Deutschland: There goes my promise about frequent blogging...

Has it already been a week? Why yes. It has. Where does the time go when you're continuously occupied wrangling hungry children who insist on being fed 5 times a day minimum? I did plant a garden bursting with vegetables to assuage the appetites of the aforementioned chitlins, in between moments of (attempt toward) taming a house that erupts in spontaneous fits of disarray - a battle in which I ne.ver. seem to be able to claim victory.

That is surely the one thing I will love best about having grown children who are scattering debris all over their own homes; once again maintaining a tidy abode. I have tried, oh how I have tried to accustom myself to find peace with the mess. Truly. I just can not get a grip on my need for (some semblance of) order. I crave it. My body has a physical, biochemical, adverse reaction to clutter. Which is a good thing...yes. And, a not so good thing. It is not uncommon for friends who come into our house to say, "Wow! How do you keep it so clean with this many kids?" I laugh it off, chalking it up to my 7 "helpers."

Deep down though, I know. My honest reply: There is a price to the neatness my friends sometimes exalt. If you show up at my door and I knew you were coming, it is likely that I spent the last 2 hours ~~shouting~~ elevating my volume at my children to CLEAN UP THEIR STUFF threatening that if they didn't get it all put away, I was going to THROW IT OUT in preparation for your arrival. Not exactly a primary relationship enhancer. Even when no one is coming to visit, my inordinate affection for a tidy home can get in the way of other, far more important, pressing matters. Like stopping what I'm doing to turn my body and look into their eyes as they speak to me rather than forcing them to talk to my profile as I'm focused on something else, or walking over the pile on the floor on the way to the table to play a game of cards, or pushing the books on the couch aside to sit down for a much needed heart to heart with my daughter, who craves her mother's undivided attention the way her mother craves order.

And so...that's how I do it.

They are only mine for an all too brief moment in time. It's racing, running through my fingers faster than I am ready to let go. Our hours, our days, our years together, under one roof are finite, bittersweetly limited.

May my priorities be what are in order.

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My grandma told me she is now making homemade laundry and diswasher detergent. She enjoys them thus far and said she likes trying new things.
For some reason, that warmed my heart like you wouldn't believe.

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We had some pillowcases that were fraying at the edges and had a couple small holes in them. If it were not for my ever shifting thinking throughout the last month since we began to seriously consider our waste and the practical ways we could reduce our impact, I would have thrown them out. Instead, Jayla cut them into small pieces for me and they now sit in this basket on our kitchen counter. Anytime I would have reached for a paper towel, I use one of these instead, then throw them in the wash {along with the other 5 million loads I was doing anyway.} Wala. Easy, no cost, impact reduction.

Dear precious carbon dioxide absorbing trees, you are more than welcome. I'm sorry I didn't work harder to save more of you sooner.