Another Day

The Man had a minute yesterday to work on a project and decided to finish some sheet rock in the basement. His plans were changed for him. The sheet rock was wet again. He spent the day on the roof in a rain storm fixing gutters instead.

As the front door closed behind My Man, and I knew he was headed for the roof, I felt sick. Something bad was going to happen. He was going to fall off and our lives were going to be changed forever.

I didn't say anything. I've been doubting myself a bit lately. I made the mistake of watching The Saratov Approach the other night. Not recommended viewing for mothers of missionaries. I've been on edge more than usual. Steve would have done what needed to be done anyway. He's just like that.

When I get emotional I get busy. I have to. So I went in my closet and started cleaning....and praying. I started to imagine my life without my best friend by my side. Tried to fathom raising children without a daddy. Tried not to wonder how I could ever get through a week without a Friday night date.

I realized that I wasn't just being paranoid. Something bad really was going to happen.

There was a knock at the door.

It was My Man. He couldn't even get the door opened. He had fallen. As his weight transferred onto the ladder, it had buckled. The whole ladder crumpled up. He fell into a pile of boulders from roof height and miraculously missed them. He was cut and bruised and covered in mud.

But he was still alive.
.
My Father listened to my pleas. He must have just wanted me to have a wake up call to all the blessings a good man brings into my life. 

I don't think I take my sweetheart for granted, but I feel different today. When he told me I was beautiful I decided to trust him. I watched him at church with his primary class (he had a large group of 6 year olds today). I really watched him. He is so patient with them.

I noticed how he guided our 14 year old son to take the lead in their Home Teaching assignments (they look over two families together). He treated Sir Jake like a man and wasn't surprised when he behaved like one.

I let register the simple pleasure My Man gets just from holding his baby girls in his arms, their faces lighting up as his whiskers and their tiny fingers meet.

We went for a walk tonight and I let the warmth of his arm around me infuse my being.

I don't know how much of this life will get to be spent with my best friend. I don't know what kind of trials lay before us. I don't know why God spared him yesterday.

What I do know is that I got another day.  What I do know is that the influence of a righteous man is great. I know that a man that honors covenants and puts his wife and children before himself is extraordinarily powerful.

And I know I'm lucky to be married to such a man. 

Doe Slay Me Far Sew

History is repeating itself. There are some things being passed on from one generation to another that have absolutely nothing to do with genetics.

Since I've been sewing so much lately, I find my mind wandering a lot. I let it wander to wonder how in the world I ended up surrounded by 8 (or maybe 14) sewing machines. I think it meandered all the way back to elementary school.

My mother was a very busy woman when I was a child. By the time I hit Kindergarten I already had three younger siblings. She had supernatural abilities to feed enormous groups of people. Her friends were unusual, too. Most of them were widows in their twilight years or people who were just down on their luck for one reason or another. She hung out with them a lot (usually pulling their weeds or taking them shopping). She was wise enough to drag me along with her when she did.

That's how I learned.

By watching her.

I watched her sew a lot, too. If I ever had new clothes on it was because she made them for me. We have a favorite family legend that involves an impromptu swimming trip. We were a few swimsuits short at our house that day. My mother just pulled some fabric out of her stash and whipped some up. They were a bit off in a few places because she didn't have a pattern, but hey oh. We went swimming.

One day I found a broken sewing machine in the basement and decided I wanted to use it. Right then. My mother didn't have time to fix it. At the moment I was probably whiny and wished she had more time and energy for me. I might have even had a Verruca Salt moment or two. I don't remember all the details.

What I do know is that I am forever grateful that she didn't have time to do everything for me. At 8 or 9 years old I became a mechanic. It took me weeks to figure that sucker out. But when I did I felt empowered. I felt capable.

I felt free.

At about that same time, Barbie Dolls became a part of my life. My friends were all playing with them and I thought I wanted one. I got the discount store variety with the hollow plastic legs and the arms that would never stay attached.  It didn't matter. While every other Barbie was going on dates with Ken, my doll was more or less a dress form for my wild imagination.

Our family was regularly blessed with care packages a.k.a. hand-me-downs. My favorite care packages came from an aunt that owned a drapery business. She would give my mother sacks with little left over bits of designer fabric. I can still remember sorting through those and holding up a scrap and visualizing what it could become. (Your black and gold sofa from the 70's made a lovely splash as an overcoat paired with dust-ruffle remnant leggings).

I drove my mom nuts asking for help. She really just didn't have the time. One day she took a break from her chores, grabbed a pencil and paper, and gave me the talk. (Probably not the one she should have given me....still waiting for that one).

She drew a shape and explained that this is what a sleeve looks like. If you want poofy sleeves make it bigger here. If you want short sleeves, cut it here. If you want gathers add here. She drew me a shirt pattern and a pants pattern with similar instructions and then sent me on my way.

I figured it out. Barbie never had it so good. And because I knew how to fix my own problems, I felt incredibly liberated. Creativity began spewing out of my hair follicles.

This week Sir Thomas entered the Dress Pit. He asked to walk over to Grandma's house. I let him. He came back with a trophy. She had given him some camouflage scraps. (I'm telling you, this woman has a fabric stash like nothing you've ever seen). I didn't see him again for a really long time. He was concocting something in the basement. Next thing I know, in comes Sir Matt in brand new camo pants. Apparently Sir Tom had spread the material out on the floor, had Sir Matt lay on it to trace a pattern of his body, borrowed a needle, thread, and scissors without my knowledge, and then went to work.

When Sir Thomas was seen in the Dress Pit later that day I recognized the look as his eyes lingered on my favorite sewing machine (that was just barely repaired from Sir Spencer's shoe making phase two years ago). His little wheels were turning. He had just earned a new appreciation for technological advancement...and he wanted some.

Deja vu.

Just like the great woman that came before me, I didn't have the time to teach my own son how to sew. So, just like her, I gave him a sheet of paper with some primitive shapes resembling pattern pieces, a ten dollar yard sale sewing machine that I hadn't been able to get to yet, a crash course in threading it, and a sincere expression of faith in his capabilities. Getting it to work was his problem.

It took him a couple of hours.

Should have seen how proud he was!

He's now taking orders for Nerf ammo straps.

It's beginning to look like the deer hunting version of a Julie Andrews movie around here.

Photo credit: Keiko Foote, Nichole Crosgrove, Brianna Crosgrove

Eyes of the Beholder

I heard a quote at a fireside one night that has stayed with me for years.

 "Even an old barn looks better with a fresh coat of paint."

I resemble that remark.

    Actually, I feel really pretty in this picture. Photo editing software might just be a greater invention than the flushing toilet.

Teenagers get a terrible rap. But I think they are the best. I'd fill my house with them if I could. Oh, wait.....I did. Miss Brianna decided that if people are going to read a blog written by some woman with a gazillion little people they might want to know what that woman looks like. And since she knows someone that takes pictures.....

It was really strange doing a photo shoot with myself as the object. Surprisingly strange. Over the years my 'get ready' routine has gradually lessened to the point it is nearly non-existent. Seriously. In high school I used to need an hour and a half just to do my hair. Granted those were the days of 'wings' and perms and a four year obsession with wanting to look like Marie Osmond.

I showered, dressed, did make up, hair and packed a diaper bag in 15 minutes flat last Sunday.

How has it come to this?

I think it's a priorities thing.

In my teen years my biggest priority was to attract the man of my dreams. Mission accomplished.  What took me years to realize was that he is attracted to me, not my hair. Good thing because my hair falls out after I have a baby and I've had 13 babies. Do the math.

My growing up days were also filled with a lot of pain in the self-image department. I was relentlessly teased about being flat chested. I had boy legs, hairy arms and big feet. It didn't help that I was afraid of my own shadow. I actually had a panic attack and walked out of Geometry my Sophomore year because a boy turned around in his seat and talked to me.

I've changed a skosh.

Life will do that to ya.

When you haven't slept more than a wink for days on end and you get a chance to take a quick shower...you learn to skip the shower and take a nap.

When you splurge on some really good lipstick and after one use your toddler decides to eat it (or paint the cabinets with it) you learn to laugh at their creativity......and keep the Chap stick.

When you're a size 14 in January, a size 8 in June, and back to a 12 by December you learn that spending more on jeans than sweats is a bad bargain. Besides, the brown sweats make my bum look perky and that's saying a lot from my perspective.

When someone you love has never been able to walk, let alone run, you get over your varicose veins really fast.

And when I finally realized that the beautiful, put together woman sitting on the back row was also painfully shy and we'd totally miss out on a great friendship if I didn't step out of my comfort zone, 

I decided to get rid of my comfort zone.

So I let Miss B, with the help of Miss Emily, put me all back together again. She even let me borrow some of her fabulous clothes which, come to think of it, probably belong to Miss Nichole. Talk about traveling pants.

But I still felt weird.

 I felt out of sorts because it was just me.

 All by myself. 

No sweetheart with his arm around me.

 No baby slobber smattered on my shoulder.

 No toddler wiping the remnants of lunch on my kneecap.

 No little boys pulling funny faces when everyone else in the picture is smiling. 

No beautiful daughters to draw away the attention. 

No teen aged son standing tall so I could feel short.

 Just me.

And that just didn't feel like me at all.

Oh...and thanks to my ever generous Uncle John. It was very good of you to run out of gas in your super cool car right at my feet and insist that I jump in and take a few snaps. (Even if it did just come out of a storage unit.) If you ever need someone to babysit it on a Friday night......

Home School Habitat

It's September. For the past few weeks my computer screen has been flooded with pictures of adorable children all spiffed and standing in front of their homes, waiting for the first day of school to begin. Such an exciting time. A very visual step forward on the growing up staircase.

It's an exciting time for my children, too. I don't send them off with the carpool or a big yellow bus each morning, but things do change around here on the first day of school. Mostly I just try harder to have a routine.

I purposefully don't start a school schedule until after Labor Day. There are too many summer learning adventures to finish up and I'm not ready for textbooks yet. Labor Day came and went way too early this year. Time to adjust!

Our first day of school pics, if I had them, would not be of the Little People on the front porch. They wouldn't be spiffed either. We start school at 6:30 a.m. All of the students are piled onto one of the three couches, usually still in PJ's, and usually bundled together in blankets. We have a family devotional for two hours. This is my time to work with them as a group. We read scriptures, sing songs, eat breakfast, memorize poetry, pledge allegiance, and then write. Anything that can be learned as a group is thrown into this time slot.

By 8:30 my preschoolers and kindergartner are finished and the rest get ready for the day and then work on their own. We come together again for two hours in the afternoon for more difficult subjects while toddlers and babies sleep and then one more time after dinner for my double digits crew. (Ten and ups.)

Monday and Tuesday were our first days back. I didn't even cry at the end of those days. Wish I could say the same for the rest of the week.

Exactly

The fabric that I had ordered for ballroom costumes (that are due already) finally started arriving Tuesday night. I also had a call from a dear neighbor who scopes out free fruit for our family every year. (All families should be blessed with such friends!) The pears are ripe. Come pick them this week. Oh, and the dentist called. The appointments that can't be rescheduled....are tomorrow. Oh, and the corn is getting old and should be frozen yesterday and the 45 tomato plants are all going to ripen at the same moment.... and they pick this week to do it. And did I mention plums. Pottawatomies, reds, sugar, and even the wild plums all decide that the first week of September they should all need to be picked and turned into syrup..... or else.

So Wednesday was a bit off for school. (Slight sarcasm. Not much, but a little.)

So those of you that were impressed with how I imagine our school days should be (see above) lets be honest about how it really is.

We had a substitute teacher on Wednesday. And Thursday. That's what I say when I can't teach and I have to remember that sometimes that happens at the public schools, too.

In this case it wasn't so bad. I still had Miss Nickie with me this week. She is a vocal performance music major and she just came home from a Spanish speaking mission. After scripture study she took over for me. Oh Suzanna is a little bit different for the Little People when she teaches. That was fun to listen to as my sewing machine hummed away. And my pathetic attempt to teach the Greek alphabet has nothing on her ability to teach them Spanish. !La leche chocolate por favor!

I didn't get a teaching day completely off, though. Wednesday afternoon my boys came into the dress pit, also known as my sewing room, and declared that the window wells were filling up with frogs again. I took the opportunity for a science lesson and explained to them the meaning of the word habitat. I suggested that they look for a similar habitat (the creek bottoms came to my mind) and remove the frogs to a new home.

I now have jars of frogs in mud and water on my entryway table. Oh goodie.

It gets better.

On Thursday afternoon they all came back to the dress pit. The appointed spokesperson stood proudly before me.

"Mom, what kind of habitat does a mole need?"

Soul Sisters

It's the beginning of a new school year and that means pictures! (The kind of pictures where the children are actually clean and wearing matching, cute outfits......or at least clothes.)

We have to divide and conquer on this one. It's just too difficult to get thirteen children spiffed up and smiling simultaneously. Miss Brianna (who of course does the clicking) suggested that we make the split along gender lines. All Little People of the female persuasion were ordered to be cutie-pied and packed into the van.

 I was invited along for the photo shoot as more of a prop-getter than anything else.

As we finished for the day and headed out of the hills, something that should have been obvious finally made it's way to my head. I had all six of my girls together. Wow. We should take some all girls pictures!

Just in case I might want to do something with it someday, I asked the girls to let me take a series of pics starting with Miss Nichole, then adding Miss Brianna, then Miss Emily and so forth until at the end I would have a pic with all six. When it was Miss Izzie's turn to join the line she knew it! She started running toward HER spot. All girls turned and waited for her anxiously!

Looking at this happy moment captured on film makes me remember another happy moment more than two decades ago.

When Miss Nichole was a newborn (and my home was very neat, tidy, and quiet) I decided to write her a letter as she slept one afternoon. I held her in my arms and wrote to her of the feelings in my heart as she came into my earthly life, and I became a mother for the first time. I remember with ease those quiet moments because they didn't stay quiet. The Heavens opened and I could hear noises that only a multitude of children are capable of making. I knew in my heart that these were my other children and that they were so excited for the journey their sister had made. But they also missed her dearly and were anxious for their turn.

 I tease my sweetheart that Heaven gets a wee bit more quiet each time we have a baby. It probably sounds like a library now that Miss Izzie has taken her place in line.

It Takes The Village to Praise the Wild

When Sir Spencer was growing up he had a lot of friends. They came from every walk of life and every variety imaginable. I loved it. At the grocery store awhile back I ran into one of his old friends. I had two carts full of food and he asked if I was buying afternoon snacks for the Village.

Very funny........but absolutely true.

That's when I realized that Spencer's friends all referred to our family as 'The Village'.

 I had to think about that for a minute.


I have been trying to eek out a camping trip all summer. We finally have Nichole back and I wanted to spend a weekend away from the world with just my family. All plans fell through as one after another Crosgrove came forward with commitments that would prevent them from participating in wilderness bliss.

It became very clear to me that the perfect family get away wasn't going to happen.

Time to face facts. I just have to take what I can get and find gratitude in the making.

I decided to pack up whomever and whatever and head out. I planned on leaving early in the afternoon but had a reality check. It's not easy to move a village. Poor Moby was filled to the gills carrying everything including the kitchen sink. There were so many sleeping bags I thought for a minute that BIG 5 was having a parking lot sale.

I've learned over the years that some one of the Little People will inevitably get bored on these trips. It's best to plan ahead. So in went dump trucks, shovels, card games, balls, ropes, paper, Legos (can't even camp without those), and a large bag of Mr. Potato Head parts that were hiding on a shelf in the garage.

I had to use my imagination to find room for the actual children.

It was worth it!

My play pen was so worn out that we threw it away a month ago. This left me with two babies and no place to put them down for play time or naps. I set up a little pup tent and gave them toys. The Potato Parts came in especially handy. At one point they were way too quiet so I decided to observe. Sir Harley had joined them. He and Miss Lula were using Miss Bella as the Potato Head. She was patiently holding several noses and ears in her little mouth. They were about to add a pair of eyeballs to her tiny nose. Why didn't I think of that?

Sir Sean sneaked his goggles into his backpack. He takes his goggles everywhere. I wondered what in the world he would do with them at a camp site with only a creek. I shouldn't have worried. The Little People built a pool and spent hours sticking their heads under water. When I say hours I mean most of the day. They spied fish, snakes, bugs, and really cool rocks. Lots of really cool rocks. I LOVE those goggles.

Miss Sarah found a waterfall upstream and decided that she could use the goggles to discover the other side of it. They all took turns wearing them and sticking their little thinkers through the waterfall.

I'm a bit jealous.

I've always wondered what was beyond the waterfall and now they know.

There was one night when everyone (except Elder Spencer) was able to be together.  I'm going to pull the memory of that night out in my old age and smile. So much laughter. So much food. Silly songs and funny stories. Smoke in my greasy hair and chocolate melted on their dirty hands.

 Absolute perfect imperfection.