Vacation

So we drove 5070 miles. With three boys. Through the Midwest. In the middle of a drought. During the summer. I don't think we were ever so happy to be home as we were when we pulled into the driveway after those weeks on the road.
The memorable parts, in order of occurrence:
1) Leaving my purse, with $300 cash in it, at a restaurant in Twin Falls Idaho. On a Saturday night. In a restaurant that was closed on Sundays. Realizing my purse was left, in the high chair in the women's restroom (no hook to hang it on) on Sunday morning. Yep. Awesome start to the trip. Luckily we were able to find the owner and eventually convince him to open the doors and my purse was still there, and everything was in it, just as I'd left it. Whew. On to
2) Salt Lake City, Utah. By the time we arrived everyone was too hungry and hot and grumpy to take family photos at Temple Square, or do more than drive by the Olympic sights (more awesome family photo backdrops wasted), so we found a little park and ate mini bagels and cream cheese and turkey, drank warm lemonade, and got back in the car. We drove to Salton, which used to be this awesome health spa on the Great Salt Lake about a zillion years ago. We trudged (carefully, avoiding the masses of bird carcasses) across the hot hot sand for a 1/4 (1/2) mile or so to the lake, through a thick blanket of sand fleas, and onward, intrepid Caseload, into the water for another 1/4 mile until it was deep enough to try floating. The water was super warm, like a bath, and FULL of brine shrimp, live ones in swarms, dead ones under foot, in huge crunchy swathes. But we did it! We all floated. That is pretty cool, but I'm happy considering it a once in a lifetime sort of thing.
3)Dinosaur National Monument. Amazing! The kids were enthralled. Ansel appointed himself dinosaur expert. Miles became a Jr. Ranger for the first time and took his duties VERY seriously. So seriously it breaks your heart. Ah, sweet, sweet boy!
4)11.5 hours of googlemap drive time across Colorado and Kansas to Wichita. It was 105 degrees. And so windy the little kids were in danger of being blown over every time we got out of the car. They desperately tried playing on the most rundown, pathetic playground I've ever seen, in the middle of western Kansas, but even they gave up before long. Avery asking why Dorothy tried so hard to get home, hilarious.
5)Spending the afternoon at the Hawker Beechcraft training center with Aaron's cousin, who is an instructor there. Unexpected and very, very cool. Getting to play around in one of those $17,000,000 flight simulators, way too cool! Leaving our pillows and the cell phone charger in Wichita, at Ben and sweet Lindsay's perfect little Kansas farm house, not so cool.
6)Leaving three light sabers, the kids' favorite toys, in a park in Missouri. Misery. Miles might have cried all the way across Iowa.
7) Eating lunch out of the cooler (some variation of bagels, cream cheese, turkey, veggie sticks, warm lemonade) for the 7th day in a row. Sad. Even if it was warm mango lemonade instead of plain.
8)All the new words the kids learned from Aaron's relatives in Iowa. All kinds of new vocabulary words for all kinds of bodily functions, some of them anatomically impossible (I think) and most all of them immoral, unethical, and probably illegal in most states.
9)Aaron getting stopped for suspicion of drunk driving after a family barbecue where he was the only one of his family members NOT drinking, and he was only driving 20 in a 25 mile zone to try to get the little ones to fall asleep before we made it back to the house. Funny. Ironic, though, since the officer could have gone about two miles down the road and arrested most of the family and made his quota in one fell swoop. Oh well.
10)Aaron having a 36 hour gall bladder attack and spending hours puking and writhing in pain in the waiting room of the University of Iowa hospital before they finally brought him back, spent two hours rehydrating him, giving him IV painkillers, and doing one quick ultrasound.Not so cool. Getting the bill three weeks later, for $8000, also not so cool.
11) Day at the water park with a select few of Aaron's family members, super fun for us. Not so fun for Aron, who was still in agony and spent the entire day curled up on a lounge chair in the shade. But Miles finally worked up the courage to brave the big slides, and had a blast. And Ansel loved the wave pool. And being in the water was good and fun and relaxing.
12) The car phone charger finally dying.
13) Realizing one of Aaron's best friends from high school not only lives in Iowa again, but lives less than 100 feet from his Mom's house, and having two lovely, wonderful visits with him and his sweet, funny partner and their adorable new baby girl. That was great. Repeated conversations with the kids about why David can have a projector and huge screen in his TV room (what a way to play video games!) and we can't, well, oh well.
14) The Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD. Both Aaron and I got all teary. We're saps, apparently. Well, we knew that already, but still. Places like that are testament to the goodness of America, the promise of communities working together, putting their best foot forward, and it's good. Corn flavored and shaped lollipops, however, are not so great.
15)The car DVD player I pestered and whined and begged about getting for weeks before the trip breaking, just not playing anything anymore. Devastating. Really. Have you ever driven through South Dakota with three kids in the middle of a heat wave? With a sick husband? Pregnant? Don't judge me.
16)The Badlands. Love.
17) Being too worn out and hot and grumpy to go to Mt. Rushmore. Bummer. Being grownups and getting to make these calls, being able to change plans and go straight to the hot springs resort in Montana, well, that's good.
18) The hot springs resort in Montana. Fabulous. Even if by the time we made reservations there was only one room left, no cabins, no suites. No queen beds. No rooms with bathrooms. Just one room, a third floor walk up, no elevator, with a two double beds and a bathroom down the hall. And no A/C. Oh yes. But it was funky and sweet and fabulous and we all loved it and should have just planned our vacation to be spent there. Swimming in a warm, warm swimming pool in the evening, with a band playing and the pools filled with every eligible 20 or 30 something in Southern Montana, and the guard that probably really wanted to be a stripper posing all around the pool in front of every cluster of pretty young things, maybe a bit much. But swimming in that same pool at 7 in the morning with just a couple of other families, fun, and pretty, and a lovely start to the day.
19) Yellowstone National Park. Wonderful. Getting to actually see Old Faithful this time, terrific. Having this be the best picture of our family of the entire trip, not so wonderful. And Avery took the picture, so he's not even in the picture.

20)Avery waking up in the middle of our last night with a fever and puking. And keeping the fever and the vomiting all the way home the next day. Filling a zillion ziploc bags with vomited bile, stopping every 20 miles so he could throw up along the way. It was already 9 1/2 hours of drive time from Bozeman to our house. It took longer, let me tell you. Miserable.
21)The cheap pull-ups I bought for Ansel for the trip not working, so that every time he peed he leaked out into his clothes and his car seat, well, that wasn't so cool. And it didn't help the car smell any better by the end of the trip, either.
22) Ansel dumping an entire bottle of chocolate milk all over himself, his car seat, and the middle row of the van when we were within an hour and a half from home. Might have been expected earlier in the trip (which is why I didn't allow any chocolate milk or sticky, stainy, hard to clean up liquids in the back of the van for the entire trip, until just that moment when I handed him the bottle of brown, sticky, stainy, impossible to clean up milk and he proceeded to tip it up to his mouth and pour the entire thing out all over himself).
And so,
23) Pulling into our driveway, late at night, and going into our own house, and sleeping in our own beds, might have been, could have been, almost maybe was, the best part of our vacation. Certainly the most relaxing part.

Month of Cakes, Done!

Carrot cake, Lemon Cake, Banana Cake, Applesauce Cake, Chocolate Cake, Carrot Cake, Brownies.
UGH!
No... more... cake....

For a year.

Right?

Gearing Up

... for the Birthday month.
I've still got a couple weeks before the 26th and the official start, but it's coming FAST.
Avery will be 10.
Then Papa's birthday four days later.
Ansel will be 1.
Then five days later Miles will be 4.
And eleven days later is my birthday, though who is kidding who here? By then we're all sick of birthday cake....

Speaking of birthday cake- everyone wants carrot cake, but that won't do- it's just too much of a good thing. But everyone deserves to have their choice of cake on their birthday, at least, right? And so I start my subtle campaign to convince the members of the house to change their tastes and minds. Oooh! Look at this picture of a cake! Doesn't THAT look good?! Wow! I'd LOVE to try that kind of cake....
So far... only Ansel has caved. He was chewing on a picture of a banana. Which clearly means he desires banana cake with chocolate frosting for his birthday, don't you think?

And then the parties... Avery always had these big, well organized and attended parties, with hand sewn party hats and homemade pinatas. He's chosen simpler things the last couple of years- a special dinner, a trip to OMSI in Portland. I have no idea what he wants this year, but hopefully it will be in that vein.

Miles has never had a real kid party, and this won't be the year it happens for him. I'm thinking a joint Ansel-Miles birthday party. Abraham Lincoln's birthday is the 12th of February, a Friday, right in the middle between Ansel and Miles. A good day for a party. And Mary Todd Lincoln was well known for making a special sweetheart's cake for old Abe, so that's a logical tie-in.

The problem with combined parties, of course, is that you're really just adding in another cake, since everyone needs a little celebration on their real birthday too.

And so... we're still at four carrot cakes in four weeks, plus a banana cake and a butter cake.

I guess we're all getting elastic pants for our birthdays, there's just no way around it.

Reasons to Homeschool: Harried to Happy

Morning could be hectic and harried for us- if we had to get everyone washed, dressed, fed, bundled up, out of the house and to school, daycare, work on time. They could be, but they're not, because we don't HAVE to be anywhere but right where we are.
This morning, when I felt obliged to give the baby an impromptu bath to wash the fistfuls of crusting-in mush and browning banana smoosh out of his hair, and the three year old decided to strip naked in the hall and take a running dive into the tub (no one in my house can stand missing out on a bath) I felt just a little put out. This wasn't on the schedule for the morning. But they're so cute, you know, so sweet. How can you stay grumpy with two little ones in the tub? All those bubbles and splashes, soapy clean smells and giggles. When the nine year old decided to join in the fun it just felt perfectly, well... perfect. Two little ones in the tub, warm and shiny, a big one perched in the corner, serenading (guitar practice without threats or shouting, check!) them with his entire play list while they danced and laughed, well, I was just glad to be home, free to enjoy such a lovely unscheduled and unplanned moment.
How many of those moments would be missed if we were caught rushing off to our important days elsewhere? How sad would it be if a baby's 6-grain hairdo were enough to start everyone's day off wrong (too rushed, late for school, late for work)? Those moments, simple and unstaged, are the ones that fill our family memory-bank, easy and quick to pull out on rainy days and hold on to during troublesome times. And so grateful are we, to be present here, filling our bank with memories we share, gathering moments of grace together.

Halloween 2009

Avery as "Teen Vampire". Scary was his top priority this year.

Miles as "Spider". Miles was adamant about his costume choice- every single time he decided!

Ansel as "Gnome". He wasn't very excited about his costume for some reason....

In any case we had a great time, some good friends and family came over for pizza and trick or treating and it was all just good, easy fun. big boys running from house to house, little kids trailing, everyone falling to a deep sugar-coma sleep and waking up WAY to early this morning. Yay for Halloween!

Pumpkin Patch

The Grandparents from Iowa usually visit at just the right time to go to our favorite pumpkin patch- Thompson's Farm in Naches, WA. The farmer is a funny guy, and he seems to spend his spare time fixing up old tractors, collecting farm implements, and building pumpkin cannons. Awesome! All our favorite things in one spot! It doesn't hurt that he always has someone making and selling pumpkin donuts right there. Grandpa ate 2 1/2 dozen before he tackled the 4 dozen he bought to go! The boys were in awe. And have stated their desire to be grownups so that I can't stop them from eating 30 donuts in one afternoon. Moms are so mean like that.

Sick. Fair. Rain.

Home, sick. Fevers, chills, sore throats, queasy stomachs, blood shot eyes. Poor Avery went three days without eating a single thing. Aaron was home before bedtime twice this whole week. There aren't any groceries, the house is a disaster zone, laundry is piled to the ceiling in the laundry room (where IS the maid, anyway? oh right, it's just me) and the huge box of peaches that I haven't gotten to yet is starting to smell a little... ripe.
Bummer.
I'm just hoping maybe it was swine flu and we're safe now?
Luckily he recovered just in time to go to the fair, though he didn't feel up to going on any rides that Miles wasn't also big enough to go on.
Bummer.
Well, there's always next year.
And, as usual, the last two days of the fair were rainy, grey, and cold. October is here and with it the first bites of winter coming on.
Bummer.
Oh well, we had fun, at the fair and all summer, and at least everything is getting watered really well for the end of the season, with no effort on my part. I always feel a little decadent and ridiculously suburban, turning on the underground sprinklers to water the LAWN. Seems like there's probably lots more important things in the world that water could be used for than grass. Maybe if my front yard was filled with vegetables....
Oh well, there's always next year!

Happy Birthday, Grandma Bopsie!

What kind of birthday dessert do you make for someone who has recently lost 87 pounds and is still in the losing stage? Of course, everyone knows the ideal birthday cake comes in two forms- a high, light carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and marzipan carrots in a layer or "dirt" made from crushed up Newman's Own Ginger-O's, and the Chocolatey-chocolate-chocolate kind. Period. But, you know, there's something about making a birthday cake that the birthday girl will actually eat that is rewarding, too. And so:
Grandma Bopsie's Peach and Raspberry Pavlova Birthday Cake:
meringue
Beat three egg whites, 1/4 t. cream of tartar til frothy, slowly add 1/2 c. sugar. (I thought this would be delicious with some ground pistachios, but I was at Grandma's house, and she didn't have any....) When it is stiff and glossy spread the sticky mixture out in a circle, or several little ones, or a heart shape, or bone shape for Halloween, or whatever takes your fancy, on parchment paper, bake in a 275 degree oven for 60 minutes, and then let cool in the oven.
Top with sliced fruit, sprinkle with powdered sugar, serve with whipped cream or ice cream. Or top with whipped cream (or ice cream) and put the fruit over that. That's what I would do, normally- we were just trying to keep calories and fat lower, and served the cream on the side.
It was a hit. Miles thought it was like eating a cloud. Grandma Bopsie was very happy with her pretty, light birthday dessert. Yay!

Summer By The Numbers

Apricot syrup, blueberry jam. Jars full of summer- they even LOOK like sunshine, don't they?

This past week by the numbers:

320 books removed hastily from shelves as water seeped up through the carpet underneath. And then neatly put back, in tidy groupings which lasted about 1/2 an hour. 320 sighs from Mama.

180 pounds of cherries: picked, washed, stemmed, pitted, frozen, dried, fruit leathered, and soon to be jammed. I am SO done with cherries this year! Well, as soon as I make that jam, and some more fruit leather-it is delish, even if we are weary of cherries.

160 minutes we lasted at the Folklife Festival before we were too wilted and cranky and tired and in need of air conditioning and dim rooms and icy, slippery glasses of lemonade.

102 degrees Miles was for no apparent reason.

101 times I thought he might have West Nile Virus- all those mosquito bites on the 4th of July?

100 times I convinced myself not to freak out about it.

99 degrees when we went to Folklife this weekend. Cooler than past years, but really awful heat to bear just the same. Even with ice cream cones and a giant slip and slide powered by a fire hose and a big hill.

80 pounds of blueberries: picked, washed and sorted, frozen, jammed.

75 times I've thought about weeding the garden.

40 pounds of apricots: washed, pitted, canned, turned into syrup. More to be found, picked, dried, and made into fruit leather. Do you know anyone with an under appreciated apricot tree?

18 trips down said slip and slide.

12 pounds of raspberries: picked, washed, frozen. More to pick from our own bushes and made into jam. And dried whole, for granola. Maybe more to pick, over the mountains?

10 pm- average bedtime for boys this week of late nights, weird schedules, and innumerable chances to help Mama out!

7 tomatoes picked from our plants and eaten with silly happy grins on our faces. It's summer!

5 minutes spent weeding, er... making a completely unnoticeable dent in the overgrowth of weeds in my poor garden. Oh, it's sad. At least I had the foresight to plant the tomatoes on the edge, so they're first weeded! If that counts for anything, I don't know.

3 times our basement has flooded now, for 3 entirely different reasons. Still, it's three times pulling up carpets, getting out shopvacs and renting giant dryer-fans, pouring baking soda and vacuuming it up, tacking carpet down and putting everything away again. 3 can be a pretty big number, sometimes.

3 jars of strawberry jam eaten already. Guess I need to make more if we're to have any this winter!

3 lunches made entirely of ice cream. Shhh! Don't tell Papa!

2 plastic safari hats overflowing with candy brought home from a birthday party.

1 tired Mama.

Neglectful Parent, Happy child

Today, at home:
The three year old gathered nails of various sizes, a hammer, a screwdriver and screws, safety goggles, and asked if he could do some "banging and working, like a factory man" on our friend Andy's amplifier. Uh... NO! (but I'll help you in a moment, find something you can hammer). Not wanting to wait for me to get off the phone he went outside, found some scrap wood, and set up a little work bench in the shady corner of the deck. Bang, bang, bang, and away he goes.
This morning, at the park:
The nine year old really wanted to check out the free kid's art van project being hosted by the local arts' center, but he was worried about going halfway across this little park by himself, being that far away from me. It's nice to have kids that know to stay close, not to just wander off. I can't chase in three directions at once. But he is NINE. And the art tables were in sight of the play structure where the little kids were playing. It was SAFE!
Yesterday, at Fred Meyer:
I let the nine year old take the three year old into the men's restroom at the grocery store, without a supervising adult. I stood guard right outside, with the baby. Men and boys came and went, and my two were still inside, spending a long time carefully washing their hands, taking turns with the air dryer and tearing off paper towels. Things I always rush them through. Things they like to do. I could hear their voices, happy and good. A man and his little son went in, and I heard my little boy's cheerful voice chattering away. My boys came out, the nine year old proud I had let him go, and hadn't made him come to the women's room with me (as is usual), the three year old excited that he'd had "a nice talking" with a grown up Daddy in there. Hmm.
Yesterday, at home:
The nine year old made lunch for everyone (as he does at least a couple times a week). He chose mac and cheese- from the box with the bunny on it- and cut cucumbers, and strawberries. This is a non-event, almost, he is so used to the routine of cooking, so careful about the stove and knives and boiling hot water and steam.

I think it is interesting that the older boy is, while hardly timid by nature, clearly worried about "stranger danger" and safety rules, and has always been so, while the younger one is more worried about the possibility of not being allowed to do everything his much older brother is, and finds rules a detail not worth piffling with. Partly this is personality, partly birth order and spacing, I think, partly my emphasis on making the world safe enough for my first born and the fact that I've spent the second child's life just trying to catch him as he falls from cliffs I didn't even know existed before he figured out how to fall off of them!

I am conflicted. I want to raise adults who are fearless and bold, who will follow their hearts and change the world, who will speak their minds and know themselves to be true. I want them to grow strong and free in the light that surrounds them now, so that they can take their place in the world still bathed in the light of God and Love. But I worry- is my concern that I do everything possible to ensure that they REACH adulthood compromising the quality, not just of their childhoods, but of their adult hoods?

Who Are You Trying To Impress?

Who are you trying to impress?
Are there visitors that get you in a frenzy, cleaning the house top to bottom, biting your nails hoping the children don't say anything untoward, bringing pretty but impractical or uncomfortable dresses up from the back of the closet, searching out complicated, impressive recipes?
Does an upcoming dinner party get you panicky, hoping everything comes together, praying that everything looks right, that the children don't spill or break anything?
Do you work harder preparing for a visit from a distant friend or seldom seen relative than for your own husband and children?
Do you throw toys in a basket and shut off rooms when your neighbor pops over but let your husband come home at the end of a long day to trip over toys and laundry not yet put away?
Do you refuse your friend's offer to help wash up the dishes only to later refuse the time to play a game with your children while you clean up on your own?
Who are you trying to impress?

It began to seem a little uncomfortable to me, some time ago, to put so much energy into trying to impress others. I mean, I like our friends, I want them to be happy and comfortable at our house, in our company, but if I had to choose, wouldn't I rather my family feel comfortable and happy at our house? If I only ever really clean the house when there's company coming, isn't that kind of dishonest? If I wear pajamas and spit-up shirts unless we leave the house or someone comes over, isn't that kind of weird? It began to feel important to me that I shouldn't be putting more effort into impressing others than I was putting into impressing my own family.

I don't mean to say my husband comes every evening to a freshly pressed wife with high heels and a lipstick smile. I'm no Stepford Wife, to be sure.

But I am mindful of the impression I am making on my family. Do I want my children to think that getting dressed is too hard a task to accomplish on a normal day? Do I want them to have the impression that the way we live and keep our house isn't good enough for others? Do I want my husband to think he has to work all day and then come home to more work? Do I want him to have the impression that I value him like a box of mac and cheese, but value a dinner guest like a crown roast?

I haven't got any of it really figured out. I'm still thinking about it.
Sometimes he comes home and trips on the fleet of toy cars, sometimes we have toast and cheese for supper. Sometimes I want my husband to know how hard it is, keeping a home and children, homeschooling and doing so much by hand. I almost always want him to come home and jump right in, because it never ends here at home, and while I don't want him to have the impression that he is responsible for EVERYTHING, I do want him to have the impression that he is important to us in everything we do. I don't want him to have the impression that the work I do isn't demanding, but neither do I want him to think that I don't feel grateful for the opportunity to be at home, to do this work.

Sometimes we have elaborate supper parties, sometimes I even clean up before hand. I love cooking and planning parties, and it is fun to share food and festivities with friends. I don't want our friends feeling uncomfortable, that everything is just so, that we've gone too far out of our way, that they can't make themselves at home or that the broken dish is a big deal, but at the same time I don't want them to have the impression that they're not special to us, that we don't value them the light they bring to our lives, that they aren't worth a little extra effort.

The last couple of supper parties we've had and the last couple of week+ long bouts of company that we've had have all been really fun, mellow and comfortable. I've tidied up, found recipes, cooked, but also shared the responsibility, and let our guests help, make themselves at home, and be comfortable and useful. It's gone really well, certainly for us, and I'm pretty sure for our guests as well. But still, there's the question, lingering around.

Who are you trying to impress?
How do you balance the whom and how and what of the impressions you're making?

Sleep

Oh my! My friend Lisa Russell just wrote about sleep, and her family's completely joyful lack of a bedtime. I completely admire her seemingly laid back approach to parenting, home schooling, life. She works hard, but keeps a great sense of humor, and is the kind of parent I always wanted to be. But I'm not. That kind of parent. Calm, mellow, quiet, cheerful. And I tried to respond in the comments section, but my comment was turning into an essay, so I decided to be nice and move it over here. Because really, our bedtime is foundational to the happiness and goodness of our family, and I just can't keep it to a handful of words.

When we had just one child he went to sleep whenever he wanted. Which was never. Really. Papa would get home from work when he could, we'd eat supper, read stories, hang out, have a bath, hang out, read more stories, go to bed, talk and talk and talk until eventually we all fell asleep (usually parents first!). Variations of a theme, including working on peace/political campaigns and the only child sleeping under desks, behind signs, and in his play tent in the corner of a campaign office. Somehow or another we ended up with two children (then three) and tried to keep up the same lifestyle, same crazy busy life, same erratic hours, but it just didn't work.

Neither of the boys sleep past 7am unless they're sick, no matter how late they've been up or how tired they are. When Avery was 6 or 7 I got so tired of backtalk I sent him to bed every day for a week at 8 o'clock. And the results were amazing! Suddenly my child had an appetite, his old sweet demeanor, energy to play outside and run around for hours, attention for his schoolwork.* It was really a clear and immediate change. By the end of the week I was convinced that "bedtimers" knew what they were doing, and we happily joined their ranks!

Our family works so much better with a consistent bedtime, because it lends itself to a consistent rhythm to the whole day. Papa knows the boys will be in bed at 8, so he makes a bigger effort to come home for supper by 7. We eat together most of the time, then get ready for bed and he helps them to sleep. It's early enough that he doesn't fall asleep with them too often (or if he does, he wakes up with time still to do computer work or watch a show before he really goes to bed). If he's not home I lead them through the bedtime routine, and they go to sleep on their own. Those nights, when Papa does finally get home, he has a quiet, peaceful house to come home to, to relax in, he can eat supper without being climbed over, we have a chance to talk together without interruption of little people, and we might even watch The Daily Show together! Those weeks when he's working late every day the boys' bedtime is even MORE important to me- it's my only time alone, to think and plan and organize for the next day. The boys don't wake up any earlier with an earlier bedtime, but they are well rested and cheerful in the mornings, ready to jump into the day. If it were only up to me I'd send them to bed at 7, because I think they can use even a little more sleep than what they get now, but I know the possibility of getting Papa home an hour earlier each day is NOT likely, and the children don't get much time with him as it is.

And we do make exceptions. We're not the strictest bedtimers there are. Right now is So You Think You Can Dance season, so we stay up to watch that. We might have a picnic in the park for supper and play late, or have friends over who stay past bedtime, but for the most part bedtime is 8 o'clock, and we can all count on it. I can schedule school time knowing that we'll all be up, ready, and willing to work at 8, which means we can be done with schoolwork by lunch time, we can fit in a morning walk, then play time and activities in the afternoon. I like having a plan for the day, and the kids do too. I also like having the ultimate punishment at my disposal- before we had a "bedtime" I couldn't ever send them to bed early for misbehaviour, and now I can (even if I don't very often). It's nice to have a Hail Mary pass, or Ace in the Hole, or whatever metaphor works best.

Whenever I hear parents talking about not getting enough personal time, getting sick of their kids' bad behaviour, wanting to create a better rhythm for their days, struggling to get everyone going in the mornings, having to wake their kids up, not having time with their spouses, the very first thing I think of is look at BEDTIME**. It's my best advice to struggling parents. Not a particular hour for every family, but a consistent routine and consistent bedtime for each person in each family.

*I know Lisa isn't talking about her kids being sleep deprived, she's letting them more or less choose their own hours, and they get the sleep they need, but I couldn't ever figure out how to keep them from waking early AND staying up late. And her family doesn't need to get up early, where ours does, and her family has to eat awfully late in order to eat together- they're just kind of on a later schedule than a lot of families. They're on restaurant schedule, after all.

**BTW- I am pro-family bed, attachment parenting, all that good stuff. But I have recently realized that attachment parenting doesn't have to mean "attached to Mama 24 hours a day". It can also mean attached to Papa and the big brothers. Attachment Family if you will. Avery puts Miles to bed when Papa isn't home (and they get sweet sleepy bonding time together), Papa puts both big boys to bed when he is home (and gets to share that sleepy end of the day talk and cuddling), instead of me getting everyone to sleep on my own (and then trying to sleep in the mad hot jumble of limbs and dreams and blankets) like before the Bedtime Revolution.