Do I look older?

Well, now that you mention it, you do seem to be growing more mature. Your face is changing, that's for sure, and compared to the little guy behind you, you're leagues ahead.

And when you add this little oompah into the calculation, I guess I have to admit, my girl, you're getting up there.

Okay, there's no denying it. Not even six yet, the telltale signs are impossible to ignore.

We're very proud of you!

Just promise me one thing, baby. Promise me, no matter how much older you and I both get...promise me...

...it won't fly by too fast.

Ready to move on

Last year I pounced on the end-of-Christmas, cleaning up every last remnant one day post-New Year's. I was ready to dive into 2007, a 3-month-old on my hip (not sitting quite yet) and much to get back into order. The only mistake I recall from that year (looking back) was interrupting our family with a pooch. We survived, and adjusted, and we continue to adapt.

He's a sweet dog, shame on me for having hard-feelings for a pup. My hands are just fuller, standards of clean somewhat lower, and those days before he arrived crystal clear. Everything happens for a reason, I guess (even those bouts of insanity).

I'm aiming for another good one, haven't you come to expect it? It took a bitter cold, nasty, hell-has-froze-over day like today to get me started. I even skipped open gym (can you imagine?!) Christmas 2008 is going to be the best Christmas ever, I already know it! I learned well that too many toys takes away from our enjoyment. Last year found me scurrying in and out of stores last minute, do we have enough, do we have enough, was my concern. This year we kept it simple.

Our collection of SpongeBob Legos is growing, and if memory serves me right, that's about it.

A couple of educational games nabbed for Lauren, GameBoy this and Playstation that, oh, and aside from Santa's delights there were the robes.

All packed up, this time I did it right. My favorite store, Target, thrilled me with their selection of boxes, every ornament in its place. Boys box, girls box, Mom and Dad's special box. What fun we'll have, see you there!

CHRISTMAS 2008, or bust!

Win a house!

Our children are balanced in their demeanors and their souls radiate confidence. "That's how kids are supposed to be," our friends admire. Having mothered all three and learned the craft well, our approach is unconventional, though our philosophy's straightforward, "Believe in your best life."

We will homeschool our children to make all dreams possible---our tribe by our side, our children's dignity intact, and the freedom to decide exactly how we'll be enriched. To own acres of land would mean an ecosystem to indulge in, with creatures to investigate, new terrain to navigate, and nature's rhythms to weave into our own.

Tennessee's mild climate inspires plots for an "edible schoolyard" garden, its only assignment being, to awaken a taste for the earth. Young rangers riding shotgun with Daddy, shaping the grounds on his lawnmower; blackberry-stained fingers helping Momma crimp the pie crust, breakfast made special by serving it warmed.

Excursions into town, sights set on Dairy Queen, spirited Bluegrass beckoning us to its festival; someday, adolescent views tested before a crackling firepit, their voices a comfort as our newborn falls to sleep.

At ages five, three, and one, our children's memories are just being created and our rituals continue to evolve. But one thing is certain---we're prepared to succeed upon this foundation---my husband's woodshop a-buzzin', his meticulous eye and brilliant hands building craftsmanship into his furniture..., and me right beside him, a set of tools of my own, building a legacy of lives well-lived.