December 15, 2010

• Meanwhile 

           Back at the ranch

                 The cows have come home.

   

  At 5:00 this evening I looked outside in the gathering dusk and saw 70 cow/calf pairs plodding up the lane.

   

  Anything that I was doing just until the cows came home I can stop doing now.  I’m not sure what in my life applies to this cliche, really. 

   

   

    This is www on “till the cows come home”.

   

  Meaning

  For a long but indefinite time.

  Origin

  Cows are notoriously languid creatures and make their way home at their own unhurried pace. That’s certainly the imagery behind ’till the cows come home’ or ‘until the cows come home’, but the precise time and place of the coining of this colloquial phrase isn’t known. It was certainly before 1829 though, and may well have been in Scotland. The phrase appeared in print in The Times in January that year, when the paper reported a suggestion of what the Duke of Wellington should do if he wanted to maintain a place as a minister in Peel’s cabinet:

  If the Duke will but do what he unquestionably can do, and propose a Catholic Bill with securities, he may be Minister, as they say in Scotland “until the cows come home.”

  Groucho Marx was never one to pass up an opportunity for a play on words and this occurs in his dialogue of the 1933 film Duck Soup:

  “I could dance with you till the cows come home. Better still, I’ll dance with the cows and you come home.”

  until the cows come home (spoken) also till the cows come home

  for a very long time You can diet until the cows come home, and you still won’t be a size 4.

   

   

   

  Did you find that enlightening?  Me neither.

   

  

   

   

  Meanwhile….

      In the ranch house….

   

   

   There are fresh marker scribbles in the little potty.  Liesl on the loose.

   

  Natalia asked me last night what apples are made of.

   

  I am pondering why there are toast crusts on the bathroom floor.

   

  A whole bottle of pomegranate & lemon verbena scented body wash was dumped in the hotel hot tub tonight.  (Playing hot tub as part of a hotel swimming pool in the water-stained family tub is the rage of the week.)

   

  After two hot tub episodes for the day I found 12 wet washcloths in and around the tub tonight.

   

  Today I baked Miniature Peanut Butter Treats.  Those little cookies that you press Reese cups into when they’re just out of the oven.

   

  Victoria baked Snow Topped Chocolate Mint Cookies.

   

  This all sounds more romantic than it was.

   

  If you want to do something to annoy your kids, substitute “the man with the pink hat” instead of  George’s friend “the-man-with-the-yellow-hat” in the Curious George books.  3 and 4 year olds hate it.  And they catch it every time.  No matter what color you try to use for some diversion. 

   

   

   

   

   

  I felt very good this evening when I made vegetable soup from all the veggies I put in the freezer this summer for supper.  (Yes.  I know “dinner” is more elegant and I really want to use that word here, but it’s not true to my real self.  Because sadly, it’s plain old farmer-ish supper around here.)  I also felt good about fresh 100% whole wheat bread.  Mixed in the breadmaker.  Baked in the oven.

   

  It took away a little of the guilt over putting pizza pops in the school lunches.  Again. Today.

   

  I bought a package of pizza pops one night when I was shopping and Bryant was making me feel like an especially boring and old fashioned mother. 

   

  “Just for special,” I said. 

   

  He grinned triumphantly. 

   

  Money is a little freer these days than it once was, thanks to a very profitable summer on the sawmill.  (Thanks to the oilfield industry which has overtaken our lovely farmland.)

   

  Did you ever notice that when you buy a specialty item more than once in a few week’s time it becomes a necessity?

   

  So it is with pizza pops.

   

  They are so easy.  The children like them very much. 

   

  And one of these days I need to stop buying them.

   

  I love it when a day you are dreading turns out rather nicely.

   

  I had just told Dan last night that I am so.tired.of.the.grind.

   

  Pry myself out of bed.  Try to read my Bible and pray in the grogginess of 6:30 a.m. when I really just want to hibernate.  Wake up very unwilling children for school.  Breakfast.  Cleanup.  Lunches.  Reminders to bring in wood.  Gather winter gear and herd 3 children out the door.  (Thankfully Dan drives to school in the morning.  I love him.) Laundry.  Stories.  Messes.  Snacks.  Diapers.  Andre rocking.  Lunch.  Cleanup.  Naps.  Pick up school children.  Take a walk. Piano practice. Supper.  Dishes.  Facebook.  Stories.  Bedtime.   

   

  I start to feel like such a dull mother.  Such a dull wife.  Such a dull person in general.

   

  And today was the usual, and yet it seemed touched with goodness.  Alec’s new 4 wheeler was fun to ride for a few minutes between chores and school time.   The 3 littles played messily (but more cheerfully and imaginatively than sometimes).  I had fun making my cookies.  You Facebook friends brightened my day with kind comments.  The laundry is put away.  I filled out a renewal for Andre’s passport.

   

  Best of all, I am not longer hobbling around like our elderly neighbor lady.  I’ve had a severe backache since Sunday.  I felt all day long like I do at the end of a day when I’m 9 months pregnant and have worked way too hard.  Dreadful.  I didn’t know what I was going to do.  Chiropractors frighten me.  (I’ve never needed to go to one.)  But the pain was so.intense. 

   

  It’s still there, but has definitely lessened. I am no longer hobbling.  And I just feel in my bones that it’s going to disappear.  Thanks so much, Lord.

  (Okay, when I go back and critique my writing I realize that the last paragraphs about my daily grind and backaches are of no interest to the general public.  Neither is the fact that today went better than some days go.  I should delete.  But I will not.)

   

  

   

   

  What I really wanted to post about so soon after my last post was a few additions on family planning.  (Who do I think I am to address such a delicate subject in such a public place anyway?)

   

  This is the quote that I wanted to share on my last post.  It was the general thrust of what was on my heart, but I MISSED IT ALTOGETHER.  It’s from someone else’s blog and they were quoting someone, so I don’t know who to give credit to.  If I knew how to link, I would do it because the post I read was very good.

   

  “Most women haven’t given themselves totally to motherhood, understanding that it will take their all…

    … their time, body, life, moments, nights, everything to build a Godly legacy.

  They think their children are taking up their time without realizing that God gave them children to provide them with an eternal work to do.”

   

  I really get this.

   

  It’s not that I have huge dreams beyond motherhood at the moment.  (Oh there are a few quiet ones lurking.)  But I think that the robbing of my personhood is what gets to me the most.  Sometimes I just want to be a Person again.  A person with ideas and opinions and something to add to the lives of others.  But motherhood induced attention deficit disorder has me on a weary treadmill of survival.  (Yes, Lisa, “motherhood induced ADD” comes from you.  Thanks.)

   

  And I know my concept is all twisted.  Because I have something to add every single moment to the lives of my family. 

   

  But the quote above really gets to me.  It is by my sink now.  I need to read it often.  And pray that God would just show me every moment that eternal work.

  

  Because sometimes it feels like all I do is muddle. 

   

  

  And I have a new friend named Angela that I met at the grocery store who blogs.  I LOVE these words from her:

   

  The days that I cringe away from remembering because they are so littered with my failures do not define me.  I must out-shout my shame:

  There is NO CONDEMNATION for those who are in Christ Jesus!Romans 8:1

  Truth that makes me want to praise Christ Jesus for the wonderful, upside-down freedom that allows me to make such a ridiculous claim despite my unfinishedness.  Even if I’ve screamed at the kids, stomping through a minefield of toys and dirty laundry, slept in and skimmed through homeschooling, I can’t condemn myself because Jesus calls me cleansed and righteous.  Who am I to say He’s a liar?

  And it’s that radical, ridiculous, beautiful grace that makes me want to cling to Him, to step closer so that I can soak up a little more of His radiance – know Him more and love Him better.

   

  Thanks, Angela.  I hope it’s okay that I shared this.  I should have linked you, I know.  Teach me how to do that sometime.

   

  Well folks.  Once again, you are a true friend if you waded through all of this.  L  Wordy Luci at it again.

   

   I need to go to bed so I am ready to build Godly legacies tomorrow.  The trouble with life is that it’s so daily.  Not original with me.  So true.

   

  *Edit:  I’m so glad it’s really not up to me to build the legacy.  Thanks to God He uses other people and methods too. 

   

  And I know I need some fresh material on this blog.  I am always striving but never arriving.

   

   

   

   

   

  • 2:05 am
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