Remodeling from the Crawlspace Up

This has been an unusually confusing week:  Sunday evening the main floor bathroom started flooding repeatedly.  After we'd tried to mop up with every towel I own, Star made an anxious call to our friendly neighborhood plumber.  He'd just visited the day before to remove a plastic cup from the master bathroom toilet, and seemed in remarkably good spirits for a Sunday evening (we'd rather not imagine the stories that he brings home from his many trips to the Hall bathrooms over the last several years).  He was quick to assess the situation and asked to check the crawl space for any leak.  Now that area of the house is only accessible  by way of a little door in the floor of a cozy closet we lovingly call "the Harry Potter room." And it fills up with any stray toy that escapes the playroom. To empty it, the Hall children formed an assembly line and took 65 million urgent trips with plastic grocery bags. The homemaker @ the Hall home regularly requires that the space be cleared, but each time our plumber has visited, we look as though we have real organizational issues...

The root of the problem was recognizable in short order when the pipe exploded, and our friendly plumber suggested we call in Rescue Rooter. It was a long evening for Star, Zach, and the professionals down in that crawlspace.  I was sent to Aunt Mieka's in SLC for dinner and distraction for the children.  By the end of the evening it was discovered that our new-fangled-top-of-the-line potties, with extra large drainage holes (installed last November in order to reduce that flooding phase we'd endured for a season with help from our 2yr. old) had encouraged the creativity of our now 3 yr old.  He'd flushed a bra and several pairs of underwear, along with some baby wipes, and they seemed to be holding things up a bit along the pipeline.

Our house has been exposed to so many repairmen over the last week, that I sense it feels violated.  The carpet we installed last March was cut out, sheet rock and tile torn out, and anti-bacterial potions applied.  The amazingly loud fans were finally shut off today, and then while I was out, my entire kitchen floor was removed, leaving a very thick and sticky residue that makes it impossible to walk on.  After the workmen left, we heard back from the flooring place: they should have our order in by mid-next week (Oh boy).  The homeowners insurance will cover much of the reconstruction (of walls, vanity, paint, carpet, and vinyl) after we've met our deductible...  But I guess I won't pull out the Christmas decor for a while.

Since we returned from our hotel stay (where Max tried valiantly to flush a plastic "Do Not Disturb" sign down the toilet) that creative child has force fed the sink his corn dog, and used the toilet brush to smash up his waste.  I'm afraid I lost my patience at that point, and used my "outside voice."  The bathrooms are now locked each day, all day, and I carry a long nail in my pocket in order to access those areas.  I understand that this may slow down the unremarkable progress we are making in our potty-training efforts, but I can better afford more pull-ups, than more re-modeling.

Because of the tougher week, Star suggested I go to WalMart this afternoon --to see what Black Friday was all about, while he did some projects around the place.  I had a nice time, found a few bargains, and had just started the van when a woman rapped at the passenger window and shouted, "You have a very flat tire."  I didn't roll down the window to thank her (that window no longer rolls down) I just smiled and nodded -- why not, right?

Did you know that if you've purchased new sets of tires for each of your tired vehicles in less than a year's time, they'll take really good care of you at Discount Tires?

Yes, sir --just ask me about budgeting, effective parenting, or being full of faith, hope, and charity..."I'm master of all I survey..."

My HAT...it has how many corners?

Sometimes
I feel as though my responsibilities, my duties and concerns are endless.  They probably are.  Today as I moved some things into my new "craft/office/homeschooling room" I have stewed about how to organize it all physically -- but I have realized in the process that finding everything "it's place" is such an emotional and spiritual task as well.

On the one side of the shelves where my Mother Goose books, diapers in cute baskets, and baby blankets were once housed-- are fabrics and sewing notions that have been boxed up since we moved into this house 6 years ago.  On the other side are trays of bills to be filed, coupons to clip, scrap booking supplies (also packed away for 6 years) and Ensigns filled with my notes in the margins (I just can't let go of them yet).  My old kitchen table serves as the new desk space, but already it is littered with books entitled Happy Homeschooling,  Life Skills for Kids, The LDS Mother's Almanac, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Home Repair, Gospel Principles,  and Working with Fractions.  Where do I think I will set up my sewing machine and cutting board?

In between keeping Sam and Max on task I try to keep my laundry tools hard at work, but by the time I get around to folding my day's successes, it has been dark for many hours.

I have heard that women often feel they have many "hats" or roles they must play in their journeyings.  I think mine is just one hat (if there were many I'd most likely misplace some) but it's corners... how can I give each of them enough exposure to the Sun when the Moon seems to be in such a hurry?

"March"ing Onward, Ever Onward

It is Sunday. But Daddy has not been at the church since the wee hours of the morning.

Today he is resting.
The two Sundays before he made enormous breakfasts.
After 5 plus years of looking down on us from the stand, he now sits with some children on his lap and arms around others, his hand in mine.

From the screen I hear the sounds of a rag tag group of little athletes warming up for a pre-season game.  All the baseball equipment we've accumulated over the years is covering the back lawn.  It is cold enough that the "team" is all in jackets and coats (Max in his cowboy boots), but the sound of their voices and laughter is worth keeping the door open and the heat on inside.  I sit trying to read my book about Norwegian Saints --lovely and lyrical.  It has been a long time since I have written. I will do some catch-up.

In an effort to choose better from good, we have encouraged Zach to forgo his Karate lessons for a soccer season.  He is hard at work and reminding me of my brothers with weekly games and practices and details of post game play-by-play descriptions.

Abbie, after another ill-fated experiment with me and hair color, has a complex color-corrected head of hair with highlights (offered free by a well-meaning ward member).  She has been struggling with the topic of WWII and the holocaust in school and is deepening in her understanding of the human condition.

Millie recently performed in her little first grade patriotic program at school.  She was chosen to sing a solo of "This is My Country."  And her eager, repeated practice of the song has planted those lyrics indelibly in our minds.  Her excitement with school and homework has yet to wane; she loves to be busy. She has now been given the time to take a rec. center dance class and is in heaven for that Tues. hour.

Max and Sam and I spend our days together at home. It was a difficult decision --to take up homeschooling with him, but there are moments every day that are rewarding and confirm that it was a guided choice.  We are learning together about ancient Rome and current events in Egypt and Japan. Our geometry skills are vastly improving.  Our morning devotionals have frequently become meaningful conversations about our purpose and God's plan for us as unique individuals.  It seems to bring some peace to his soul.  There are definite challenges and changes in keeping up with household chores, but overall it has been fulfilling for all of us.

Star continues to work in St. George, but his traveling has let up some, and because he had spent so many months away, it feels like a gift of time when he is able to be here with us.  He is diligent and determined--his tenacity provides for our family of mixed ages and interests.

The backyard athletes have moved on to soccer.  I hate to round them up for baths and showers....today.