Motherhood is Necessary for Invention

The saying is, "necessity is the mother of invention." However, I realized as I was cleaning the kids bathroom this morning, that motherhood was necessary for me to become the inventor. Mind you, I use the title inventor loosely.

I realized as I organized the soaps and loofahs that were soggily trapped at the bottom of the tub, that a shower curtain ring can serve nicely as a hook to hang the loofahs from. Viola! A Loofah Hook... for just two easy payments of, $19.95 you too can have your very own set of Loofah Hooks, and if you act fast I will throw in an extra set for free!

This new invention got my mind working. I began to think about how much my life has changed since I was blessed with these four precious babies. I always thought that my adult years would be spent wearing fancy clothes and working full time and traveling around the world. If that fantasy got boring, I dreamed I would be wearing bathing suits living on the water collecting liberal data on how the world ocean's are polluted beyond repair. Never in a million years would the obnoxious teenaged version of myself have dreamed that she would be a 30 yr old, stay at home, home-schooling mother to 4 kids.

As I am typing this I am reminded of the verse, "For I know the plans I have for you (says the Lord), plans to prosper you, not harm you." My plans were small, self-centered plans. God's plan was bigger and better than I could have ever thought of with my sinful, selfish mind. It's a good thing that we often don't get what we want. How very lonely my world would be traveling by myself or sitting on a boat in the middle of no where. What type of personal/spiritual growth is there in doing what you want and what is easy?

So today I don a new hat. The hat of an inventor. A mother who will create lesson plans and who makes up stories and games. A mom who solves the problem of bathroom clutter...One who will drop her drawers to get her kids to laugh. A wife who invents a recipe for her husband's favorite cupcake. No, I am not your typical inventor and my name will never be remembered as a top mind who changed the digital age, and I may not be of fancy dress or have a pet dolphin. But I will always be remembered as, Mom.

The Gyspy Life

My husband and I recently decided to quit playing part time spouses and to start living our marriage as the happily married couple we are. What does this mean you ask? It means that I have decided to cleave to my husband and travel with him. It means the kids and I now live the gypsy life that he has lived for over three years. It means that I get to live with my husband and my kids get to grow up with their dad. It means that I have withdrawn my kids from school and have begun to home-school them... and it equals 365 days a years of togetherness instead of the 104 we have been averaging.

This was not an easy decision nor is it an easy lifestyle. A change this great requires lots of prayer and many months of preparation. I now run two households complete with bills and have to provide curriculum and instruction for my children who are accustomed to being occupied by a classroom of 25 kids for 8 hours a day. I left my house intact only bringing half of it with us. We live modestly, but we live together.

Most importantly, what does this mean for the reader? It means I now have much more to write about. Stay tuned and keep an opened mind. I do not claim to do things perfectly but rather to the best of my ability. A lot of mistakes and experiences are to be had on this adventure I call the Gypsy life and I wish to share them with you.

Whatever Works.

As I was tucking in my two girls the other night. They began to tell me how they were scared of the noises that the house makes. My youngest girl, age three, said that she heard strange noises in the bathroom prior to going to bed. My eldest, age seven, agreed. I explained to them that what they heard was the air conditioning unit clicking on and the vents rattling overhead. My three year old began to whine and say, "No, Momma I heard a crack. There's a crack in the bathroom." I repeated my explanation to no avail. Finally, when the three year old was on the verge of tears, I turned my back to her, pulled down my pajama pants slightly and said, "That wasn't a crack. This is a crack." She began to laugh so violently that her sister asked what I did. I turned to her and gave her a full moon. They were both so surprised that they forgot to be scared. While laying in bed that night, I couldn't help but think, "This is going to come back to bite me in the ass...crack."

Say What?

I recently was down with a cold for a few days. My husband happened to be working out of town. Each night like a good boy, he would call to see how I was feeling. Now, being that I am a single parent to four kids throughout the week, I never have time for a nice and quiet phone conversation. He would call and I would briefly tell him while kids jumped and climbed all over me, "I ran a fever last night, but am feeling better now." This went on for three nights until finally I was well again. On the fourth night, my husband called to check on me and my three year old little girl starts dashing about the room. This was so distracting that I had to ask what she was doing. She replied, "I'm running a fever."

The Real World

This is the true story... of six people... forced to live in 180 square feet... eat, sleep and play together for five days... and find out what happens... when the juice boxes run out... and no one has a car large enough to carry them... when they are forced to share... and be real (really quiet)... The Real World Nelli-June Edition


I recently had this experience due to a car malfunction near Charlotte, North Carolina. It doesn't get more real than being stranded on the side of the interstate with four kids, a police officer, a mechanic, and a taxi driver while waiting on your husband because there isn't a cab in Charlotte that will accommodate four car seats legally. However, that was just the beginning. The stress started upon arrival to the hotel.

The hotel room was a micro studio suite. Walls were a taupe stucco and the floor a speckled burgundy. The bed a full sized hard mattress topped with a polyester quilt that matched the exact design of the carpet. A single portrait of a nicer location hung above the orange paneled headboard. No curtains surrounded the windows, instead they were covered by cream aluminum mini blinds. However, benefiting the drab room was a small kitchenette complete with a full sized bright white refrigerator. The kitchen sink sat directly across from a small poorly lit bathroom. The room boast all the comforts of home crammed into a closet. Overall, this suite was not a bad choice for the money. Nor was it a bad choice for the man who normally occupied it by himself. However, for the next five days, it was destined to be the stage for the Real World Nelli-June Edition. My family of six were now sharing a space one tenth what we were accustomed to.

The kids and I spent five days and four nights cramped in the tiny room, with my husband joining us after work each night. At exactly ten every night an elephant and hippo danced above us reenacting a scene from Fantasia. My days were spent constantly urging the kids to be quiet, my voice just short of a yell. When the kids were not complaining,fighting or laughing really loud, they could still be heard from the laundry room down the hall. Thumbs were slammed in doors and training pants were soiled as we tried to share one bathroom. The kids had a video game, two Barbies and a dollhouse between the four of them. They occupied their time watching cartoons and fighting. I occupied my time urging them to be nice and forcing them to participate in exercises that I once saw on a prison documentary. At one point I remember thinking, that it wasn't so bad. I had heat, food, water. The kids had sleeping bags and pillows. Really we did have all the comforts of home. We managed to get out and play two times during the day and we had a volunteer drive half of us so we could go to dinner one night.

The producers at MTV had a great idea twenty years ago with the television show, “The Real World.” Perfect strangers in a house living together and sharing space is a recipe for drama. Four kids ages seven, five, three and two living in one room with their parents yields a lot of drama as well. I am convinced that Dante forgot a circle of hell in his Inferno, where six sinners are forced into a small brown closet with a TV that only plays children's programming. Yet I emerged sane and believe that we are a closer knit family because of our time spent together. I observed new incites to each of my family member's personalities. I learned a lot about self control. There were many tears, a bit of laughter, and lots of personal growth. Toys were shared, thumbs healed, kisses were given. We learned to appreciate and value the simple things such as a grassy hill to run down and once again perspective was found.

What No One Told You, part 1

Those of you who are blessed with children will understand and those without can probably imagine. My youngest daughter had to have minor surgery to repair an eye lid recently. I was completely fine with having this procedure done (we have known it was coming for 3 years). This lid defect is something that she was born with and it was beginning to obstruct her vision. There were medical reasons that out weighted the risk of surgery on a three year old. However, knowing intellectually about the process and being prepared emotionally for the day when it would happen is different.

We had spoken to her about going to see the doctor to get her eye fixed. But how do we explain to a child that someone is going to come get you from Mommy and Daddy and take you back to a room where they will put you to sleep and cut on your eye? How much information is too much information?

When my husband and I decided to have children, we said that we would never lie to them and answer their questions as they come as honestly as we can... and on a level that they can understand. An example of how we have done this is:

My eldest asked about the Easter Bunny, if he were real. I asked what she thought and then told her, no. A giant bunny doesn't go house to house delivering gifts to children (which is kinda creepy to me... Johnny Darko), but rather it is a game that children and parents play and that we are happy to play it with her if she likes. So she pretends and we supply gifts.

Now, back to the surgery. I decided to play the day of the surgery by ear and hold true to my policy of answering questions honestly. Thankfully, our youngest daughter(3yrs old) didn't ask any questions. She woke the morning of surgery in a great mood and never asked to eat or drink ( she couldn't partake until after). She sang and danced around the waiting room. She quickly went with the nurse when her name was called, leaving her father and I sprinting after her. However, once in the pre-op room, her mood changed.

The nurse told us to remove her pj's and have her don a tiny hospital gown. She was not happy about removing her favorite monkey pajamas for an old ratty gown. She behaved until we put the "monkey jammas" in the white plastic bag they provided. Her easy cooperative attitude changed as quickly as her attire. She didn't want the booties, she didn't want her blood pressure taken... It was getting bad so I whipped out my secret weapon, a Nintendo DS. She then played with the nurses and talked to the anesthesiologist. When her familiar doctor came in she recognized him immediately and started putting things together. I am unsure of what she thought was going on up to now. The people were all strangers and it was unfamiliar but she was going with the flow. Once she recognized someone, she knew something was up and began to act uneasy. The surgical nurses came in and she was okay until they took her. This is another point that I was not prepared for.

How do I explain to my daughter that it is okay to go with these complete strangers? Why was is surprised that she began to cry? I should have anticipated this. I spend all of my time telling her not to go with strangers and here I am giving her to two women dressed in odd clothing. Once they took her from me she began to protest and as they took her through the doors I could hear her cry, "MOMMY!!!.. my Monkey Jammas!" I thought she was scared. Really, she just didn't want anyone to get her pj's.

Let me tell you, if you never have kids you will never understand. But, I have yet to experience anything more excruciating than knowing that I cannot be with my child.... Knowing that even if I wanted to see her, I could not. Couple that with the risks of anesthesia for the first time ( you never know at this age how they will react or if they have medical allergies)and the waiting is painful. I tried to occupy my time playing on my DS and being nosy on Facebook, but the minutes seemed like hours.

I had visions of her fighting the nurses, crying for me, being confused, angry, or scared. Then I would wonder what part of the procedure he is doing right now. Wondering if it was going according to plan. Praying that she doesn't have any reaction to the medicines that they were now administering to her. Thinking about her tiny body on the table. How little she would look surrounded by all those doctors. What her eye must look like split open... What would she look like after the surgery? Would her eye be black and blue? Would it be bandaged up? Would she be nauseated from the medications? My thoughts flopped frantically the hour and a half that she was away from me.

Soon, we were taken to a private room where we met with the doctor. He explained that the surgery went well and that he was happy with the results. He told us that the muscle in her eye was deformed or incomplete. But that he found it quickly and pulled it tight to help her open the lid. He stated that it will be a bit swollen and told us how to care for her properly while it heals. Honestly, I pretty much stopped paying attention to him as he spoke and just wanted to get my hands back on my baby as soon as possible. He began to sound like the teacher in Charlie Brown... a trombone squawking in my head. I desperately longed to know that she was okay. I wanted to touch her and see her.

Then, I thought again about what she must look like after undergoing surgery. Swollen? Did he say Swollen? I prepared myself for the worst and tried not to cry out of relief. After several long minutes of waiting, we were taken to a little room where they brought my tiny daughter to me. Much to my surprise she was talking and smiling. Her eye wasn't really that swollen and wasn't discolored at all. She looked rather normal. The lid did look like a Frankenstein Monster lid, but really considering the images I had bouncing around in my head an hour ago, she looked great. I held and rocked her as nurses and the anesthesiologist came back and forth to make sure she was okay. They gave her juice and crackers and she ate and drank while clutching to me. She looked around and said, "They take me night-night." The nurse came in and told us we could get her dressed and she was happy to be reunited with her monkey 'jammas.

All in all, the experience was a good one considering that no one wants this for their child. I feel guilty that she was even born with a defect in her lid. I wonder if it was inherited from me or if it was something I did while pregnant. Intellectually, I know that there is nothing I could do about it either way and am so relieved that modern medicine can correct these things. But emotionally, I hate it. I hate that she had to go through this. I hated not being able to help her. I hated not being able to be with her. Now, when I look at her I am so glad that she had it done, but it breaks my heart to see a row of stitches across her beautiful little eye lid.

I guess this is how it is going to be for the rest of my life. Parenting is hard to describe. I have never loved someone so much prior to having kids. And with each child my heart grows. Yet, with the love comes the pain of loving someone so much. The worry and the joy. No one prepares you for this when you talk to people about having kids. No one tells you that as a parent you will experience love and joy unlike any you have ever know... and because of the overwhelming love you will also experience new levels of worry, sadness and frustration. Is it worth it? Yes. I wouldn't change a minute. I will happily take the good with the bad and pray that there is always more good.

Into the Future


Recently my eldest daughter, B., started losing her baby teeth. She is six years old and has a flare for drama. The first tooth she lost was the lower front left (you know one of the first a baby gets). This tooth was so loose that we could see the new tooth growing behind it. She was reluctant to have it pulled and kept hoping that it would come out on its own. Finally, she came home from school and it was dangling by one lonesome root. I told her that we would have to pull it. She agreed.

Isabella and I went into my bathroom and stood next to the sink. As I tried my best to grab her tiny baby tooth she screamed in pain, "Ouch, No Ma'ma!" I had barely touched it.

"Well, B. It's gonna have to come out." I said firmly.

"Okay." she agreed.

I grabbed the tiny tooth as delicately as I could and began to twist and pull.

"No, stop Ma'ma." She was crying this time.

I tried to explain, "B., I am going to have to touch it if you want me to pull it." Then, I suddenly had an idea. I found some baby Ora-gel and coated her gum and tooth. Five minutes later, I tried to pull it again.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Okay. I will try not to cry..." she said with my fingers in her mouth.

I began to twist and she began to whine and cry with her eyes squeezed tightly.

"Stop! is it out yet? Stop! Is it? Ouch... Stop." she begged.

"B.." I said. "Look, it's already out."

I looked up to see a huge grin on B.'s face as she squealed and jumped with delight. She was so happy and proud that she had finally lost a tooth. The loss of a tooth was a milestone for her, a declaration of maturity.... She was bigger than yesterday. I understood then that it was truly a turning point. In my hand I held the tiniest tooth I had ever seen. I was surprised by my emotions, and I had to fight back tears as I saw the adult tooth peering up through the swollen gum.

Maybe I think too much, but I realized at that moment that the tooth I was now looking at is the one she will have for the rest of her life. She will one day be 31 and (Lord willing) I will be looking at that same tooth. It was like seeing into the future... A future that I have little control over.

I can help her as she grows. I can help pluck away the old childhood things as she matures, but I cannot stop her from changing before my eyes (nor would I want to). I am so blessed to be able to share these moments with her. I hope that one day she looks back as fondly as I do.