Paper Towels and Shakespeare

Recently, somehow, we got down to our last roll of paper towels. There was much shock and horror, many questions about how the household would continue to function without such an important supply. Running to Walmart was not going to fit in my schedule for the next couple days, so I put too much faith in Amazon and “figuring it out” and ordered a large pack. We immediately started going through dish towels faster than my laundry pile could keep up.

When I began homeschooling years ago, Shakespeare wasn’t exactly on my radar. I had cute little squishy kids who would maybe care about advanced things like Shakespeare when they were about to move out of the house. That’s the time I’d tackle his writings, I figured. Maybe that’s also when I would begin to appreciate him.

But of course, as is the way with many homeschooling moms, curriculums and methods come and go until there’s finally something that works. For us, that has been Ambleside. A little late to the game but fully invested. And enter: Shakespeare. Le sigh.

We dove into the first play, reading aloud so I could skip chunks as needed. I did not anticipate how invested my older kids would get. Many days they rearrange the books in my Morning Time basket so that Shakespeare will be front and center, which always makes me giggle.

We got to the end of that first play, awaiting our late shipment of paper towels, as it were, and everything came to a halt. No lunch could be had when there was only a matter of pages left. Two kids fully engrossed and demanding to know the ending, one kid bored and scooting around in his chair, one hungry toddler enthusiastically causing mayhem. I read louder and faster and we laughed our way through the terrible ending, though my oldest was distraught.

When I closed the book and turned around, the toddler had dumped both jars of pencils and crayons and flung them around the room. Simple enough to pick up. I started warming up lunch. Then there were shrieks. Said toddler had gotten extra bored and made a pee puddle next to the workout mats we had on the floor. As I whisked him up to a bath, I told the remaining kids to stand against the wall and wait the five minutes for me to come back and give further instruction.

They obeyed, at least initially, then one got a little antsy and I came back down to the pee having been tracked around and underneath the mats. Mmmm. I added “hose down mats” to my mental checklist. Lunch first.

“MOM!!!”

The paper towels had arrived. Turns out, they were just in time.

Through wisdom a house is built,
And by understanding it is established;
By knowledge the rooms are filled
With all precious and pleasant riches.
Proverbs 24:3-4

Slowly we have been filling this little house with knowledge, through books I didn’t foresee reading and many that I couldn’t wait to get our hands on. Scripture always, daily, again and again. “Visit many good books,” Spurgeon said, “but live in the Bible.” The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. We plod along and rub shoulders with others and look up every now and then to realize we’ve grown and matured again. These rooms have been filled with all precious and pleasant riches. Even without paper towels - but we can glean lessons from that, too.

Salt The Walnuts

I looked down at my once-navy shirt, now boasting a white flour band around my middle.

Oh yeah.

I thought back to a couple nights ago as bacon grease popped out of the pan and onto my shirt.

I really ought to use that apron more often.

Violin music floated through the air and I glanced over at one boy who was supposed to be finishing a task. My Procrastinator Professionale. He blinked. I nodded. He grinned.

I wrapped up the pastry dough and stuck it in the freezer. Hopefully I’d remember to take it out before it was too frozen for dinner.

There was a section of Brambly Hedge the other day that especially tickled me -

‘Look, my dear,’ said Mr Apple, ‘if the sea mice can manage to get the salt all the way up to us, I’m sure Dusty can sail downstream to fetch it.’
‘I can’t think of why we’ve run out,’ said Mrs Apple. ‘It’s never happened before. Perhaps I shouldn’t have salted all those walnuts.’
‘Stop worrying,’ said Mr Apple. ‘Look, they’re about to leave.’
(The Complete Brambly Hedge, pg. 193)

You don’t to have read the whole story to get the point here, though it might help to know that Brambly Hedge takes place in the world of rodents and some needed to sail downstream to Purslane and Thrift Saltapple to acquire more salt for their baking endeavors.

But how can the salt have run out? The walnuts, surely those darn walnuts. Shouldn’t have salted them.

Where did those rolls of tape go? Walls. Beds. Cardboard boxes. I should’ve known better.

How can there be no clean laundry? Simply, people kept wearing clothing. And I have not added any more to the washing machine.

How can this child’s shoes be too small? Well, dear me, he grew while I wasn’t looking.

These mice are so relatable.

Where no oxen are, the trough is clean;
But much increase comes by the strength of an ox.
Proverbs 14:4

It turns out that children are messy, keeping a home is hard work, and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and horror, things escape a mom’s mind. The trough could be clean though, think of it – cabinets with no fingerprints, walls with no dents, books with no missing pages. Imagine a day.

Yet those fingerprints came from nosy little babies and toddlers. The wall dent (which one?)? A child’s head, naturally. The books missing pages are often ones that have been read and re-read. Life without these memories would be sterile and void. We’ve all been made better by each season and situation. These little people will grow up to add to the Lord’s world in their own ways. What great increase!

Go ahead, make the effort. Do the things. Salt the walnuts. And don’t forget to pull the dough out of the freezer for dinner.

I Get To

The gingerbread frosting ran down the roof and the candies slid down with it, a clearish-white smudge of sugar that should’ve been much thicker and fluffier.

“Well, I guess that’s how it’s going to be today,” shrugged my 8-year-old.

I smiled. He didn’t know that I had been bemoaning my lot in life the day before. Who knew what the day would hold, and I didn’t really feel like facing it. Maybe a child would be up too early or too late, maybe we’d run out of coffee, an appliance might break, something might spill all over the school books - and hopefully not all of these at once, but hey, some days are just like that. I forced myself to change perspectives.

I have to became I get to.

I get to wash dishes again and enjoy a clean kitchen and full bellies.

I get to do laundry and teach my kids how to do it as well.

I get to be the one they come crying to, to help them solve problems and sort out emotions.

I get to create and add magic to the Christmas season, with traditions and decorations and foods. Some they will love, and some they will not - and we will wind up with some pretty great routines in the end.

I get to watch the wonder in their eyes and their excitement as they learn, even if we don’t get to all the material I’d planned.

I get to work to make a clean, inviting home that we can invite others into, knowing we all will have to clean it again when friends leave.

I get to sit and read story after story, expanding their imaginations and throwing hooks into the past for them to hold onto.

I get to learn how to joyfully accept what comes, and flex with the day and my children.

I get to is far more helpful and edifying than I have to.

And someday, I’ll get to drink my coffee while it’s hot too. But lukewarm is how it’ll be today.

If you need a fun, quick idea - make yourself some whipped cream, spread it in a pan, toss on some sprinkles and freeze it. Cut into shapes and store in the freezer. Plop a couple into coffee or hot chocolate.

Pizza Night || Friday Magnify

“Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together!”
Psalm 34:3

Just like that, it’s Friday again. Another Friday, another pizza night. Chopping peppers and shredding cheese, rolling out dough and spreading sauce - mundane yet a little miraculous.

Somehow, the food that takes hours to make gets swallowed in minutes and we watch. We watch little people get taller, muscles grow stronger.

Somehow, the conversations that happen in those short minutes help build their foundations and frameworks. Their questions deepen, their observations broaden.

Suddenly, the tasks that can seem almost insultingly simple and repetitive appear nourishing in more ways than one. When did they learn this or that, or arrive at that specific conclusion?

We plod along, meal after meal, knowing it all leads somewhere and enjoying the ride. What a gift to be involved in God’s work of feeding bodies and souls.