Getting her to brush her long hair is a battle I always lose. There is that knot in the back of her head that she can’t seem to reach, or maybe it’s that she doesn’t care much. She can go for days with dirt under her fingernails. But determining eye color, that’s different. She’ll stare wide-eyed at herself, inches from the bathroom mirror looking for any hint of green. She emerges, happy to announce to us she has hazel eyes, not brown like the rest of us.

Her favorite yellow and pink Crocs are mud stained. One of her front teeth is crooked – like a mini-marshmellow askew. When embarrassed or shy from certain attentions, she hides her grin behind closed fists, an impulse I’m sure has nothing to do with her teeth. She embarrasses easily, yet will willingly sing strong on Friday at the VBS closing program. She wants to be in a stage play.

I gave her the gray owl Webkinz today for her birthday. She told me she wanted this particular Webkinz to be a surprise, so I picked the owl. She named it Who.  All 14 of her other Webkinz are tucked away in her room in a secret place. She plays with them, and when finished, puts them back immediately. No messy room for her. Each stuffed friend she calls by name, reciting each animals’ birthday, best friend and hobby when asked.

She loves stamps, rocks, purses and tote bags, TY Beanie Babies, National Geographic for Kids, and decorative pillows for her bed. Never have I asked her to compose any lengthy writing assignment, yet she produces story after story at the computer. Each composition one immense  chunk of writing with no paragraph breaks.

I stand on the other side of the room careful not to get too close. I know she doesn’t want me to read it. So I won’t. I suggest paragraphs. She ignores me and keeps writing.

When not at the computer, she disappears for hours, either into her bedroom or outside. I watch her from the window as she talks to herself, walking in a wide circle by the swing set. She’s still writing, telling herself the story. Anyone approaching – especially me -  she stops mid-thought until she’s assured of her privacy again.

She has no idea how much we are alike.

She’s my firstborn and the natural leader to her three younger siblings. Her brothers beg her to come out of her room to play, they don’t understand her need for solitude. When she does join them, I can hear her dictating their imaginary play, often telling a brother what the stuffed animal or Lego creature should say. She is the queen bee in the little hive of their busy activity.

“You are my sweet girl,” she sings to her only sister. I wonder what their relationship would be like if public school kept them from each other most days. She is eleven. Lucy is only four. That’s light years apart in every way, yet they share a bedroom easily, often cuddling in bed together when I go in for a final goodnight.

Today she is eleven. She’s at the twilight of her childhood. The final act of being a child, a place of wonder and imagination and innocence. She claims she never wants to grow up. I remember saying the same thing. Her body is already denying her that wish; soon she will be more young lady than preteen. The gangly limbs and clear skin will not, can not, last forever.

I want her to grow up. I want her to stay young forever. She longs to be her own person, to fly away from my constant presence in her life. She doesn’t want me hovering nearby when baking brownies or cake in the kitchen. Then in the next moment wants to come home early from a sleep-over at Grandma’s because she misses home.

She has only one year left to be in Children’s Church.

Post from: Paper Bridges

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That logo at the top of this post is our Vacation Bible School theme this year, “Crocodile Dock.” I’m not exactly sure what crocodiles have to do with Jesus and the Gospel, but I’m not complaining. I’m a huge fan of  Vacation Bible School. In fact, I think VBS should last the entire summer.

(Somewhere there is a pastor shuddering at the thought of a bunch of kids tearing up his church for the summer. Ha.)

Without further ado, my reasons for all-summer VBS:

Why Vacation Bible School should last all summer (a partial list)

10. The snacks. Trail mix with M&Ms. Vanilla wafer cookies topped with strawberries and whipped cream. Homemade pizza bagels. All the food moms never have in the house because we’re too busy or scattered to think up interesting snacks. My kids compare snack experiences on the way home, that’s how much of a Big Deal the snacks are to them.

9. The games. Water balloon toss, parachute games, relays.

8. Being with your friends.  Combine with No. 9 and it’s a win-win combination.

7. Hanging out with the teen helpers. The youth group’s finest; I love these young people. Full of energy and humor (that’s always helpful when working with children).

6. Being with church folk everyday.

5. Alive, Alert, Awake, Enthusiastic. If you don’t know what that is, you’re not going to the right VBS.

4. Crafts! Oh, how I love the crafts! Sand art, necklaces of multi-colored plastic beads,  fake stained glass crosses. Give me more! More! I have crafts saved that I will never through away, each one a special memory. Love the crafts.

3. Bible memory verses and stories. My seven-year-old is now an expert on the plagues against Egypt and it’s Pharaoh. Every seven-year-old boy should have such Bible knowledge.

2. The room decorations. Can’t we drape the entire building in Crocodile Dock? How colorful the sanctuary would look!

And the number one reason to have VBS all summer -

1. The music. My children just spent the past hour rocking out to “Swamp Stomp”, my coffee table a stage to their dancing and singing, complete with hand motions.  Long after the room decorations are packed away, the games forgotten and crafts lost or broken, it’s the music that will stay with them.  I bet there are enough VBS themes available to have a new selection each week, each with it’s own soundtrack. How fun.

So there you go – I hope you get your kids to a Vacation Bible School this summer. Even if it only last for a week.

Post from: Paper Bridges

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A sea serpent is a sea serpent.

Jesus is Jesus and God is God.

It’s amazing the things you learn on this blog, isn’t it?

True wisdom, that. Especially the bit about the sea serpent.

You can’t get anything past my four-year-old.

Post from: Paper Bridges

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I love you, Edmund!

I love you, Susan!

And a mutual bear hug as if to convince the sibling.

Cool, huh?

Post from: Paper Bridges

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Are you like me? I love to see a large section of work accomplished. Dramatic “before” and “after” photos. I’ve noticed I’m totally that way with homeschooling too. I have a stack of papers from when Susan was nine. Why I still have those papers, when we don’t need to document here in New Jersey (thank you, Lord! it makes life easier) is a matter of me keeping memories in a box.

I look at that stack, weigh it in my hands. “Look at what she did.”

Same feeling today. I look at my improved porch, yard, and have that satisfied, happy sigh. “Look at what we did.”

Yes, I’ve learned nothing new regarding finding contentment. Some days are better than others; I’m still looking outward at the physical. But we won’t harp on the negative. Let’s review all Doc and I did today:

• Gutted the back porch of all the junk that was dumped there.
• Swept same back porch of dirt and rabbit poop (we let the bunnies run free there for a day while the hutch was under construction.)
• Moved all good wood scraps into basement for future use (I suspect most of it will be confiscated by A Boy for his own schemings.)
• Moved various other tools and whatnots into basement too (now the basement is more of a disaster, but at least I don’t have to look at it from my house.)
• Removed junk that had accumulated in yard just beyond back porch (antique Singer sewing machine, paint brushes, rollers, toys. Gah. Am I really admitting this on the web?)

All of that plus we took a few iced tea breaks. We work well together, Doc and I. Glad we can do that – I know some couples can’t. There might have been a couple of times when we didn’t and I think those all involved the car and a new GPS system, so that doesn’t count. Married couple + car + new technology = it doesn’t count on my blog.

A day like today – us with a pick-up truck and elbow grease – yeah, we’re good.

So sorry there are no pictures. Will someone please invent solar powered camera batteries? Actually, I’m kind of glad I have no pictures of our trash and evil pile of accumulated junk. It’s one thing to describe all of this in words, but do I really want to share the photo evidence too?

Yeah, I love all this web confessional stuff, so I probably would.

Post from: Paper Bridges

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I wonder what I’m thinking in this picture?

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See more Wordless Wednesday at 5 Minutes for Mom.

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And so it begins.

Friends – behold, the interesting creature known as The Nine-Year-Old Boy. He runs everywhere. He plays computer games obsessively. This Boy, he who will only be nine once (”Thanks be to God!” says his mother), engages occasionally in behavior we won’t speak write of again. Ahem. The Legendary Peeing on the Grill Incident, for example.

Then there are the days when The Nine-Year-Old Boy gets is right.

Today my version of this boy-man child made his father breakfast in bed, then proceeded to build this quite lovely and extremely functional foot/bike bridge. It’s the Age of the Hammer. Building, creating, pounding wood with nails. No wood scrap is safe from The Boy looking to create a bike ramp. Or tree fort. Whatever captures his imagination.

You did good today, kid.

Tomorrow? You never know with the creature known as the Nine-Year-Old Boy. As the mother of said Nine-Year-Old Boy critter, I’m gonna just go with it, no matter what he choses to create: a mess or a work of art, because that’s what you do when you’re the mother of a mostly domesticated/always entertaining Nine-Year-Old Boy.

Pray for me!

And be jealous.

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The larger toad is named Chicken. Why? No, it’s not because a toad might taste like chicken (you cruel people! we love our backyard critters). Our new friend really does sound like a baby chicken with the (surprisingly loud) chirping sound she makes.

I wonder what Susan named the little one?

Chick, perhaps?

Post from: Paper Bridges

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