It's Happening

For the last few weeks, some of my kids have been in school, I have been around the office, some kids have been at that very office, some of our teachers have been teaching, and some of my schedule has been schedging- know what I mean.?

But today, today we jumped into it all.
Homeschool day one- check
Teens in school- check
Dinner planned- check
Dance class handled- check
Smooched my husband- check
Dressed the part- check check

Some went wrong. Plenty went right. We realized some things that needed to change, and more importantly we remembered that we need to account for one another.

There are so many times when we are all running our own directions, and we don't have to worry about making nice with the people around us, because we will be on to the next thing in just a minute. When you take a minute, to be in this minute (or hour or day) you don't get that option unless you want fighting and grumpiness and an overall bad day. For me this applies mostly to homeschooling, but really it fits everyone all the time.

When we are put together with another person or a group of people, it's important to take a minute and account for one another. It's like when you have a small house, and then you move to a large house, and then, like the rest of America, lose your house and have to move back into a small house. You sit closer, you bump in the halls, you squeeze around tables, and you wait outside the door because probably you have less bathrooms. You have to account for one another.

It's not all bad. Bumping into my honey in the hallway? Yes please. Kids don't have a choice but to snuggle up on the couch? I'll take it. Impromptu conversations about how Sam's birthmark looks like a chicken leg? Classic. 

Tomorrow, we are going to practice accounting for each other. But for now, I am going to sleep. This mamma is straight. worn. out.

Fathers.

My fire fighter husband is the best. Let me count the ways:

He laughs. 

He jokes. 

He loves. 

He snuggles (but not too long, because it's weird). 

He sports tattoos like a rebel. 

He saves lives. Literally. 

He is logical. 

He is real. 

He hugs.

He can fix anything. Literally. 

He invents things when there isn't a device to get the job done. 

He put the handy in manny. 

He makes his uniform blush. 

He is outdoorsy. 

He is indoorsy. 

He is whatever doorsy we are being that day. 

He is blonde. 

He has muscles. Lots. 

He cooks. 

He takes time and teaches my children what matters. 

He prays. 

He says thank you. 

He holds the door for me. 

He rushes to help elderly people. 

He sweeps a two year old off his feet to play a game of tag mere minutes after meeting. 

He understands dude time with his boys. 

He watches me. 

He brags about his kids. 

He comes to church with us. 

He sits through musicals. 

He wears jeans like a champ. 

He is not afraid of heights or dangerous situations or fires. 

He tells me he loves me, and he means it. 

He rolls in a minivan. 

He drives 45 minutes to get home when our stove makes a funny clicking noise at ten pm. 

He reminds my girls they are beautiful. 

He says "bless you" when I sneeze. 

He's mine. 

Thank you for being a seriously excellent partner in this parenting experiment. Our kids are rad. They will always be better people because you are their dad. I didn't mean to rhyme, but you are worth it. Happy Father's Day Mike The Man Brewer. 

This is the Day

After a string of incredibly busy days, we are wrapping up graduation junction with a trip to Las Vegas. My father is turning 60 at the end of this summer, so we are headed down early for some quality conversation and hugs. 

We are taking him out to an amazing place just outside of Vegas called Spring Mountain Ranch where the Super Summer Theatre performers will put on The Music Man. We will bring dinner and celebration dessert and lay out in our cozies under the stars. It will be a nice break from the heat. 

We are also going to visit one of my besties and her little family. I say little because her people are short. Preschool, toddler, and one month old. Thems short. I am going to do my best not to squeeze that littlest peanut too hard. I might make her mamma sign a waiver exempting me from responsibility. After all, I didn't make her so cute!!

We also get to catch up with The Baldwins and their newly adopted daughter who already makes me giggle. 

Beyond these plans, I got nothing. I just want to be in the water and shade and air conditioning. 

I'll post pics, but don't be alarmed if we look like we are melting. Vegas is on the border of hell, so it's to be expected. 

Ps. Maybe we will eat salsa and guacamole as well. Probably. Yes. Actually. Yes. That will happen. 

Post and orders, remain as directed

 So, tonight I was listening to a guy named Philip De Courcy, a very Irish fellow. He's an excellent speecher, and looks not at all how I pictured him. He talked about where we get our orders. Most of us have more than one order giver in our lives. If you are married, sometimes the directives come from the spouse. If you have a toddler, you know that you find yourself taking orders now and then before you realize that tiny turkey is not the boss of you. And if you are a Christian, even if no one else knows it, you get your order from God. 

My advice is that you listen and obey. However, my example on the matter thought it was Opposite Day. (Why my auto correct changed the capitalization on this made up holiday, I do not know. But I often think it should be a day and I am keeping it). 

Anyhow. My example is to doubt. To second (and 3rd and 4th) guess what I think God said. Especially when I don't see anything working in what I feel is the right direction. You know what else I learned about myself?

I sometimes try to quit people before they quit me. I close up. I build a wall faster than Nehemiah if he had two good arms, and I bunker down inside where it makes me feel better if I quit first. 

I have this idea God gave me. When I was a kid, until I was well into high school, if anyone asked me how many kids I wanted, I would calmly reply, "10." I wasn't kidding. Then I met my only child husband, and plans changed. Sort of. 

As you can see by my seriously awesome pictures, I have five kids. If we are getting personal, I have three babies we don't talk about often. It's not as raw, but it still hurts. We lost three little peanuts. I never asked God why. He was ready for them, and it doesn't change the status of their parents. Those are my three babies. Even if they never lived outside of my belly. So I have eight kids. 

And about three years ago, I felt like God dropped a nugget of desire in my lap that we should consider adopting. There is more to this story, but it's not the time for that. 

I dreamt of a little boy. Since then, my husband teeters on the edge of hysteria and crazy enough to happen depending on his day. Also, he threatens sincerely to steal our friends' adopted blondie little girl. He wants to have her over for dinner. He wants to buy her presents. He cries like he is her daddy when she sings on stage or burps the alphabet. He won't admit it, but I think he secretly wants another girl. 

I say we both get our way and we add two more brewers so we can reach that magical number, 10. 

I declared it. Not like bankruptcy. Like full of faith. Like Joshua giving orders to the sun. Like Jesus yelling for Lazarus. Like my six year old hollering "CAN SOMEONE PLEASE BRING ME TOILET PAPER?!" Loudly. With strength. With conviction. I wrote about it. I prayed. Fasted. Held tight to promises. 

And three years later. Nothing. Except my unfulfilled desires. Oh, and nearly everyone I know gets to adopt. But not me. 

My heart wants to quit before this dream quits me. What if it never happens and then I just look like a fool? 

 

Philip De Courcy. He talked about the soldiers guarding the tomb of the unknown soldier in Arlington Cemetery. I'd imagine it's even more emotional than the regular cemeteries. I'd like to go there and watch the changing of the guards. Because these guys know their orders. And in the same way God is so faithful to bring reminders and keep his will heavy on our hearts, so do the guards. They are guarding the remains of soldiers from two different wars. These men couldn't have a tombstone like everyone else because we never knew their names. Just their bodies. We brought them home and put them in this tomb which is protected night and day. Always. 

The soldier walks 21 paces. Turns and pauses for 21 seconds. Then he walks back the 21 paces to his starting point. He does this repeatedly until it's time for a changing of the guard. 

When his replacement comes, after the new guy carefully inspects his weapon, he asks "what is the directive?"

The soldier says,"post and orders remain as directed." Every time. 

It's what God is saying to each of us really. Just about different things. Mel Gibson gave his own spin on this phrase in the movie The Patriot. "Stay the course." 

Remain as directed. 

Stay the course. 

Because there may be pain at night, but joy comes in the morning. And God's fulfillment. 

I am grateful for my work while I wait. I am grateful for the ways God is preparing me every day. I am grateful that my work is not as monotonous as the soldiers in Arlington Cemetery, no matter how noble that job is. 

His boundaries for me have fallen in essential places (psalms). 

Remain as directed. 

Stay the course. 

Amen. 

Coming to a Close

So many things are coming to a close in our life right now. Some are direct, but some are happening to people around us.

Friends having final babies (or so she thinks)

Nephews graduating

The school year

My daughter's first year of high school

My first year of full-time work

My first year ever of full-time teaching

My two mid-kids are ending elementary school

Hopefully my little kids' last year of school outside the home until high school.

But with all this comes new. God is faithful like that. He is the God who gives and takes away. And we should count every minute of that joyfully.

He takes sickness. He gives health.
He takes jobs and gives new ones.
He takes houses and gives homes somewhere else because we realize home is where the family is.
He takes kids and makes them grow up and gives us adults we are proud to call son or daughter.
He takes our sin and gives opportunity for growth and life.
He takes us as we are and gives us love we hardly deserve.

He is faithful. For everything he is taking, I anxiously await what he plans to give.

The biggest gift I think I will be given is time. Time with my husband and time with my kids. Such a priceless gift.

So is this leaf bouquet my twelve year old Elijah made me at the park the other day.

New

Many things are new in this land. I don't mean your land. I mean our land. "This land" is what Sam calls any happenings that affect him.

New job.

New church because of new job.

New family dynamic.

New shoes. Well I hope so.

New hours.

New relationships.

New.

It's all new. It will take me a bit to pull myself up from my Bootstrap's bootstraps, but with new comes hope. I like hope. It could have been my middle name. I might decide it's my code name and wear a super girl shirt with an H in the center. I could rock it. Lets just agree and move on.

My official title is Children's Ministry and Preschool Director at Hillside Foursquare Church. Because of the nature of the job, we will be switching churches to be in that community.

We started back today. It ruled. They had pastries and coffee during the service and nachos after. Come eat. Come drink. Come nacho.

Our dynamic changes because my kids currently attend the private school I work at. But that discount doesn't extend to no employees, and that's ok. For the past six months I have had the desire to homeschool again. So, we are going to. DID YOU HEAR ME FRIENDS!! I get to homeschool my babies. Who aren't actually babies at all, but they are mine. And being their mom is the best job a girl can have after being The Man's wife. Best. Just the best.
So I registered the four youngest in K12- an online public school. We dominated that program about two years ago like O'Doyle rules the woods. Izzy will stay in her program in the IB school she is at and represent the Brewers from there.
I'll devote three-four hours a day to my kids' education instead of the current nine. Nine hours on school is silly. I am all done with that.
New shoes? I see a Goodwill trip in my future.
New hours. I am required to be on campus for 25 hours each week. What I do with that time is up to me a long as I am getting my work done and our teachers feel valued and are learning still. That's my job. To give them opportunities to grow.
Instead of the schedule I keep now, 44 hours per week, I will cut that nearly in half
Dear Lord, you are so good to me. Thank you for my family and my church and the chance to serve them. Help me not to screw it up. Amen.

Oh. And this picture? This is my daughter hugging redemption. God is amazing. Tell your friends.

Nonsense- It's why you are here

So why don't I just lay it all out there:

A) I want Stephanie Meyer to finish writing Midnight Sun. I don't care if she publishes it; just send me my own copy. I don't need a cover. I need more than 12 chapters of life from Edward's point of view, that's what I need.

2) My kid and I are taking another kid and another lady to a Women of Faith for teens conference in Roseville this weekend. I am so excited I may forget to do anything else. We leave Friday. We get to go to the movies, too. We are watching The Host- a Stephanie Meyer production.

3) I like salad. I don't know why I don't eat it more.

D) I am procrastinating taking a shower. It's not that I don't want to spend time with you. It's just that I have not combed my hairs in two weeks. I have washed it, but I just towel dried. This makes sense with my hairs. Not yours probably, but with my sweet fro, I don't need to comb it all the time. I would never comb it if I could get away with it, but the longer I wait, the more helmet shaped it becomes. Just trust me on this. It's science.

6) My heart hurts when little kids don't have food.

F) My heart stutters a little when I see a bald little brown boy. It's not something I am doing. It's something my heart is doing. Dear Lord and Mike Brewer, I really think I need a tan kid with the ability to grow a sweet fro. Send a boy and a girl; I don't mind. But make them mocha, and make them love me. The end. Oh, and make them potty trained.

and 11) I miss you people. I miss being here more. I miss your comments and your sassy remarks. I miss sitting on my computer scrolling all your blogs with my coffee in hand. Spring break is coming. At one point we will be down to two children. Call me crazy, but it's as if the clouds are parting to allow me to catch up. My heart feels happier already.

 NOTE: the author and finisher of this nonsense recognizes that these pictures have little to do with the topics at hand (or not because they are nonsense) and more to do with who she was thinking of at the time of this publication. If this disturbs you, follow her. See that button? push it. Push it real good.

Happy Easters

I will always put an S at the end of Easters. Thank you Nacho Libre for life changing knowledge.
So many people celebrate Easters, and I am glad. Even when I feel like shopping at the Costcos, but they are closed for the day, I am glad because it means they are celebrating Easters. More people should. Close down I mean.
Take me for instance. I am on my couch. I got onto my couch as soon as I got home from church. I only got up to make scalloped corn and eat a spoon full of frosting. I watched Adventures in Babysitting with my three oldest children. Then. I closed down. Big time. Crashed right out. It's what every Sunday should be like.
It's not easy. The sabbath. Not everyone can handle it. But we are all supposed to be in it. And close down. Like the Costcos.
Just try it. For one whole Sunday, refuse to work, say no to chores, lay around and hang out with your family. Go to the park. Eat. Watch a good movie. Have conversation. Invite a friend or another family over and close down.
Happy Easters.

Blech

I made up that word. It's the sound I make when something is gross or lame or more than I feel like handling at the moment.
It's the noise in my throat when I hear Beth Moore tell me she waited 16 years between hearing God's call and finally stepping into it.

It's the sound I feel when I think of my friend's 17 year old who just arrived to his temporary, but long term, room. In prison.
It's the feeling I have listening to my stomach grumble knowing two of my boys threw up this week (one on the counter. One on the carpet. Cool. )
It's the feeling I have all the way to my bones when God so subtly reminds me of the writing I have before me that I am procrastinating like a freaking champion.
It's the noise that represents the disappointment when I realize I am living out Paul's ever cryptic "I do what I do not want to do…" which always makes me think of Abbott and Costello.

It's the sound in my gut when I know I am supposed to be doing something else. I don't know fully what. But I miss my kids. I am either supposed to stay home and give up on this full time life of teaching or pray for better organization and six more arms to be a full-time working mom of five children.

Blech.

I went to a job interview because I love teaching English as a second language, and there was an opening for a part-time professor. Two things happened.

I spent one hour in the chair: ten minutes interviewing and being offered the job and 50 minutes counseling my interviewer. She is nearly old enough to be my mother and a wife and a mother of one child. She is a very impressive woman who spent that time asking me how I maintain balance of work and family. Amazingly, I had some answers. Rather God knew what she needed to hear. She was amazed when I said I couldn't work four nights a week because my husband and kids are my priority. She couldn't understand my choice. She spoke of her hurting daughter who always complained of missing her because she worked so much. It was a glimpse into a life I have been mindful to avoid, but also a life eerily mirroring parts of my own all of a sudden. Under my breath I mumbled. Can you guess it? Yes.

Blech. And then,

I caught a glimpse of an alternate life.
Maybe I could stay home. We could lose our car payment (which we loathe anyway) and I could homeschool my littlest rugrats again and make a little extra dough as a professor and (and this is just the cherry) watch my new neighbor's brand new. Teeny tiny. Gray Brown baby. What? That's his name. I am not kidding, nor would I want to be. He's the best baby currently in the world.

I would cut my salary in half. I would lower my expenses only a smidgeon. But my family would be overly blessed (if I do say so myself). And then today wouldn't have ripped my heart a bit tinier and made the word Blech wrench in my throat.

Instead it would have felt perfectly at home spending time with Samuel. I teared up in the backyard when he helped me fill a bird feeder. Something is not quite right.
Blech.

Saturday. Typical.

I try to savor every breath of my weekends. Some weekdays I don't get home until the dark is settling over my neighborhood. That means most of my minutes through the week are spent on others. I am ok with that. I signed up for this gig, and I did it with a cheesy grin of anticipation. Still. It's good to be the one held instead of doing all the holding.

We woke at our usual 7:15 this morning. This happens on Saturdays when the resident Jeep leaves for work. Muh goodness that's a mighty loud tail pipe you have there my friend.

I made pancakes. Checked some emails. Snuggled my coffee. Yes. I mean snuggled. Like it is a wooby and I am that kid off Mr. Mom.

I chatted with my kids and mumbled something about wanting a sign to know the right answer just as the sun crawled from behind an oversized-darker than usual cloud. Only then did I wish I would have asked for a sign for something more profound than drama show prices. It's like I was given a great chance to ask God anything at all and I settled for "Hey. Can I sit here?" Question session ended. BAH.

Alas. We accomplished. Jami Harder is my pal. She organizes and decorates. She is working with me on my house. So far I am trading her services for my crap. We accomplished much though, so I may have to find her a right nice present. She said our first sweep through the house should include sorting and purging, even the things we WANT.

She is mysterious, but her ways are brilliant. The two rooms we worked on today feel the relief of crud shoved in their crannies. Thank goodness.

To help her, we ran to the thrift store where I found a few treasures: a sweet headboard that is being disguised as a bookshelf, a copy of the book The Host by Stephenie Meyer, and a vintage sled. It's going to be beautiful hanging on my wall. Classic!!

Tonight we played a card game as a family (sans working daddy) and watched the first of many to come Christmas movies on tv. Love.

I am finally settled into bed listening to the pre-storm. The real storm is supposed to flood reno. Lord, you know what to do. Thanks for taking care of us. Amen

Greedy Grip

My friends, Erin and Dan-O, once had a toddler. She is old now, but when she was an itty bitty sly thing she sneaked into the kitchen garbage can, where she confiscated a few stale Whoppers I threw away. When I caught her, she gripped her chubby little hands around those candies as if they were her last melons for the next million, billion years. I tried prying those puny fists open, but she gripped harder and screamed, "DON'T TAKE IT!! I NEEEED IT!" To that I cracked up laughing and had to call in reinforcements, because as it turns out, toddlers saving candy from the trash are infinitely stronger than me. This true story took place more than 15 years ago, but I think of it often when I begin to get the greedy grip.

We have been doing all of this back to school shopping. I really do love spending money. I love picking out school supplies. I love finding smokin' deals at thrift stores and dollar stores and re-purposing the oddest treasures into greatness. After two days of straight shopping, I left my body and viewed myself as the adult watching the toddler give a handful of Whoppers a new lease on life. I took stock and heard myself screaming, "I NEEEED IT!" Aren't you a little old for that behavior? Why yes. Yes I am.

Also, I am too aware of people who hurt and need and would really like some food. I have not taught my kids to be patient for things or earn them or choose the essentials so we have left over to give away. Oh, don't get me wrong. I wrote to God in my prayer journal this morning asking him for opportunities to give. He may have asked what in the world do I have left to give? There is a chance I had no answer. There is also a chance I made a disappointed face and felt like a schmuck.
Just look away. I can't take it.

 Now, I will be using this experience as a life lesson for my children. Not only confessing what I got caught up in, but I will also be asking them what in the world can we do about this now? Lots actually. But we will come up with a plan together. Then I will pray that they will not grow until next school year, so we can really get our money's worth. :/

And NOW, you may be asking yourself what this picture of Samuel has to do with anything. I will tell you. Nothing. It has nothing to do with anything at anytime, but you needed to see it. And, you are welcome. Someone give this kid his own show. No script needed. This picture was taken while he patiently waited for his cousin, Raine, to finish trying on her jeans. We just looked over, and there he was, on the couch at Children's Place, with the bib he picked out, and the face he knew only a mother could love. He wore it anyway, and here we are today. One step closer to having our own show.

I am thankful for that face and second chances.
 

My Fellow Reno Onions

Please!! Lend me your ear. We need a house to rent. Any of you know of one available now or soon? Hook a sister up. We are in need of a four bedroom. We have a lot of freaking kids. Thanks ;)

Our Life In Pictures

Bring It

 So, we are Idahoans now. No, that isn't really a word, and frankly it could be taken the wrong way if you are a girl attempting to over come a reputation. Luckily, I like my saucy reputation. I have worked hard to spread that rumor. OK, I haven't a saucy rep. Sigh. I am just a girl who followed her man to Idaho when he asked her to. ::blush:: He is way worth it. So, we packed up our hooligans and hit the road. We landed in a rental, and we camped for about eight months before we decided to make this place a little more us. It's funny how God answers those little prayers, and then he gives a husband and wife the same ideas without them even really speaking about it. I kinda wanted to garden. My husband said, "hey, when are you going to get a garden going?" sweet. So we started chatting, and did what all laborers do; we went into the backyard and stared at our work space for a while.

The difference between most construction workers and my husband is the staring leads to a new fence, a rock framed garden area, and a tilled ground. Oh how I love that man of mine. We are planting red and yellow onions, sunflowers, potatoes, carrots, zucchini, yellow peppers, green peppers, jalapenos, corn, strawberries, wild flowers, yellow squash, pumpkins, green beans, cantaloupe, watermelons, and a plethora of herbs. And of course, do you know who we ran into at the local Zamzow (it's a garden store; no, I couldn't possibly make up hillbilly names like that)? Baby chicks who want to call me mamma. We are getting two of them. The Man is working at getting his chicken coop skilled under control. The adoption should be final in a few weeks. Of course that only gives us about 14 eggs a week, which is one breakfast for my family, so there is a good chance we will go back for one more little guy once we settle in the first two. I have my names picked out for the twins, but I am opening up the polls for baby chicken number three.

In the meantime, I need to go buy some new work boots; these snow boots just aren't giving me the farm girl look I am after.

Pictures of Happiness

Elijah and Samuel trying on hats. Fit like a glove, clearly. We had a race the entire trip to see if the girls could ever make it out of the bathrooms before the boys. The only time we thought we had won, we sat smug and excited outside the bathrooms. About five minutes later, we realized the boys were in the store next to us doing this. Losers. I mean stupid kids. I mean weirdos. I mean..never mind. I have competition issues.

OK, this doesn't show up so much in the pictures, but the resemblance between the teeth on these two is UNcanny. Unreal. They are brothers. Clearly.

I don't understand what Samuel thinks I am saying, but when I say, "SAY Happy DISNEYland," so that everyone is smiling on the word happy, he must hear, "Sam, be as weird as possible." To which he internally replies, "check."

This was such a fun, and long awaited, trip. We are a tad poorer, but with all the pending rottenness coming up, I wouldn't have done anything differently.

I came across a question today that startled me and got me thinking. Here it is:

If we are too busy to intentionally teach our children that absolute truths exist,
what might the consequences be?

Yikes. Then I began thinking, what happens when I look back and I forgot to
intentionally teach them about God in real, practical ways? I have done so
much with Izzy, Eli, and Layla Grace, but I know lately I have not been as frank
about things. Like beans. And what it means to love your neighbor. And what
God has planned for them...

Which one of these faces am I willing not to see in heaven? Stupid question,

I know, but that is basically what I am saying when I let day after day go by

without being in their face about how much God loves them. Tick-Tock. Time

is flying by.

Christmas

My favorite time of year because:

I get to wear my jammies a lot more often

My kids seem to want to snuggle more often

Family/Friends come over more often

Lights twinkle more often

We nibble on treats more often

We play games together more often

I get presents more often

We try new dishes more often

We love each other more often.

Advent Week Two

These pictures make me happy for obvious reasons,
but mostly because it means we have made memories.
I loved this day.
I loved that we were freezing and huddled in my van while
The Man continued to trample the mountains for a tree.
I love that we only had to drive half an hour to find a
tree worth cutting. I love that my kids giggled most
of the day and didn't argue once.
I love that Sam wanted to "ice skate" even though he was clearly frozen.
I love that Izzy told her dad she would look at the tree later as she was
frozen from the waist down.

Sam I Am has the most beautiful eyes. Some girl is going to find herself swimming in them some day.


We had a lot of tree hunters. Kristopher and the boys found a great little stubby tree.

Nanie hung back with me and toddlers, which seemed fitting as Addison is certain Nanie IS a toddler because of her smallish stature.

Where's Waldo has got nuthin' on my husband. Seriously, these are just his everyday clothes.

My family is large. I don't know that I noticed before. Maybe it's because Eli is holding a saw and it scares me, so my eyes are opened wider than usual.


Beautiful. I can't believe my kids all turned out so cute. I am convinced God had us stop having kids when they were about to turn ugly.

Reno Aces and the Children

We took the kids to an Aces game. It was excellent, although we lost. sigh. Instead of taking the kids out of town for a vacation, we decided to get the tickets and let them pick out souvenirs. Layla Grace got earrings, Eli got a t-shirt, Izzy got a ginormous foam finger, and The Man and I got hats. Seriously, good times! Especially because we all got hot dogs. mmm ball park franks are DELISH!!

* Oh, and I totally dedicate the last song on my play list to Josh Whitesell. Is he really gone? sigh. From what I have read, he may be back soon if he doesn't start batting.