I‘ve studied Gary Chapman’s 5 Love Languages (separate link for children) enough to know that my 10-year-old son’s primary language is Quality Time. He wants to run errands with me—even boring ones. Last week he surprised me in such a sweet way.

I’d said goodbye to the kids when I said goodnight, since I had to get up at 4:15 a.m. for an early morning flight. Nobody gets up that early unless they have to, right? In the morning when I tried to open our bedroom door, at first it wouldn’t give. I pushed it open and found a rope tied around the knob. I followed the rope across our living room and over the couch until it ended in the floor.

A couple of minutes later my 10-year-old son walked into the kitchen. Apparently there was string tied to the end of that rope, which continued through the hall and into his bedroom, where he’d tied it to his hand.

That sweet boy concocted an elaborate scheme so that he’d wake up when I did and we could spend some time together before I left.

Teen boys can be difficult, but it can also be a sweet time for a mother and son. The birth order of our children goes like this: boy, boy, boy, girl, girl, boy, girl, girl; someday the other boys will be gone and this one will be here with just a bunch of sisters.

I look forward to seeing what kind of young man he’ll become.

My Quality Time Lovin’ 10-Year-Old Son is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

Thursday evening I glare at a plastic McDonald’s cup lid lying in our driveway—a lid that I’d left there for a couple of days, waiting for one of the kids to have an attack of conscience and pick it up—and an idea begins to brew.

Minutes later I call the kids together at the dining room table and state, “I’ve picked something in or around the house that needs taken care of. Whoever does it will get a surprise. I haven’t decided what it will be.”

Immediately I get questions: Does it need thrown away or fixed? Can we have a clue?

I have no intention of giving hints. I would rather they pick up a lot of things and accidentally get it right than hone in quickly on the one.

My mama didn’t raise no fools.

The lid still sits there Friday afternoon when we load up for church directory pictures (in their defense, I kept them inside and clean all day). Still there on Saturday afternoon, too.

This morning my husband walks in from herding kids into the cars for church and whispers, “The lid isn’t there.”

I march outside, stick my head in the car and demand, “Who picked up the plastic lid in the driveway?”

Confused, my 11-year-old daughter stammers, “I did, I think.”

“A McDonald’s cup lid? Laying over there?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do with it?”

“Threw it away,” she fidgets nervously.

“You’re the winner!”

Relief floods her face and she beams and laughs.

Now I must pick a prize, but my modus operandi is usually a trip to McDonald’s (where hopefully we won’t acquire another plastic lid for the drive) for ice cream sundaes.

If my husband and I had placed bets, I would have put money that this daughter would be least likely to randomly pick up trash that she didn’t leave.

I’ll definitely use this trick again: create a game, a challenge, a prize to lure trick convince the kids to do something that needs to be done. And . . . the winner and I both get ice cream in the process.

I’d call that win-win.

We Moms Need a Few Tricks up Our Sleeves is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

If you’ve been a mother for long, you’ve learned that some Mother’s Days are extra special and some aren’t much different than an average day. I’m happy to say that today was the former.

My kids gave me the sweetest gifts: hand-painted pottery; a baseball signed “to the best mom ever;” handwritten love notes; a blouse that they’d seen me admire. The most memorable wasn’t a present in the traditional sense, but it made this a truly treasured Mother’s Day.

My youngest child joined the church and was baptized. She was quicker to the baptistry than me, and I found her at the top of the stairs looking down at the water, eager.

Another couple were baptized today, too.

You wouldn’t think the day could keep getting better, but it did. My husband surprised me with a date and some “me time.” He checked me into a hotel, took me out to dinner and a movie, and then went home with the kids.

Yes, I’m sitting in my very own hotel room at 1:30 in the morning, downloading and uploading pictures, writing, and sipping wine. In the morning I’ll eat a hot breakfast, read, and maybe go to the Apple Store or out to lunch with a friend.

I’m enjoying the quiet. It’s entirely possible that I have the best husband ever.

What did you do for Mother’s Day?

A Practically Perfect Mother’s Day is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

Infants have their own delicious smells, with their sweet baby breath and fuzzy little heads. Even their bad odors are okay: they’re just so baby precious. It was always a shock to me the first time mine had “bad breath,” a sign that they were growing and changing.

Next come those active young years, when they come in from playing outside and I lovingly say they smell like “the great outdoors,” grass and dirt and sunshine. More growing, more changes.

Fast forward to puberty. Those hormones affect everything—acne, growth spurts, and the way your children smell when they sweat. Unfortunately, sometimes they’re the last ones to notice the stink (and let’s just be honest, that’s what it is).

These moments in motherhood require an extra measure of grace: it’s your job—with tact and discretion—to teach your kids how to handle these changes.

At BlissDom I filmed a BlissTV segment with Rosalind Wiseman, author of Queen Bees and Wannabes, about the tricky ‘tween years, and the challenges moms face addressing the issue of sweat and smell with their children. We’ve had four teens so far, three boys and a girl, and I can tell you that they’re all different.

My boys play sports and I’ve been able to be pretty straight forward with them. My 16-year-old son always wants to shower after baseball practice; he likes to be clean and smell good, and he’s really no problem.

When my 20-year-old son ran cross country in high school, we drove 45 minutes each way for early morning practices. After a couple of weeks of sitting next to him in the front of the van on the way home, I requested he bring both an extra t-shirt to put on after practice (and put the sweaty one in the very back of the van) and a towel to cover the seat.

Learning to be considerate of others (and their noses) is a valuable part of growing up.

My 14-year-old daughter is very private; she really doesn’t like anyone in her business too much, as much as kids need it at this age. I keep deodorants marketed to teens, like Degree Girl, in our stash of personal care products; she knows they’re hers.

It’s a delicate balance, but we’ve managed to respect her privacy and keep her fresh at the same time.

Unilever—the maker of Dove, Degree, and Suave deodorants—created the Don’t Fret the Sweat Facebook page, full of money-saving offers, advice, and real-life stories to help parents guide their awkward ‘tweens into confident teens. Check out the DFTS website at http://www.dontfretthesweat.com/.

{Disclosure: I am being compensated for partipating in the Don’t Fret the Sweat campaign.}

Really, Don’t Fret the Sweat is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

[Contest is closed. Winners are Jen and Brigit.]

Do you often feel like a failure in the motherhood department? Like there should be a big “L” stamped on your forehead? Like surely your kids would fare better with a mom who’s a little more, well, competent.

Do you tend to shoulder life’s burdens, forgetting to pass them to Him who promises to make your burden light?

Then honey, this book’s for you.

Kristen Welch’s Don’t Make Me Come Up There is a gift to frazzled mothers everywhere. She shares the nitty gritty details of motherhood in a way that speaks comfort and relief, and makes you realize that you aren’t alone.

Don’t Make Me Come Up There! contains 52 devotionals: stories, scriptures, and prayers. Motherhood is revealed in all its chaotic, beautiful, messy glory.

Here’s more from Kristen on why she wrote this book:

If you’ve ever wondered if it was safe to go into your child’s room, locked yourself in the bathroom for a personal time-out, or felt ridiculously proud and horrified (all in the same hour) at your children’s behavior, this book is for you.

I’m a mom. I’m not an expert on parenting (but I can nurse a baby while loading the dishwasher and clip tiny fingernails while reading a bedtime story!). I know how stressful being a mom can be: balancing duties, caring for needs, and loving them so much it hurts.

Motherhood isn’t for cowards. I’m so thankful Kristen wasn’t afraid to share her struggles, her heart, and her faith in this book. Visit her blog at We are THAT Family.

How to win one of two copies of Don’t Make Me Come Up There! (do one or all, leave a separate comment for each)

1. Leave a comment on this post and tell us what you do when you need a quiet moment.
   
2. Tweet about it.
3. Share on Facebook.

Giveaway ends on Saturday evening, April 9.

{I really hope you win a copy, but even if you don’t, please consider buying this wonderful devotional for moms. Royalties from Don’t Make Me Come Up There benefit The Mercy House, a home started by Kristen for pregnant girls living on the streets of Kenya.}

[Disclosure: Links are affiliate links.]

“Don’t Make Me Come Up There!” Review and Giveaway is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

She crawls into bed with me this morning, carrying a small toy, and a two-year-old wound reopens, fresh.

“Guess where I got my doll?” she asks. It’s been some time since I’ve seen it, and I don’t want to look at it, talk about it now.

I swallow. “The movies.”

“Guess!”

“I did.”

“The movie theater,” she clarifies. “We were playing the video games and Daddy said to come, but I kept playing. And then everyone was gone, so I asked where my daddy was. They gave me the doll and then brought me to the movie. We watched Toy Story.”

Secretly I’m glad that my name wasn’t mentioned, that the story isn’t connected with me, although I held her afterward like I’d never let her go. It wasn’t Toy Story, but one of the Narnia movies. All ten of us went on Christmas Day, when the theater was noisy and crowded.

They gave her the Fiona doll, the way I’m told paramedics give teddy bears to traumatized children.

She was apart from us for about 10 minutes and I never even knew it. That’s the hardest part to remember, that in the darkness I didn’t realize she was missing.

Few items can overcome me with a sense of shame like the site of that doll. I didn’t write about it when it happened, it was too new. Too raw.

Too humiliating.

Unlike mine, her memory appears to be unclouded; it’s just a story about her doll. Nothing more.

I pray my parenting isn’t defined by those moments when I fall, and fail miserably.

Facing Fiona is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
To him be glory both now and for ever. Amen.
~2 Peter 3:18

Each day she scratches a blue line through another day on the list, waiting for 6 weeks to pass, for the moment when the earrings that first pierced her ears can be removed, changed. She saves her money, and on the eve of that magical day goes to the store to buy a second pair.

“Can we change them at midnight?” she asks.

“Since I’ll be doing the changing, I’d rather be awake and fresh,” I reply.

In the end, she falls asleep and the next day, a Saturday, it is.

These 6 weeks have hurt: soreness, scabbing, one earring pushed in so tight I thought it was going to end up swallowed by the tender skin of her ear. This isn’t much better as I struggle to get a grip and pull them off without hurting her.

“Ouch!” she squeaks, as we try again and again. Finally, wet-eyed and beaming, she admires the tiny purple studs we’ve just inserted.

I place the starter pair in her small, silver jewelry box and wonder if I ever show this much grace when faced with discomfort and waiting.

*

The card baskets for Dana and Edie will be open until January 31. Details can be found here.

Please visit the other ladies participating in 31 Days of Ministry Online at A Woman Inspired:

• Amy Bayliss – 31 Days of Heart Matters
• Karin – 31 Days of Intentional Parenting
• Jen – 31 Days of Social Media
• Lisa Boyd – 31 Days of WordPress
• Karen Lewis – 31 Days of Praise
• A Martha Heart – 31 Days of Prayer

Links to all posts in this series, by topic, can be found here.

31 Days of Encouragement: Grace for Living {Day 24} is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

We’re not always consistent in our Christmas gift giving. Because we don’t pay for gifts on credit, each year is different. Last year we told our kids to be prepared for a slim Christmas, but they thought it was one of the best.

How?

When there’s less to spend, every dollar counts. Shopping becomes smarter. More intentional.

Celebrating Christmas properly involves more than what’s under the tree. One of the greatest things you can do now—or any time of year—is build traditions, the cement of family memories.

Ours include:

• Christmas chili (because I can only wake up before dawn and cook a 20+ pound turkey one day of the year)
• The kids open a movie for an early gift at bedtime on Christmas Eve, and watch it on Christmas morning before getting us out of bed (sly, aren’t we?)
• Life Savers Sweet Story Books in the stockings (Santa always brought them to my sister and I, too)
• Cheese Spaghetti (worthy of Thanksgiving and Christmas)
• Christmas day outing (sometimes we go to the movies; last year it was bowling)

New traditions or things we do some years:

• Jesse Tree (we’re behind, but I love this!)
• Pioneer Woman’s cinnamon rolls (must make this week)
• Visit the official White House Christmas tree, in transit, on Thanksgiving night

Sometimes I’m guilty of losing myself in the flurry of the season, and fail to ensure that we remember just what—or rather who—it is we’re celebrating.

What Christmas traditions does your family keep?

[In case you were wondering: I shot a senior yearbook photo Friday morning, and my 11-year-old daughter insisted that our dog have a Christmas photo shoot on the white seamless, too. Cute, huh?]

Sometimes Less is More is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

I replied to an email of Heather’s last night and admitted that I was at Barnes and Noble because I’d run away from home. Not in a dangerous, abandon-my-family kind of way—Daddy was home and I was 20 minutes and a phone call away—but in an I can’t do this anymore and I have to get out of here kind of way. Convicted by Ann Voskamp’s recent Relevant recap posts, I told Heather that I almost felt obligated to blog about it.

To quote just a little bit of Ann’s wise words:

And when you sit down to your keyboard, and you write a blogpost — you are writing for me. You are writing for messed up me, and the messed up woman next door, and the messed up woman sitting beside you in church and messed up You. We need your messy stories. And you need your messy stories.

So here is my messy story.

I’m a peacemaker at heart—yelling, unkind words, and aggression make me very uncomfortable. My kids have gotten into a habit lately of making mean but idle threats to each other, back-talking, and disrespect. After pulling over twice to talk to them while driving home from the store last night, I realized that I just couldn’t listen to another word. I had to get out.

I drove home, put away the groceries, called my husband and verified that he was almost there, and left. We met in our neighborhood and exchanged vehicles. I didn’t vent about specifics; it wasn’t my goal for him to go home and get onto the kids. There had been enough talking, and I just wanted them to think about their behavior themselves.

I drove through Chick-fil-a, ate in the car, and then went to Barnes and Noble where I spent a peaceful two and a half hours sipping Hot Cinnamon and Spice Tea (I want Harney & Sons to sponsor me; I could live on that tea), reading, writing, and answering emails.

By the time I left, the stress had melted away.

What did I find at home? The kids had cleaned the house; my oldest daughter—a Gussy wannabe—had sewn me a wristlet (she knows I want one); and even my husband had hung pictures and checked some things off of my honey-do list. Three of the kids were in bed, but the other three apologized and were very sweet.

Tonight the kids started to argue and fight when we went to buy the turkey and do our Thanksgiving shop, so I loaded them right back in the car—yes, they were surprised—and went straight home. After supper I made the shopping trip alone.

I think they’re starting to get the picture.

No family is perfect—mine certainly isn’t. The important thing is to realize when there’s a problem and deal with it. Parenthood is all about doing hard things. Not only realizing that you need a break but actually taking one can be one of the hardest. Honestly, it felt like giving up.

Thankfully, no one seemed to feel that running off their mother for a few hours was any form of victory. Apparently it was a sobering experience, although that wasn’t my intention (which didn’t extend beyond the need to just get out for a bit).

Ann’s right. For the writer, there’s healing in the writing of the words.

Runaway Mommy is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved

Photoshop World was Tuesday-Friday this week in Las Vegas, and while I would have loved to have been there, I had a great week at home.

Wednesday I took head shots for a lovely young actress.

Thursday night two of my kids and I went to a Latin party. If you’ve ever thought I’m a little nerdy, this might confirm it. We hung out and watched videos about the Latin language. I took six pages of notes and a screen shot.

Friday was my seventh child’s seventh birthday! On each child’s birthday, if at all possible, I take them out for lunch. Chili’s is always a favorite and that’s where we went.

Are they just born knowing that tilt of the head?

We’ll call this, “Wait, it’s my sister’s birthday and she’s getting all the attention!”

I cut everyone else in my household’s hair, so I’ve never felt too bad about paying to get mine done until this year. In an effort to save, I haven’t gone to get my hair cut since last December. A good friend, another stay-at-home mom, has done it for me a couple of times, whenever we’ve had the opportunity.

After Google image searching “haircuts,” I saved this to my phone before we left for the birthday lunch.

Although well aware that no mere mortal could make me look like that, I thought the style was realistically possible for my hair.

On a whim, I called a salon that I hadn’t visited in over a year and a half and where I knew my former stylist no longer worked. Could they work me in? Yes, if I could be there in 30 minutes!

I was pleasantly surprised to find that while the salon had been a little snooty, it’s now a more relaxed and enjoyable place to be. I really liked the girl who cut my hair and will probably go there again.

I don’t know about you, but after a haircut I like to get a picture to remind me how it was styled at the salon, although it’s usually difficult to replicate by yourself. My husband snapped some pictures for me while I gave lots of instruction on where to stand, focus, etc. After that Jasmine Star wedding photography course at Creative Live last weekend, I harbor a secret agenda of transforming him into my own personal JD (Jasmine’s husband and second shooter). I’ll let you know when you can book us to shoot your wedding. ;-)

The good news is, I got a new headshot! Woo hoo!

It’s cropped in the sidebar enough to disguise the fact that my roots needed a touch up, which I took care of this morning. ;-)

My daughter snapped some pictures of my husband and me; we’ll celebrate our 25th anniversary next month. I am beyond thrilled to have them and to have been blessed with such a man to call my own. I’m convinced there’s not another anywhere who would put up with me.

What have you done this week?

I’m crossing my fingers to be at Photoshop World in Orlando next spring!

What I Did this Week While I Wasn’t at Photoshop World is a post from: My Home Sweet Home
© 2012 My Home Sweet Home | All rights reserved