Last year Savannah and I were invited to be a part of a group called Keepers of the Home. We met monthly with other moms and daughters learning life skills, and focusing on the things that God designed us, as women, to take care of. Since I had never heard of a “Keepers Group” at the time of our invitation, I ordered the handbook. It didn’t take long after flipping through its pages to know this was something special.

Going forward into this school year I knew I wanted to continue learning in the Keepers handbook. But I hesitated returning to the previous group. Not because they aren’t the most gracious, fun-loving, God fearing women I’ve met through homeschooling. Because they most certainly are. They are wonderful! But that group was a very large group. Twenty or more girls if everyone showed up. And I knew some personal friends who I thought would also like to be a part of Keepers. I didn’t feel that it was my place to invite them into the other group, so I decided to branch out and start my own group.

The picture at the top is our new group (minus one lovely) taken at our Christmas Tea. I hesitated planning a December meeting but when one of the moms offered to give the girls a proper “tea”, I thought it was a great idea. They got all dressed up for the occasion and each girl brought a gift or two for a family we adopted from the local ministry village. After eating and hearing the story “My Child My Princess”, the girls wrapped their gifts and decorated Christmas cookies.

I am so pleased with how this group has turned out. An absolute answer to prayer. I love the diversity of their ages and family backgrounds as much as the girls themselves. And I can’t say enough good things about the new friendships I have made with their mothers.

Some other fun things we’ve done this year include how to grind your own wheat and make blueberry muffins, we’ve made our own travel pillows, we learned some healthy ways to take care of our bodies since they are the temple of the holy spirit and we also made our own Christmas cards. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the year brings!!!

While on our recent trip to Guntersville I snuck in some time to take a few pictures of my growing-up-too-fast “babies”. It’s such a cliche, “they’ll be gone before you know it”, but it’s true nonetheless.

Here is my 8-going-on-20 year old daughter, the lover of all God’s creatures, may they be 4 legged, 6 legged, 8 legged, or finned, and our family pet, Stafford. He travels well, so he’s been on many a family vacation.

And now, my man child. The one who can charm his way out of just about any punishment. Saddening those big, blue eyes and giving his best “I’m so sorry, Mom” apology, not to mention shaking his head and sighing, “I don’t know what I was thinking”. He could get an Oscar.

They are as different as night and day. Yet both full of life and passionate about their own ideas. It leaves this ole Mama proud and humbled at the same time. How did I get so lucky?

But today I got a glimpse of something else. A passion she has that is just like mine. Something fun and creative. Something we can share. And encourage. And grow.

This morning she asked if she could borrow my camera. She’s played with it for years. But today, she captured this:

Even she knew she got something special with this shot. Her whole face lit up! “Will you print this for me, Mom?”, she asked. Of course! Heck, I’ll even print this one for my scrapbook! When I downloaded the rest of the pictures, I also found this one:

I love her angle on this mosaic garden stone. She didn’t just fill the whole frame with the flower petals. It’s off center and so colorful. I totally would have taken it the same way.

I don’t take the fact that I found these pictures so delightful lightly. I’ve been trying to find a common ground with Savannah for some time. We are enough alike that we butt heads frequently and I worry that as the tween years approach, this will only make things worse. Photography may be our outlet. It may be the only thing that keeps us talking in the years to come. And if so, that’s fine with me. I can’t think of anything else I’d like to share with her.

Except for maybe boys. As in, stay far, far away from boys. Especially boys with cars.

The words have never been an issue because when our family sings the song, we say: “Got my toes in the water, hands in the sand…” But today, when my phone rang, Savannah piped up. “Hey Mom, why do we says ‘hands’? Does the Bible say we shouldn’t use the ‘A’ word?”

I explained that no, the Bible doesn’t say we shouldn’t use that word, but there are better choices that we can use when referring to our bottoms.

At this point, Emery joins the conversation. “What are you talking about? What is the ‘A’ word?”

“It’s just a word that some people use when talking about their bottoms, but it doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, what is the word???” Then he whispers, “Is it buttocks?”

Well, we were able to get away last week for a quick working vacation. Jeremy had a Sportsman’s Expo in Orlando, which also happens to be one of our favorite travel destinations, so we all went. While he did his thing at the convention center, the kids and I did our thing out by the pool.

I’m pretty sure we got the better end of that deal!

Thankfully, our kids are at the age where they don’t need constant supervision in the water. I am so glad the days of being a motherly Hovercraft are over! I found a pool with a deep end of no more than 3’6″, WITH A WATERSLIDE, and they disappeared for about 5 hours!

(I should probably put a disclaimer here about the fact that they didn’t actually disappear. They were in the water, where I could see them from my lounge chair that was sitting right next to the pool. Even though I am confident in their swimming abilities, I’m less assured of their ability to refrain from pushing each other down the waterslide if an offense has taken place!)

So with that being said, I was able to relax a bit and read a book I’ve been meaning to get to for a couple of years. It’s called Your Girl, by Vicki Courtney. It’s all about raising a Godly daughter in an ungodly world.

The book was encouraging, shocking, scary, hopeful, and informative all at the same time. She had statistics that left me squinting to read that “one more time”, because certainly, that CAN’T be right! She reminds her readers of the high call of mothering and the hard work it takes to do it right. There is a whole culture out there ready to contradict everything we are trying to teach our girls. What’s a mom to do???

She covers topics such as finding their true self worth, the dangers of conformity, staying pure, and whether or not prince charming really exists. After exposing the harsh realities of the world our daughters are facing today, she gives her readers tools and reassures us we can do the task as long as we rely on God’s help.

Courtney finishes the book by reminding us that we are a part of something much greater. Our heritage. What kind of legacy do you want to leave? I want to teach both of my kids that the most important thing in life is doing what is right in the eyes of the Lord (2 Kings 22:2). Eventually, I want them to make the right choices, not because of the consequences they will receive when their parents find out, but because they desire to do what God wants them to do.

I found a bunch of gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations on sale at Hobby Lobby (isn’t it wonderful how they run their sales BEFORE the holiday?) and taped them all over their doors. Jeremy and I both wrote out special valentine’s to each of them and stuck them on there too. I even came across a picture of Savannah from her first Valentine’s Day, dressed in a cute outfit covered in hearts, and put that right in the middle of her door.

It was early the next morning when I heard footsteps running towards our bedroom. “Mom! Dad! Somebody decorated our doors for Valentine’s Day!!!! It is SO cool!!!”

“Really?”, I asked. “Who do you think did it?”

Emery answered, “The Easter bunny!!!!”
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Friday morning we all slept in a little later than usual. I heard someone busy in the kitchen but figured the kids were getting their breakfast like they normally do.

Then Savannah came in our bedroom and said she had a surprise for us. “Wake up, Mom and Dad. I made you breakfast!”

Jeremy and I looked at each other and slowly started to yawn and stretch, and wrap our heads around what could possibly be waiting for us in the other room.

Then she says, “It’s okay. Take your time. I know you’re getting old.”
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And just a side note, having nothing to do with Tiny “Talk” per say, but still funny: when we got out to the breakfast table, there were 3 bowls of cereal and one plate of toast. She informed us that the bowl of Fruity Pebbles was for Jeremy and the toast with yesterday’s coffee was for me.

When I sat down to eat the toast I could see something dark brown on top of the butter. I figured it was cinnamon and asked her about it.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s cinnamon. But it’s darker than I thought it should be so I tried to wipe some off.”

Curious, and assuming she grabbed the plain cinnamon and not the cinnamon sugar, I had her show me the bottle it came in. Turns out, it was ground Cumin!!! Can you imagine if I would have taken a bite??? I mean, I planned to muscle through the plain cinnamon or maybe add some sugar to it. But Cumin??? I couldn’t do it. I felt so bad about it too. But I just couldn’t do it. Bleh!

One night as I read on the couch, Savannah asks, “Mom, will you read to me?”

“Right now, Babe? Why don’t you go get one of your books and we’ll read together, here under the blanket?”

“No, Mama. Read me that book. You are always reading that book. Just read it to me. I want to hear what happens.”

“I’m sorry Savannah, I can’t read you this book right now. It will be a book you can read when you’re older. It has words in it you wouldn’t understand.”

“Like frickin’?”

Suddenly Savannah says, “My friend told me that he’s not real. She said my parents are Santa Claus.”

Jeremy and I exchanged glances while keeping our mouths full of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

After a few seconds of silence she rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah right. Like my parents could deliver all those presents in one night!”

Savannah has always enjoyed writing. One of her favorite things to do in school is copy work. She would sit and copy for an hour if I’d let her.

Anytime I want to spend a few dollars on Savannah and surprise her with something new, I can’t go wrong with a small note pad and a funky pen. If the ink is colored, I get extra points!

Over the past few years I’ve saved many of her notes. Misspelled, big-block letter words proclaiming her love, or lack thereof.

This past week I found 2 such letters. The one at the top, written to Jeremy and me. The one at the bottom, to my mom.

I don’t know if it’s because she’s my daughter or maybe because I’m her teacher, but I was so impressed with the one to her Nanny. I love how she tried to get her grammar rules correct and throw in the appropriate punctuation. Her spelling needs some work, but hey…I just had to look up the word “punctuation”.

She tells me that she wants to write books some day. If her books are this honest and heartfelt, I’d say we’ve got a best seller on our hands!

An appropriate name might be “Too Much Talking” or even “Sweet Jesus Stop the Incessant Talking!!!!”

Yes. In bold.

But for now I’ll just leave it as Tiny Talk. Here’s what I’ve heard lately:

Savannah at summer camp: “I made a new friend today. And that’s no folk tale!”

Emery while eating spaghetti: “Could you pass me the Papa John’s?” (parmesan)

Between Savannah and I:
“Hey Mom? Can we listen to that 80′s music?”
“This is 80′s music.”
“Oh. Is this the Beatles?”

Emery ratting his sister out after she called him ‘stupid’:
“Mooooommmm…Savannah called me the ‘D’ word!!!!”

Savannah to me on a very, very, VERY late night as I tucked her in:
“Will you rub my back, Mom?”
“No, not tonight.”
“Is it not on your schedule?”

Emery after church one day:
“Hey Mom. Did you know that God is holy?”
“Yes I heard. But what does that mean?”
“He is full with holes.”

Conversation between Emery and I about 30 seconds after arriving at the driving range:
“I have to go potty.”
“Are you serious? I asked you before we left if you had to go.”
“I can’t hold it!”
“Ugh! C’mon then. Help me pack up and I’ll walk to the clubhouse with you.”
“Daddy just goes in the trees.”
“Well, it’s different when you are out on the golf course. You can’t pee on the driving range.”
“But we’re members.”