FritzFamily

Although I don't do knitting projects much any more, I used to be an avid knitter. One of the things I taught myself to do was to knit a stockinette stitch more efficiently by not having to turn my work around, just to knit back and forth like a typewriter. I guess a way to describe it is using the English Method right-handed to knit across the row, then the Continental method left-handed to go back instead of purling. A friend of mine was interested in learning to do this so I made her a video last night. If any other knitters out there want to learn, here it is. Enjoy!



Another, more beginner issue is increasing knitting speed. The best way is to learn to throw the yarn without letting go of the right needle. Here's a little tutorial of how to do this.

Curly Miss has officially learned to read this year. She can plow through easy chapter books like A Kiss For Little Bear and easily handles Dr. Seuss or Clifford. To my dismay, she has begun reading over my shoulder when I'm at my computer.

It was a rainy, drizzly day that we said our vows in front of family and friends and set off on our married life. I could never have predicted all the ups and down the next seven years would hold for us, but I'm so glad I have shared the journey with my best friend. God brought us together, at least that is what I think because the likelihood of us actually hooking up entirely on our own was so slim. We're almost five years apart, I love dogs and he has absolutely not use for them. I like to camp and hike and ski, he likes to go to the city and vacation in posh comfort with bookstores and coffee shops nearby. His life dream was to become a professional guitarist and move to New York.

Instead we live in Idaho and he programs computers. He wanted to wait to have kids, I wanted to dive right in. I wanted a career, he wanted a Stay-at-home-mom for his kids. We both agreed that would be the best plan for now. My hobbies are mostly artistic: sewing, banner making, painting.

His hobbies are more along the coffee-drinking, theology-reading lines. I think his ideal of happiness would be for someone to lock him in a bookstore/coffee shop and leave him there. Indefinitely. He is an introvert; I am an extrovert. The only way he can truly bless me is to spend time together, talking, playing games or doing chores. Blessing one another is always a sacrifice, since I have to be lonely to bless him and he has to be social to bless me.

If I had to name one single thing that has saved our marriage on countless occasions, other than his gritty determination to pull us through, it would be Starcraft. Playing this crazy computer game has somehow become like eating comfort food. The world is going to be okay as long as we can sit down and zerg-bash together. When I was so sick I couldn't get out of bed for nine months with Mister's pregnancy and Hubby had to do all of the chores, take care of Curly as well as working full time, we could still play Starcraft together and life was sort of okay.

We've both made our shares of big mistakes. I have never been very adept with people and tend to be more brutally honest than tactful. More often than he'd like I burst forth with my opinion of him, poor guy. On the other hand he has had to learn to manage less money than he's ever had in his life and to live on very little for years.

Along the way, we've had a lot of good times as well. Before Curly was born we drove our Toyota Camry 7,000 miles across the country on a three-week adventure that included the dog, Piper, camping in a thunderstorm, a night of hundreds of spiders, the most crime-ridden suburb of Washington DC, lobster bisque in Boston, spending two nights in a fraternity in New Jersey, Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, and a nineteen hour straight shot through the deer-laden mountains of Montana.

We've gone to Grandpa's cabin every summer and have gone camping. We've also driven to cities: Seattle, Portland, Spokane, where we've investigated bookstores, outdoor markets and coffee shops. We've explored our own small town, enjoying the music, art and culture the university brings here.

Together we embarked on the adventure that is parenthood with Curly Miss, then Little Mister two years later, then after another three years, Baby Bear. Parenting has really brought us closer as we share the workload and the rewards. We call ourselves "Team Bears" because every time one of us is about to melt down after night of no sleep or a particularly crazy day, the other one is there to take up the slack. We lean on one another; we make decisions together; we help each other out.

Over the years we have discovered that it works better to do the jobs we're good at doing rather than dividing the work over traditional gender lines. When we first got married, Hubby had the idea that the husband always manages the money, keeping the accounts balanced and tracking expenditures. It came to light, however, that I have an aptitude for doing it, for being faithful in watching the budget, for doing the tedious work in updating Quicken and categorizing purchases. On the other hand some of the heavier housework is really hard for me to do physically, especially (oddly enough) the dishes. Such a chore is typically the wife's job but for me it causes such intense back pain that I'm in tears. He uncomplainingly washes our dishes every day, never blaming me or hinting that I am not doing my job well enough.

So today we celebrate seven years. In sickness and health. For richer or for poorer. Till death do us part. Somehow the wedding vows don't tell you the rest of it. They didn't warn us about scary trailer parks or bedridden pregnancies. We didn't know that we'd both have to give up every dream we'd ever had and somehow build new ones together that would look completely different. We had no idea we both liked to sleep on futon mattresses or that I was good at cutting hair. Who knew that he would be installing a toilet and a pellet stove? We've learned not to look ahead or behind, to enjoy one another in the moment and to celebrate the little things. We've learned to take care of one another better and to care for our kiddos. We've learned to give more, to love more and to ask less.

Here's to the next seven years. I love you, Bear!

I took these a couple of days ago... just the kids doing what they do!







They love to see their pictures on my blog. Tomorrow I'll pull it up and show them, "Looks it's you, not my bathroom wall!" Then I'll get them a snack.

With a little blue paint and a little white paint on a paper plate, I went for it. Sweeping strokes made wispy clouds in a blue sky that's the RIGHT color!



Rather than getting a whole quart, my budget reminded me to just get a little jar of sample paint. It was called something along the lines of "whispering sand". I wondered if our bathroom mural would now have whispers coming from the mural, to accompany the ghost in the shower.



Once the whispering sand was dry, it was time to add some definition, sea grass and a couple if little, far-away birds. For the birds, I used a bit of black paint out of my kids' craft box, you know, the kind that has several tiny cups of bright colors all hooked together in a row like a weekly pill organizer. Michelangelo would roll over in his grave if he knew, so we won't tell him. I always say, it's the quality of the brush, not the quality of the paint, at least for far-away birds.



Right after I took the outlet cover off and while the paint was still wet, my older son decided he needed to use the loo. Of course as any paranoid mother would, I imagined curious three-year-old fingers poking into the hole or dragging through the wet paint. So I did as any paranoid mother would do: I sent Hubby in with him.



With much measuring, drilling, screwing, snapping, grunting, pulling and tugging, I got the towel rod installed. It's a good thing Little Mister was still sitting on the toilet kicking me in the back of the knees while I did it because I was really tempted to use some choice words in regards to a wall-anchor but his little presence in the room kept me from straying.



Now I have one whole wall done! My plan is to clean up the mess and enjoy it for a while before diving into the next wall, tackling the rusty vent and the new light fixtures. Also my blog might self-destruct if I don't resume posting goomba pictures. So we'll go back into my bathroom next week. It's been fun so far!

Another trip to the hardware store, this time with the shower curtain in my purse. A nice blue-grey. It matches the shower curtain. It gives me happy tingles to see it. Aaaahhhh.

The blue I got is horribly, awfully, miserably wrong. This is a picture taken in the mirror to try to get the color to show. Can you see how it clashes with the blue-grey of the shower curtain? It's a little too green, I think.

It looks bad, bad, bad.

Time to try again.

It makes me squirm to think that I spend $13.99 on a quart of paint I am now not using. Does this count toward my overall budget? I wonder if I can use it somewhere else in the house. Hmmmm...

This is my new best friend. I love it. I want to sleep with it at night. Well, almost. It is singlehandedly transforming my wall from an ant hotel into a smooth, paintable, mural-receiving surface. Yay spackle!



Look at all the other cool junk I got! See the little orange tags on the towel rods? Those are like a straight-A report card. Those mean I got quality (read: expensive) towel rods for CHEAP!!! Woo Hoo!

I also got a neat-o little paint roller, a roll of masking tape, some colors of sample paint to use for my mural, and a can of sky-blue paint. I just randomly chose a pretty color of blue. Do you think that will work?

I think on one wall I want to paint a mural. Some sort of subtle, lonely beach scene, perhaps with some dunes and a few shells, blending upward into a blue wall. Lucky for me lots of other people have done the same thing and Google Image Search finds their pictures for me to use as inspiration.



If I can paint shells half as cute as these we'll have it going on!



Someone even did it in their bathroom. Who did this and can I just have your bathroom? Save me the trouble?

Nah. I like the project as much as the end result. It keeps me sane to have something to do.

Next up: Shopping for paint and fixtures!

To keep the ants out, Hubby covered the hole with PACKING TAPE. And I have had to sit on the loo for months looking at PACKING TAPE on my wall. Poor me.



Guess what happened when I took the packing tape off? Lots of the wall came too! it's like a bonus sale. Get some tape and get lots of the wall for free.

First thing I did was treat it with mildew-killer and let it dry thoroughly. That took a while!



Now the spackle is going in, one layer at a time. Did you know that lightweight spackle feels JUST like cake icing? It's weird stuff and I really, really wanted to taste it. Or put it into an icing tube and make roses.



This hole is directly opposite the toilet, right at eye level. It's been staring me in the face so long it's almost become a friend. I thought about naming it. It's kind of cute, really.

The time has finally come for me to work on our bathroom. Since we moved in here, I have endured our 1980's fixtures, the many holes in the lath-and-plaster walls where the ants travel freely in and out and the inconvenient towel hooks.



The "bones" of the room are fine. Although it's small, it's quite functional. The fixtures have been updated sometime not too long ago, but the rest of the "cosmetics" need some help.



I set myself a budget of $150 for new paint, new towel rods, spackle and two new light fixtures. We'll see if I can keep to it!



For fun, I'll blog the remodel project in small "up to the moment" posts as I get things done, as I work through ideas and as the inevitable setbacks loom.

For now my first priority is fixing the holes! Look for my next posts on design ideas and gathering supplies.

My hard-working hubby got to take a break and go snowboarding with his Dad, brothers and sisters. It's been a while since he got to do anything so recreational, so I was delighted he had a chance to go. He came home with a sore behind but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Two Months:



One Month:

I’ve been contemplating the New Year for the past week wondering what it will bring. I don’t remember thinking about it that much last year. Last year we had just moved to our new home in Dallas and then the first week of January brought home two new children to adopt. I don’t think my mind was capable of creating a prayer nor had a moment for quiet contemplation about what the New Year of 2009 would bring. No, my mind was in shock with all the crazy change and the obvious focus for 2009 was right in front of me. New home, new kids, new life and my husband passing his boards were last year’s gift to us!

This year is different though. With 18 months of Dallas under our belt and fairly adjusted children in our home and a mostly put together house and my husband board certified I actually have been able to take the time (meaning a few minutes here and there between laughter and chaos) to mull over the possibilities God would have for me and for us this year. It seems that what keeps coming back to me is the word intentional. My friend Jennifer first dropped the word in my heart when she shared about wanting to be more intentional for the Thanksgiving holiday. That word stuck with me as I sat through Bible Study and was challenged to think about the place where I live and what would be my part. It stuck with me as I washed my dishes, sat through church services, did laundry, helped my kids with school projects, and walked through my neighborhood. How was I going to be intentional in my home? With my marriage? With my kids? In my church? How was I going to be intentional in Dallas?

The more I thought about 2010 the more I began to feel a stirring. We are over the “newness” of the city but are far from being planted here. I strongly feel that an overall theme for us will be to continue to dig into Dallas. A few months back I felt God showed me our life in this city. It was like a man on the top of a granite mountain chipping away. He stood tall and strong and he swung his pick axe. It was hard work and it was slow and it was going to take awhile but it was what we had to do in Dallas. Dig. So how was I going to dig? Even though it was hard and most of the time I didn’t see any point I had to keep getting out there. I had to keep putting myself out there even if I felt progress wasn’t being made. I had to keep attending things, meeting people, starting new relationships, and exploring possibilities. Slowly but surely we would plant here in this city.

So for 2010 I feel a gearing up in the spring to a new launching in the fall. I have things to do this spring that I’m already doing like help my children through their second semester of school, support my husband in his job, finish up my women’s Bible Study, finish up my last year of MOPS (Mother’s of Preschoolers), serve in my church nursery and finally plan and have a memory filled summer with my family. I have new relationships in the baby stages to foster and grow and I have two friends who don’t know Christ that I need and want to be intentional with. I also have relationships I see being deep, meaningful, and extremely important to me in the years to come that I want and need to continue to develop. We also have a neighborhood society that we want to join. It’s time to spread our roots wider in our community than our own back door. It’s time to keep digging into Dallas.

 As for the fall I see us branching out here in Dallas even more. With Zack in pre-school for a few hours a day what is it that I will do? How will I impact my neighborhood and my community? Where is it that I’m supposed to have influence? I’m not totally sure this early in the year but with six children in the school system by then and some “free time” on my hands I can’t help but think by the fall some of my time will be spent volunteering and impacting their world away from home, their schools. But for now I will focus on today, tomorrow, this week and perhaps next month for my digging plan. There is much work to be done and although I know the progress will be slow I know that it is okay. We are doing what we should be doing…we are digging.

What do you suppose Curly's favorite Christmas present is? Do you think it's a makeup kit or a barn for her Breyer horses like her cousins received? How about a princess dress and a crown? Perhaps a magic wand? I'll bet it's a baby doll. After all, she is a five-year-old girl with a new baby brother.

Give up yet?

Here's the present that has gotten as much playtime as every other present combined, except maybe watching the movie Up. It has the bonus of being able to be used by multiple kids at the same time, not something that can be said for most toys.



Guess whose cars they are using to race on the new track? (Hint: Papa dug them out of the basement storage and most of them have 1977-1984 years stamped on the bottom.)

She's her mother's daughter.

Had an exciting day with Kara and our friends BJ and Emily shopping for Jr. Miss dresses today. They both found dresses in the second shop we visited. It was so fun to help them put on gowns and then pose on the pedestal in front of the three way mirrors. The picture posted here is them in front of one of the dress shops.

In my ideal world I would have darling Christmas pictures of all my kids in coordinated outfits, all smiling joyfully in front of a gift-laden Christmas Tree. I would be peacefully sipping Christmas cider right now, all the chores done and everything ready, anticipating the big night tonight.

Reality, however, took a different road this year. For the past ten days I have been woefully behind and overwhelmed. Between Baby Bear's normal night-time shenanigans (he doesn't settle down to sleep until 12:30 or 1:00) and Little Mister's battle with plugged plumbing, I have not gotten enough sleep for two nights, let alone ten. The dark snowy roads trapped me in my house preventing extra shopping and the house magically barfed an extra five loads of laundry into my utility room from who knows where. The gifts I have managed to procure sit in plastic bags all over my floor, as yet unwrapped. The packing for five people to go to Grandma's house has not even begun. The piece we're playing for the Christmas Ever service which should have been arranged and rehearsed weeks ago, just got written this morning.

So although it sounds trite and cliché, especially to me who has endured so many Christmas sermons over the years, this year instead of perfectly wrapped presents with shiny bows, I choose instead to think about the most important Gift, Jesus, who was given to the world two thousand years ago. Whether He came on December 25th (or the 8th of Tevet) doesn't matter. He came. He came from Paradise to our crippled old earth to bring a message of peace. Not a message of political peace but a message of inner peace, of reconciliation with our creator that we haven't managed to bring about on our own no matter how hard we try to live perfect, tinsel-wrapped lives.

As much as I would like to have my life all together, to have shiny perfect kids and a shiny perfect house and a shiny perfect life, I'm actually grateful for the reminder that Jesus came for those of us who will stoop to admit we're not perfect. He came for the ones who don't have it all together, for the ones who have messed up, for the ones who are tired and hurting and whose lives don't make sense. He came for me, to bring to me the thing I desire the most but can never obtain on my own: inner peace. Only in Him can that moment come when I can let all of the self-loathing and stress and inner turmoil go, washed away in His forgiving love. It's when I can finally receive God's love, not by being good enough; just the opposite. It's when I am the least worthy and finally let go to receive the gift of Jesus' forgiveness that all of the imperfections standing between me and a holy God get washed away and I can stand with relief, finally able to be Loved.

This year there are no color-coordinated pictures. No easy, stress-free holiday and no Christmas baking. But perhaps more than any other Christmas, there is Joy, so deep and strong it brings me to tears. For I am loved. I am blessed with three beautiful children, a husband who cares about me and most of all, I am loved by a Savior who chose to come to earth as a tiny, helpless baby, who grew into a man and died a painful death in order to shed gallons of His own precious blood as payment for every sin I have ever committed. And He would have done it if I was the only person in the entire world in all of history. I feel like the shiniest person in the world this Christmas!