The older boys moved back into their bedroom last night. It wasn’t the total room makeover I first imagined, but the room is put back together enough. After the big kids came home from track practice this morning, the kids spent some time straightening and vacuuming the schoolroom. One of the kids was having a friend over who is also a member of the opposite sex, and the approved and welcomed afternoon plan was for all of them together to play board games downstairs.

Before that Dad took us out to lunch at Harvest Market. We drove three cars. He drove one, my son drove another, and then my daughter, a licensed driver as of Saturday, drove the third vehicle into town with one of the boys in the shotgun seat. I walked out of the house, saw the sight of them, and gasped. Everyone else seems to think this is funny, and one of the roles I’ve learned to play in our family is letting people laugh at my motherly reactions, and at times, over-reactions. I mostly don’t have a problem with it.

While we were eating lunch I praised one of the boys. Out of my own mouth, for everyone else to hear, came the words “Be like _______”. I told a story about him. I recounted the many times I’ve seen him display this quality I was telling others about. I started to feel I’d gone overboard with what I was saying, because pretty soon there was a sense that I’d embarrassed my son by drawing so much attention to him, and stirred up a trace amount of jealousy in the other kids. The jokes were back, about Joseph and his brothers, and me presenting the son with his coat of many colors.

Dad had to run camp errands, so when lunch was finished he left with his car. My son had baseball practice, so he left with his. The rest of the kids came with me over to the supermarket section to pick up a few item for the guest who would also be joining us for dinner. The conversation about my lunch comments continued through the first part of the drive home. They all have wonderful and exceptional things about them. I finally had to revise my words. Be like Jesus, I said. This is the person who in the Bible we are called to imitate.

Last night I started my second 8-week class of the quarter. This class is called Substance Abuse and Addictions Counseling. All of us are still waiting to find out how we did on last quarter’s final exam. I got an 89% on our major class paper, which puts my grade too close to where I don’t like it to be. There were some very personal things in there, which with a grade like that now sort of makes me wish I hadn’t written them. I knew when I was writing it that I was missing more of the needed parts and had included too much narrative.

Dad and the kids are on spring break this week. Every single one of us slept in this morning, he and I until 8 o’clock. Neither one of us have ever really been sleeper in people, but I am the one who sleeps later in the morning, and enough times for it to be normal am often up in the night. I will never understand how men on a regular basis can sleep so soundly. Here and there if I’ve been awake longer in the 3-4:00AM range, I will take my stuff downstairs to fall back asleep in the schoolroom bed so I won’t be awakened by the early alarm.

I straightened our room this morning. Throughout the goings about of today I’ve been listening to a song called “Momentary” by Olafur Arnolds and performed by VOCES8. This is one of my favorite vocal groups to listen to. The beauty of the music truly tends to my soul, and not only that, but allows me to speak and share in the realm of the heavenly voices. I wonder sometimes if I’d get more done if I turned it off, if songs throughout the day just slow me down. The way this sounds is the way I’d sing if I could, the way I’d write if I could.