There Isn't Time

It's amazing how many clocks are in our house - all reminding me how quickly time is passing.

Today, I'm trying to ignore the headache I've been nursing for about 36 hours. I told my husband this morning that I think I'm stressed because of everything I have going on this week.

He very nicely said, "Duh."

As we started our fall activities, my very-wise-dear husband pointed out to me I have too much on my plate. Yes. I admit it. I do. But what could I give up?

Not teaching my children at home.
Not leading women's Bible study at church.
Not attending Bible Study Fellowship.
Not singing on Sunday mornings when asked.
Not my Shaklee business.
Not my writing/video business.
Not my chamber involvement.

So. In the future, I have agreed to not say 'yes' to anything without discussing it with him first.

In the past, I was the one saying to him, "Please do not say yes to anything without discussing it with me first." I guess the old adage is true: "What goes around, comes around."

The ongoing struggle - managing my time wisely, managing my energy wisely, managing my family, home, church activities wisely.

This week, I give myself an "F." Hopefully, next week will be better.

There Isn't Time
Eleanor Farjeon

There isn't time, there isn't time
To do the things I want to do,
With all the mountain-tops to climb,
And all the woods to wander through,
And all the seas to sail upon,
And everywhere there is to go,
And all the people, every one
Who lives upon the earth, to know.
There's only time, there's only time
To know a few, and do a few,
And then sit down and make a rhyme
About the rest I want to do.

Enjoy more Poetry Wednesday selections here.

The Red Pyramid

My older children and I have greatly enjoyed Percy Jackson and the Olympians, a series of books about the Greek gods in contemporary world by Rick Riordan. So, when my son came home from a library book club excited about a new series of books “Just like Percy Jackson Mom, but with the Egyptian gods!”, I looked forward to reading the book too.

The Red Pyramid is the first book in The Kane Chronicles, the newest series by Rick Riordan. My son read it first, and loved it. I read it next, and was horrified.

Don’t get me wrong: Riordan is a wonderful writer. He writes The Kane Chronicles from the perspective of Sadie and Carter, two siblings who don’t see much of each other. Carter travels the world with his father, while Sadie lives with her grandparents in London. On their biannual visit to Sadie, Carter and his father take Sadie to a museum. Something strange happens, and Carter’s dad vanishes. Carter and Sadie escape, and end up discovering some pretty strange stuff about their parents - and their heritage as descendants of the ancient Egyptian pharaohs.

Riordan included some great themes about courage, family and loyalty in this book. So what horrifies me? The relationship between Carter, Sadie and the Egyptian gods.

Carter and Sadie discover they have great power because they each have an Egyptian god inside them. They travel great distances in short amounts of time, they converse with these gods in their minds, and learn the gods’ perspective on world history.

Their experiences are too close to reality for my taste. And not enough reality as well. At the end of the book, the children take off their Egyptian amulets, and walk away from the Egyptian gods, for now.

Please understand the perspective from which I am writing. As a Christian, I believe that there is real evil in this world. I believe Satan is real, and that demons are real. And I believe that demons can inhabit people. And from what I’ve read in the Bible, and from what I’ve read about other people’s experiences with demons, it is impossible to just decide to walk away from them when they’ve started to inhabit you.

The experiences Carter and Sadie have in The Red Pyramid are eerily similar to experiences I have read former witch doctors describe in other books. That fact alone is enough for me to caution parents and children greatly against this book and this series.

Does this mean I will forbid my children from reading them? No, but I will require that I read it too and we discuss the book when we’re done. I would rather they know what other people are reading and talking about and what a Biblical perspective of that is, than to completely shelter them from it. And, I will require them to read the books about witch doctors I mentioned earlier, so they can see the similarities themselves.

Shattered Silence

It took a lot of courage for Melissa Moore to write about her childhood and her relationship with her father in Shattered Silence. She is the daughter of the "Happy Face" serial killer, who killed women up and down the West Coast.

My heart ached for Melissa, as she remembered loving - and fearing - her father throughout her childhood. She tells of her parents' divorce, her mother's poverty, living in her grandmother's basement. Her mother's remarriage to an abusive man, and she and her siblings attempts to escape from their home.

That Melissa has endured so much, and is able to write about it without bitterness, is amazing to me. She has narrowly escaped the cycle of abuse, taking control of her own life and coming to grips with the fact she is not responsible for her father's crimes. She also realizes that she's not responsible for her mother's choices, even though they greatly affected her.

Shattered Silence is the story of a girl who had to fight her way through every step of life to find herself and a future not defined by her past.

Extremes

I am enjoying a rare moment of quiet in my house. As you can see the three children home are eating lunch, reading books at the same time. And it is lovely.

This morning was a series of door slamming, baby crying (not mine, a friend's), feet running, children crying (mine and my friend's), boom box playing loudly noises.

Every time I get irritated by the noise, I remind myself that soon - sooner than I can imagine - my house will be quiet. Very quiet. My children will be grown, and it will be just my husband and I.

I can hardly imagine it.

In the meantime, I live in a world of extremes.

EXTREMES
James Whitcomb Riley

A little boy once played so loud
That the thunder, up in a thundercloud,
Said, "Since I can't be heard, why, then
I'll never, never thunder again!"

And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window sill
Whisper and say to a ladybird, -
"She's the stillest child I ever heard!"

(As an aside, both my boys are loud, but only one of my girls is quiet. However, that doesn't keep me from enjoying this poem!)

Read more poetry here.

September

The past couple of years, September has felt more like August - the heat and humidity of a Midwestern August hanging on much too long.

This year, September surprised me. Labor Day weekend was beautiful and - boom! - it was fall. Before I was even ready for it.

Not that I'm complaining. I love fall weather! Cool mornings, warm mid-days, t-shirts and sweaters. This September has been particularly beautiful - sunny day following sunny day with the autumn crisp in the air.

Ahhh...

The kids are anxiously awaiting for the trees to lose their leaves. They love to make 'leaf houses' and 'leaf towns' and play outside all afternoon.

It's lovely for me too.

In honor of September:

September
Helen Hunt Jackson

The goldenrod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in the apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook.

From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.

Enjoy more poetry here.

Quoth the Raven

I'm not very inspired today. All my creative energies went into a piece I wrote for the writer's group at the library last night.

I tend to write best on a deadline, but I really cut this one close. I wrote the whole thing Monday afternoon - half of it while my children were asking, "What's for dinner Mom?" "When are we going to eat Mom?" "Are we going to be late for AWANA tonight Mom?" "We need to eat NOW!"

They got fed, they were on time, I e-mailed off my article. Whew.

Lucky for me (and hopefully for you), I have created a file on my computer of poems I like but haven't yet shared. Today's poem came from that file.

I read quite a bit of Edgar Allan Poe in junior high. Doesn't that seem the perfect age for his short stories and poems? A bit creepy, a bit scary, a bit thrilling. Just like junior high. Although I think they call it "middle school" now.

In eighth grade, I was in the advanced English class. The librarian taught the class - my sister could tell you her name. (I could too, if I took the time to dig out my junior high year book. Not gonna do it though.)

I remember stop-motion animation projects (pre-computer days), IQ tests, vocabulary words like harbinger (The robin is a harbinger of spring.), Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott, and Edgar Allan Poe. Particularly this poem. I love the repetition of the line "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.'"

I suppose I should understand it at a deeper level now that I'm ahem years older. But I've not really thought about it. I enjoy the rhyming, wording & cadence of it. I hope you do too.

By the way, it's a really, really long poem, so I've just included my favorite stanzas here. (I think that's what you call them. We'll pretend I'm right. And after you enjoy this poem, you can read more poetry here.)

The Raven
Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
‘ ‘T is some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door -
Only this and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
...
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
‘Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou’ I said, ‘art sure no craven,
Gastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
Tell me what they lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’
...
‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked, upstarting -
‘Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

That totally awesome, amazing photo came from kevindooley on flickr

Ancient History

I had an epiphany this week.

Yesterday, I started back at one of my favorite places, Bible Study Fellowship. I'm so excited because they're offering a new study this year - the book of Isaiah. I love studying the Old Testament, and am looking forward to digging into this year.

Yesterday afternoon, I sat down in my living room and read the introductory notes on Isaiah. In a part of the notes, it discussed different enemies of Israel that Isaiah prophesied against over the course of his 60-year ministry in Judah.

Here's the epiphany: I recognized every single name on that list!

That may not seem amazing, but I feel like a lightbulb has turned on! I'm going through World History again with my older two children, just finished a 2-year World History study with my younger two. So, discussing places like Ur, Babylon, Nineveh, Egypt, Assyria, etc, is almost second nature to me. Names are my downfall, but something must be sticking.

I love homeschooling! I have learned so, so, so much, and this year I can sense it coming all together.

My older kids and I are in the middle of reading a fabulous historical fiction book called God King (watch for a review on KidsBooksThatRock.com). Some of the minor characters in the book are key characters in the Old Testament - King Hezekiah, Isaiah, Sennacharib.

This morning, I opened the poetry book I read with the younger two and found this poem. I was as surprised as you are.

The Destruction of Sennacherib
Lord Byron

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!


By the way, you can read about Sennecharib & King Hezekiah in various places in the Bible, including 2 Kings 18-19, 2 Chronicles 32:1-23, and Isaiah 36-37. It's a very interesting story - and I like Byron's perspective.

You can read more poetry here, for Poetry Wednesday.

Animal Crackers

Animal Crackers
Christopher Morely

Animal crackers, and cocoa to drink,
That is the finest of suppers, I think;
When I'm grown up and can have what I please
I think I shall always insist upon these.

What do you choose when you're offered a treat?
When Mother says, "What would you like best to eat?"
Is it waffles and syrup, or cinnamon toast?
It's cocoa and animal crackers that I love most!

The kitchen's the cosiest place that I know:
The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow,
And there in the twilight, how jolly to see
The cocoa and animals waiting for me.

Daddy and Mother dine later in state,
With Mary to cook for them, Susan to wait;
But they don't have nearly as much as I
Who eat in the kitchen with Nurse standing by;
And Daddy once said, he would like to be me
Having cocoa and animals once more for tea!

~*~*~*~

We read this poem in school yesterday morning. It's a fun poem to read, fun to think about, but it was made even more fun by our company yesterday.

We were watching my friend's daughter, Kaylee, who is almost two and a half. She was hanging out with us in the living room, playing with the Little People princesses, horses and castle. She was so quiet, I almost forgot she was there.

Then, I read this poem and a little voice piped up.

"Does Kaylee want animal crackers? Yes please!"

Don't you love how toddlers ignore pronouns? So cute! I told her she may after I was done reading the poem.

The next time she heard 'animal crackers' in the poem she repeated herself, "Does Kaylee want animal crackers? Yes please!"

We had to interrupt the poem, find Lydia who could dig in the diaper bag for animal crackers for Kaylee's snack.

In three years, when I read this poem again to my younger children, I'm sure I'll still hear the little two-year-old Kaylee's voice, asking for animal crackers.

I love making memories.

Enjoy more poetry here in honor of Poetry Wednesday.

Nothing to Envy

This book nearly screamed at me to grab it off the shelves of my local library. In Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea, author Barbara Demick weaves together stories from the lives of defectors from North Korea, based upon hundreds of interviews she conducted while living and working in South Korea.

The book immediately drew me in with a satellite photo from NASA of the Korean peninsula at night. The contrast is startling. I thought I knew something about North Korea - but that picture told me how little I knew about this hermit nation.

North Korea is like a black hole - virtually no lights on throughout the entire country.

South Korea is lit up like a Christmas tree.

Demick starts telling us how darkness can be a blessing to some in North Korea and then takes us into the lives of Mi-Ran and her boyfriend, Jun-Sang, as well as four other North Koreans.

Their stories completely pulled me in. I found myself fascinated with their journeys, their struggles, their triumphs, their pain. I knew that North Korea had experienced a famine fairly recently, but knowing it as fact is completely different than feeling it through the lives of these people.

Demick expertly weaves the stories together, along with the history of the Korean peninsula, North Korea in particular.

I nearly cried so many times during the book. I raged at the selfish pigheadedness of the North Korean dictators. When my husband's cousin mentioned pulling weeds and throwing them over the fence of their backyard, I immediately thought, "That's what the North Koreans would gather and try to cook for something to eat."

Thank you, Barbara Demick, for introducing me to these ordinary people who fought so hard and lost so much. It's changed my outlook on life, and helped me realize how blessed I am.

The Bridge Builder

I went to the farm this weekend. In my husband's family, that means either his parents' house on 1000 West in Rensselaer, Indiana, or his uncle's (now his cousin's) house in West Liberty, Ohio.

In my family, it means Stillman Valley, Illinois, southwest of Rockford.

My mother's uncle and his wife farmed the land on that Nyberg farm for as long as I can remember. And Uncle Len and Aunt LaVerna would have us out for a Memorial Day picnic every year when I was little.

I hunted out these pictures at my mother's this afternoon. This is what I remember of the farm - playing with the cats, eating Aunt LaVerna's homemade Swedish pastries, playing by the creek, driving a tractor, and hay rides.

Most of all, I remember big hugs and big laughs from Uncle Len. Uncle Len was my grandfather's youngest brother. I don't remember my grandfather much because he died when I was six. Yet, there he is in the bottom picture, in the little jalopy, sitting up behind my dad.

I do remember Uncle Len. Dear, laughing, teasing, oh-so-much-fun Uncle Len. I took three of my children to Stillman Valley this weekend to remember Uncle Len, who died a week ago. I had not seen him in a very long time, but he's the closest I remember to a Nyberg grandpa.

And I feel so lucky to have him.

Our visits slowly stopped after Uncle Len's son, Dan, and his family, moved out to the farm when I was about 10. I remember feeling an insane amount of jealousy towards those tiny little kids I didn't really know. I wanted to live on that farm so badly!

Uncle Len's presence in my life lives on. His family chose to include this poem in the program for his memorial service. I was amazed at the words, and how they describe my great-uncle. Uncle Len chose to build a strong bridge into my life and the lives of my siblings, I think, especially after my grandfather died. I appreciate him so much for that!

At the farm, after the service, I overheard my mother's cousin, Marsha, telling Aunt LaVerna what she remembered about the poem. Marsha's dad, Uncle Phil, was another Nyberg brother.

"I remember being out here on the farm, and Uncle Len and Dad had figured out a way to build a bridge across the creek. So they started every single engine on the farm and lined them up along the bank, not because they needed them, but because they could. They had a crane from somewhere and dropped an I-beam across the creek, and my father stood there, next to the bridge and quoted this poem. Then, Aunt LaVerna, you were the first to cross the bridge and you fell off into the water!"

Aunt LaVerna laughed a big laugh. "That's true! I was stepping high, making a big show of it, and I lost my footing and fell in that creek! Oh, your memory is amazing."

My family is amazing. Amazing that I knew every one of my great-aunts & great-uncles on both the Nyberg and Gustafson side, and can probably name most of my mother's 20-something cousins on each side. Amazing that we all consider family so important that Aunt LaVerna said to us, "Relatives are the most important. I am so glad to see you all could make it."

Uncle Len and Aunt LaVerna never met a stranger and couldn't count the number of friends they have. Yet, they still value us, as distant relatives as we are. Dear Aunt LaVerna recognized me as soon as she saw me and could name all four of my children by name.

Family is so important. Thank you Uncle Len and Aunt LaVerna for all the wonderful memories you created through your love, laughter and hospitality. I love you dearly.

The Bridge Builder

Will Allen Dromgoole

An old man, going a lone highway,

Came at the evening, cold and gray,

To chasm, vast and deep and wide,

Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;

The sullen stream had no fears for him;

But he turned when safe on the other side

And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near,

"You are wasting strength with building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day;

You never again must pass this way;

You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide --

Why build you the bridge at the eventide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head:

"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,

"There followeth after me today

A youth whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm that has been naught to me

To that fair-haired youth may a pit-fall be,

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;

Good friend, I am building the bridge for him."

Enjoy more poetry here on Poetry Wednesday.

In Need of a Song

I thought I had my poem all picked out this morning.

Then, well, you know. The day did not go as planned.

Not that it was a nightmare day. It wasn't a bad day, as days go. Just didn't go as I had planned.

I was feeling in need of a pick-me-up, yes-I-can-ignore-my-trashed-house type of poem. Honestly, I didn't even realize my need for such a poem until I opened the poetry book my older children are using for school this year.

It dropped open to this poem. It caught my eye. It made me smile. It made me realize I needed a fun-make-me-smile-and-realize-this-day-was-fine-if-not-as-planned type of poem.

Enjoy!

Song of the Pop-Bottlers

by Morris Bishop

Pop bottles pop-bottles

in pop shops;

The pop-bottles Pop bottles

Poor Pop drops.

When Pop drops pop-bottles,

Pop-bottles plop!

Pop-bottle-tops topple!

Pop mops slop!

Stop! Pop'll drop bottle!

Stop, Pop, stop!

When Pop bottles pop-bottles,

Pop-bottles pop!

Enjoy more poetry here.

Sonlight Box Day!!

We FINALLY opened the boxes!

They've been sitting in our living room, staring at us, silently begging me to open them - urged on by the audible pleadings of my children.

But other things had to take priority - until this week.

We are preparing for overnight guests, so I motivated my children to clean their rooms with a promise to be allowed to help me unload those Sonlight boxes in the living room. (For the record, this is a job I usually keep to myself, so it's a BIG DEAL.)

The girls' room was cleaned in record time.

The boys missed out. Although they tried to sneak in here and there.

Anna's job was to unload the boxes and show me the books so I could check the packing list.

Lydia's job was to take pictures.

It got a little crazy, especially since we had to chase the boys out of the living room about every 15 minutes (usually after Anna or I or Lydia would exclaim loudly, "Wow! Look at this book!")

But, the books are on the shelf, ready for school Monday. Last years' books are packed away, waiting for their turn with the younger two.

My friend Barb even stopped by yesterday to help me put together the Instructor's Guides, although I didn't get any pictures.

The best part was this morning, when Isaac said to me, "Mom, why can't we start school today? I mean, I'm getting bored of summer break."

I mollified him by listening to him read Nate the Great out loud.

These Houses

As I child, I longed for cousins on the Nyberg side. It was just my brother, sister and I for so long.

I remember being in my aunt's wedding, and counting down the very long days before a cousin would come. To a girl of seven, three years is an eternity!

Once Matthew came, the cousins started coming - thick and fast, you might say. Eight cousins in nine years - my siblings and I were in heaven.

Aren't they so cute? We spent so much time with them when they were little... then right about the time they were really growing up, I went to college, got a job, married and moved to Florida. Busy with my own life, I missed out on significant parts of their growing-up years, thus my cousins are much closer to my siblings than to me.

Still, I adore them. And now, as our family celebrates their marriages, births of their children, their engagements - not even the rapid growth of my own children makes me feel as old as these events.

Today's poem is for my dear Nyberg cousins: I love you. I am praying this for you as you stretch your wings, choose your life-long mate, raise your precious babes.

Prayer For This House

Louis Untermeyer

May nothing evil cross this door,

And may ill-fortune never pry

About these windows; may the roar

And rains go by.

Strengthened by faith, the rafters will

Withstand the battering of the storm.

This hearth, though all the world grow chill

Will keep you warm.

Peace shall walk softly through these rooms,

Touching your lips with holy wine,

Till every casual corner blooms

Into a shrine.

Laughter shall drown the raucous shout

And, though the sheltering walls are thin,

May they be strong to keep hate out

And hold love in.

Find more poetry here.

Best-laid plans

Kelsey & Ryan

Isaac & Mary

Priscilla & Lydia

the first-cousins-once-removed (except Elijah & Ben)

Great-Grandma Nelson

What a beautiful wedding! But what a weekend!

We were all so excited to be helping my cousin Kelsey celebrate her marriage to Ryan this past weekend. The girls had their beautiful dresses picked out (Lydia chose to wear the one Kelsey herself wore as the flower girl in my wedding), the boys were grudgingly planning on wearing ties for the occasion. We were excited to see first cousins, first-cousins-once-removed (ie, my cousins), second-cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles.

Then we ate dinner Friday night. The first sign that something was wrong came Saturday morning. Anna started throwing up. Then Glen wasn't feeling well, but would not allow himself to admit it. We made alternate plans - Glen would take Nathaniel (whom we thought had pink eye) and Anna home. Lydia & Isaac & I would take the train from Battle Creek back to Chicago.

The three of us attended the ceremony - beautiful! So wonderful, beautiful setting, perfect weather, happy couple, happy family. We missed the other half of our family, but were glad we could attend.

Then, at the reception, I started not feeling good. I couldn't eat anything and could hardly put two sentences together. Then Lydia started throwing up. Nearly in tears, I called Glen, "Please turn around and come get us!"

He did, bless his heart. We left the wedding early, turned on the TV in the hotel room for the children, and crashed.

There's always drama at a wedding. Just wish we could have been left out of it. (As a side note, at Kelsey's sister's wedding, little Mary was throwing up & sick. Molly missed that one. I decided that at the next Nyberg wedding, my sister Carrie needs to have the drama. Not that I wish it on anyone...)

The good news is that the rest of the wedding went very smoothly and all the cousins, first-cousins-once-removed, second-cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles had a wonderful time. I've seen the pictures.

Finding Normal

I've logged on to write this post about three or four times this week, but always something more pressing comes my way (making dinner, bedtime, work), and I close blogger without writing anything. I've missed three Poetry Wednesdays now, which means I have to write it on my calendar now, or I'll never remember to post on Wednesdays again.

So much has happened - Glen and I have been to Alaska, Canada and back. My parents survived a week and a half with our boys, including a week of Cousins' Camp (with 8 grandkids, ages 4-12), our girls have been to overnight camp in Indiana and back. The children and I babysat a friend's toddler so her parents could go to Great America on Tuesday - and then we spent the day there yesterday.

We are wiped out. Tomorrow, we all leave for Michigan (lower peninsula this time), for my cousin's wedding. We are so excited!

And to top it all off, I have two Sonlight boxes in my living room just dying to be opened. My 10yo keeps asking if she can bring up the books for her younger siblings.

"I'm looking for something to read, Mom, and I know you'll let me read their books since I can't open my school books."

When will we get settled into our routine? Who knows. I hope to have my official "Sonlight Box Day" next week (I'll post pictures!), and we plan to start school August 16. (Public schools start on the 18th.)

I'll stop writing now, and leave you with some of my favorite pictures from the last few weeks. I'll try not to be excessive... but we were on an Alaskan cruise after all! :)

This is just the children's luggage. Packing was a nightmare!

But worth it! The flowers in Anchorage were gorgeous.

Here we are at the Hubbard Glacier

Pitchfork Falls outside Skagway, AK

Mendenhall Glacier outside of Juneau, AK

It rained all day - we were soaked!!

All the cousins at Papa & Nana's

Anna (in pink) & Lydia (in yellow) at overnight camp