Sleep is in high demand amongst the Gingers. Last night the boys headed to bed around 8:30pm; we have this silly assumption that one day they’ll put their actual beds to good use. One slept on the floor of his room while the other made a nest of the pile of unfolded clean laundry (don’t judge) on the floor in my bedroom. When I come upstairs for what I expect will be a wonderful night’s sleep, I nearly trip on Ginger3 and decide to go check on everyone else. Ginger1 is comfortably sleeping in her own bed. Ginger2 found a spot amongst her dirty laundry on the floor of her own bedroom, and Ginger4 found his way to his bed. Off to bed I went. Around 1, my internal clock wakes me up to drag a groggy Ginger4 to the bathroom. After successfully convincing him the toilet is a better target than the sink, he heads back to bed, this time on his bedroom floor. I mosey back to bed to a snoring Oldest Ginger (I won’t tell you who that one is specifically, but you can use your best guess!). And it was useless– I couldn’t fall asleep. I get up and head to my favorite second dwelling– the couch downstairs. On my way, I decide to check on the other gingers, discovering Ginger1’s empty bed. What the heck!? I look around the house, unable to find her. I head back into my room to find her snuggled next to Ginger3 on the pile of clean laundry. (The Gingerdog likes this spot too– maybe I am missing out on something!– again, no judging!) Instead of going downstairs, I resolve to sleep in Ginger1’s bed. A short time later, right after I fell back to sleep, Ginger1 flips on the bedroom light. (Have I mentioned they all sleep with the lights on, too?) She crawls into her bed with me, smooshing me against the cold wall. I can’t sleep with the lights on, nor can I sleep against a cold wall (where, by the way, I am closer to GingerDad’s snoring), so up I went to greet the day and drink a whole carafe of coffee.

I bet Asher regrets hopping in bed first.

Jack (pointing at Cubmaster Dan Colpi): I know that guy. He ate a worms and crickets at Ryan’s meeting!
Me: Yep, he did!
Jack: Mom, why would he eat worms and crickets?
Me: Because his Boy Scout Pack hit a goal with their popcorn sales.
Jack: Ryan sold popcorn? Holy Crap!!
Me: Well, Ryan didn’t sell this year, but where did you learn “Holy Crap?”
Jack (casually): Oh, there’s a kid at school who teaches me bad words. He taught me the “s” word, the “d” word, and the “f” word.
Me: Hmm, what’s the “d” word?
Jack: I already told you! “Holy Crap!!” “Holy Crap!”
Me: Ooooh… hmmm. Well, it’s not a nice word. Maybe you should tell your friend to teach you nice words.
Jack: (In the backseat working on his “h” sound). Well, now that I think of it, I am not sure why we call it the “d” word when it doesn’t start with “d.” That’s dumb!

When your sister makes your lunch, you never know what kind of love note you will find… PS. Something smells…

After reflecting on his life, the Littlest Ginger announced that he likes his Minecraft world more than his real life. A little offended, I went into great detail all the things he can’t have in Minecraft that he has experienced in the last 24 hours– his soccer game (and two of his siblings’), a sleepover birthday party, playing outside, and the opportunity to attend a college soccer game to name a few… He argued that he can have all those things (and even a sheep) in his Minecraft world and went into his great detail how he is able to produce whatever he wants in his world. #defenselessagain #wecan’twin #wewillmissyouwhenyouaredigitallilginger

Lately I have been feeling pretty confident that I was exiting “Survival Mode” and moving into a more comfortable approach to parenting, so today I decided a new tactic was worth exploring: gentleness. In every reminder, I used the gentle voice of the Holy Spirit. (It had to be Him since there is very little about me that is gentle). When the kids would ask me a question, I’d respond nicely, calmly, almost in a whisper. When it came time to get Ginger4 ready for preschool, he looked at me in wonderment, amazed I hadn’t yelled at him that we were running late or reminded him that he can’t find his shoes because he failed to put them away the night before. He came to me with a concerned look and asked me if I was feeling okay. Then he yelled at me because we were late to school. Oh, the irony! I suppose all my screaming does this survivalist some good from time to time.