This old Mom
The Irises are blooming yet again. Not in their entirety but enough to remind me that everything old is new again.
Pencils are sharpened, last minute maps will make it to our doorstep most likely the VERY day they are required in the lesson plans making me look like I indeed have my ducks in a row.
But the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth is that my ducks would rather ROW AWAY to a deserted island than open even one book REQUIRED to increase any brain capacity.
Is there such a thing as a complete curriculum based on the adventures of "The Hardy Boys?"
And literally as I was typing mid-sentence someone tried to steal some cookies and slink away.
Even Alexa won't obey.
Sometimes old just feels, well, old.
Some kind soul came to help me place dividers between seats for school this year.
One of my kids piped-up saying, "Mom, we're all in different grades. We can't cheat!"
Though I appreciated the reasoning they obviously spent some time on, I told them it was because I don't want them to see each other.
This after I spent an hour telling older sister that it was indeed okay that her younger sibling was chewing.
With her mouth closed.
If fences make good neighbors, school dividers make siblings best friends.
Well, a girl can dream, can't she?
Before our handyman came I was determined to clean like mad. I began the dishwasher to clean it out as it sat for a week or so needing a fix, and when I did, the smell that came from it was horrendous.
Ninja Turtles would have called it "Grody to the MAX."
Even empty, it let out such a stink from the disposal deciding to back-up into it.
Yeah thanks for that, garbage disposal.
I THEN decided that one lone candle would fix the whole ordeal.
Surely watermelon covers a multitude of sins.
When he arrived I ushered him down past the kitchen to the school room as quickly as was tactfully possible, where he patiently worked with the boys to set up the lovely partitions he created. After a good bit, I decided it was time to preheat the oven for lunch.
I returned to the school room while he finished his work and then to the kitchen area to reverse the whole quick shuffling process to see him to the door.
And then it hit me.
It hit us.
An AMAZING smell.
My handyman commented on it immediately, almost cocking his head back to grab the biggest smell he could before sighing, "WOW. Something sure smells good!"
I sheepishly motioned to the candle, a little stunned myself with what had just transpired.
We went from the garbage heap to Good Housekeeping in 20 minutes flat.
He nodded and smiled and left and we then turned to figure out what on earth had happened!
The closer we got to the oven the better the wafts of deliciousness became.
We cracked-open the oven door to be greeted by a black cloud of smoke half-disguising a small round pan of cinnamon rolls forgotten from the evening before!
While out on our date night, the girls got a little ambitious and had forgotten to put the rest of the rolls in the fridge.
Everything old was a lovely new waft of blackened cinnamon that the whole house enjoyed. Not to mention a hilarious situation that gave us no small amount of laughter.
Some days I feel I should have majored in Dentistry for all of the "teeth I have been pulling," but today it reminded me of those first days of college Math.
Because public schools just passed kids like me into the next grade, the Christian school didn't know what to do with me and as such kept me balancing check books way into my Senior Year.
So when my esteemed professor brought out the basic Algebra concepts I knew feeling like you were in over your head was not the best feeling this early in the year.
It being the first week and all.
And I timidly raised my hand and told my teacher that I didn't know what to do because I had never seen "the alphabet mixed with the numbers before."
I can still see this poor teacher in my mind's eye furrow her brow and in exhaustion tell me that this class was for those with "limited Algebra background," not "NO algebra background!"
I didn't think that "not" and "no" should be that close together in one sentence, but those with no algebra background decided they might also be limited in their English background and thus kept their mouth closed.
I look back and wish I could have spent the semester balancing her checkbook for her.
I could've taken my final as she did her Christmas shopping or something.
So much was new to me then.
And I smile as I put Algebra books away on the shelf and think of what scope for the soul a few years and Oreos under your belt become.
Being terrible at one thing doesn't make you terrible at everything.
I wish I could tell that to my cute 18 year old culotte-wearing self.
And isn't it something that culottes are now in style?
Everything old becoming new again.
The Summer wind whips through the sheets I am attempting to sun-dry and makes me laugh out loud as I wrestle them from around my legs and from completely covering my face.
I adore late Summer.
I adore the way it pulls stands of hair out of ponytails and reminds you that it's still in charge.
I enjoy the way it warms sheets and towels and kisses them with the sweetest Sun smell, and even though I bury my face into them to soak it all up (and sometimes force my kids to do so as well) you can never hold on to the smell of Summer.
I find joy in trying to secretly add one more scoop of sugar to the homemade iced tea without my dear husband knowing thus making it one step closer to my own Mom's.
I love doors swinging, bare feet and cool grass between your toes after dinner.
I love having yet another reason to eat watermelon and cheeseburgers fresh off the grill and hearing "mmmmmms" as I cut cucumbers because the smell is fresh and wonderful.
Isn't it crazy how timeless the Seasons are?
So much so that just about the time you are OVER sweat running down your back, a breeze whips up or clouds with rain making you reach for cozy socks and reminding you that the seasons are taking note and moving accordingly.
As old as the day Noah and his family left the ark, and yet as new as ever.
Who doesn't read this passage in Ecclesiastes 3 and not sigh for the constancy of God's timing in our lives?
"1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
9 What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?
10 I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.
11 He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
12 I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.
13 And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.
14 I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him.
15 That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past."
I have read this over and over and over again and have not found one reference to laundry, but do feel that verse 6 can perfectly describe one trip to the thrift store and then assessing the clothing hugging the back of my closet.
Even if you don't feel beautiful in that thrifted dress anymore, God is still making all things beautiful in his time.
Making everything old new again.
So I'll smile at holes in socks needing fixing and the post it note on my son's desktop telling him, "Come on! It's for a Hamster!" as he works ever so hard to earn a new creature for this house even though we've killed the previous two.
on accident mind you.
We aren't murders over here.
And thank the Lord for the old and the new and the right here and now.