Belong to Where You Are...

I love that line.
And I think it's legit.

Five little Hoolie boys.  And 1 large blue alien.  Count them.  Cah-razy.

Being married to a nomad who is up for anything and who is willing to go wherever; and also knowing in my heart that I've been "called" (if you can give it a name) to this sort of life...it's a tricky dance to "bloom where you're planted" and to embrace the here and now to the fullest... but when it's time for yet another new chapter, the roots need to be just shallow enough to be able to uproot in a way that is not too overly agonizing.

Fall decor, toys in my yard, and coffee on my step.  Now it feels like HOME.

I am learning this dance.
The change-hater within me is still not very good at it, but I am getting better.
Eight homes later, I'm adjusting my sails a little more quickly each time.

It was after we purchased our very first home, and then had our very first child....I honestly thought that we "had arrived," that this was our "forever home" and that I would be a teacher and Kev would be a youth pastor for as long as we both were gonna' live.  But, then Kevy got this wild and crazy idea to sell our house and go back to college...and it was then and there that I knew my life would most definitely not be looking like my own Mama's life where they bought a plot of land in their twenties, put their first little trailer on it while they were just starting out, and then built their honest and true Forever Home where we all know that they will indeed spend the rest of their live long days...

Don't worry.  The sallie is fine.  I was just being shown his "cute red tummy."

This is not the life I am ever going to live.
And I'm actually quite okay with it.

But it is why I tell all of my girls at my restaurant to choose wisely when it comes to the man whose name they will one day share.  They want to be willing and happy - and excited even - to follow him to the Ends of the Earth if that's what God puts on his heart.

And so, here we are - almost one whole month into our new adventure of life sharing and life living with our friends.  I can honestly say now - four weeks in - that I am happy and settled, I have my new rhythm and groove, and there's nothing left for me to mourn.

Meet Snowball.  Our new little Silky.  I wanted to name her Stella...so that's what I secretly call her in my heart.

Life is good.
My boys are happy.
My chickies are roaming free.
School is happening.
We are finding a new normal.
And it is well with my soul.

Because honestly, "What I love most about my HOME is who I share it with...." ~ Tad Carpenter

"And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her." ~ J.R.R. Tolkein, the Lord of the Rings - The Return of the King.

2 Mamas.  Soul sisters.  Life living.

For the Hippie in my Heart...

The Common Ground Fair.
Oh.  My.  Goodness.
Eye candy for my heart...if that statement even makes any sense.

This place is amazing.

A sweet little crunchy fair that takes place in Maine during our most beautiful time of the year.
Summer is drawing to a close.
Fall is just creeping up on us.
No bugs.  Perfectly warm sun.

Add in a whole lotta' beautiful things to look at, yummy food to eat, sweet animals to pet and (possibly purchase), and some awesome at-one-with-nature culture to blend in with and be a part of for just a few hours...All that combined, and you've got yourself a sweet recipe of perfection all wrapped up into one rockin' hippie festival.

I heart this fair.
My boys heart its food.
And I would have hearted about ten more hours just wandering around and drinking everything in.

I love this place.  I love everything about it.
It's so simple.  It's stripped down.  There's nothing flashy.  And it's totally organic.
Like - for real, nothing fake or processed - in any of their products or even in their produce.
But, also organic in the sense of feeling like this is how life is supposed to be.

Grow your own veggies.
Grow your own meat.
Make your own clothes.
Dye your own fabric.
Spin your own wool.
Can your own produce.

Make your own canoes...or houses...or everything, for that matter.
Have your own worm compost-er.
Cook your own bean hole beans.
Shear your own sheep.

Have your own at-home funeral. (Seriously, there was a talk about this!)
Have your babies at home...with a midwife or a doula.
Plow your own fields - with horses.
Have your own milk - with your own cows or goats (Yes, please.  Next spring).
Write your own music.

Sing your own songs.
Make your own fun.
Learn to be a true Homesteader.

You know....the Little House on the Prairie series sort of thing.

I told my boys that if ever we were to have World War III, and we lost all electricity, and the grocery stores all shut down....you know...End Times sort of thing....these are the people we'd need to be hanging out with. We are all so dependent upon our computers...and our electricity...and our machines....and our fast food restaurants and grocery stores.  Most of us wouldn't know what to do with ourselves....

That's why I love this place.
It humbles me.
Both with its simplicity and its beauty.
And with its earthiness and its respect of where all the stuff that we take for granted really comes from in the first place.

It laughs in the face of the tyranny of the urgent.
And it takes you back in time.....

Love, peace, and chicken grease, Baby...

Year Four.

Welp, for a girl who said that she would never, ever homeschool her children because homeschoolers were "weird,".... here we are at year number four.

Woulda' ever thunk it?
Surely not me.
But, I would never have thunk a lot of things, and I've now done just about every single one of those things that I said I would never ever do.

So, now I shall proclaim from the rooftops:

I shall never ever be a millionaire.
I shall never ever vacation in Hawaii, or Tahiti, or Jamaica.
I shall never ever be 100 pounds.
And my children shall never ever be perfect angels all the live long day.

Let's see how those statements work out for me....

This year, however, I just found out that I'm not Superwoman.

I kind of thought I was for awhile there...but either the move, or the fourth child, or just this year entering my "late thirties," or maybe a combination of all three happened...and I now know that I cannot conquer the world....or even Rome in a day, for that matter.

And I'm a little bit okay with that.
Just a little.
Oh, my aching, bruised pride...
I had to break it to myself gently.

Anyway, in light of this new realization of mine, I have decided to become part of a Homeschooling co-op that meets all day every Friday.  I figure that if my kids learn nothing from me this year, they will at least get chapel, physical education, sign language, music, art, literature, and a little bit of history.

 And Ransom will learn his letters.

And good gracious me, those kids will finally get "socialized."  Phew.
Maybe now they can be a little more "normal."

I jest.
I actually really do jest.

I find myself having to saying no to invites for my kids to play just so that I can justify a full day's worth of school.  Socialization is honestly the least of my concerns.  I've got bigger fish to fry.  Like making sure I live through the day.  Just kidding.  I do like a shower every now and then, though.  And it's nice to feed my kids real meals.  I try to get them bathed once in awhile, too...  But, quite honestly, that's quite a bit further down on my list of priorities.

Just keeping it real.

 But, for Monday thru Thursday, Mama's the Big Cheese Teach.

And since we moved our entire house into an upstairs addition of a home, our three bedrooms all double as something else.  Our room doubles as an office space.  Ransom and London's room doubles as a guest room.  And the big boys' room also doubles as the schoolroom.

It works.
It also helps that the the closet is the size of a small bedroom; so that doubles nicely as their school supply room, as well.

And my boys kind of love the fact that sometimes they can do school on their beds.
Not gonna' lie...it looks kind of cozy.
I might even lay on the bottom bunk sometimes when I read them some of their Literature.

 And so....

Thankfully, school is getting accomplished each day.
Lessons are getting learned.
Love tanks are getting filled.
My nerves are staying in tact.
And for the most part, we're all pretty happy doing it together.

It's not as perfect or as structured as I would always like it to be.
And every single day of my life I wish that I had about six more arms and hands...and heads...so that I could attend to all four kids at once.  It's often interrupted by London needing to be changed. Or fed.  And by Ransom needing help on the potty.  Or by Jesse proclaiming his full and utter boredom at having to write the Letter B "six WHOLE times!"

But,.at least he knows that B says:  "B as in butt and booger."

My Dad's a teacher.  Chalkboards are being traded out for computers at his school, so I got this big daddy!

I'll take it.
Last year, he would have said:  "B as in.....chicken??"
So, we've made a lot of progress already...

And so here you have it.
Year number four.
It's going to be good.

Some days it will take place on one last frayed nerve.
Some days it will happen on the bed.
Some days we'll be in our jammies with remnants of last night's waittressing shift still upon me.
Some days will be great.
Some days will be Epic fails.

But, we'll walk it together.
And we'll bathe it in grace.

And I'd trade in my cape for new mercies every morning any day.
Because it's His strength that's perfect...

Confessions of A Woman Proud.

And so, here we are...
A little over two weeks into life at our new place.

New surroundings, new routine, and new rhythms to learn and grow accustomed to.
And deep, soul friends who we've walked many roads with together...

Moving the girls...courtesy of two awesome friends and their rigs..

A final garden pillage.  I left lots for the newcomers as well...

We have never attempted to live together, however...
...with anyone, for that matter.

So, this is all so very new to me.

Awesome big backyard.  Zip line included.  1 of the Mamas once flew along that thing...she took out 2 of the boys...AND she peed her pants from laughing so hard.  It. Was. Awesome.

Throw in a teething baby who rarely naps, a Mama who is attempting to wean herself off of caffeine in the attempts to see if naps elongate any, an awesome head cold that's hanging on for dear life, my first year at homeschooling more than one child, my three loud Hooligan boys with loud, flappy Hobbit feet living above our friends' sleeping quarters, and living life raw and vulnerable in front of four extra pairs of eyes....and...well...that's just about the perfect recipe for Humble Pie...one in which I get to partake in multiple times each and every day - courtesy of my four small children and my own ugly pride.

London's male protection squad just got raised from 4 men to 7.  She's golden.

Because, you know when you have a play date scheduled into your little week for friends to come over?  That timeframe of 11:00-1:00...just two bitty hours where your kids and her kids can play and share toys, you can all eat lunch together, and then everyone goes about their merry way, back into their own little worlds, tucked safely and securely back inside those four square walls and little picket fence where no one on the outside world can ever see or hear what you're doing...or what you're saying...or how you're living...

The front of the house with our porch and our entrance.  We live up above.  And my boys' feet are very VERY loud.

One can pretend just about anything for two teensy hours, can't they?  I know I can...
And one can give a pretty perfect picture - when all that you ever show anyone is what you choose to write on your blog or in your witty facebook status updates...

Our entryway.  A bistro of sorts...

Right?
Can I get a witness?
Or is this just my own glaring form of ugly....

Well, now that's all been stripped away from me.  In the name of "community" and in the quest of "walking alongside"....of honestly and truly walking and living life raw and real together... in a culture where we really don't have a sweet clue in how to do it well...in doing this, and in wanting to do it right - all pretenses of perfection very swiftly get chucked right out the window.

They have to be.
And it is right and good.
But, it is painful.  And it is exhausting.  And it is humbling.

Because when one of my boys hauls off and whacks one of his brothers in the safety of my own four walls - well, that's no big deal.  I can just have them both sit on their beds for a time out and then we all go on our merry way.  But when one of my boys hauls off and whacks one of her boys....well, that really hurts my pride.  And it's embarrassing.

Because, it's a reflection of me.

And when you live together, everyone can see how much t.v. you actually let your kids really watch....and they hear when you raise your voice at your children.  They know your little quirks, and your flaws become glaringly obvious.  They see how you really and truly live your life day in and day out.

5 sweet Hoolie boys.  With 2 big Daddies.  And 1 Baby Girl.  Going on a lion hunt...

Exploring the property.  Checking trail cams.  Learning trails so that I don't get us all lost someday...

And it strips you down bare.
And it makes you feel exposed.
And pretty much after day #1, it is oh so obviously clear to all around you, that you don't have it all together.

But what good has it ever done anyone to pretend that you have all of life tied together in a neat little bow... and who has it ever helped if you never drop your walls first and honestly bare your truest you, but instead you choose to flash your painted shell of a self to the people whom you allow into your little world?  And how long can that really last, anyway?

The new digs.  Rather ginormous.

So this is me.
The tired-est, true-est me trying to learn to walk alongside well.

The me who would so much rather be at the total top of my game the first time I try a communal living together experiment...but instead it's the me who is waking up most mornings completely bleary-eyed, fairly overwhelmed with the day, with an entirely different standard of "clean" and "tidy" than I would ever have dreamed of pre-four-small-children-in-my-life.  This is the me who honestly has no idea how I will ever teach two boys with a crazy four year old running around and a non-napping infant.  The me that can barely fit time in for a shower, and the me who can't remember the last time she went for a run.  This is the me who has no idea where anything is anymore, who has yet to cook an honest to goodness meal since we've moved in, and the me who wonders if her students are really even learning anything.  This is the me who is finding a new routine of cooking and laundry, of mothering and teaching, and of meshing five small little boys - brothers at heart and sweet little friends - but five boys nonetheless, learning to love and to share, to include and to be gentle with each other's hearts - all under one massively ginormous roof of a house.

Kev told me to go to Starbucks so I could write.  He came home and found this...

This is me.

The Mama overwhelmed.
The wife tired.
The teacher insecure.
The waitress attempting to speak coherently.
And the friend trying her best to walk life real.

It's messy.  And it's beautiful.
It's exhausting.  And we're learning.
It's embarrassing.  And it's hilarious.
It's scary.  And it's comforting.
It's daunting.  And it's exciting.

All wrapped up into one crazy bow of two little families living life together under one roof of Crazy, Messy Beautiful.

When Life Gets Hairy...

** Written almost two weeks ago now...Happy to report that we are moved and settled in...we are finding our new norm...and our new adventure has begun...But before we were able to get to said new adventure...all of THIS happened:

When you crawl into bed with your little six year old who is sobbing sad because his kitty never came home...
And when you hug your neighbor tight good-bye and the tears slip past for both.

When your baby starts to teethe and her naps are just a joke...
And when you've had McDonalds, toast, or cereal for suppers all. week. long.

When the rest of life is starting school, and you haven't even ordered all of your materials...
And when sleep doesn't come but you feel like the walking dead.

When you're sad to leave what felt like your Forever Home...
And when you're a little nervous about what the future holds.

When brothers fight...
And with nerves frayed raw....

There's grace.

There's grace in the form of friends who come to paint, and in Grammy's who rock your babies.
There's grace in men who take time from their own crazy lives to move a coop...for the love of her chickens.

And there's grace in deep, soul friendships who walk alongside.

There's grace in ice cream for supper and in sweet baby coos.
In fresh coats of paint and in wiping wet tears.
In taking naps with your baby and in stopping to nurse.
In stooping way lower and in asking for help.
In deep conversations and in just. letting. go.

There's grace.

For life that's upended
...but for chapters anew.
For three boys excited
...and a marriage that's true.
For friendships and country
...for Mama's who come.
For his arms around me
...when each day is done.

For boys and wee babies
...for him and for me.
For starting new chapters
...for choosing to see....