Welcome to my rambling

Winter is back. I spent about 40 min with a shovel this morning on our little patch of pavement just to get rid of last nights fall. Yesterday we got hit pretty hard too. As long as we have a small driveway I like shoveling snow.

The way I see it is- It's a great way to enjoy winter. You aren't cold and miserable and you are getting a great work. Marcus came along and decided to venture into the tall snow in the backyard. It was up to his shin. He walked around the whole thing before deciding he couldn't take another step. His boots were full of snow and he was too tired to do anymore trudging. I went out and rescued him and found his little boots full of snow. And bare feet and no snowpants either. Camille had brought him out to join me when she left for the bus. He is warming up in a hot bath right now. Singing away.

Last night we had an amazing thing happen during his bath. He suddenly hollered "I gotta pee", hopped out, sat down on the big seat and shot off, with perfect aim.

I was so shocked since this is the first time he has had any interest, he thought of it himself, and jumped out of a WARM bath to do it. And from my experience this is a sign that he will probably be potty trained in a year or so. I never get my hopes up with little stuff like this. Though it was pretty exciting and we all ran in to scream and congratulate him.

While I was out shoveling this morning Kennon was across the street waiting for her bus with the other middle school students in the neighborhood. I am not allowed to take any pictures of Kennon at her bus stop - but picture this.

Here is Kennon standing alone and staring straight ahead not talking to anyone, totally sticking out with her flower headband. Ten other kids rough house all around her, every couple minutes someone going down in the snow. They are all yelling and it pretty much consists of F this and F that. I probably heard that word I hate 50 times in the 5 minutes I shoveled nearby. I kept stopping and staring at them, debating what I should do, and what wouldn't embarrass Kennon. I finally decided she would never forgive me if I hollered at them so I said nothing.

I hate what my kids are forced to put up with. It made me think two things.

First, Maybe we should move to the south where kids are more respectable and study the bible during recess. I don't think these inner city kids are bad kids themselves, it's just that they are raised so differently. I would like her to be surrounded by religious people regardless of the faith. She feels so weird here to be religious at all.

My second thought was that we need to really work hard to make our home all that it needs to be. More love and understanding. More fun. More attention and time with each child. Somehow a better study of the scriptures together before we send them off to the bus stop. We read every morning, but so many times it's frustrating because I don't feel like it is beneficial because everyone is so distracted. We have tried reading less verses and just focusing on a subject but that seems to not work either. So we just trudge through, two pages a day. We stop and talk about them, or at least Brent and I do, but no family discussion takes place. Their minds are on different things. Usually Marcus running around the room singing and stealing the show.

It gives me great strength though to remember that my own family's scripture session while growing up were just as bad. Maybe worse. Every morning at 5:30 Mom walked down the hall singing, "DEVOTIONAL" as she passed by the rooms on her way to the piano. Then she played through one verse. I hated both of these things, the sound of Mom's "Devotional" and our piano, because they were always associated with getting my tired body out of bed. And I had to get it out fast because whoever didn't make it by the end of the 1st verse, had dish duty that evening.

Once we got to the table we somehow woke up enough to argue, complain, tell mom that it was taking too long, push each other around. . . pretty much do anything but concentrate on the scriptures. I am sure my parents wondered the same thing I do everyday as we all run off in separate directions after prayers. Why are we doing this when no one is getting anything out of it. . . and it certainly isn't any fun?

The thing is . . . it's not true. I never jumped in and discussed the subjects my parents wanted us to, nor bore sweet testimony. . . nor did I ever want to be there. But I learned the scripture stories very well. And those stories have made a huge difference in my life. I have always had (or been working on at least) a daily scripture study habit since I left home. I developed all the habits and convictions that my parents wanted to instill through family scripture study and family prayer. What if they had given up because it wasn't the perfect family experience we all want it to be?

I really think that our efforts to provide our kids with spirituality will pay off. The things that are important to my parents became important to me. It's so interesting that it doesn't seem like it at the time. So I will keep trudging on.

As far as making kids ride the bus with all that garbage I would love some of your thoughts. I don't want to shelter my kids from the world because I think we all need to grow up and deal with it somehow on our own. I have never thought that I should homeschool them just to protect them from other people's examples because there is no way to totally do that.

At the same time I hate forcing them to endure it, by sending them out to the bus everyday.

That's why we need to move to the bible belt. Any thoughts on the amount of swearing in the south?