I wish you could understand just how elusive these guys were.  They seemed to be taunting all of us who just wanted one good shot.  They rarely landed and when they did they usually closed up revealing their boring, brown underside.  I snapped these shots just as we were about to give up and be happy with my blurry attempts to capture them flittering around us.

I love reading these posts at other blogs because it makes me feel “normal” or at least like I’m not the only crazy one out there.  Head over to MckMama’s blog to read more.  Happy Laughing!

If you lived in my house, you may hear me saying…

“If you need to poop, please get back on the potty.  If you get down and poop in your pants, there will be a consequence.  Please do not dip your bottom in the toilet water.”

“Please don’t sit on my head.  That would be fabulous.”

“Mommy’s sleeping right now.  Give me 4 more minutes.  Then I’ll help you.”

“Mia, we cannot be emotionally attached to bows.”

“The toilet rim is not a drum. Please stop and go wash your hands.”

“No, we cannot go to the rainforest right now. Because it’s too far away…that’s why.”

What have you caught coming out of your mouth lately?

Comment: Why would I want to spend $2000 to host one orphan, when I could sponsor a dozen through World Vision for the same amount?

Click here to read my response.

Anyway, they were in the car playing with them on the way back when PJ dropped his.

Mia: PJ, you can have mine.  Here.

PJ: That’s ok.  I don’t need it.

Mia: Take it.

PJ:  No. I don’t want it.

Mia: What else are sisters for?

I love Legos and all the educational opportunities they provide.  I love the creativity they inspire.  I love that they don’t need batteries.  I get paid to play with Legos.  Robotic Legos.  (Don’t hate me too much).  So I often have Legos on the brain.

PJ needs things to keep his brain busy.  I adapted an idea from www.legoeducation.com and came up with his new favorite brain game.

Gather the following Lego bricks…

Whites
1–1×6
2–2×2
1–2×4
1–2×8

Reds
2–1×2
5–2×2
4–2×4
1–2×10

Yellows
4–2×4
1–2×3
2–2×2
3–1×2

Greens
1–1×2
3–2×2

Blues
1–2×2
5–2×4
1–2×10

Grays
2–1×2
1–1×8

Print out this picture.

See how long it takes your child to arrange the Legos to match the picture.

Notes:

1. There are probably more than one solution.  Contact me if you want a picture of my solution.
2.  This is probably best for children 6 and older.
3. PJ has a flat 16×16 base that he works on.  That’s how big the above picture is.
4. If you don’t have all the bricks I listed, just make up your own.  I used excel to make my diagram.  
5. To make it easier, print out the gridlines or make it smaller.  That way younger siblings can play, too.
6. Ignore the misalignment of the blue block with the reds in the bottom right.  That’s my pdf printer acting funny.

Gotcha!

Helping others. Good.

Jumping off a bridge.  Bad.

Finding others who have reconciled a broken marriage.  Good.

Realizing all your friends are giving up and walking away from their less-than-satisfactory marriages.  Bad.

You get the picture.

There is great relief when bearing your struggles results in finding someone else who can relate.  It makes you feel more “normal.”  The problem is that we (especially we who call ourselved Christians) are not so great at being transparent.  We put our best foot forward because it’s too embarrassing to show the other foot or because we think we’ll be judged (or because we have been judged) or because we’re sure no one will understand.

Whether it be marriage, parenting, or adopting, we often paint rosy pictures of how awesome they are.  And they are…don’t get me wrong.  But the truth is that for as awesome as they are, they can be equally challenging.  We are human afterall.  Research shows that having realistic expectations upfront increases your satisfaction about the situation later. 

Imagine thinking adopting was all joy and celebration because you were rescuing an orphan and giving him a home and then realizing (the hard way) it also involves grief and sadness and frustrations.  If no one had told you to expect that, you might think you were a bad mommy or dysfunctional and definitely all alone.  That might lead you to think that you made a bad decision and you weren’t the right home for a child afterall.  But if you knew that with all the joys and milestones came sorrows and pains and were connected with a community of families who were walking that road and rejoicing with the victories and pressing through the challenges, you would feel “normal” and encouraged.  You would keep on because others had before you and they were helping you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The same is true for parenting and marriages.  That’s why it’s important to be transparent with our struggles while keeping them in perspective.  Find friends who share similar values to you (and some who don’t) who you can walk through life with you and help you feel “normal.”  There is power in community.

What are the communities that have held you up over the years?

Curious about the new website or want to know more about Grafted Families?

Feel free to check out the new website by clicking here.

Or join us on Facebook here.

You can even read our July newsletter here.

Consider this your formal invitiation to stay in the “loop.”

At the end of the school year the kids did a project for their teachers that I was super-excited about and wanted to share with you.  Better late than never, right? Right.

So back up a year.  Remember this contraption?

That was the makeshift trellis that supported our bird house gourds.  When we planted them, we had no idea it would take them 9 months to fully dry out and cure.  We had actually given up that they would ever be useful since we cut them off the vine when we should have left them on, many rotted instead of drying, and they got lost under 80-some inches of snow this winter.  But when the snow cleared and the sun emerged, there were 3 survivors that were begging to be turned into birdhouses. 

So, of course, we obliged.

Patrick drilled bird-sized holes into each of the gourds. And two small holes at the top for hanging.

And then we set the kids loose with paint brushes, acrylics, smocks, and their imaginations.

They painted.

Imagined.

And painted some more.

After the paint dried, I coated them with a water-based, waterproof sealant and strung them with twine using a makeshift needle.

Aren’t they “gourd-geous”?