Can it be?

**Warning: I'm about to go very sentimental on you here!**

Can it be, really?

My first born?

My enthusiastic, experimental-first kindergartner?

Can it be that just yesterday {wasn't it?} you were practicing printing your name on dry erase sheets?

{Do you remember, Boo, how you would practice so diligently, carefully, and excitedly on your name? Even backwards you could do it! And always wanting to write your little brother's name, too. You never wanted to leave him out.}

Those were the days of tanks and stick people. Of begging to start 'school' at 5 a.m. Of size 12 boys' shoes, catching butterflies all afternoon and an infatuation with light sabers.

Did it really go that quickly?


And now I find myself forced to erase the memories of those sweet days, this precious treasure from the past that I uncovered this morning as I'm preparing to begin a new year and add a new 'student'. Remember those carefree days? When you loved to need your Mommy.

And now the eraser, to make room for more memories, as your baby brothers come up behind you.

In a few weeks these sheets will once again bear army guys and guns and sequences of

Rs, ys, ls, as, ns, ds labored over by small hands

trying to do it just like his biggest brother.

Will I ever forget how sacred it was the first time, with you, scratching letters out together, learning together, starting this homeschooling journey together?

Erasing is bittersweet. I already dread the last time I will have to erase these writing sheets. Already that day feels as if it is looming quickly.

How many times have I wished I could hit the "pause" button in this adventure called Mommyhood? I'm sure God sees fit that we don't have the choice to pause for long, as then we would linger in this world far longer than He wants us to.

And we would delay enjoying beautiful things. Such as your handwriting, turning into script. You, transforming into a young man.

Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to be present for so many things in the lives of my sons. I even thank you, Lord, for times of 'erasing'. Praying that through erasing and moving on, we have indeed been growing in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior.

{Kleenex, please!}

{This week I have dedicated myself to planning, cleaning, organizing, praying and yes, it looks like some crying, as we prepare for our new 'school' year which starts in 12 days!}

First Things First

Each year, immediately upon descent on the Family Camp campus, we participate in a very specific sequence of actions.



First: Unbuckle seatbelts



Second: {if we are lucky to remember} Open vehicle doors



Third: Make a mad dash for the carpet ball tables at the Lodge



{It's a phenomenon common to most, if not all, camp families.}



This game has a spell on my family. If you have not heard of carpet ball, here is the bare bones point of the game:



Two people stand at a long box, one at each end. Each player lines up his carpet balls (I think they are pool balls) and chooses a shooter. Then you throw, roll, whatever it takes, towards your opponent's carpet balls. The first one to knock in all of the opponent's carpet balls wins.



Simple, but addictive.

My sons have all sorts of strategies. I don't ever have to worry about losing my children at camp, because whenever I can't find them I know exactly where they are. Here.

{Unless it is Langston who is lost, then I can find him throwing sticks in a massive bonfire by the beach, by himself. But that is another story. And it wasn't Dad who lost him that time.}

It's never too young to start this addictive sport. There is even a World Championship Carpetball Tournament each week at camp. We have yet to bring home a trophy, but my boys keep after it each year.

Kids line up along the carpet ball box to wait their turn. It is the funniest thing to watch all the heads swing one way then the next in perfect unison as they watch the ball roll one way, then the other, then back again.

Tasting victory!

So sweet.

Carpet ball = Pure joy

Tarver is extremely competitive and serious when it comes to carpet ball. I believe it is the only sport he has ever cared about. When we were at the hotel, the day before Family Camp arrival, he was sketching out his different set-up strategies. He had each one numbered!

Then he challenged his Dad to a game of carpet ball, in which his Dad got totally creamed. Whipped. Beaten. Defeated. In other words, Tarver's Dad lost. And then Dad kicked himself for not confiscating the playbook back at the hotel and studying it while driving across Illinois.

I tried consoling him. "You snooze, you lose."

{Encourager is my middle name!}

After we pry our children away from the carpet ball tables, the next order of business is renting bikes. Our annual trip to the bike barn is something we converse about all year long. Most of the fun is getting to visit with our dearly loved, Mr. Fredericks. He manages the fleet of bikes at camp and is a hero to my boys. Their lifelong dream is to one day get to work a summer with Mr. Fredericks and help him manage the hundreds of bikes. My husband often dreams of spending a summer working in the bike barn , too!

Langston was old enough this year for his own set of wheels. Unfortunately, he still refuses to peddle and will only push his bike with his tippy-toes, so the bike didn't do much good when it came to commuting around campus.

More to come as I sift through our family camp adventure. . .

A Week for a Week

I give up.

The more I think about how to post about our week at Family Camp, the more convinced I am that I cannot contain it to just one post. Or even two.

Camp just means too much to our family {ask anyone who knows us well and they can affirm that Life Action Family Camp is an attribute that defines our family. Such as: "I'd like you to meet our friends, the F family. Every year they go to family camp in Michigan. Oh, and they have four sons and think they live on a farm. . ." etc.}

So, I am going to dedicate this entire week to posting about the latest round of memories we've accumulated. Thanks for listening- and if you are interested in visiting camp with us one of these years, please let us know. We would be happy to direct you to Ernie who can get you all set up to come. But be prepared: Your lives will change. Most definitely.

And you will be sorry you didn't decide to come to camp sooner. I promise.

*Oh, and about devoting this entire week to our camp experience, I reserve the right to report any breaking family news that is not directly related to camp, if the occasion arises. Such as my boys doing something really, really funny. Or weird. Or dangerous. For that matter, if my husband decides to do any of the aforementioned as well. Thank you.

{The lakefront playground - calm before the storm (a.k.a. when the campers pour in) }

{The beachfront}

{A tree and blue sky. Because everything is prettier when you are on vacation!}

Farm Princess

This post is for my Gramma.

So, if you are not interested in seeing more from John Deere, Moline, or if you are not interested in seeing what happens when I pass the camera on to another member of my family, feel free to move on to your Saturday morning laundry. Or baking. Or that pedicure you've been needing to update.


P.S. That one other time I let someone else hold the camera, well that picture is at the very end of this post. I think it will be pretty obvious, minus the pretty part. You'll see what I mean!

From the store - LOTS of fun.

Hide and Seek with tractor wheels. I love my farm kid wannabes!

A new chair for their bedroom, perhaps? {To match Dad's new tractor??}




My new friends. Seriously. Somehow, if you carry a Nikon around your neck, people automatically assume you can take a picture, and take it well. I just wear the Nikon, although after owning it for 2+ years I have finally just read the owner's manual and think I am ready to start taking real pictures. Maybe.

Anyway, this group of Harley Riding friends labeled me *photographer* and I was honored to take each one of their cameras and snap a group photo over, and over, and over, and . . .you get the picture. {Hee Hee} The very last camera in the pile was my own, and I asked them to stay there for one more shot. They will now live in infamy in our family picture album.


Oh, and here's some chick who found a pink John Deere pillow in the store and held it up for her Nikon-wearing husband to see. He took the picture, but said if the tractor had to stay in Moline {ahem} the pillow did too. Or something like that.


There you are, Gramma! Proof that I am not completely selfish with the picture taking. But I sure think that there are better subjects in our family to use memory card space on.


After Moline? A little corner in Southwest Michigan, which we love, love, love. Stay tuned!

Pit Stop

We've been home almost 2-weeks now and I wanted to share some of the fun times we had on our trip, despite this feeling like old news now. {Illness has a tendency to throw my most well-intentioned organization and timeliness right out the window. . .}

Our first stop on the way out to Michigan was in Moline, Illinois. For some reason, I thought our family would enjoy stretching our legs at the John Deere Pavilion.

Stretch our legs, certainly, but it has caused 5 of 'us' to dream in green ever since. I'll plan better in the future. . .

This beautiful building is full of tractors, old and new, of all sizes and purposes. It is staffed by knowledgeable persons who admittedly told me they love to see little children come in and fall in love with John Deere Green from the get-go as it guarantees a next generation of customers.

{Not to miss out on an educational moment we used this discussion to teach our children about marketing!}

How many blondes does it take to drive a tractor?

Was it wrong for me to tell Braden to 'study up' as I was going to give him a pop-quiz in 10-minutes? What?? Pop-quiz and family vacation do not go together? You don't say. . .

We were amazed at the size of some of these tractors.

For some reason, I was particularly entranced by this tractor and large scoop - the possibilities for use around my home and yard excited me.

These cute little farmers stole my heart.

Gettin' serious during a test drive.

Dad says "Safety First, Farmers!"

I'm not sure what they are thinking.

{ It's probably best that I don't.}

My Guys!

Ryland found a place to put his feet up.

I didn't even have to tell Langston what to do - apparently farming is an instinct in my kids!

{That excites me very much}

Stay tuned for the next edition of 'Vacation Outtakes', where I endeavor to post pictures of our family vacation before Christmas is upon us. . .

the {impossible} mommy nap

Mom to 4-year old son: "Ry, I'm going to take a nap now so you'll need to play quietly."

{pause}

"Okay."

{pause}

"Should I wake you up if something bad happens?"

Closing my eyes, head on my pillow: "Yes."

{pause}

"What about if there's a fire?"

"Yes." {does this not fit into the 'bad' category?}

{pause}

"Should we call Dad if there's a fire?"

Pretending to sleep, hoping he'll catch the hint: "Yes."

{pause}

"Should we ask him to come home then?"

"Yes." {or now, so he can field these questions and I can get some rest}

{pause}

"Will he have to go back to work after he puts the fire out?"

"Yes." {is he thinking of starting a fire?}

{pause}

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"What about guns?"


Suddenly napping doesn't seem like a good idea any longer.


"Mom?"

"Mom, where are you going?"

"Mom, are you done with your nap already?"

"Yes, Ry. Napping for Mommy could be bad for our family it seems."

I tried!

Sick, sick, sick. . .

Sick before vacation.

Sick during vacation.

Sick after vacation.

{Making the most of it with lots of snuggling}

We have so many wonderful new memories to share from our recent trip out to Michigan. As soon as the antibiotics kick in for ear infections, pertussis and the goop goes away from the pink eye, I anticipate being able to share with you all that God has done for us. Prayers for the health of our family are greatly appreciated - thank you.

-One tired {but grateful} mommy

Why do I go mourning? Psalm 42:9

You will yet, amidst the splendors of eternity, forget the trials of time or only remember them to bless the God who led you through them and works your lasting good by them. Come, sing in the midst of tribulation. -Spurgeon