The RV Life Turns One

One year ago today, I piled the kids and the pets back in the car (and what I considered to be as much stuff as could reasonably fit in an RV) and drove eight hours south to rejoin the Man and begin our RV adventure. I had already been thinking about the one year mark as we celebrated our last holiday of the year for the first time in the RV and as we rounded the corner on birthday week and the new year, but there was something about realizing that today was the day that made me stop and think about where we've been and where we are now.

Last year: the whole crew ready to be reunited with Major Dad

Last year, after a full day of driving and unpacking and trying to get prepped for the twins' birthday, it was raining, just like tonight. And I laid in bed next to the Man and thought how lovely a sound it was even though the reason we were living in an RV in the first place was because of a very, very big rain storm two and a half months earlier. Last year, I didn't know how the adjustment period of small space, disaster zone living would go, whether we would all be stir crazy in a month, if our risk would be worth it. Last year, everything outside the RV was dead and broken.

This year, it's hard to know where to start with the differences. Yes, things are still broken--but there is also healing, mending, rebuilding. And I think we've done pretty well with not going insane together--though I have done an inordinate amount of yelling to get the kids to clean up their incredibly tiny space. The kids are taller, faster, smarter. They have achieved things this year that I never would've thought possible. Sure, some goals had to be set aside (I can't put a piano in an RV, for one), but others have been exceeded (Littles taught himself guitar; the kids have a vegetable garden with actual vegetables in it; nobody has been eaten by an alligator or drowned in the bayou). And it's been a year when I've challenged myself as a person and grown too. Would I have done that if our world hadn't first been upended? I don't know.

We were asked early on in the year, multiple times in fact, what our long term plan was for housing. Because, of course, nobody in their right mind would keep five kids and three pets in an RV (and homeschool), but I look back at this year and see only blessings. Not deprivation. Not suffering. Not want. We have learned again to redefine our needs and seen that, in truth, we need far less than even what we have right now.

I've also seen that when we lose some of the things we thought we needed, an opportunity opens to fill that empty space with growth. Instead of keeping a nice, big house clean, I've had more opportunity to write. Because we need space to spread out every now and then, we've gotten out and done more things with friends this year, explored new haunts, played outside. When there isn't enough room to slam a door in someone's face and tell them to leave you alone while you sulk in your bedroom, you learn to deal with conflict differently.

Our family doesn't end this year saintly martyrs, but we do walk away learning that while we have often reached our own limits, we have not yet reached the limits of God's goodness and patience towards us. And we finish out the year having welcomed new challenges too, like guitar and gardening, teaching and trying tough things, blessing others when we feel that we don't have much to offer (and allowing ourselves to be blessed in turn) and, of course, baking Christmas goodies for an entire squadron in a tiny RV kitchen.

And on top of all of that, because we have awesomely adventurous RV neighbors, the kids also got to learn how to kayak.

Which, in my opinion, is something that they'll never regret--even if they had to share a room with each other for a year and a half and sacrifice any kind of personal space in order to get there.

Here's to one year--and not being ready, quite yet, to light the RV on fire and give it a Viking burial in the bayou.

I'm Dreaming of an RV Christmas

For those of you wondering how to pull off a festively decorative Christmas while in an RV, the answer is minimalism. I think. I'm still working it out. Also, possibly paper snowflakes, but I haven't gotten there yet. Probably because we're still plowing through the last two weeks of school...or because I have five children...or because I'm beset by inherent laziness--one of those options.

Littles reading The Grinch to the girls.
Sometimes my children really make me look good.

The kids and I had that rat on the mantle for three days
before the Man noticed.
Incidentally, I bought the rat simply for my lesson on the Black Plague.
Because of course.

Twinkle doesn't have an initial ornament because I don't think things through
and now I can't find one that matches.

Anyway, when we were up in Tennessee, I grabbed the couple of items I'd set aside last year when we packed up what was left of the house, and I brought those down, things like stockings and our advent calendar and the fisher price manger scene (Twinkle is already driving me nuts with that). Then a friend helped me track down a five dollar strand of lit garland, and let me just say, best $5 ever spent. It makes the RV so cozy. Also, I'm still not positive how we got it for only five dollars, but I'm not looking a gift horse (or the military discount on Black Friday) in its mouth.

We keep adding ornaments as they trickle in.

We don't really have a tree this year, but I have a little squishy cloth tree that my sister brought me from Burkina Faso or Chad (I can't remember which, and she will make fun of me forever for forgetting), and it's getting the job done just fine. Especially since we don't have room for presents anyway.

So cute. Normally this tree has a police walkie-talkie charging
next to it, but I moved it for the sake of photographic adorability.

And then--and then--I took the boys shopping for sibling gifts and in the dollar section of Target, I found a little advent wreath that isn't too big for the tiny RV counter. I've been wanting my own advent wreath for twelve years now, and it was just a tiny gift of happiness. I grew up with an advent wreath but my husband grew up with the advent calendar that we've been using our entire marriage. I'm thrilled that now both of our traditions are going to be passed on.

Naturally, I have knocked over and broken
one of these candles since this picture was taken.
I blame the fact that large bags necessary for
many children and many books
don't fit well in small kitchens.

And finally, as the pièce de résistance, last year my oldest sister gave me this adorable RV/Christmas tree salt and pepper shaker. They were exactly what our RV needed.

I mean: come on!

All in all, it took me less time to decorate the entire RV than it took me to remember where I had squirreled away the Man's stocking. And because it took so little time, I got to make homemade ornaments with the kids and pinecone garland for the twins' club, which made me feel like a super adorable crafty mom. And I'm not going to spit at that. Nope, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

Autumn Wrap Up

Before we get any deeper into Advent, I need to do some November catch up on the blog. This is my favorite time of the year (even when I don't have time to update the blog). I love Thanksgiving: the scent of pumpkin candles, the nip in the air, that one vine full of bright red leaves (thanks for providing autumn color for me, Florida). I love getting to count the things that we're thankful for all month long. And I love the anticipation as we head towards Christmas.

Bee modeling her lack of teeth and our few autumn leaves

When homeschoolers decorate...

It's been a particularly lovely fall for us this year. The Man and I got a week away in New England without the kids, even getting to pop in on some friends we hadn't seen in years. While we were gone, the kids enjoyed time in Tennessee with my family. We had a great Halloween with friends in town and a great Thanksgiving with them as well (we'll see if we can invite ourselves over for Christmas as well and complete the holiday trifecta). The weeks of school have been busy but full of laughter and learning, and I haven't threatened to leave any children outside at night drenched in honey for the bears to eat for at least 18 hours (mothering win). Our little garden is doing well, and the kids and I even got to set up bee hotels with a fantastic neighbor.

East or West, home sunsets are spectacular.
Also, that's a one eyed alligator in the bayou.
Maybe.

The Man on the Constitution, Boston in front of him.

Maine is my favorite.
Well, and that dude behind me.

There have been so many little memorable moments to hang onto throughout these last weeks. Last week, for instance, the kids and I had a little pumpkin chucking ceremony as we competed to see who could get their moldy pumpkin farther into the bayou. The twins and Twinkle didn't quite make it past the water line (we were throwing off the side of a small cliff). The Bigs tied for first. But when I chucked the Man's pumpkin, it exploded into festive shards so the kids deemed me the winner. These are moments when we invite laughter into a world where things mold and shatter. That's worth remembering and celebrating.

When everyone has to have their own pumpkin,
it's practically a whole pumpkin patch.

Pirate jack-o-lantern,
hook on the hidden side

Twinkle, twinkle little...

Bruiser's bats and arachnids

Harry-o-lantern

Not sure about Bee's face here,
but nautical pumpkin!

There have been so many amazing moments with friends these last few months that have fed my soul--seeing old friends that we haven't been with in years but also building deeper relationships with the ones we see every day. Doing things together but also just being together. It has made me grateful for where we are right now, but also for what is coming next.

Kids of favorites together at a farm! 

My crazy face is cancelled out by Shirlee's awesome
and those fantastic fall leaves!

I could've picked a better picture of us, but look how happy we are!

And I know that there are too many pictures in this blog (but you can't tell me what to do!), but it has just been an autumn to be thankful for, and before we move forward into Advent, I wanted to acknowledge that. And take a few moments to put a place marker down so that in the years to come I can look back and remember God's goodness.

Picnic by the shore

Our Thankful tree was a weeping willow this round...

So this is my moment to say thank you.

Remembering Hope

This morning, I ran three miles. This doesn't seem terribly impressive when laid side by side with the fact that I ran a half marathon only a little over a year ago. But I've been dealing with a running injury since this summer that has left me limping after the kids like a one legged duck. So the fact that I was running at all (even if my foot still doesn't feel like it should) was kind of a huge deal for me, even if I end up paying for it tomorrow (as is typically the case).

Here's the thing about this injury: I actually went to a doctor for it. I avoid the doctor like the plague. He stuck a needle in the bottom my foot. That did not feel nice. He made me change my shoes. The new shoes were expensive. He gave me stretches that I do religiously. That was the nicest thing he told me to do. He made me take off weeks that turned into months from running. Somehow I didn't go insane. But I did it all. It didn't work. I was still limping around pathetically.

So I spent a lot of time praying for healing. And I borrowed the Man's Hoka running shoes (the benefit of having large feet is borrowing shoes from your husband). And I read books about changing my running form. And I only ran tiny increments. And I changed my yoga class. And I took a spin class. And it still hurt. But maybe a little less. So I kept going.

All of which to mean that this morning, as I ran and the sun rose in its shimmering splendor of flame, I prayed and thought and listened to my foot. And I pondered the question that I've been asking for years, even though I know it's not necessarily the right question: why is there healing and then there is not?

I was asking it about my foot, true, but mostly I was asking about it for the brokenness I see around me. For the shattered relationships, for those battling depression and anxiety, for those caught in alcoholism and escapism, for the ones trying to get control of their anger or rise above their own jealousy or not be controlled by self pity. Why is there healing and then there is not for the ones of us who know where we are struggling, are striving to seek healing in whatever way we can, and are praying with every ounce of faith and fight that we have in us?

And then I asked myself this: are we just plot devices in God's cosmic book? Does He play with us as characters the way I do mine when I write? Hmm, it might be fun to pit her against ten thousand assailants, or maybe I'll let him encounter his deepest fears just to see what will happen, or this character is losing my attention, I think I'll ramp up the conflict a little or possibly kill her off.

I watched the sun rise and thought about how God not only set our tiny solar system in motion (ensuring that earth rotates at just the right angle and speed, providing us with the perfect distance from the sun so that we don't burn with heat or freeze with ice, placing us in our insignificance out on one stretching arm of the Milky Way), but keeps it moving and stable, in spite of all the odds. I thought about how insignificant an ant is to me, how thoughtlessly I crush it to keep from getting bitten. And I wondered: is that all we are to Him? Ants to be crushed?

But then I remembered the truth, I remembered what I can hold on to: that our God is infinitely huge, and that in comparison with Him, I am insignificant, but that somehow, for no reason that I, who crush the ant without a second thought, can even understand, somehow He cares for me. Not as a supporting character who could get killed off so that the audience places emotional import on the hero's victory, but as me. And He cared enough about me to be the one who died to save me so that He could ensure that I would spend forever with Him.

So when there is not healing, do I remember this? Do I remember that I still matter? Do I remember that the suffering have significance in God's economy? Do I remember that His purpose is always for my good and that just as I appear to be only an ant compared to God's glory, so this suffering is only a second compared to eternity--and still God chooses to use it to draw me nearer to Him, still he refuses to waste it because He cares for me? Do I remember?

Do I remember that the God who set the stars in place has not forgotten me in my suffering, whether it is a hurt foot or a broken heart, a damaged soul or a marriage in distress, an insurmountable obstacle or a terminal diagnosis? Do I remember that I am remembered? And that I am not alone? Do I remember that He is in control and not callously laughing in the heavens as I suffer but using this for purposes I cannot imagine at this time?

I want to remember. Because sometimes there is not healing, but that doesn't mean there is only despair.

And this is hope.

I thought this was a better option
than a sweaty post-run selfie.

Fall Reading

There's something about fall (even the pretend Florida version of fall) that makes me want to curl up under a blanket with a good book and a large mug of something hot. I also don't turn down snuggling with children and reading out loud to them. In case you are on a similar wavelength, I thought I'd provide a few of our latest and greatest.

Just returned to the library this morning, Brendan Wenzel's A Stone Sat Still is first on our list. Honestly, I didn't want to give it back. The illustrations were beautiful, and I wanted more time to talk with the kids about the meaning and depth that Wenzel provides. In a nutshell: some things change and some things remain the same, but perspective is everything.

My other favorite picture book choice for the month was not at all deep or moving, but was definitely hilarious. Neck & Neck by Elise Parsley had me laughing hard, and it'll crack you up too. This is what happens when a giraffe gets jealous of a balloon.

Twinkle doesn't look entertained in this photo,
but that was because she was ready for her nap.

My favorite middle grade series this month were The Doldrums by Nicholas Gannon (those illustrations! that story line! those fantastic characters!) and Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes and its sequel Sophie Quire and the Story Guard by Jonathan Auxier (because all the things!). I neglected to get good pictures for either of these, so basically, I'm the worst. Love me anyway. I will say, as a tease, that I just picked up another Jonathan Auxier book from the library today, Sweep, because I liked Peter Nimble and Sophie Quire so much. Beautiful writing, thoughtful and creative. The kind of book I wish I could write. Although I thought that reading The Doldrums too (and listening to The Benedict Society with the kids--but I wasn't planning to write about that tonight).

But here I am with my copy of book 2 of the Doldrums
that I talked the Man into buying while we were in Maine.
Our suitcase was much heavier going home.
Bookstores, man...

Next up, two excellent non-fiction reads to add to your list. First, War of Words by Paul David Tripp. I don't know how many quotes I sent the Man from this, but it was a doozy. So much to learn. So much to think about. So much to try to implement. I have never been more conscious of the many ways I fail when I communicate with others (and I don't just mean yelling at my kids or being passive aggressive with my husband). But it wasn't just a kick in the rear. It was a kick in the rear that gave me hope that I could change.

My other favorite non-fiction book this month was Christopher McDougall's Born to Run. An absolutely fascinating look at the history of running chock full of fascinating stories and mind boggling characters. I loved learning about the Tarahumara and getting to hear McDougall's own story. But it really stunk to read it when I'm not currently running myself. So read it, and then go for a run in my honor.

Twinkle is posing with Mr Popper's Penguins here,
but it was too cute not to include.

Finally, on the fiction front, I ran across a Madeleine L'Engle book I hadn't read yet, The Other Side of the Sun. It was one of those books that desperately cried out for discussion, and the Man unfortunately had to put up with my persistent need to bring up race relations in the post-Civil War South while we were trying to have romantic dinners together while flying sans kids in New England. If you happen to read it, send me an email letting me know what you thought. I'm still mulling it over even though it's been a week since I finished it.

But what about you? What are you reading? And if you're not reading, you now have multiple options to choose from, so what's stopping you? Hit up your local library (or fill up your suitcase with books the next time you have a fun trip) and then cocoon yourself in a blanket for a good read. Don't worry. The kids will fend for themselves just fine. And when they stop fending for themselves, you have read aloud options for them.

Taking a Break

I used to think that, as a stay at home mom, there wasn't much difference between a regular day and a weekend. The same messes were made; the same messes were cleaned up. The early mornings continued, regardless of any attempts for late night fun. The same meals had to be cooked; the same laundry thrown in; the same discipline issues worked on. And then I started homeschooling.

She wanted a cross between a moth and a bat
in front of a full moon...
because of course.

Orange polka dot butterfly happiness.

At first, I didn't really notice that there was a difference. But there was. Suddenly, on Saturday's, instead of slogging through reading and math, I could get alone time and quiet (while the Man handled the kids like the boss he is). Saturdays and Sundays, while still full of the every day work every parent encounters, suddenly became regroup time: those few precious hours where I could take deep breaths and convince myself I could do it all over again the next week. Sure, they were also about family time and enjoying having the Man home and the regular challenges of having children, but really, they were mostly centered on trying to catch my second wind.

Toothless Bat Boy

Tennessee football is serious business
and also incredibly saddening.

Channeling his inner Harry "Pottern"
before he goes to tackle the "Basilack".

Then, this last Saturday, somehow I found myself actually wanting to--gasp!--play with my kids instead of recover from their company. I sat down on the floor and voluntarily colored with my oldest daughter for an hour that day. Somehow, it felt like being a real mom, who was actually taking a sabbath from being a homeschool mom for once. And I loved it.

My coloring buddy/mini-me.

So, I think I'm going to try it again this weekend. Except this time maybe I'll play a legit game with my kids that isn't trying to teach them their times tables. Or bake macaroons and not count it as a home economics course mixed with fraction review time. Or take them to the beach and not have an impromptu natural science lesson on manta rays. But who am I kidding? Let's not get too crazy here. If you see a manta ray in its natural habitat, you have to discuss camouflage and survival skills and the differences between it and a sting ray.

I will make myself sick eating these,
and I will feel twice the regret
thanks to Bee's skip counting.

I guess what I'm discovering is that I want to make sure that every now and then, I press pause on teaching my children while I still have enough energy to enjoy them, because otherwise? What's the point. Also, somehow, they still end up finding ways to squeeze in school when I'm taking a break on the weekends...like skip counting their twos while I stuff my face with cookies. Funny about that.

Parenting and Pencils

I have always said that parenting five children is typically ends up along the lines of survival of the fittest. I have grown very good at being flexible and letting things go and knowing which things I should prioritize. But today, I faced the homeschool mom's worst fear: I was stabbed by a pencil. And suddenly, I realized that my parenting philosophies have shifted in the last few months.

Twinkles is pretty sure there's enough counter space
for her AND the cookie dough.

Let me back track to honesty. It wasn't the worst version of the homeschool mom's worst fear. I didn't get stabbed in the hand while giving an over achieving homeschool child a high five. But I did get a nice slice across my left shoulder thanks to an unnamed child who decided to stop drawing and give cuddles. There will be worse things. Like Latin noun declensions. And the constant waking terror of wondering if my children are being properly socialized.

But continuing on: changing parenting philosophies (which don't actually have anything to do with being punctured by a pencil). Although, it may be more parenting survival techniques than parenting philosophies... The Little Man made a comment just the other day about how organized and scheduled I was getting. I rolled my eyes at him, but then I realized...it was kind of true. Which caused me to immediately panic. Who am I?!? What is happening to me?!?! All those existential questions. Have I turned into a Pinterest mom with my adorable Pinterest chore chart and my adorable Pinterest lesson plans and my adorable Pinterest home? (No, on all fronts...)

Blanket Fort Round One

Still, I came to the realization that things can be more organized and scheduled now because...drumroll, please...I no longer have a baby. And I'm also...drumroll, part deux...not pregnant. If you can believe it, this is the longest I've gone without being pregnant for my entire marriage. And the amazing thing about not having a baby (and not working to produce yet another baby), is that you're no longer exhausted and overwhelmed all the time. And you're also not rearranging your schedule every three weeks when baby's nap/nurse schedule shifts.

Right before Twinkles lost her mind because I wouldn't
let her light the oven for her pretend cake baking game.

So yes, I have a bullet journal that I actually use. And I wash sheets on a schedule. And every Monday night all the water bottles get a good scrub. My children take showers and do chores every day (though getting their fingernails trimmed is another story). I put in my groceries on the same day every week and pick them up the next day. And it's like my inner J is finally getting a chance to thrive after letting my P run the show for all these years (that sounds gross--don't read into it too much).

Blanket Fort Round Two.
None of us realized just how much space we actually
had until it was taken up by blanket forts.

The funny thing I'm noticing, though, is that having things better organized frees me up to let the kids turn the entire living room into a blanket fort, and not freak out when Littles decides to put marshmallows in the chocolate chip cookies (even though the results were somewhat more exciting than he anticipated), and accept that my daughters are going to trade clothes with each other while simultaneously throwing a dance party and trashing the RV, and not worry so much when I'm washing dishes and there's a nerf gun battle going on over my sink, and wake up early so that I can write something just for myself, and so much more.

Dance party wearing each other's dresses.

It's also given me space to laugh more because I've already survived ten and a half years of unscheduled insanity so not much really fazes me any more.

Nothing fazes Blythe anymore either.
Not even Yucky Baby.
There is only terrified endurance.

It's nice being in a new season. But I recognize too, that it's just that. A season. And some moms might really rock the season of new mom with an exploding house full of children. But I'm not going to lie: I think I'm liking this version that comes with a little bit more of a routine. Even if it comes with the occasional pencil stabbing.

Shared Bounty

I thought I'd come back and give you guys proof of our gardening labor this year. Some aspects of our garden turned out heartier than others. For example, our lavender plant is going stronger than any of us ever expected. Especially Littles, who was convinced that I'd already killed it before we even transplanted it over to the raised beds. Pessimist.

Lavender in a glass in the background.

I did kill the zucchini and squash (root rot, although they produced a lot of blooms and a couple small vegetables that disintegrated on the vine before they finally died for good) and the bell pepper plants (our trip in May did them in). But the tomato plants are hanging in there--and even produced one beautiful tomato. Maybe we'll get more, but I'm grateful for the one we did get. And I ate the whole thing myself because the kids are philistines, and my neighbor was too sick for tomatoes the day it reached perfect ripeness.

Proof of life.
Before I ate that sucker.

Our jalapeño plant has been absolutely prolific--producing way more jalapeños than I could ever eat and of varying levels of spice, so you never quite know how exciting your meal is about to get until you bite into it. The strawberry plants gave us more than a few tiny and brightly sweet strawberries, though only ever one or two at a time, and are still alive and will hopefully make more adorable strawberries for us before we move next summer if I can manage to keep them alive through the winter. This is a big if.

Those jalapeños like to get artsy on me.

I suppose it's been mostly a mixed bag of results, but the fact that my kids can now say they've harvested jalapeños and a tomato (singular), lavender and strawberries, is kind of huge to me. And while we lived in a trailer park, no less. Also, they've seen that sometimes we give things our best shot but that still doesn't always guarantee the results we want. Still, we keep trying and tweaking and teaching ourselves new things. And that's not necessarily a bad lesson to learn.

It's not always the most well-weeded garden, and some days the plants look better than other days (my mint and basil seem to wax and wane with the moon), but I'm glad that we pushed ourselves to take a risk and try something new. Even if the fruit of our labor has been primarily jalapeños, we've also harvested some curiosity, a little bit of hard work, a smidge of beauty, and the belief that dirt under your fingernails is not something to shy away from.

So many jalapeños,
so little time.

We've also seen that everything looks better in certain lights, and sunrise is a forgiving time. But only for plants because they don't need coffee.

The mint plant only agrees to be photographed at sunrise.

But our biggest discovery is that gardens, like most things, are more fun when they can be shared. Twinkle enjoyed taking solitary strawberries to our neighbor and small bouquets of lavender next door. There are daily deposits of jalapeños across the field to the neighbor who went in with us on garden stuff. And maybe one day we'll get more than one tomato so that we can share those too. In the meantime, we know now that sharing a garden, and the work that comes with it, and the beauty and bounty that came from it (even if it was mostly jalapeños) has just been good.

Lavender makes everyone happy.
Except for the strawberries that wish it would
get out of their space.