If you buy an Intex Easy Set Pool you will perhaps believe set up to be easy.  And why not!?  It clearly states on the box that it is.  See?

    All you have to do is:

1    Make an offhand sort of promise to your daughter that the pool will be up before July 4th.
2    Realize July 4th is fast approaching.
3    Remember what a poor job your filter did last year.
4    Remember how you don’t want to add chemicals to something your children will be spending at least a quarter of their summer time in.
5 to 19    Spend an average of an hour each day for two weeks agonizing over how to keep this pool clean.
20    Settle on a saltwater filter.
21    Spend the next week looking for a good deal before finally deciding to bite the bullet and just get one already.
22    Wait for it to arrive before proceeding to the erroneously labeled “step 1″.

23    The “select level location” bit may be tricky if your yard is sloped.  But no problem, that can be remedied in a few easy steps.
24    Stake out desired location for pool.
25    Run string around stakes and level with string level.
26    Realize you don’t have a string level - go to Lowe’s to get one.
27    While at Lowe’s pick up 20 of the 36 bags of filler you’ve determined you need to create your very own “level location” and 2 bags of salt for the filter.
28    Return home and level the previously strung string.
29    Carry 20 bags of top soil and 2 bags of salt to the back yard.
30    Wish you had a wheelbarrow.
31    Spread out 20 bags of top soil as evenly as possible.
32    Realize you are a bit shy of level.
33    Briefly consider returning to Lowe’s for more soil before realizing how tired you are.
34    Decide close is good enough.
35    Lay plastic tarp over your almost “level location.” (This is not explicitly stated in the instructions but experience will have taught you the value of this step.)
36    Place pool over plastic tarp making sure to center it on your fabricated “level location”.
37   
38    Notice the word “optional”.
39    Recall last summer when you blew up the top ring With. Your. Mouth.
40    Refrain from cursing.
41    Listen to your genius daughter who reminds you of your bicycle pump.
42    Discover the bicycle pump doesn’t fit.
43    Refrain from cursing.
44    Watch your genius daughter jerry-rig an adapter from some random black garden tube thing.
45    Request an application to MIT.
46 to 49    Watch filter instructional video at least 4 times.
50    Install filter/saltwater chlorination unit that you spent weeks researching, Do this in the near darkness while your flashlight holding daughter skips away periodically crying, “Oooh look!  A firefly!”
51    Reconsider the MIT application.
52    Go to bed.

53    The next morning (or later) re-center pool on plastic tarp.
54    Turn on hose and begin to fill the pool with an inch of water.
55    Turn off hose and carefully smooth out all wrinkles.
56    Notice that one side of the pool has an inch of water and the other side has about a foot more than an inch.
57    Disregard this discrepancy.
58    When all wrinkles are smoothed out, turn the hose back on.
59    Allow children to splash about as pool fills.
60    Make the children get out so you can go bake a cake or read some blogs or write a dissertation. (Any or all of these can easily be finished in the time it takes the pool to fill.)
61    Turn the hose off.
62    Congratulations your pool is now *almost* ready to use.
63    Add 60 lbs of salt to the pool.
64    Allow filter to run for 24 hrs.
65    Set chlorination unit to run for 3 hrs.
66    Test water.
67    Use pool. For 4 days. It will look something like this:

68    Skip swimming on the 5th day because of rain.
69    Skip swimming on the 6th day because of rain.
70    Skip swimming on the 7th day because of rain.
71    Wake up day 8 to find this:

72    Watch helplessly as your dreams of summer coolness roll slowly down the slope of your *almost* “level location”
73    Wait for the sun to return.
74    Empty pool.
75    Move pool.
76    Roll back tarp.
77    Remember why you put down the tarp in the first place.
78    Try not to faint from the smell of rotting grass.
79    Pack up the kiddos and head to Lowe’s.
80    Purchase the remaining 16 bags of filler you should have gotten the first time and another bag of salt.
81    Purchase a wheelbarrow because by golly you’re not carrying that many bags of anything to the backyard ever again.
82    Get completely home before realizing you have purchased a wheelbarrow with a flat wheel.
83    Refrain from cursing.
84    Don’t remember that you have a bicycle pump.
85    Carry 16 bags of sand and a bag of salt to the back yard.
86    Silently remind yourself that God tells us to forgive others.
87 to 104    Forgive the people at Lowe’s for selling you a defective wheelbarrow.  - Repeat once for each bag.
105    Spread the sand around to create a new and improved “level location”
106    Replace the tarp over the sand and fetid grass.
107    Replace the pool on the tarp.
108    Go to bed.
109    Re-install the filter/saltwater chlorination unit.
110    Center pool on the the new “level location.
111    Turn on hose and begin to fill the pool with an inch of water.
112    Turn off hose and carefully smooth out all wrinkles.
113    When all wrinkles are smoothed out, turn the hose back on.
114    Allow children to splash about as pool fills.
115    Shake your head as you try to overcome an overwhelming feeling of dejavu.
116    Make the children get out so you can go bake a cake or read some blogs or write a dissertation take a nap while the pool fills.
117    Turn the hose off.
118    Congratulations your pool is now *almost* ready to use…again
119    Add 60 lbs of salt to the pool.
120    Allow filter to run for 24 hrs.
121    Set chlorination unit to run for 3 hrs.
122    Test water.
123    Use pool.

See? Exactly one hundred twenty-three steps.  1-2-3.

Marketing.  Genius.

If you hear of a workshop in your town where one can learn to play the harmonica AND said workshop is specifically for children AND each child walks away with their very own harmonica with which to practice what they’ve learned, you may think that sounds like a fun, educational experience.  You would be right.  It would be a lot of fun and the fun would continue all. day. long.

Begin by listening to this famous storyteller.

Have lunch with Dad.  Discuss the business behind those insipid claw machines that take your money and still keep their cutesy stuffed animals.

Attend a magic show.

Return home inspired.  Make up your own magic trick.

Discover this bug on your morning glories and spend time finding out what it is, what it eats, where it lives and why it’s golden.  Also look for snails.

Check on the potato plant your growing in a garbage can.

Watch a Snook video from the library.

Try your magic trick on Dad … it works!

Finally get brave enough to knock on your neighbor’s door to see if he can come out to play instead of waiting outside hoping he’ll see you and come out on his own.  He’s not home but now you know you can do it.

Play Star Wars with Dad.

Read a chapter from the second Spirit book with Mom - We’re halfway through!

Get some rest.  You deserve it.

While watching this

Sister queries, “Can you really make butter just by shaking milk?”

“Yes,” I reply.  “I believe you can.”

Many minutes later she appears by my side.

“Can we do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make butter?”

“Yes,” I reply.  “I believe we can.”

And here is how it’s done:

Add 1/4 cup of this -

and three of these -

to one of these (with a tight fitting lid) - 

let one of these - shake vigorously intermittently for several minutes.

Pour off the liquid (buttermilk?) that accumulates and you are left with this  

and a very proud one of these -

**for more detailed instructions visit here. 

.

Go here.  Read this.  I pray that as my children grow they will grasp the essence of the faith as clearly as this young poet does.

Here’s something completely weird about me.  I’m a stay-at-home mom. (That’s not the weird part.) I take care of my kids and my man and my home. (Nope, not that either.)  I have no desire whatsoever to work in corporate America, own my own business or even be a work from home person.  (Wait for it.) I don’t even want to sell the crafty things I make on Etsy.  But (This is it.) I am fascinated by business books and business people.  I’ve devoured resources like The Art of the Start & 4-Hour Work Week and I faithfully read every post Seth Godin writes.  I’m not sure what it was about business writing that drew me in the first time but now I seek it out intentionally because even though the concepts seem far from stay-at-home mommydom I always walk away with something I can use.  Today, I am reminded about the idea of “exit strategy.”

At worst, an exit strategy will save face; at best, an exit strategy will peg a withdrawal to the achievement of an objective worth more than the cost of continued involvement  (Wikipedia)

An exit strategy is beneficial for big things (business deals, buying a house) but what struck me this morning is that it’s good for parenting too.

Take this scenario:  You’re going to a nice restaurant with some single friends.  You know little one is tired because s/he missed a nap.  What are you going to do if the tantrum of the year happens in the middle of dinner?  Or if munchkin simply becomes too squirmy to allow reasonable conversation to continue?  At what point will you say to your friends, “You know, this isn’t working.”?  Or will you?   Often we get caught up in the momentum of the moment.  It seems impossible to escape with any dignity so we just grin and bear it but a clear exit strategy can provide a graceful out of a stressful situation.

Imagine a slightly different scenario:  You’re going to a nice restaurant with friends.  As soon as the greetings are over, you explain that little one missed his/her nap today and you’re not certain whether you’ll get to stay for the whole dinner.  The server arrives.  You place your order and ask for a “to go” box at the same time.  Mid-meal when munchkin is just beginning to get out of hand you scoop what remains of your dish into the box, pull out some cash (which you got ahead of time) from your purse and kindly ask your friend to pay your portion of the check with it.  You and your grumpy baby are out the door within 5 minutes and your friends can continue to have a stress free meal.

So that’s an “out and about” example.  What about at home?  There are several pre-prepared phrases I use to diffuse various situations.  “I don’t know.” and “I was wrong.” top the list.  Fortunately, I discovered the truth of these two powerful statements early on in my parenting adventure.  The Bible says, “the truth will set you free.”  and that’s exactly what these simple words do.  Unfortunately, many parents are afraid to use them.  They are afraid (I guess.) that saying they don’t know or admitting they were wrong will weaken their image as authority figure.  Perhaps, but my experience is that my children respect me all the more for my weaknesses because it makes me seem (as I am) human.  They make me approachable.  They help put my children and I on the same side.

Closely following “I don’t know” and “I was wrong” are “I need to think about it.”, “Please explain what you need/want/meant.  I’m not sure I understand.” and “I’m too angry/upset/distracted to discuss this right now.”  All of these phrases can provide some breathing room in the midst of potentially volatile parental situations and I use them them frequently.  They are words of release.  Allowing my world to move away from gridlock and toward solutions.  They are my exit strategy.

*from The Gambler by Kenny Rogers

“To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach for another is to risk involvement. To expose your feelings is to risk exposing your true self. To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss. To love is to risk not being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To believe is to risk despair. To try is to risk failure. But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing. They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live. Chained by their servitude they are slaves; they have forfeited their freedom. Only a person who risks is free.”

William Arthur Ward

Here is to living a life free of fear.  To accepting and embracing each moment for what it is and moving on without regret.

*photo courtesy of Snoober

Greeted early by two bright sets of eyes I rolled my tired body out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen.  I started water for tea and began to make the worst breakfast smoothies ever.  Neither child would touch them opting instead for cheesecake.  (Wouldn’t you?)

I wrote out an ambitious to do list for the day hoping to keep my mind occupied and was well through the first task - an enormous mound of laundry - when my body cried uncle.  Back down the hall to a bed kept warm by my sleeping mate.  A light but persistent cramping hovered in the background until I rolled myself out of bed for the second time.  Will cooked a real breakfast and I returned to my list ignoring the ever increasing cramps that came and went on some erratic schedule.

Around 11, I returned to bed for the third time.  The cramping had increased and now washed over me in waves radiating pain around my abdomen, lower back and down both legs.  I glanced at the clock, “God, when will it end.”  Another wave - another look at the clock, another wave, another … and then the realization hit.  They are not just cramps.  They are contractions.  Of course.  Now we were in familiar territory.  As fear of the unknown subsided so too did the unbearable pain.  The waves still came but I was no longer drowning - at least not completely.

As a doula I have seen a number of women in labor reach a point of despair thinking it will never end.  The point for each was different but I told them all the same.  “It’s okay.  You can do it.  I know it’s hard but it’s worth it.  There’s a prize at the end.”  About 12:15 I thought of those words and began to despair myself.  If there was no prize then all was for naught, wasn’t it?

I sent my longsuffering husband on a hunt for the strongest medication in the house.  “I want four.”  He returned with two.  “I need four.” He hands me the two. “Just take these.  You don’t need to have liver damage on top of everything else.”  My reply came through clenched teeth. “I need four.  You will bring me two more or I will get them myself.”  I have, with the help of my husband, birthed two children sans medication of any kind.  I am sure he found my attitude bewildering at best and to be honest I did to.  The doula part of me whispered, “You’re in transition.” while the laboring part of me wailed, “That’s ridiculous.  This isn’t even a real labor.”  Will returned with the requested caplets but it was too late.  I waved him away, leaned over the bed and let my grief have a voice.  Tears dropped unchecked onto the quilt below and when there were no more left to fall my body finally released its precious charge.

If you have experienced the loss of a child through miscarriage please know that my deepest sympathies are with you.  Understand that I am not trying to be flippant by publishing such a loss as a birth story.  It was simply one of those things that begged to be written and remembered.

Know also that I have found a Hope in the midst of grief and I wish the same for you.

“Why are you downcast oh my soul? Why so disturbed within me?

I put my hope in God for I will yet praise Him,  my Savior and my Lord.

Psalm 43:5-6

That part I wrote about not being a weepy sort of griever was not true, apparently.  it has been true in the past so of course I assumed consistency.  Will says it’s because I am softer now than I used to be - emotionally, speaking.  I say, softer sucks.  The strong side of me - the hard side, I suppose - has settled back into routines that had fallen by the wayside amidst the nausea and fatigue that overshadow one’s first trimester.  The soft side walks through the routines in a wooden sort of way.  The strong side drives to the library and grocery story and gas station intent on the errand at hand.  The soft side looks into the eyes of every woman she passes and wonders how many know this hurt.  The soft side sees pregnant women everywhere and she says a prayer for each one.

I read a statistic once that most women will have one miscarriage in their lifetime and I suppose I figured that I’d paid my dues somewhere after Sister but before Brother.  And as painful as it was, I thought to myself, “Okay.  Well, at least that’s over with.”  It was a silly sort of reassurance I know.  Obviously they had to average things out which means of course that some women will never experience this and some get extra chances to build character.  But one doesn’t think of averages when you are lying to yourself about the statistic.

“It will feel like really strong menstrual cramps.”  This one I believed not because of the authority who said it but because I’d already had the experience once and it had indeed felt just like difficult menstrual cramps.  After we got the news I faithfully drank my red raspberry tea, took my tincture of black haw and waited.  It took my body two more days to get the memo.

**continued tomorrow (and then I’ll let it go … I think.)