Why I Don't Mop (Often)

I finally had to mop the kitchen on Monday. I hate to mop! I would rather scrub hundreds of toilet bowls than mop my relatively small kitchen. I sweep daily (usually, 'cause if I don't a third world country could eat off it for a week by the end of one day), but that would not take care of the dried up Apple Juice River-bed created by Rachel Sunday afternoon. So I aired out the rugs, moved the chairs, table and high chair to the living room and got to it. I even did a really good job too, fresh cleaner smell and all! I replaced all the furniture and even wiped down the wall behind Eli's seat (apparently his art canvas that is usually hidden by his chair).

After two meals and a snack, guess what?! Sticky again. I am into instant and lasting gratification when it comes to house work. I need to see improvement right away and it is nice if it can stay improved for a little while, is 24 hours really too much to ask? My brain knows that it is when the residents are Kindergartners and younger, but really daily mopping just ain't gonna happen here.

Ironically, my toilets are dirty too...

Our Big Boys!

In 24 hours both boys have grown up so much.

Sam is mobile! Oh the horror! He started to army crawl yesterday. He wiggles and rolls around the living room trying to find something else to put in his mouth. Maybe he is trying to get away from Rachel who is always trying to hold him and pick him up. It is always a bittersweet moment when you can no longer leave them in one spot and come back and there they are. Even more so with the last one, that first real strike at independence with so many more to follow.

Today, Eli decided it was time to potty. He pulled his little potty out into the hall, looked at me and said, "pee pee" and I said, "go for it." He took his diaper off, sat down and peed. Then he put on big boy underpants and had only one accident all afternoon. He knew when he needed to go and did it! Hallelujah!! I just hope it lasts into tomorrow...

Gems from Rachel

On the way home from church two weeks ago, Emily asked where Garfield's body was. Well, I told her that the vet took care of it for us and was perfectly willing to tell her the whole truth. She thought for a moment and said she did not think we could ever find it. I agreed quickly and was pretty happy to change the subject. Rachel was not satisfied though, so she said, "But where is the body that was on him?" At least she understands the difference between bodies and spirits.

Last Thursday, all the kids were running through the house from the basement up to the second story and back again. After several trips and requests for them to stop running Rachel slowed down in the kitchen and put her hand on her chest and said "My heart is really pumping! Jesus is talking to me!" OK, I get that our explanations about how Jesus talks to our hearts broke down somewhere in that little mind, but I do know now she was listening!

It's so entertaining and heartwarming to hear the gospel according to a 3- or 4-year-old. It can be reassuring to hear their quirky insights when you try so hard to teach them because the example you set seems to be lacking on so many levels.