Summer Schedule

I made up our summer schedule last week….I told you – I’m OCD!!!!! 2 more weeks of school and we’ll be having our Summer Jubilee!
BAM!, Barbie, and Papi are going on a 10 day mission trip in Louisiana, so they’ll miss out for the first couple of days.

Here is our summer schedule:
I’ll be up at 6 am to do my morning devotion and laundry.
At 7:30 I’ll shower and dress.
8:00 am I’ll wake up the kids and cook breakfast while they are getting ready for the day.
8:30 am Breakfast!
9:00 am we’ll discuss our plans for the day and do a 15 minute pick up of the kitchen
9:30 am – Wisdom Search
10 am – Monday Beach, Tuesday library, Wednesday Crafts, Thursday Play Dates, Friday Shopping, Saturday Park Day (obviously this is weather dependent!)
12 – lunch and a pick up
1 pm – finish any school work that needs to be worked on
1:30 I’ll be crafting while everyone else is having free time
2 pm I’ll be working on my “to do” list
3 pm Super Clean Time
4 pm I’ll be getting my computer work done while everyone else is having free time
4:30 pm Gardening
5 pm Cooking Dinner
5:30 pm Reading
6 pm Dinner
7 pm Evening Wisdom Search
7:30 pm Smarty Pants goes to bed
8 pm My time to Blog
8:30 pm Eyes, Dimples, and Kissy in bed
9 pm Hanging out with BAM! and Barbie
9:30 pm BAM! and Barbie go to bed, my time with Papi

Now, lest you think I am a drill sergeant – this is a flexible schedule. If things happen, impromptu play dates, sleeping in, we spend more time at the beach than 2 hours, well, we’ll roll with it and just pick it up where we left off!!!!!
What is YOUR summer schedule like?????

Size does NOT matter

No….I’m not going there.  I just want to explore some ideas about size.

Size. Is an elephant more valuable than a mouse?  A mouse is definitely smaller.  If I come up against a Megaladon, he’s definitely going to win….but then, we’re not sure they exist anymore. I guess if it’s a matter of predator and prey than size could matter.  A blue whale is the largest animal on earth today, but is he more important than the Strawberry Dart Frog?

What exactly makes something important.  We talk about the size of a mans’ wallet.  Does that make the man important?  When we moved into my house, everyone was amazed at how big it was.  But they didn’t know that 10 years later our family would have gone from 2 children to 6!

So does size matter???  No.  Really.  Does our physical size matter???


Men are usually larger than women, are they more valuable?

Are “normal” sized people more valuable than someone who has achondroplasia?

Is someone who has hyperplasia more valuable than someone who is “normal” sized?

I’m shorter than a good portion of the population – 5’3″, my grandma was only 4’11” – are we less valuable? Less acceptable?

Kissy is 5’6″ at 12 years old – and just hit a growth spurt. Barbie is 5’1″ at 15 years old – and has been told she’s pretty much done.  Should I treat Kissy with favor?


I know….or rather I hope….that all of you were visibly puzzled and even scoffing at those 5 questions.  Any sane, reasonable person would say NO to all of the statements above.

Now answer this one:

Embryos are smaller than babies, are they less important?


Embryos are smaller than babies, but do we really want to base a persons acceptance on their size?     So why does the fact that an embryo is small mean we can dispose of them???  Why are they deemed Too Small to Live?  What makes them less important, less valuable?  Nothing.  Simply that.  You see, SIZE DOES NOT MATTER.  An embryo is not less than or even less of a human just because it is smaller than you.

When Did I Become Old?

No, seriously….when did I become old??????

I originally decided to post this blog because I walked in to my room one morning and Barbie was blasting music so that she could hear it in the shower.  I covered my ears to walk through the room.  Really????  This from the girl who would blast Nirvana at the top of the stereo volume while she was getting ready to go out?????  The main thought in my head was “When did I become old???”

me in 1973                                                                                                        Me in 1973 (wasn’t I cute?)

Now, I am one that is not ashamed of her age.  I am proud to be 41, no, wait, I am 42! (Do you do that too?  Forget how old you are?  I do it all the time? Another sign I’m getting old????) I’m happy where my life is at right now.  I am a homeschool mom of 6 and my eldest is 15.  That doesn’t bug me.  I have some laugh lines. I have some gray hairs. I even have a couple of wrinkles by my eyes, and I’m getting the dreaded age spots.  But I don’t dread them.  I welcome them!!!

So why did that thought irritate me to no end.  I really don’t understand why.

And then “IT” happened.  I was taking BAM! to a doctors appointment about an hour away from our house.  Eyes got car sick, so we had to stop into a local retail store to purchase some new clothing.  (Yes it really was that bad). And the cashier at check out asked me the question that brought me to tears.  She smiled sweetly and asked, “Are you 55 years old or older?”

I gasped.  I looked at her like she had 3 heads.  And then I exclaimed, “um….NO!” She didn’t even look abashed.  She just rang me up.  I paid for my purchase, went out to the truck, and promptly broke into tears. Now, admittedly, it was a tough day.  Traveling with 6 kids all by my lonesome that far.  Eyes vomiting all over the car.  And taking BAM! to an appointment to discuss having a tumor removed.  But none of that made me cry.  Being asked if I was 55 did.


Me this past weekend (I still think I’m pretty cute! lol)

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I think the reason it affected me so much is that I’ve NEVER been asked if I was older before!  NEVER!!!  I’ve been accused of being younger before plenty of times.  In fact, when I was pregnant with Barbie a hostess in a restaurant read me and my mother the riot act for being a teenager and pregnant (hugely pregnant).  I was 26 and had to pull out my drivers license to prove it to her.  Shortly after Barbie was born (I mean like 2 days later), I was in a grocery store and had an old lady tell me that as a teenager, I was way too old to be playing with dolls.  (Yes, she was that cute, and yes she accused me of being a teenager).  This kind of thing has happened to me all of my life.  As a 6th grader, a teacher yelled at me for being on the wrong playground and promptly grabbed my hand and took me to the kindergarten playground.  Even in my late 30’s people were telling me that I looked no older than my 20’s.  (and no, they weren’t flattering me).

So, I guess I’m old.  Or, at least, starting to look older.  That doesn’t bug me that much.  It really doesn’t.  As long as someone doesn’t ask me if I’m 55+ in the next 13 years, I should be ok….maybe….possibly….