Orphan Bennie.

I've decided to give my youngest son away. If there is anyone out there looking to care for orphaned children, I've got an even better opportunity for you. How about premeditated orphaning - that way I can hand over all my medical records, pictures, keepsakes, not to mention diapers and wipes, his favorite shirts, the things he likes to sleep with, notes on his daily routine. Anything to make the transition seem less inconvenient for those about to claim him.

Please understand, I couldn't realistically include every detail of our every day in the notes -- (clear throat) his ability to squeal loud enough to alarm the goat farm next door, his tendency to play in unflushed toilets, his determination to kick and twist at the mere mention of a diaper change, his desire for sitting in planters and creating shovels from Mom's nice spoons, his ability to ingest anything and everything without turning blue or having his stomach pumped, his instinctual ability to climb atop anything above floor level and jump and pound and break and laugh and cackle and scream and dance and..., his desire for anything that isn't 'kid friendly' and his even greater desire to withstand all forms of corporal punishment in order to have it.

Benjamin goes from happy to pissed in moments; he goes from slow to fast before I even realize he's been unstrapped; from full to hungry within moments of someone else getting served; he colors on everything and chews on everything; he blows in his nose into his hands as hard as he can and laughs; he angers his brother in what looks to be innocence but due to the thoughtfulness I've come to know better; he cooks atop my gas stove top without me realizing whats happening; he unearths things such as dead mosquito-eaters, rusty scissors, broken glass and poopy diapers... he opens doors and opens boxes and opens bags and... and... DUMPS THEM OUT!

You may think that I would be better at 'teaching' him. I would too. I don't blame you... I used to judge people with a child such as this. Although, those people chuckled and couldn't resist the 'charm' of their child. That's where we differ.

Bennie FOR SALE. Comes with papers, diapers and clothes. Please bring me a bottle of good wine in exchange.

My apologies...

I've been busy... and haven't been writing. I will be back on my horse soon... this is what I've been up to.

Don't know no other way.

A girl friend of mine asked me this evening in an email, 'soooo... are you the type to have pics all over your home?'

I was on my drive home and as I approached an intersection I had to force myself to look at the stoplight, calculate whether it was red or green and then act accordingly. Thankfully it was green because I'm not so sure I would have had time to stop... I had been so absorbed in something that I hadn't been so absorbed in for so long.

Am I who I 'envision' myself to be... or am I like the family I grew up in? Am I desiring to be different than the family I grew up in or am I ok with what's been instilled in me?

I was speeding at nearly 40mph in a 35mph zone -- and if you understood the type of watch they have on this stretch of road you would know that that is quite daring. Yet my mind began drafting an email back to this girl friend of mine. I was careful in my imaginary wording, thoughtful in my approach and before I had reached the following stop light 16 blocks down I had... well, I had nothing.

I'd like to say, 'why no! ok, yes! As long as the images are beautiful pictures and are framed in black frames with white matting and... and... and...' But the honest truth is that we are living in a rental so I haven't decorated much of anything because it takes me 12 months to decide what I want a 'space' to look like... and it takes even longer for the empty, CLEAN walls to motivate me to do something different. YET, I grew up in a family that slapped something on the wall because it had sentimental value although it wasn't stylish... and now I don't know that that's so bad. I grew up in a family where my Mom got scoffed at by her Interior Designer of-a-sister because she and my Dad always had the refrigerator overstocked with candid shots of everyone we know and every trip we've been on... there are still images on there from 10 years ago! I used to laugh and think, 'oh no. Not me. I want style and clean lines...' And then I thought, 'ok, I want pics all over the place because I LOVE the faces of those people who are in my family... LOVE THEM and just seeing their smile brings so much happiness in moments when I need it.' Ideally, if I could, I would buy hundreds of IKEA Ribba frames and put images that I like ALL OVER MY HOUSE.

I would attempt to hang them straight but I couldn't guarantee it because the minute I got started I wouldn't be able to stop. I'd have neutral earth tones all over the house with white trim and black with white matting RIBBA frames from IKEA. It is likely that the images displayed would be my own images because I'm rather particular...

Yet, as I speak I have a small gallery of images gracing the side of my refrigerator facing the toaster and counter top (stainless steel on the front isn't magnetic.) The faces of my children from two Christmases ago still bring me joy and I can't seem to take the photo down... the image of my daughter and I at her preschool Mother's Day celebration in '08 still tugs at my heartstrings and the picture of my youngest hanging over the top of his exersaucer still captures his spirit!

What do I do?! I've got a Mother in law who wars against nik-nakky things in her house (including pictures without frames) and a Father who couldn't find anything more satisfying for his soul apart from Jesus Christ as pictures of his family...

I'm somewhere in the middle... trying to create my own 'style'. When we buy a house, I'm going to save up a thousand dollars and buy all the RIBBA frames I can buy. I will hang them carefully around the home so as to simulate organization and style... but in my heart I will be a Berges. Wading in the waters of family and candid images... hopefully the lighting will be appropriate and the paper used will be professional... but I make no promises.

This is an ode to you, my 'chat' friend. Warmest wishes tonight as you snooze with your window open...

Again and again.

My family. The one I began building in 2000 when I married Kyle, is something that I didn't earn. I didn't do anything to deserve this. And don't try to tell me that I deserve this because of good decisions I made or because I'm a good person... no, the minute we start thinking that we deserve something we begin feeling a superiority to that 'something' and in response we tend to treat that something as though it has less value than ourselves. Don't we?

Kyle and I in our marriage have gone to hell and back. We have watched as others have gone to hell and decided to call it quits... it breaks my heart and it makes me mad. In the moment when we begin chalking up what we deserve we begin losing focus on Jesus Christ and His grace in our lives. What's hardest for me is that those who haven't claimed Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Saviour don't have that Truth to hold onto.

I am so sick tonight and this is simply a rant after hearing of yet another someone who decided that the confines and structure of marriage just 'isn't for them' and they want to separate. If only they understood for just a second that the world doesn't revolve around them... that life isn't about being 'happy'... that married life IS different than being single - nobody's trying to hide that... I want to call the person up, give them what for and make them feel as lowly as possible... than I remember.

I am a selfish, no good human who does not deserve - for even a second - the love and grace of Jesus Christ. I have not the right to call someone up and ridicule them for their sin when they can't even comprehend their own depravity (they don't have a relationship with Christ)... wow, it makes me thankful for the love and grace of my husband. He loves me in spite of my weaknesses... he thinks I am beautiful and can't stop touching me when he's with me! I get so angry with him and yet can't imagine it any other way...

All this to say, thank you Lord for your grace in my marriage. Thank you that this last year has been yet another year of falling deeper in love with my spouse and thank you for the three gorgeous children that you have given to us. We have not done anything to deserve this...

Praise be to You.

WARNING: Small Group at the Scheis.

This evening I began to prepare what I thought would be a rather timely meal for our Small Group from church. I began at roughly 5:00pm or so and leisurely measured all my ingredients in 1/3 and 2/3 portions since I had a large sauce pan and a small sauce pan -- no EXTRA LARGE saucepan. I should really grow up. One of these days BOTH families are going to come here for Thanksgiving and I'm going to spend $1000 just preparing my home for the invasion. Tonight I was serving Chicken Curry with Sweet Potatoes from my favorite food site, Epicurious.com.

I began to 'sweat it' a little when the timeliness was seeming a little less than timely as everyone arrived and I was yet to throw ingredients in that I knew would take quite awhile to cook. Sweet Potatoes. Chicken Thighs. I harrumphed and settled into a steady rhythm of not talking to anyone and rapidly preparing the ingredients and setting in the sink all the used dishes. I imagine I looked not unlike the hunch-back of Notre Dame moving around my kitchen, carrying bowls of ingredients and talking to myself without a moment's notice of who was in the room. What is usually a 6:00pm meal (sometimes 6:15) turned out to be a 6:45pm meal... the kids were running around as though they had a shot of insulin mixed with impatience. They seemed ok but to a parent who knows what the regular bad behavior is you KNOW that diving bombing small babies from the arms of the couch is not just child's play - they were starving, slowly rotting perhaps. And it manifested itself in stupidity. Yes... even for an 18 month old. He couldn't help but run full bore into the back couch cushion at which point he would be paralyzed in the air for a moment, his head would hit and his body would continue to bend up and over itself in what looked to be a sure cause for paralysis. He would have surely broken his back had his diaper not been packed full of pee (upwards of 6 hours), it weighed him down as though he had a brick hanging around his waist.

Praise goes to the Mom whose thinking ahead.

Back to the meal... it was the best yellow curry I have ever had. Second only to a Thai restaurant whose chefs are... well, Thai perhaps. No joke. See the link above for the recipe... I did 'half' the chili flakes and it packed some heat. Enough heat for the pregnant lady at the table and possibly too much for the kids had I not given them last night's leftovers. Hee-hee.

Our Wednesday nights are usually an evening of relaxation and harmony at the Kalous home with Rachel skating from one corner of the kitchen to the next, a smile on her face, glass of wine in hand and tongs in the other; children frolicking in the playroom and/or downstairs in the expansive living room (complete with space) while the adults sip libations and chuckle to themselves about the latest football game and/or our pregnant small group member's most recent 'discomforts'. Tonight was filled with everyone meandering around the kitchen island looking at me as they might a handicapped individual. She's managing. Do I ask if I can help? I'll just eat the appetizers until she asks. Ok, I'll ask. 'Krista, can I help you?' She's not responding but instead seems to be increasingly irritated with each word I speak to her. Maybe she has it under control. I'll just go manage the children and speak hope into their evening that dinner is coming soon.

We sat at the table sometime after 6:45 this evening and began what was a rather hurried pleasant meal. The curry was worth waiting for although the seating was a combination of broken Ikea seats that have been thrice times painted, garage sale seats that have been painted to match, an ottoman from the living room which sat Kyle about one and half heads below anyone else and an office chair.

I smiled throughout the meal and wiped my sweaty brow. I made only two trips to 'Dad's office' to discipline my children ('spank' for those who haven't read the Right books on parenting.) I seemed to pull it off and even offered to host again next Wednesday... although it seems only five will be able to make it.

At least we'll have enough chairs.

I judge people.

And I really shouldn't. Its my 'go to reaction' though when someone's different than me and I've spent so much time thinking about and wrestling with who I want to be. I truly get to a point where I'm rather positive that the way I do it is 'right' - like the Right way, you know. I read the book "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child" and there's no better book. Your child will sleep if you do EXACTLY what the book says. Its the Right thing to do. I read "Shepherding a Childs Heart" and there's no better parenting book. Do what it says, its the Right thing to do. Simply read 'Parenting with Love and Logic', there's no need to go to the classes offered. Just read what the book says and apply it. Its the Right way to do it. Potty train the '3 Day Pottytraining' way and don't veer from the program. Its the best way to do it - so of course its Right. You base your entire daily routine around 'dodging' the inevitable, its just not Right. Be wise, but don't be irrational.

Tupperware parties. They're not Right. But in a desire to shed my Mom responsibilities and hang out with my eyes half open eating hoers De oeuvres, sipping something (preferably alcoholic but didn't expect such AWESOMENESS), oohing-and-aahing over plastic, over-priced storage containers was something that sounded doable - considering my OCD organizational personality.

Keeping my standards low and my hopes high.

Arrived. Casually perused the premises for signs of wine glasses. I saw the tall, thin foggy plastic Tupperware pitcher with what looked to be 'iron ons' of oranges and lemons on the side. I saw coffee being prepared by the host.

Damn. And double damn.

I made my way back and forth to the kitchen eating a doughnut here, a piece of fruit there... I smiled and nodded but when the Tupperware bowl came around with tiny Tupperware bowls inside of it, each with a 'surprise message' inside, that's when I decided to put my foot down. One of those surprise messages was 'host a party' which I would NEVER do because I'm just not into that kind of thing. So I smiled sweetly and passed on playing.

As the evening drew to a close and I began sifting through the catalog, I thought to myself, 'hmmm... I could really use that.' By the time I was turning the last handful of pages of the catalog I was sitting up, legs splayed out in front of me on the host's living room floor with the catalog open, pen in hand and my order form filling up. I had 'played the game' and drew "10 percent off any one regular priced item" and although I didn't HAVE to host a party, I, in what seemed to be a 'buzz induced excitement' opted to host a party at my house.

I bought the towels that Rachel has because the ones from Williams-Sonoma can't even compete. I bought the Fridge Vent Set thingamabob because it will save me money on produce. I bought the Freezer Set and the Herb Freezer Set because... well, it looks nicer in my freezer. It comes with labels.

$184 later AND offered to host a party at my house in hopes that YOU will buy stuff and I'll get 'free Tupperware money' to reorganize my entire pantry. I won't display any of their 'to the table' pieces because I would hate to, not only white-trash-up my table, but be judged by someone.

I'm a closet Tupperware-ist. And I know the perfect invitee - my dear Kristen Schwark. I can't wait!

Have you seen their 'Quick Chef'?? It'll make your heart race.

Beating the Odds.

My children beat the odds today. They came home from the park alive. Yes, Kyle and I allowed them to walk to the park alone. A walk to the park in our neighborhood includes walking down our long, steep (oh dear!) driveway, along the sidewalk (God forbid!), through a construction zone (nails! broken glass! beer bottles! wires!), through a blackberry patch, along a marsh, across about 40 yards of grass... arriving at the park. Granted, the trek there takes them in a complete circle so they arrive at the park which is located just on the other side of our front fence BUT none the less, I'm branching out. About 10 minutes later, Kyle walked over and enjoyed a picnic in the grass with his BIG KIDS.

After braving the ice cream truck and allowing Ben to play with (eat!) playdough at his own risk, I began thinking about the statistics of kidnapping in more detail.

I wonder if the likelihood of kidnapping varies with each pool of people:

Ice Cream Truck: 42% chance
Park Ranger: 8% chance
Childrens Pastor: 28% chance
Medical Professional: 12% chance
Boy Babysitter: 14% chance
Girl Babysitter: 4% chance
Teacher: 21% chance
Cable Guy: high

"Mom can I go get an ice cream cone from the ice cream truck?"
"Uh... can you see the truck coming?" I yell from the kitchen.
"Yes!"
"Is it an old mail-carrier jeep or an Astrovan?"
"Astrovan."
"Not today honey, we have ice cream in the freezer."

In consideration of the kidnapper reading this post, I won't disclose which day my 5 year old daughter will brave the long trek to the mailbox alone... but it will be this week. And before you give me any advice, please remember that instilling 'Stranger Danger' in your child is not unlike trying to create a shield for getting struck by lightning.

Link

Penn & Teller's 'Stranger Danger' Episode: watch preview here.

Penn & Teller

Last night Kyle called me out to the living room and away from the office to indulge myself in a little 'Bullshit' with Penn & Teller. I've witnessed their comedy routines but had no idea there was a TV series out there. If you are unable to get past the rough language and sarcastic offensiveness of these two than this is not a show for you... quite the contrary, its perfect for Kyle and myself. NOT because we enjoy the aforementioned unchristianlike behavior any more than the rest of you but because their perspective on 'Stranger Danger' is much more palatable, not to mention scientifically founded, than listening to mothers and the media around me talk on a daily basis.

Lenore Skenazy writes for the New York Sun and published an article last year on allowing her 9-year old to ride the subway home from downtown Bloomingdales - alone. It was intriguing listening to this woman speak and what a fantastic article to read (you should when you have 5 minutes to yourself.)

My daughter, Katie, who is 5 years old this coming Saturday has asked multiple times if she could walk down to the mailbox by herself to retrieve our daily bulk of bills and advertising materials. I have wanted so badly to send her on her way yet have been deeply influenced by the faces of other Moms who appear out of thin air speaking to me in ghost-like voices telling me that that would be ludicrous and someone will see this beautiful little girl, kidnap her and rape her. They'll find her body sometime in the next few days... wouldn't you HATE to have known that had she not been allowed to roam she'd be home safe in bed tonight?!

Unfortunately, against my better judgment, I've less-than-confidently told her, 'maybe another time honey' as she walks away with a sulk -- oh wait, that wasn't a sulk it was the manifestation of a caged animal who never discovers how to do anything on its own. Hopefully one of these days I'll release her into the wild with more than a sign saying 'Eat Me. I'm Meaty.'

I'm going to make a change. And yes, I'll write about it.

This week, Katie will walk down the block to the mailbox on her own. The mailbox is on the busy corner of 32nd Dr and 100th St... being a very busy intersection, there's multiple things to concern myself with. Yet Kyle and I have been intentional about training our children to think for themselves - walking behind cars in driveways, walking close to busy streets, being aware of what's going on all around you... I think she'll come through this first 'test' with flying colors!

We let Katie ride without a booster seat when the van is packed full of kids... we've turned our children FORWARD FACING in their car seats at the young age of 9 months... our 18 month old sits at the bar now in our kitchen on a backless stool... I leave them unattended in the bathtub quite often (do you KNOW how many things you can accomplish while the kids play 'Ariel' in the master bath?!)... we've never put up gates or covered our outlets (I guess the shock can't kill them - but its enough to deter them from ever doing it again - AMEN to 'survival of the fittest' mentality!!)... our 18 month old plays with scissors - sometimes inappropriately...

Why then have I allowed myself to be influenced so heavily by such Bull**** as Stranger Danger and how evil our world is?!

Why don't we as parents take it upon ourselves to instead train our children on the basic functions of being independent? Teach them that there are people out there that are mean but that its unlikely they'll ever meet one. Teach them the 'red flags', teach them to be aware of cars, teach them to stop and think as opposed to always thinking for them out of a desire to make it easier on ourselves as parents? We run around with a fear mentality and following the show yesterday evening I'm more aware now that the majority of controlling parents are actually the child-abusers. The detriment on these children is showing up later in life... and the likelihood is a lot higher - 3/3 of my 3 children will be unable to function as opposed to the 1 in a million chance that they will be kidnapped when out from under my watchful (and irrational) eye.

Enough of the Bull****. Lets start thinking for ourselves and maybe we can train our children to do that same.

Topics galore.

From the moment I pull the covers back in the morning my mind is smiling to itself and trying to make a file folder of all the 'moments' that would be candidates for blogposts. As I'm upside down drying my long, blonde curly hair to perfection watching as my stomach hangs not unlike that of a cat whose been completely shaved - swaying a little back and forth not matching the rest of my rather lean body, I laugh at not only my stomach (that I've only anxiety about when I think of Kyle dieing and myself being back in the dating scene) but also at my 18 month old who has been sitting in the bath for the last 45 minutes because I wanted to take a long, thorough shower - what I mean by that is I shaved my legs and armpits. He's probably sitting in 80 degree pee water by now, sucking on the washcloth and toys... and I'm laughing about how ripe the moment is with possibilities for my new blog.

These are only a couple of the moments that make me smile with anticipation.

My life is full of this stuff as I'm sure yours is too... here will be a place to read, laugh, cry a little and realize that you are not alone in these moments.

I'm excited to get started!