weigh the cost of the legal battle against the long term gain of decimating and destroying the local economy.  Then they determine if the little town will have the cojones to take on the fight.  Guess what?  99% of those little towns just cave & take the hit.  And they topple over like a house of cards, succumbing to the idea that growth is inevitable and we just don't have a choice.
Guess what?  We DO HAVE A CHOICE!
This is our town.  Do you hear me?  OUR TOWN!  Fight for what you believe in!  Fight for the character of this place you have chosen to call home!  Fight for PROPER growth, grounded in common sense and continuity with the character and vivacity of our town!
As someone who has spent my life searching for home and finally found it, I can promise you I will NOT give up without a fight.
The city of Swansboro has a contingency fund for just this reason.  If we don't fight for who we are now, we may as well just roll over & play corporate. dead. America.
Tell your commissioners you want to fight!  Show up next Tuesday, July 15 at the town hall meeting and state it loud and clear!  We don't want to follow the herd and NO, change isn't inevitable.  Fight for what you believe in, Swansboro!  Hold true to our motto…
Swansboro, the Friendly (little) City by the Sea.

Sometimes His plans are just so much better….

I think I need that tattooed on my forehead.  Seriously, it'd have to be backwards so I could read it in the mirror, and then I'd not only have a tat on my forehead, but no one but me would be able to read it…I've already got my pastor convinced my husband needs extra prayer, this may send him over the edge…HAHAHAHA
Sometimes, he takes us to a place of utter bleakness (is that a word, Lori V.?, ) in order to bring us back into the light, to a place filled with the joy of knowing that he has a plan for us and it's just so much better than anything we could have ever imagined, planned, made happen, whatever!

5 kids.  That was most certainly not in my plan.  If you'd asked me in my late 20's if I was going to have ANY, I'd have laughed in your face.
Homeschooling?  Not on your life.
Living in Swansboro?  Have you lost your mind?!

His plan.  Perfect.

My plan this week was to have our family be a part of Journey to the Cross at our church, an intense and moving journey through Christ's last days.  Well….that wasn't His plan.  And I know, it seems a bit of an oxymoron for Him to have a plan that takes us out of THAT.  Well, last night He showed me why.

Rewind a bit...Max & Mercy have been battling fevers, overall exhaustion, snot, sore throats and no appetite on and off for about a week or 2.  Tuesday, Mercy's neck started hurting and I thought she had pulled a muscle.  Then Wednesday night, she couldn't turn her head and Max had a lymph node on the side of his neck that was hard and hugely swollen.  Doc visit Thursday morning = Strep for both & poor Mercy has a nasty case of torticollis from the severity of her swollen lymph nodes.  All this resulted in our family having to pull out of Journey.  Big SAD FACE!  Eva & Charley were especially bummed.  :-(  So, what's the point?  Well, read on, my friends.

It was just a trip to the commissary.  Charley begged to go and even though what I really craved was a quiet trip alone, I caved.  On the way home, as I was driving, I felt prompted to ask her a question.  (A little background here…whenever you ask Charley about growing up, she pulls a total Peter Pan and tells you that is NOT happening.  She absolutely does NOT want to grow up.  This answer has NEVER changed.)
Me: "So, Charley, I have a question.  IF you ever decided that you MIGHT grow up, what do you want to do with your life?"
Charley: "I want to be a MISSIONARY!"
Me: (stunned, shocked and almost speechless…) "Why do you want to be a missionary?"
Charley:  "I want to tell people about what God did for us when Jesus died on the cross!"
Me: teary, speechless…

Suffice it to say that following this conversation, Charley then informed me that she was ready to be baptized.

AGAIN.  Speechless.


Now, I'll clarify.  I'm not speechless because she has decided she is ready.  I'm speechless at God's timing in all this. I've doubted myself so often lately and have really struggled with whether or not we're  hearing His whispers through the crush of our daily lives.  And I've really struggled with feeling like we're not doing the "right things" when it comes to their hearts.  God knew her father & I needed this, He knew it was time to see fruit, He knew it was time for her to come to Him in baptism.

His plan.

His timing. 

His perfect peace.

As we move toward the Cross this week, recognizing and rejoicing in His resurrection, my heart is filled to the brim with thankfulness for ALL He blesses us with, even illnesses that seem inconvenient and painful at the time.

As it says in Luke 6:45, "For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."  My Charley's heart is full of love for the Lord!

Thank you Jesus.
Love,
clan mac mama
p.s. That picture is Charley at 2 weeks old…He was already telling me to be patient, to wait for His timing.  :-)

I dare say, I think lost my way...

for a bit.  That may be an understatement of tremendous proportions.
Cue the following scenario…
2 parents + 2 kids
2 parents + 2 kids + 2 in utero kids + 1 deployment + 1 promotion + 1 cross country move + 1 more baby + 1 house built + homeschooling + 1 more deployment + 1 husband going back to school + 1 mommy with stupid food allergies + a serious fall from faith and, well…
you get the picture.
It's been downright toilsome about these here parts.
I stupidly let my struggles become public knowledge and now I feel the heat of the eyes of the world upon me…

4 years of homeschooling.
4 years of trying to find my way.
4 years of feeling like a failure.
4 years of constantly feeling the need to defend our family & what we have chosen.
4 years of watching my marriage take a HUGE beating.
4 years of allowing the world and the people in it to dictate what my life should be.
Finally, finally, finally, I learned something drastically important.
It doesn't matter ONE BIT what the world thinks, what society says, what any single person says.  What matters is this.
God.
His will.
His path.
His love.
I don't care if my children can pass a test.  I don't care if my children can ride the bus. I don't care if my children are "socialized."  I care about their hearts, hearts that God has trusted me with…to nurture, to mold, to teach, to fill with compassion, empathy, knowledge, love, faith, joy and hope.
I never have been and never will be a "man-pleaser."  Maybe that is why God called our family to homeschool.  Maybe He called me because He knew I had a few that would need a different approach.  Maybe He called me because he needed to create in me a "clean heart," and this was His way of effecting that change.  Maybe He called me because He knew I just don't play well with others…(haha!) Honestly, I don't know and I don't care why He called me.  I just know He did.

Frankly, I am well aware that not everyone is called to this, just like not everyone is called to pastor, to teach, to build, to practice medicine, to make music,  to serve our country.  If we were all called to the exact same thing, the world would be a boring place indeed.  (My bad, we are in the process of trying to raise entire generations of children that have to BE IN EXACTLY THE SAME PLACE AS EVERYONE ELSE JUST WHEN THE GOVERNMENT SAYS THEY SHOULD BE.)  Society views our kids as their property and tells us that we have to answer to the collective for our parenting choices.  I call bullish*t!

Our children are the most precious gift we are given.  And they truly don't belong to us.  They belong to God, and are simply loaned to us by Him.  It is our God-given responsibility to ensure that we bring them up rooted firmly in faith, in Him, surrounded by love and grace.  Each child is created in God's own image, yet each of them is vastly different.  How we bring them up in His image is different for each and every one of us.  And that is perfectly all-right!  At what point are we going to stop defending our parenting choices and stand up for what we believe is right FOR OUR FAMILY?

Seriously, everyone in my family and Charles' family sends their kids to school.  I DON'T HAVE  A PROBLEM with that.  They are great kids with great parents who are doing exactly what they believe is right for THIER kids.  What I have a problem with is the constant need society as a whole feels to defend what we choose because we are so consumed with public opinion.  MOVE ON, people.

In short, I've let the devil lead me around by my nose for entirely too long, doubting the plans God has made for me and my little brood.  He has called me to it & He will equip me.

To each of you that has been a sounding board, therapist, prayer partner, etc…Thank you!  I'm just not one of those keep it closeted type of chicks, so I may have inadvertently said too much…  Oops.   No judging!

So, now that I've gotten that off my chest…

Carry on, my friends.
love,
clan mac mama






 

According to Sam, I'm now...

a Super & I've got BOOM power! (In his world, a "Super" is a superhero and we have all been assigned specific powers in his "Super" world.) BOOM, go clean your ROOM, you little terd!

According to Mercy…she would prefer a regular teacher because "it's not good that you yell." This is usually followed by her fawning all over me & telling me how much she loves me, how pretty I am and how much she misses me when I'm gone.  (As if that ever happens.  I homeschool & live in my pajamas.  Going out takes too much effort. HAHA.)

According to Max…he has no power, but he is a magical snowman named Olaf.

According to Charley…she is NEVER growing up & I am the BEST MOM EVER.  (I really am.  I let her wear train conductor striped overalls that are too short with random funky shirts & crazy big DC tennis shoes.  Top this with a baseball cap & you've got the cutest tomboy EVER.)

 According to Eva…well, she's 11 and I'm boring, so there is nothing to report here.  Actually, that is a big fat lie.  We are weird unsocialized homeschoolers, so she still thinks I'm cool, is obsessed with what fads were popular when I was her age, what a mullet looked like, why my mom wouldn't buy me parachute pants, what my favorite fad was AND she does think I'm pretty cool.

Finally, according to Mommy, these 2 are officially growing up too fast!  Where did the last 5 years go???

I think I just rocked him to sleep for the last time...

I think I wore him out on purpose.
I think I made him eat his dinner through his sobs on purpose.
I think I deprived him of a nap on purpose (2 days in a row...)

I think I am not ready to leave baby years behind.  I'm NOT READY!!!!!! (cue hissy fit, accompanied by jumping up & down, fist shaking, tears, stomping...etc...YOU GET THE PICTURE.)
I don't miss sleepless nights...(thanks to my revolving door of littles, I still have them.)
I don't miss barf and poopy diapers.
I don't miss the suitcase required to leave the house for a 5 minute errand.

I do miss...
baby breath...
sleepy snuggles...
sweet faces buried in my shoulder...
giant cloth diapered butts...
messy kisses...
arms held high to hold on tight...
sweetness, innocence, a face alight...

This season simply passed so fast...
I wish I could have made it last.
The days I wished would speed on by,
went so quick I cry and cry.
I'll find a way to slow the days,
I'll change my frantic, crazy ways.
If I don't, my regret will grow,
This much... I truly know.

I rocked him to sleep as I sang and sang...

love,
clan mac mama

I see the moon, Mommy!!!

and it's small!  and it's white!
Mama's in the clean plate club...
Head on my shoulder, leaning into my arm, gentle touches and soft pats...
MOMMY! Are Nana and Papa going bye-bye's in our car?
MOMMY!!  Are we painting our pumpkins today?
MOMMY! Are we going bye-bye's today?  Are we going to a bouncy house today?

I cannot possibly make this stuff up...

EVER.
Mondays. are. stupid.
When I get to heaven, I'm going to have a good long talk with the Lord and tell Him that I think He should have just skipped right over day 1 and gone to day 2.
I am so not kidding.
I'll entertain you with the Monday before last, better known as...
HORRIBLE RED HALLOWEEN MAKE-UP DAY.
I bet you think there are pictures forthcoming.  Nope. Not one.  I was entirely too traumatized to even consider it.
For those of you that know me well, you are well aware that my sweet little children (or anyone for that matter) talking to me or expecting my attention first thing in the morning is essentially the same as the president pushing the little red button that sets off a nuclear holocaust...
Now, imagine that type of personality waking up to the following:
Red. Halloween. Makeup.  ALL OVER MY TWINS.  Smeared on their sheets, ground into the bath towels, swirled across the cabinets, dotted onto the CUSTOM MADE bedskirts and quilts, and finally, last but not least...ON THE FREAKING CARPET.  IN MY HOUSE.  RED HALLOWEEN MAKE-UP.
Oh, it gets better.
I will spare you the details of my reaction, lest one of you call CPS, and keep you distracted by the REST of the event.
Apparently Mercy & her loyal sidekick Max had awoken at TWO-THIRTY in the morning and had spent the 4 hours between that and 6:30 when I awoke to my own personal holocaust doing the following:
Stealing Eva's iPod and watching BRATZ on Netflix. (Truly, this was worse than the stupid make-up.  Bratz are simply disgusting and make me vomit in my mouth just a little...)
Raiding the pantry for candy, eating it, leaving the wrappers and detritus ALL OVER THE BLOODY HOUSE...
Retrieving a step stool to get Eva's make-up and nail polish basket, then using ALL of it...
Conducting their own "School Day" with markers, paint, tape and glue...(I will say they actually did their letter activity...)
Pouring, then dumping under their beds, Cheerios.
Lollipop sticks STUCK to my carpet.
And, finally,
WAKING ME UP TO THIS.
Many loads of laundry, showers, carpet cleaning, vacuuming, sweeping, trash collecting, deep breathing exercises later...
I have realized that my child and her sidekick are frighteningly resourceful and bright and I am simply TERRIFED of the teenage years.  And all the years in between...and after!
I told you I couldn't make this up.

Shall we move on to the following monday?
I was a little frustrated with my day.  Well, let's be honest here...
My day was in the proverbial crapper.
So, I decide this would be a good time to take apart my nasty barstools to drop the cushions off to be cleaned, as I have reached my tolerance level for the nastiness factor.  (That is an understatement.  My level of Type A is probably in the DSM IV as certified lunacy...)
On my way there, I happen to get caught in the afternoon traffic of the high school letting out.
Take a moment here.  Sit down.  Do NOT eat anything before you read this, as you my spit it out or choke and I have no desire to be responsible for your mess and/or choking...
I'm just tooling along in my SO NOT COOL mom van, watching the traffic as all these kids try to figure out how to merge onto Queens Creek Rd.
Well, one IDIOT in particular decides to careen into the turn lane while HIS STUPID IDIOT PASSENGER is hanging out/sitting on passenger side window goofing off and yelling at the car behind him.
Uh, I think not.
So, what does this SO NOT COOL mom van driver do?
She stops traffic.
And yells at said STUPID IDIOT kid.
And the driver of STUPID IDIOT kid.
And the kid behind him.
What teenager thinks it would be wise to argue with a crazy lady driving a van with FIVE kids who stops traffic to yell at him & his friends?
That one.  This leads me to my favorite part of this story.
When the stupid kid FINALLY shuts up and puts his seat belt on.  After I've told him I can wait ALL DAY and that I'm not the least bit concerned about the traffic (including school buses) that is backed up to 24, he put his seat belt on.
And that was really all I wanted.  Because that stupid boy has a mom, one who loves him.  One who doesn't want to have a state trooper show up to tell her he isn't coming home.
SO, this crazy mom stopped traffic.  And I'd do it again.

Mondays.
Dear God,
Please remove mondays from your schedule.  They stress me out.
Love,
Crazy Clan Mac Mama



 

Dear Mom,

I know you think birthdays just aren't all that exciting anymore...Truthfully, you'd probably rather they not come at all.  I know you feel that way, but...we don't.
We love your birthday.  It reminds us every year of how grateful we are to have you as our Mom/Nanny.  We love to celebrate and sing, eat cake with you and remember all the fun ways we have celebrated in years past...you know, like the year we surprised you with a huge party by Mark telling you he just had to go home because he had to POOP.   I will never forget the look on your face or how much fun we had celebrating YOU.
Without you, Mom, there would be no us.  No Mark, or Sam, or Me.  No grandkids to love on, laugh at/with and spoil.  There would be no late night kitchen therapy sessions, no marathon shopping days, no Disney memories (E rides & grandkids!,) no movie saturdays or pedicure trips, no Turkey day feasts with all the trimmings, (we'll just bypass the septic tank year in that memory....,) no Christmas rosettes or holly cookies, no tiny little Santa presents under our trees, no jingling of the sleigh bells as Santa rides away, (well...that was Dad, but I'm sure you were in on it!,) no Easter baskets overflowing with treats, no marathon pool days and crazy parties...
Without you, Mom, the world would be just. so. boring.
You are the glue, the sticky tac, the stitching...that which holds us all together.
For that, my Mama, I am just so thankful. I am thankful for all the memories, the laughter, the tears, the joys and sorrows, the good and the bad.  I love you more than I can ever put into words.
You're the best, Mom and we wish we were there to see you cry while you read this.  But...since I've been making you cry since 1971, I've got a pretty mental image of you right now.  :-)
Happy Birthday to my....beautiful, amazing, wonderful, marvelous, fantastic, inspiring...
Mom.
We love you!!
Tiffers, Charles, Eva, Charley, Mercy, Max, & Sam
p.s. this just happens to be on my blog....  :-)  

I am Abraham...

just a WHOLE LOT LESS PATIENT.  Abraham got Isaac, I got Eva writing a paper JUST BECAUSE SHE FELT LIKE IT.
I think I win.
Seriously, if you had ANY clue what the last 3 years of our homeschool journey had entailed, you would agree.
Last year was 24 weeks of sheer grammar and writing torture for both of us.  (No, I don't only do school for 24 weeks, that is how long our writing/grammar class lasts.)   I was so exhausted by May that I just completely dropped my pack mid June and didn't TOUCH anything even remotely school related until we actually started school in late August.  (This is NOT a wise idea...especially when adding 2 more pre-school students to your school on 2 days and 3 more on the other 2 days.  And one of the 3 actually counts as an entire class of pre-schoolers with ADD on a sugar high..."*sigh* sweet Sam...)
Slight explanation...last year was our first year of Essentials, the writing class that is a part of our homeschool program.  It is highly classical, challenging and time consuming.  I cursed it every moment I could last year.  And then...
My child went up EIGHT grade levels in reading comprehension last year.  EIGHT.  The tester re-checked the results twice.
EIGHT.
That is some serious validation.
THEN.  School started again and the first week was great.
And week 2 stunk.
Week 3 made me drink a lot.
Week 4 made me want to play in traffic while drinking a lot.
Week 5 made me want to face plant in a dark chocolate factory while drinking more wine, playing in traffic and snorting caramel.
THEN.
We had our fall break.  That stunk too.
Today, on the 2nd to last day before we start back from break, my child wrote an UNASSIGNED PAPER, using ridiculously cool vocab words, who/which clauses, prepositional phrases, www.asia.because.whatever clauses, narrative language and a whole bunch of other crap that I really didn't think she understood.  Well, clearly she does!
And it was GOOD!!!  (banned word. SHUT UP OTHER ESSENTIALS MOMMIES.)

In addition to said paper, the other kids mostly did school without me yelling, several cool art projects were produced, dinner was made and I didn't wreck it, my kids are clean and hell has not frozen over.

Oh, and Eva got her cast off!
In addition, we have not been late for church in about a month.
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY FAMILY?????
I'm sure it will all fall apart first thing tomorrow, but it was great while it lasted!
Abraham, I know you got Isaac and and you were blessed with a great nation and all that jazz, but seriously?  I win.
Jesus, you rock.  Thanks for being faithful when I am such a loser.
Love,
clan mac mama

p.s. disclaimer about Essentials...anything with a 4th grader involving grammar and writing is torture.  It was one of the best decisions our family has made educationally for Eva and I wouldn't change it if you paid me.  Well, maybe if you paid me A LOT.

Mondays just suck.

Well...mostly.  I would venture to say that I am waxing a bit pessimistic at the moment.  Having to replace the head of your oldest child's American Girl doll to the tune of FORTY dollars, plus shipping, because your middle child just has NO boundaries...
I did not yell.
I did not berate.
I did have to send said middle child to the spare room ALONE for about an hour so I wouldn't yell, berate or otherwise act like a really p*ssed off mama.
I did have to realize that this was probably my fault.  I was just stupid enough to believe that she would actually rest when I told her to and NOT get out of bed and wreak havoc on her older sister's room.  Mind you, she is in Eva's room because I can't let her & Max rest together anymore because THE WONDER TWINS just cannot SHUT UP during quiet time.  So separate them, I must.
Now, the optimist is just screaming that I must post the following...

We finished school today... for all 4 schooled children.  We painted, dot to dot marked, read, made letters, advertised a dog walking business, diagrammed sentences, parsed sentences, learned spelling rules, discussed peacemaking, laced beads, matched numbers, rhymed pictures, reviewed memory work,
My preschool child also made it to school on time, dressed, with a snack and with his picture form.  In the interim, I actually picked up and dropped off 2 MORE children to preschool, ON TIME.  (buy your lottery ticket now... this is a miracle moment...)
I sat in the grass and sucked down half a bottle of wine with my friends while my kids got filthy and my husband had some quiet time.
I wrapped up a fundraiser that raised a good chunk of change for our homeschool group.
My kids were ON TIME for all activities today.

Finally...I just woke up and realized I was in the TWILIGHT ZONE...

Seriously, when your pastor asks you to give him 2 day advance notice for when you plan to be on time for both life group and service, so as not to unduly surprise him during a busy sunday...I AM NOT KIDDING...you know you are epically late...

Well, maybe Mondays don't suck...

That is all.

clan mac mama

Sam's soft little hand...

caresses the side of my face...
His sweet voice declares, "I love you too!"
His gentle little fingers run through my hair...
We rock, to and fro, to and fro...
And I cry.

Mercy's quiet whisper..."Mommy, I'm never ever gonna wipe your kisses off..."
A soft whimper as she cries that she never wants to grow up...
"Mommy, I want to stay with you forever..."
We rock, to and fro, to and fro...
And I cry.

Softly falling grains of sand, slipping through my fingers.
Every moment, every thought, I beg of it to linger.
The sweetness of the end of day,
to recall it all, I pray and pray.
Early morning sleepy boys,
Quietly playing with their toys.
Morning light surrounding each,
For my hand I wish they'd reach.
To feel their velvet baby skin,
And snuggle them gently once again.

"Mommy, you sing to me?"
"Mommy, you rock?"

Tick, tock, tick, tock speeds that clock.

Hold me tight and don't let go,
far too quick, too soon you'll grow.

Softly falling grains of sand, you are slipping through my fingers...
the imprints of my five sweet loves on my heart will linger.

And I cry.

love,
clan mac mama

 

Homeschool Mondays are like a box of chocolates...

you just never know what you're gonna get.  (Picture me, half a bubble off, slowly drawling this out while sucking wine out of my sippy cup with a straw, shoveling in said chocolate and covered in dry erase marker...)

So, the day started innocently enough...  Up at 5 to work out, (mid workout, my little men decide to visit with me and question me EVERY FIVE SECONDS while I am STANDING ON A 14 INCH STEP HOLDING WEIGHTS...) devotions with the hubby & kids, off to pre-school with the little man, patting myself on the back as I pull into the church parking lot an entire FIVE MINUTES EARLY.   (And I haven't forgotten any of the kids today.)  Anyone who has known me for even 5 minutes is aware that FIVE MINUTES EARLY for me is the equivalent of some people achieving the goal of writing a dissertation and receiving a Ph.D.  Seriously.
The many mini Macs unbuckle and begin popping out of the rockin' mom van I drive...(just making sure you understand how NOT COOL I am...) to walk Sammy into school.  As he pops out and lands squarely in the parking lot, I am suddenly aware that he is wearing, *gasp,* FLIP FLOPS!  This is a serious pre-school NO NO.  In addition, I am fully aware that if he does not wear himself out on the playground during school, my big beans will not have math during nap time, as there will be no nap time...thereby causing a loss of essential math skills/mommy sanity, and exponentially increasing my wine intake for the later part of the day, which is NOT in the budget and for which I am NOT prepared.  (I've had a few too many napless days lately, so my wine stores are depleted and my kids are getting stupider.  Yep, that's a word.  I said so and I'm the teacher.)

LORI VINSKUS...are you dying from my ridiculously ranting run on sentence yet??????? bahahaha!

SO.  I determine that I am going to run home to get his shoes and drop them at school.  Meanwhile, I've somehow blamed Eva for the fact that Sam is wearing the wrong shoes, so she is ticked and pouting, I'm fuming and muttering, the littles are in the back YELLING at full volume, and Charley is attempting to discuss her playdate with the other Charlie and is asking me every bloody question under the sun in relation to said playdate.  ARGH!
Ah, but ding, ding!!!!!!  I realize that Sam actually has shoes in his backpack because his GENIUS MOTHER put them there last thursday in case his new shoes were too big.   Wow, I am just so awesome.  NOT.  If I had stopped being a terd to Eva long enough to take a breath, I might have realized this BEFORE I made my oldest feel like poo.    SO, needless to say, I called the school and informed them he actually did have shoes, they just had to switch them out.  Should be smooth sailing from here, huh?
Not.
Wondering what could possibly make my day go awry now???????
Well, just let me tell you.
NAPTIME.  Stupid NAPTIME.  Stupid, stupid, stupid naptime.
Actually, it's really my fault naptime is stupid.
I had the audacity to think that my youngest child should move into a toddler bed because he FINALLY uses the TOY-let and, well, he IS 3.  
This was a really stupid thought.  (No thesaurus used here.  Stupid is just the perfect word for this tale...)
It took all of about 3 days for him to figure out that he didn't HAVE to stay in the bloody bed when I put him down.  This has resulted in the now removed crib side being firmly BUNGEE corded to the toddler bed, thereby preventing the little terd from escaping.  Thereby also keeping me from going insane.
Well, the bungee process did not go well today.  I snapped the stupid cord, scratched the bed and couldn't remember for the life of me how to get the stinking thing done.  Once I finally did jury rig it, I got the other 2 laid down.  WELL, Miss Mercy doesn't really DO nap time.  She just tortures the crap out of me by getting up every 10 minutes or so, which is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to me...
Finally, little people decided to rest.  Ahhhh, this MUST be what heaven feels like!  Math gets *almost* done, so off we go to dance.
I have sent Charles to the commissary...so in the midst of all this, my phone is BLOWING UP with texts that query the location of the weird food items I must now eat on my annoying and weird diet of gluten and dairy free food...(this is NOT a choice, I mean, seriously, who chooses to NOT eat fried mushrooms or ice cream?????)
Dance goes well, I pick up Eva and we motor back home to have some outdoor play.  The littles commence fighting over the blue jeep, Charley checks out and starts riding her bike and Eva hops on her scooter....
Fast forward approximately 5 minutes...one scooter mishap later, my oldest bean is whimpering on the grass, holding her wrist, exclaiming, "Mommy, it hurts, it hurts!"
Mind you, my children scream at EVERYTHING.  It doesn't matter if it's a paper cut or a bat over the head (NERF BAT...,)  they are screamers.  Just a few days ago I had given the typical Mom lecture, you know the one.  It's when you tell them that one of these days they'll really be hurt and you won't be sure if you buy it...Well, I'm here to tell ya, when they are really hurt, you just know it.  My screamer was whimpering and I just knew that little wrist of hers had sustained some damage.
A flurry of phone calls to my fantastic friend and pediatrician later and we had come to the conclusion it was most likely broken.  Since we live in the midst of a huge marine base with an overabundance of people who use the ER as regular medical care *ugh,* we conclude that we are splinting and waiting for morning for x-rays and an ortho visit.
One set of x-rays, one buckle fracture, and one Carolina blue cast later....

 SO.  Like I said, homeschooling mondays are like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get!

love,
me (yep, stuffing my face with chocolate and sippin' my wine...)

A Beautiful Legacy...

3 weeks ago today, on what I though was just an ordinary day, I stood in Cathy's driveway.  Shaken to my core.  Shocked. Sick. Heartbroken.  The unthinkable had happened.  2 of my oldest friends, people who knew me "when...," one of whom stood with Charles and I as we swore our love forever, had just lost their sweet son.  Inexplicably, without warning.  The shockwave that tore through our tiny community was palpable and heavy.

Although the funeral weekend that followed was a blur, one thing stood out in my memory as I prayed for the Hansill family in the ensuing weeks...a video of Kyle teaching a class full of our SBA students about the Salvation we can find ONLY in the sacrifice that Christ made for us.   He had educated the kiddos in the most simple of terms, using stick people, a bridge and the cross.  That was the beauty of it.  Salvation in Christ is just, well, SO SIMPLE.  It doesn't require anything more than faith and acceptance of the ultimate sacrifice that was made so long ago.  

Today, on what I thought again was yet another completely normal, simply ordinary day... I sat in Eva's homeschool co-op class, absentmindedly watching presentations & whispering with the other moms.  As Jacob Caldwell was up for his turn at presentation, Kerry & I stopped chatting to watch.  My heart skipped a beat and we stared at one other in astonishment as it dawned upon us both what Jacob had chosen to share.

He was standing at the board, giving the lesson he had learned from Kyle.  He remembered it, word for word, picture for picture.  His sweet voice was clear, strong, and convicted.  When he finished, he turned, pointed to the 3 people (one fleeing God, one who knows God but doesn't pursue His love and one who accepts His gift of salvation) above the bridge that signifies Christ and said, "I only have one question for you? 

Which one are you?"  

Once Kerry had picked her jaw up off the floor and dried her tears...she exclaimed, "That was NOT what he had practiced!  It was not the story he was going to tell.  I had NO IDEA he was going to get up there and do that!"  (I think she repeated this at least 3 times...)  I was too busy sniffling and staring to even respond...

Today, that boy that loved the Lord with every ounce of his heart spoke through the heart of another boy.  His inspired actions proving once again, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the love of Our Lord is forever, eternal, and omnipotent.

That, my friends, is more than a beautiful legacy.  It's divine.

            love,

            me.

the death of me...

I swear, it's going to be Mercy.  There is a compelling reason God gave me that name for her.  It is because I need an arsenal of HIS GRACE & MERCY to keep her alive until she turns 18.  

That child.  

Seriously.  I could say just that and it should suffice.  All of you have raised/are raising/are related to (have disowned...) a sweet little thing like Miss Mercy.  

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."  Is it bad that I want to yell that at her at least 10x daily?  Probably.  If I was still Catholic, I'd probably hit confession for that one.  (Shoot, I was for 36 years, I can still confess, right?)   

"MERCY ELAINE MCCAWLEY..." followed by a barrage of questions in regards to the latest adventure she has embarked on that results in the demolition of my MAC make-up, the destruction of my beloved school whiteboard, the flurry of salt on the school room floor (mixed with glue...), the PERMANENT stamp ink on the floor/wall/her clothes, the defacement of my walls..furniture...schoolroom...YOU GET THE POINT.  

Oops, I should have named her IVY MARIE WETHERILL!!!!

Ha.  

2 peas in a pod.  

But, stink.  She is so sweet, precious, loving, complimentary, gracious and cute.  I just can't stay mad for longer than, say, 23 out of 24 hours.  So, that ONE hour that I'm not ready to jettison her to boarding school?  IT more than makes up for all the crazy that is my Mercy.  

Occasionally, I'll be so up to my eyeballs that I'll actually make her lie down for a nap.  (I do this knowing full well that she will be a pest when I put her to bed for the night, but I do it to SAVE HER LIFE.)  The other night, after she had napped, I was innocently watching brainless TV.  I hopped up to go borrow some milk from my neighbor and, as I turned to leave my room, I just about died.  There she was...a little statue, silent as stone, sitting in my doorway.  SCARED the stink out of me!!  

"MERCY ELAINE!," I hollered.  Then I picked that sweet little bean up, tucked her back in bed and changed my drawers, since I think I might have peed my pants...

I love that child.  

love, 

me