Old Mother Hubbard...

Yes, the shelves are bare.

It's the end of the month and we're trying to ssstttrrreeetttccchhh the grocery budget to get us through.

It shouldn't be too hard. After all, tomorrow is the last day of the month.

Thank goodness!

In the meantime, though... It's slim pickings around here. For some people, they know they need to go shopping when they're out of milk and bread. For me, it's my yogurt and wheat thins. Although we're almost out of milk and bread, too.

The other day, I actually had a hot dog for lunch. Ugh! I should say, they were the yucky hotdogs that my husband and children don't mind eating. The kind that I can actually see clogging up their arteries and making them disgustingly unhealthy from all the preservatives.

Needless to say, I was desperate. My kids were thrilled with the lunch, though.

And then, I called up my BFF to find out what kind of dessert I might be able to bring to our weekly home group for church. Thankfully, she didn't need anything. It was a good thing, too, because I just couldn't think of how I could combine grapes, cream of mushroom soup and apple juice into an appetizing dessert.

So this grocery trip is going to be BIG! Ya know, there are just those trips where it doesn't seem like you need that much and it's so fun to watch the checker ring it up, because you're actually able to stay within the budget.

Unfortunately, this one is going to be one of those times when everything will be getting thrown into the cart and I'm just going to have to look away, lest I pass out in the aisle. Oh,no. We'll reserve that precious experience for the checkout.

I don't know how you grocery shop at your house, but at our's, it's like a family field trip.

Here's where I admit I'm a big chicken. I do not take all four of my children grocery shopping with me alone. Cluck, cluck (arms flapping) I may be crazy, but I'm not as dumb as a doorpost. At least most of the time.

My wonderful, loving, helpful husband goes with us. Do any of you go shopping with your husband? Let's just say, lots of little surprises make it home that I didn't notice were slipped into the cart.

I'm trying to convince him that it would be beneficial to my sanity if I could just go grocery shopping by myself. He's not buying it.

In short, (a little too late for that, don'tcha think?) there will be some creative meal planning tomorrow. Lunch will be probably be pickles wrapped in tortillas spread with peanut butter.

Oh, wait. I forgot about the yellow cake with chocolate frosting that I managed to scrape together the other day.

We're saved.

How do you grocery shop at your house?

PS Just so y'all know, I didn't realize I had all the ingredients for the cake and frosting when I was contemplating the cream of mushroom, grape and apple juice combination. I just needed to let all of you know that. Okay, my conscience is clear.

My Best

Have you ever told a perfectionist that what they're attempting to do isn't good enough?

If you have, I hope you were smart enough to duck the flying shoe, toy, book, or whatever else might be aerodynamic and easily accessed.

Let me tell you, I am a perfectionist. I am saying this boldly, but not with pride. Do you still want to be my friend?

I know that it is said that first borns are generally perfectionistic people-pleasers. Was there ever any doubt that I'm a first born? With all this psychological mumbo-jumbo (blah, blah, blah), there are some real issues that go along with this. Issues that may take , at worst, a life time to learn to let go of.

I have issues.

Here's an example:

Last night, as my three older children were joyously, happily obeying (ahem) Mama and Daddy by going upstairs to jump into bed, my eldest stayed behind. Thinking she had a few last words of love to say before bedtime (or more likely, a plea to stay up just a little while longer), she approached me with tears in her eyes. Bracing myself, I asked what was the matter. In a nutshell, it came out that she felt she needs more time with just me. Apparently, doing math and english with her doesn't qualify as quality time. Who knew?

Honestly, I was a little put off with this statement. Really! Does she not see how much I am trying to do here? And then I realized, Nope. She doesn't. Oh, dear. I tried to explain to her that I'm trying my best, but I'll try harder. She smiled and then got to go to bed.

That's when my old friend, Mama-guilt, decided to put in an appearance.

I have been fretting about it all day. Fretting while showering, while teaching, while folding laundry. Finally, as I was fretting while mopping the bathroom floor, I heard His voice. Thankfully.

"Jamie," He said, "That's right. Your best is not good enough. It never will be. That's where I get to come in."

Take that karate kick, Mama-guilt!

And then I realized. I cannot spend my days worrying if what I'm doing is enough. I am a human being. That means that I can never be the one to quench every single emotional and spiritual need my children or husband have. It's just not possible.

I am going to have to learn how to direct my kids to the One who can.

In the meantime, I am still going to be working on making sure the dishes, ironing and toilets (definitely not the toilets) are not getting more precedence over the five people I call mi familia.

How do you handle the responsibiity of the emotional and spiritual needs of your children/husband without feeling overwhelmed?

The Clock Is Ticking!

Has this ever crossed your mind ~ Oh, THIS is the answer! ~ ?

The THIS can be anything from a push-up bra and control-top pantyhose to neon green shoelaces to that Magic Bullet thingy they sell on infomercials (you can have dinner in one. two. three. seconds.)

Yeah, I don't think so.

That crazy, enticing, LYING thought came to my mind last week.

Being a homeschooling mama with four kids (yes, count them all), I am always on the lookout for organizational methods to help me and my family fight the battle of clutter and time management. At the same time for efficiency sake, don'tcha know?

So far, clutter:2998 family: 2

Hmmm, something obviously had to be done.

Enter scheduling.

I love schedules and routines! Maybe I'm more type A than I'd like to admit. So I decided to give it a go.

I had been reading a fabulous book written by a homeschool mama of eight. Yes, eight. She has twice the number of children I do. Bless her, Lord. Bless her. She and her husband had made an entire schedule for their family's day. From wakeup time to bedtime routine and just about every minute in between. This gracious couple wrote how they got all their little duckies in a row (or on a schedule). What a wonderful ministry for them. The time and energy they have put into their children's daily lives is unbelievable!

Deciding to jump in with both feet (and on the first day of school, no less), I was ready to start our new and improved schedule.

Hel-lo. Can you say sleep-deprived woman at the helm?

Let me tell you, never have I gotten so much done, seen my kids so busy, and felt so miserable. I can understand how this way of living is fabulous. For some people.

By lunch time, I was exhausted. I do realize that trying this schedule thing for half of a day really wasn't a fair attempt. Really, I should have tried it longer.

I just couldn't get myself to do it.

I admire the ladies who do it. Honestly, I do. I am just not one of them. I will be taking a few things away, though. I plan on continuing having an hour of daily chores in the morning. Mama really digs this! I love having a routine that our kids know will happen daily (well, almost). I love having training time used for teaching one of my kids something new (or old, just needing to be relearned).

But I think I'll just take it a little easier on myself for now. Maybe when I have eight kids...*chuckle, chuckle*



**Join me in September! I'll be blogging on living the Proverbs 31 Woman life. This is NOT a how-to! I wish it was!! This will just be how God is showing me daily on what it means to be that virtuous woman.

Fresh From the Oven

Might I brag a little?

It will just be a wee bit. I promise.



Yes, it's bread. But, it's not just any bread. It's French bread made from these two pretty hands.

Big deal, you may say. Do I detect sarcasm?

Well!

I know, but for me it is a big deal.

I wasn't raised learning how to do things like this. I've had to teach myself, while making a few well-timed SOS calls to my Grandma and mother-in-law.


I have to say, I'm button-burstin' proud of myself. I'm aware that pride goeth before the fall. I'm just hoping I fall face-first into fresh, home-made French bread.